#reluctant reader
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“not happening.”
“what if i told you that you’d be helping to save the world?”
“by fucking him?”
you scoff, turning your attention back to the braid you’d begun down your back. “i’m not helping you with your passion project, okafor. i have actual shit to do.”
okafor grins at you. “bullshit.”
“no, i still have weekly duties and assignments. i can’t just drop all of that trying to seduce your ticking time bomb.”
“i see the way he looks at you,” he states with a breath of your name. “if he’s gonna be open to anyone, it’s you.”
“he doesn’t need to be open to anyone.” you counter.
“i don’t think you know what he needs yet.”
“and you do?”
“he needs you.”
“no.” you reply flatly, fists clenched. “you need him to enact your little plan that i have nothing to do with.”
the lieutenant colonel gives you a haughty smile. “well then, at the very least he needs stress relief and you owe me a favor.”
you glare at him. “that was a one time thing.”
“you got what you wanted didn’t you?”
“being perpetually indebted to you with favors isn’t what i signed up for,” you complain as you plait your hair.
“you get to sit around and make your little maps and fuck around all day.” your superior reminds you.
you do your best not to scowl too much, unlike the man who your former benefactor wanted you to de-stress fuck. he constantly had a sour look on his face. he was the consignee who cut off his fucking hand trying to escape. how would you convince someone like that to just lay back and let you fuck them until they didn’t miss whatever life they had before again?
“this is kind of a far ask, okafor.” you note and tie off the end of your braid. you finally turn around from the mirror in front of you to face the dark green fatigue clad man behind you. “it’s never gone as far as touching someone like that and actually fucking them. i don’t think i’m up for that.”
okafor crosses his arms. “are you sure about that? last time i checked, you eye fuck him almost as much as he eye fucks you.”
“you’re an asshole.” you spit, venom dripping from your words. “i’m not letting you coerce me into this.” your eyes meet his brown irises. “let this be the last straw for you, lock me up, dishonorably discharge me, whatever, but i’m not just gonna hop on your lackey’s dick because you say so.”
he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, smirking for whatever reason. “i think you’ll want to.” he suddenly stands and you’re paranoid for a split second that he’s about to summon backup or attempt to disarm you right here and now. “because i’m not serving up any threats, just desserts. you’ve been good to me and i’ve been good to you. i want you to continue to reward you. maybe with what you’ve wanted all along.”
your eyebrow lifts. “and what would that be?”
okafor doesn’t say anything when you begin breaking the dress code with your workout gear. you make sure to plan time around your community mapping projects to run past the officers' meeting hall in the tighest pair of shorts you owned.
you never forgot to smile and wave to okafor and rick as you pass by. it takes a few days but rick returns your wave.
content adorns your face when you catch him surveying your form from afar, getting closer and closer to that sweet reward okafor had promised you.
soon enough rick is running into you everywhere. you're crossing paths in helicopter hangers, on benches outside of the barracks, during your runs around the reservoir, at the gym, in the administrative office in your most yielding sweater, in the hallway, and at his front door on okafor’s orders.
“okafor wanted me to make sure this got to you.”
“thank you,” rick grunts gruffly, accepting the folder with his latest field assignment from your grasp.
“anytime, rick,” you crow.
before he can bid you good night, you ask if he’d been briefed by okafor yet. he shakes his head.
you smile sweetly. “well, he really wanted you to sit down and talk about the park with someone who’s been there before, knows the layout.”
the cowboy type raises an eyebrow. “you’ve been to olympia national park before.”
“mhmm,” you confirm. “a long time ago but i know more about it than okafor.” you let out a breath, eyes boring into his icy blue gaze. “got a minute?”
the dark wainscoting of officer’s quarters enters your field of vision as rick leads you through the skinny hallway, pointing out a bathroom before bringing you into what you assume is the downstairs living room.
“you can help yourself to the kitchen,” he offers graciously, gesturing towards the kitchen of the open floor plan living space.
“thanks!” you chirp and weave towards the kitchen, finding two short glasses and flinging a cabinet open.
“oh, you have whiskey!”
“it was a gift from okafor.”
you can barely keep a guffaw from tumbling out of your mouth. “that’s very on brand for him,” you comment, turning the handcrafted decanter over in your hands. “well, lucky for you, okafor has fantastic taste.”
rick observes from the leather sofa as you pour two short glasses of whiskey - not even asking if you could. the orange light of the kitchen does nothing to hide how great you look for nine o’clock at night. your gauzy long hair glints, looking sleek beneath the lights as it falls inches above the curve of your ass.
the same bottom that had seemingly been following rick around base. it was like everywhere he turned: you were there. whatever inspired this house call felt suspiciously related.
kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table, you place the tray with your drinks down and empty the folder of its documents in order to splay them across the table. you reach up to rick to pass him one of the twin glasses.
reluctantly, he accepts. however, he doesn’t take a sip from his glass until after you do.
he doesn’t miss the way your throat tenses at the burn of the liquor when it makes its way down. you throw another swig back like a young woman who’s grown accustomed to drinking with her fellow soldiers, but in the quarters of one of her superiors?
“so, here’s where you’ll be landing.” your glass is already on the coffee table and you’re pointing out green meandering lines. “whitehorse mountain is right here. just be careful of atmospheric rivers in the area. did okafor tell you about what happened to the apache team?”
the dark haired man shook his head, worry lines becoming more pronounced.
you shake your head. “forget i said anything.” you take another quick drink from your glass and rick looks alarmed - you’re not like your oxen brothers in arm who could drink themselves silly. he doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because you’re skipping right to the next print out to detail his planned trek along the sauk river.
“it’s a pretty ridge. you should stop and take a picture.” you suggest, thumbing through laminated landmark shots of valleys and vistas, making a verbal note of one which is a convenient stop on his trip.
he bites his pink lip. “i don’t think getting a photo of the view is gonna be on my mind, sweetheart.”
“why not?” you question with a glimmer in your eye. “someone like you should take time to relax when you can.”
he chides your name. “what’re you doin’?”
“your job is important, and we all have jobs to do, right?”
there’s a far awayness in his eyes that you can’t place when you lean in closer. feet tucked under your knees, you’re trailing your hand up rick’s thigh towards the tent in his pants.
“you wanna fuck my mouth?”
“why’re you doin’ this?”
when he iterates your name, you consider backing down but then you remember okafor’s promise and how truly repressed this man seemed.
“it’s been a while hasn’t it.”
rick squirms. he doesn’t mean to but it’s a question not many people have the balls to ask him and he didn’t expect it from you of all people. he tries to block whatever memories are bubbling in response and busies himself with taking in the view of your parted lips.
“you don’t have to say anything, just relax,” you coo, shoving him back slightly.
looking down at you, rick doesn’t know what he has to gain from saying no at this point. rick huffs as you approach his erection but he doesn’t object.
his waistband falls with your fingers and you’re faced with the massive length you’d been worrying about. ever since you first saw rick’s bulge, you were brainstorming how you’d even fit him inside your taut walls, much less inside of your mouth.
starting slow, you begin at the base and kitten lick up to the top. rick’s groans give him away immediately. how can he hide how repressed he is with a cock as hard as rocks?
at the top of him, you’re laving his cockhead in your mouth. “i’ve never been with anyone this big,” you admit for the potential ego boost - even though it’s one hundred percent true. rick has a fucking horse cock if you’ve ever seen one.
your hand is working overtime with everything you can’t fit into your mouth at first. rick exhales hoarsely at the wet heat of your mouth devouring him. he hasn’t had a mouth on him in so long. your tight, warm lips wrap around his dick and you swallow around him.
his self control is rusty so he curses when he bucks into your face, stalling his hips only for you to pick up your pace. he wants to pull you off when he feels like he’s about to cum down your tight airway which is crammed full of his cock.
at the first feeling of that telltale twitch against your tongue, you prepare to do your part to keep rick’s nice leather couch clean and swallow everything he’s been holding back.
popping off of him, you look back up at him and grant a toothy smile. his eyes are lurid and clouded with what you only assume is lust. you’re not prepared for his rough grip to drag you onto the surface and into his lap.
the green cargo mini skirt you were wearing falls down your legs and lands somewhere on the wood paneled floor. the moment after you wipe your mouth with a tight fitting sleeve, rick captures your mouth. slightly taken aback, you moan into the man, squirming borderline uncontrollably on top of him as he pulls your top over your head.
his sturdy fingertips ghost across up your waist to your breast. with one robust squeeze as a warning, he assaults your heaving chest with his flesh hand and bruises your collarbone with something between a kiss and a mini-puncture wound. the proesthetic invades your panties and teases your labia, eliciting a needy hum from you.
his horse cock makes itself known again against the front of your pale pink panties.
fuck, how will he fit?
“god, you’re already soakin’ me.”
you get past the feel of his embrace for a moment to glance down only to be greeted with the sight of your swampy lap. how did i do that? you ponder.
“i wanna feel you on my cock, sweetheart. is that something you can do to help me relax?”
you grin. “i’m glad you asked.” you feel a renewed tingle downstairs. “why don’t you see how i take your fingers first?”
a smirk forms on his face. “probably should.” and then he’s reaching between the two of you to prod a finger at your dripping mound.
a deft finger drives into you. you’re expecting another one but as you lazily rest your head on his clothed shoulder, you just whine. the finger inside of you curls and unfurls, stretching you out without the addition of another digit. just the way his fingers drags along your walls has you twisting on top of him.
“you’re really wet for a girl who came over to talk about maps.”
you don’t comment, just cant your hips and beg for another finger. he obliges.
the calculated sensation has you forgetting what he’s talking about, forgetting about your plan. that rhythm he’s adopted speeds up once you make eye contact with rick.
“one more?” he questions.
you nod furiously. “another!”
rick doesn’t delay and the floor drops out from under once you feel a tongue on your quiveting lower lips.
“rick!” you gasp as his fingers and tongue work in unison to squeeze every naughty little noise out of you.
the soldier doesn’t speak; he just laps up your pussy like it was an order.
you come all over his face.
“sorr-,” you’re shut up by a wet finger in your mouth.
“that’s it.”
the no longer meek man trains his eyes on you as you suck his finger clean. through half lidded eyes, you watch his pupils dilate into fully lust blown orbs. devoid of the bright blue you’d seen before, rick’s stare only shifts when he’s shifting you on top of him.
“is it going to fit?” you don’t even realize that your thoughts are materializing out loud.
the officer snorts. “never had a problem before.”
the initial stretch is challenging. your breath is caught in your throat and you’re almost asking the man beneath you to slow down but he’s already inching in at an excruciatingly stable rate.
fuck, you’re reconsidering this. you curse your lieutenant colonel for acting like this whole song and dance was easy. figures. okafor isn’t the one getting stretched out on an eight inch cock.
at the sound of your whines, rick places a kiss on the top of your forehead. “doin’ so good for me,” rick praises. “so tight.”
i know, i feel you tearing me open you want to rasp but you just try to settle into the feeling. you adjust your position, tilting enough for rick to take a renewed interest in your ass. a firm hand plants itself on your flesh in an attempt to leverage you closer.
“almost there,” he grunts and continues pushing through your clinging canal, through the thick rings of muscle that grip his cock so tightly.
momentarily, you slump against the soldier. yeah, you’d been running around the base in hopes of attracting rick’s attention but your exercise routine was no match for the man with a brick between his legs.
once he’s sheathed inside of you, rick reaches down to toy with your clit. you mutter a soft curse. the sensation picks up and you’re faced with not just feeling full but fully stimulated as well. each drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you whimpering into rick.
drives into you become harsher. the impact feels less like a truck and more like a commanding officer. an arm is wrapped around you to keep your position steady on top of okafor’s new favorite soldier. the same one who seems to be hitting the right spot every time he moves you up and down his length.
your hands reach for his graying chestnut hair. they find purchase while rick rocks into you. the urge to complain that his shirt is on exits once a familiar pressure mounts inside of you.
“fuck, you’re squeezin’ me.”
“mhmm,” you expire into his neck, nuzzling into him when he presses fingernails into your sides and lifts and lowers you like his own personal stress relief toy.
you can’t be bothered to care. you’re getting what you want out of this: a reward and a release.
pleasure is just radiating throughout your core again. whatever pain had you speechless earlier has evolved into an ecstasy that has you babbling. rick just keeps a hand on the small of your back and carries on pouring himself into you - into your tight little canal, back and forth, in and out.
“rick,” you’re mewling.
the man can’t be bothered to plant a hand pleasurably on your pussy or respond to your cries, so you complain a little louder.
“want you to cum in me.” you stutter into the pillowcase.
“don’t think you want that,” rick demurely admits.
“no,” you argue between pants. “i’m on the shot they have here. i want you to fill me up.”
rick utters a curse into your neck, pouring himself into you so swiftly you’re surprised. just like you asked, he pumps his hips leisurely into your soaked cunt. you wince at the sound of a squelch. hopefully rick doesn’t care too much about having to clean his sofa.
neither of you are expecting the noise you make when rick untangles himself from you. you’re too tired to have shame and simply sink back into the ductile pillows. your head swivels over slowly to find rick watching your chest fall up and down unevenly.
laying beside the man, you can’t help but feel accomplished. for once, the soldier is sporting a blissed out look on his face instead of a scowl or thousand yard stare. but as he slings an arm around you and tugs you closer to his sweltering, sweaty body, you can’t help but feel guilty - manipulative even.
mission accomplished, but at what cost?
pt. 2
#the walking dead#the ones who live#rick grimes#rick grimes smut#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes imagine#twd imagine#twd smut#rick x reader#crm! rick#twd towl#towl#not beta read#blowy#p in v sex#reluctant reader#but she has rick rabies like everyone else so she gets over it#angst#big dick rick grimes#ditzy thought fr#pent up as always#location: western washington university#🥃#booze#this pacing was nuts#happy towl sunday!#also this blog has more followers than my main which i’ve had for a decade#so thanks guys!! thanks for loving my little secondary#twd#grimesgirll
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Cuddles
Alastor x Reader (QP)
You were always respectful of the fact that Alastor didn't like physical touch that he didn't initiate. You never asked why, never tried to force him otherwise, never even considered trying to touch him without his consent. This remained true for all the years you'd known him.
But sometimes it got really fucking difficult.
After a long day of work, then chores, then helping with the hotel, you were absolutely exhausted. And you still had dinner to look forward to. As much as you loved Al, his need for dinner formality really got on your nerves sometimes. At least the food was good.
Luckily, there was a little time where you could escape to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kicked off your shoes and dramatically collapsed onto the bed. As soon as your body hit the mattress, you wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity.
But that wasn't an option.
Groaning, you decided it wouldn't hurt to close your eyes for a moment. Besides, Alastor would want you to be lucid for dinner. Closing your eyes for a second would help.
"Ah, there you are." Distantly, you heard Alastor poke his head in the room. "I would like your input on supper, if you don't mind."
Unable to muster words, you made some unintelligible noises into the bed, curling up more with the blankets. Alastor's footsteps were muffled by the carpet, so you didn't know he was standing right next to you until he spoke.
"Seriously, darling, it is much too early to be sleeping. Don't be so dramatic."
A hand fell on your shoulder, probably to try and take the blankets off you. However, in your half-awake stupor, you shifted to grab the hand, pulling it towards you in an effort to pull some comfort out of it.
Your brain didn't compute what you'd just done for a full 30 seconds, until, suddenly, it hit you. Despite your exhaustion, you immediately let go of Alastor's hand and jerked to a sitting position.
"Al, I'm so, so sorry," you said, your voice sounding more tired than anything else. You ignored the way your eyes kept trying to close, Alastor's figure being nothing more than a red blur in front of you. "I didn't mean to. Give me a minute, I'll be down to help."
Alastor hummed, the contemplative hum you've learned to differentiate over time. Vaguely, you were aware that Alastor's smile softened a bit.
"I can spare ten minutes," Alastor finally said. "Move over, if you please."
You stared at him, blinking tiredly, struggling to understand what was happening.
Expectantly, Alastor motioned to the bed. "Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds."
Then it kicked in. Hastily, you moved over to the other side of them bed, giving enough room for Alastor to sit down with his back against the headboard.
Blankets curled around your shoulders, you sat there, hesitating.
"You may." Alastor answered the unspoken question. "For eight minutes and fifty-two seconds."
It was impossible to deny the smile that grew on your face as you crawled into Alastor's lap, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. Gently, Alastor wrapped his arms around you, holding you.
Wrapped in blankets, leaning into Alastor's solid body, the darkness behind your eyelids enveloped you. It felt like you were floating, just your and Alastor, and nothing could ever harm you ever again. As long as you kept your breathing steady, everything would be okay.
Everything would be okay.
You were right; just closing your eyes for a few minutes helped immensely. It was even better that it was spent with one of your favorite people in all of Hell. And if Alastor "accidentally" forgot to keep track of the time, extending your cuddle for an extra two minutes, you weren't going to say anything.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin alastor#cuddles#reluctant cuddles#fluff#rhys-writes#alastor x reader queerplatonic
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simon yanks grocery bags out of your hands bc how dare you burden your pretty hands with heavy things when he's right there. and if you don't let him take it, he'll glare at you and grunt in disapproval until you do
#reluctant princess treatment#will snap his teeth at you if you try to leaven him of a bag or two#is leaven a word#simon fluff#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#vi.muses
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Broskis ts!underswap is so fun. every single part of it is *chefs kiss*
I went in completely blind and honestly i think it was the best move i could have made
i love how its just swapped roles but not personalities so it leads to stuff like this its so creative
Anyways have some more self insert sansnomaly (and chara)
#sansnomaly#junie art post#*adds chara into the “puppetted children thirdwheeling sansnomaly” club*#sans x reader#sans x self insert#utmv#undertale au#ts!underswap#CAN I JUST SAY WHILE SANS IS GREAT HERE#TS SWAP ASGORE IS JUST AS AMAZING?#LEGITIMATELY. THE ENTIRE RUINS IS SO WELL DONE ESTABLISHING ASGORE AND WHAT HE DOES THERE#that i was so. so. reluctant to leave him.#i connected and sympathized with him more than i ever could with toriel in the original. hes so darn sweet its painful.#and from what ive “heard” in the uh. geno route... smarter too.#anyhoo. back to sans.#i wont lie im not that big on comic book heroes. im not that uh savvy#but SPOILERS!!!!#i love how cleverly they implemented the alter ego with crossbones and sans#also seing sans pull new pranks really reminded me how exasperating he is back in UT#every ridiculous line and bs he pulled was so... *sigh* i understand papyrus now#unfortunately for him thats not gonna stop me from loving him any less#crossbones' personality specifically took me a while to like. but he grew on me. (like a barnacle on my ass)#but seeing him admit he liked being crossbones was super cute as hell omg#whatever makes you happy sans#being crossbones also rises to the most ridiculous ideas too so. cant complain
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aw aw building little comfy nests with Vash.
You notice he has this odd behavior of piling up any blankets, towels, clothing, etc. on his bed whenever you're in a motel room. Actually, now that you think about it, he does it whenever he's about to rest somewhere. On top of the car with all the luggage piled up around him, in the desert with his traveling sack, sleeping bag, and any item of soft clothing he has on hand - the whole thing.
When you ask him about it, he gets shy and admits he thinks its a Plant thing. He's usually good about hiding his quirks, but the nesting (his ears go bright red at the word) is something of a comfort he allows himself, and he's just gotten comfortable enough around you to start it up again.
You might make fun of him for a bit. It's a friend thing, making fun of each other's quirks. But you still help him pile up the towels and take out your extra day wear to add to the mess of fabric on motel beds. You even make an event of it - wrapping the bed's questionably clean blankets round and around and gilding it with the smaller fabrics, then pulling out a rented tablet to watch movies together.
He's awkward the first few times you do this. He's just not used to other people being in his space, you know? But you better bet Vash takes advantage of being able to snuggle with you once the newness wears off. This is upped ten times once you two start dating. He looooovveess being the little spoon, resting his head on your chest and letting out little content birdie chirps he doesn't realize he's doing half the time. Please run your hand through his hair while watching movies. It'll make him melt even more.
Seeing you start to build a nest on the bed (or campsite, or inside the truck) really gets his gears going too. It satisfies some primal urge in him to have his mate lover in this big nest you've built together, safe in the confines of a shelter and enjoying the trash movies you rent. He'll get all soft and chirpy in the nest, pulling you close and just looking at you with adoration. He'll try to shake it off - he's still getting used to letting whatever the heck his Plantness is doing happen - but when that warm, fuzzy feeling and the urge to preen you comes over, it's hard to ignore. Just let him smooth out your hair and get the granules of sand from your scalp. It'll calm him down.
Now, he practically vibrates with excitement whenever you rent a motel room together. He knows a good nesting is coming, and he can't wait for the cuddling and good naps he and you will get in.
#i just want vash to accept his weird plantness fully man#i love that hes so shy/reluctant about it#makes for a good writing exercise lol#trigun#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#tristamp#writing#self insert#reader insert#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#nova writes
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GHOUL I LOVE YOU BUT I’VE JUST BEEN BINGE READING (i don’t get yer notifs for some reason) AND I STUMBLED ACROSS DIE AND GHOST AND YOU CUT IT OFF RIGHT WHEN THEY WERE GONNA FUCK (or i assume so) AND SO
… may i humbly ask . may i . my lord ? my liege ? may we … get a snippet of Die and Ghosty . bc somehow i feel like their sex would either be Feral or Barely Enough To Call Sex and no in between
God yeah what would their sex be like? I think Die is so starved at this point that she's liable to try and drain Ghost dry, but at the same time she can't because he's technically in charge of her so she really has to ration because she doesn't know how much Ghost can take... hmm
The issue is that Ghost is an absolute bastard who's been eyeing his demon since she showed up.
Ghost grinds against you, and you hitch your legs around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back to keep him held tight and close. You're too quick to magic your skirts away.
"This what you needed? Cock keeps you off the corpses, yeah?" He murmurs, you nod and tilt your hips for a better angle. The tight hold you have on your control is fraying each time he rocks his clothed cock against your bare cunt. The desperate need he inspires in you, it's like dangling a gourmet meal in front of a starving child. You only have so much willpower, and being a demon cuts your desire to maintain it in half. You love frottage as much as the next demon but this isn't going to sate your hunger.
Your fingers fly to the waistband of his sweats, you dont want to rip the soft grey fabric under your all too eager hand, but some sacrifices must be made. Ghost stops his movements, letting you push his pants down, your fingers splayed greedily against the deep v of his hips, his skin warm and tight over the muscles if his stomach.
"Come on sweetheart, almost there," he teases, hardly twitching to help you towards your goal. With how little work he lets you do in the field you're surprised he's making you work for your dinner. You slide your hand lower, fingers wrapping around Ghost's rapidly hardening cock. He stays held for you even as you stroke him under his pants, but you can feel the way his muscles ache with the desire to thrust into your hand. All that delicious desire he's let build for you drools out the tip of his cock into your hand, slicking your grip so nicely you'd think it was magic. And who's to say it isnt?
You squeeze him a little harder than you normally would and he groans. Ghost hovers over you, his eyes dark through the opening of his balaclava. You suppose it's good he still wears it around you. You'd hate for him to be too familiar with the demon attached to his immortal soul.
Your lips part, head tipping to follow the way his eyes roll while you stroke his cock. Your thumb rubs against his stomach, dragging through his coarse pubic hair, feeling the muscles jump at your touch. He hums, his hips twitching forward into your hand. You make a similar questioning noise, half teasing him. Oh he feels good under your hands. You can only imagine what he'll feel like inside of you.
"Ah," you drop your chin to your chest as Ghost drops his head, his breathing beginning to grow heavier. You quite like the way his shoulders twitch, his biceps flexing as he holds himself still over you. "I thought you were going to fuck me," you coo, grip punishing as you stroke his fat cock. He deserves it for starving you.
"What're you doing to me," Ghost's voice is just at the edge of slurring, he sounds good like this. Although you quite like when he's barking orders too. He wanted to stay still and tease you, you're perfectly happy to enforce that magically.
"Nothing you weren't doing yourself." You breathe in his desire, feeling it fill your lungs as he shakes with repressed movement. Ghost grits his teeth, he could break the spell if he really wanted. You only hold so much power over your commanding officer after all. You'd almost think he likes this.
Ghost hisses out a breath through his teeth, and fixes you with a glare. His patience apparently having worn as thin as yours. Your good humor hitches, tumbling to simmer in your stomach. Your hand stills and your lieutenant bursts into motion.
Ghost's fingers wrap around your neck, pressing you hard against the mattress as he folds you in half. "Cheeky little bitch," he growls, your hands going to grip his wrist. You gasp, feeling him slick his cock against your wet cunt. The heavy heat of his cock drags through your folds, the blunt head catching against your hole again and again. He bumps against your clit and you jerk. He's still teasing you.
You open your mouth to complain and he spits into it, grip on your neck tightening to keep you from making a sound as he pushes every inch of his girthy cock into you. You want to scream at the way he breaks you open, forces your cunt to make room for him, but you can barely gasp for air. It hurts, the burn of the stretch pooling warmth through your muscles. You try to find purchase to claw at him but you're torn between the hand keeping you from drawing a breath and the cock dragging its veins against the aching walls of your cunt.
"Tha's it, you can take it." Ghost tells you as he bottoms out, grinding his cock deep inside you. He barely gives you time to adjust to him, his hips snapping another hard thrust, another mind breaking, pussy filling stretch. The worst part is he's right. You're made for this, made for him, and you love it. Slick gushes around him, working to ease the slide of his cock into you, and you clench around the length of him. Trying to keep him inside, trying to stay full.
His balls smack against your ass as he sets a punishing pace. His cock pounding deep into you, hitting your soft spots, veins dragging against your gummy insides, pouring aggression and desperation into you. He's using you like a toy, just like he should. You're his. His demon, a tool for him to use, to become an even more deadly force. He fucks you like he hopes it kills you. The slick sound of his cock pushing into your cunt filling the room under his panting groans.
Black fuzzes the edges of your vision, eyes rolling back as he shifts the angle of his hips to hit that toe curling sweet spot. You tap his wrist, feel his grip loosen enough for you to take a breath. Your throat is raw as you gasp and cough. He barely gives you a moment to collect a breath before his cock is forcing whines from you.
"Fuck, Ghost," you moan, tipping your head back, unable to arch when he's forcing you down against the bed. You stare at the barrack wall, at the way the light casts shadows over the stone. The spring in your stomach coiling tighter, your cunt gushing more slick with each punishing thrust of Ghost's cock, coating your thighs and dripping onto the bed.
You had no doubt that Ghost deserved you, but... the shadows. The stretch of black wings across the wall, the arching horns of a broken halo, the very devil himself in human form reflected in Ghost's shadow. The angel of death.
"God," you breath in awe. Ghost grabs your face, forces you to look at him, his eyes like molten rock. The heat from them drips into your veins. Makes sweat bead on your skin.
"He's not here sweetheart," Ghost tells you, and you abandon clawing at his grip on your throat to grab his face. You pull him down to kiss him through the mask, hardly caring that it's fabric and not lips you're kissing. Ghost pulls back, his hand leaving your throat to pull the balaclava up, before he's kissing you properly. Messy. Desperate. Hungry.
He snakes a hand between you to circle his thumb over your clit and you jerk against him. Sparks shoot up your spine, your hips bucking to follow the thrust of his cock. Your legs are starting to shake, cunt clenching around him as you whimper. "Good girl," he mumbles between kisses, "pretty little slag. Let me feel you."
You gasp against his lips, shuddering at what you're sure he didn't mean as an order. It pulls you just the same. Drags you through the heat and pops the lever on your orgasm, the spring unrolling as you shake under him. Ghost fucks you through it, his pace never slowing from the mad desperation, chasing his own release. He presses his hips hard against you, stilling with a low groan, his cock buried deep inside your clenching cunt. You feel his cum fill you, hot and thick. Deep shallow thrusts pumping you full as the rush of potent magical energy from Ghost's release fills your stomach better than any physical meal could.
Ghost takes a moment, enjoying the soft warmth of your cunt before pulling out. He tries to ignore the soft look in your eye as he rolls off of you to settle back on the bed. It's easier to ignore than the-
"You purring?" He asks, feeling you stretch next to him.
"Don't worry about it," you mumble, moving to cuddle up against his chest. Ghost raises an arm to wrap around you, keeping you held close as you tug his sweats back up. Maybe this demon thing isn't so bad.
#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#demon!darlings au#oc: die#wow this was really long i just kept fucking writing it#like i couldnt figure out how to get their relationship into bed#and i kept thinking about their relationship in the field how that would translate off the field#because their dynamic is very push and pull#and ghost has been reluctant to give Die anything up until now#it grosses him out to watch die eat organs so he switches her over to a sex diet lol
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I have ideas yet no motivation to write but hear me out
Bot/con of your choise x reader
There is a bot/con stranded on Earth, alone and injured, they barely have the strength to pull themselves the safety of a cave not too far from where they crashed, animals evacuating the are as quickly as they could. They loose consiousness, thinking this'd be the last thing they see but one day, after the years have taken their toll on the bot/con, their optics finally flicker back on, light so dim the creature infront of them could barely tell the difference, and the same as them, the large alien couldn't tell what was infront of them.
The human did what they could, using whatever they had to connect or seal the cut wiring, mend the torn metal, doing what they could to stop the bleeding, cleaning away the rust, caring for this stranger the best they knew how to. It wouldn't heal the bot/con, but it'd keep them alive, that was enough for both of them
Till one day, they are found. The bot/con carried away to safety by allies who wonder how they could still live, what has been caring for their injured friend, and the human has to come back to an empty cave with no sign of their injured friend.
They couldn't move on their own, not far anyway.
So, had another human found them?
Judging by the size of the foot steps on the ground, no.
They were alone, their friend taken away to who knows where, who knows if they'd ever see one another again, who knows if they were even on the same planet.
All they had was the hope that whoever had found them could heal what the couldn't
#cons are bad sometimes but what if I showed them kindness. what if a bots first introduction to humanity was kindness. what then.#someone so small someone they could so easily kill. someone who knew nothing of their intent. someone who despite all of this chose to help.#chose to talk to them even when they couldn't respond. chose to help when they had nothing to gain. someone who chose to be kind.#I wasn't supposed to think about this but man. I am thinking about it.#a con who is reluctant to follow orders because they've seen how kind this planet can be#a bot who doesn't question when they're asked to protect the planet. they've seen what this species is cabable of#enough of “humanity is inherently cruel” fuck that we're cabable of so much kindness#transformers x reader#tfp x reader#tfa x reader#tfe x reader#transformers earthspark x reader#mtmte x reader#i did not proof read this pls don't come @ me 🙏🙏
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"Bitch who is 'we'!? You speakin' French!?"
New year, new whump OCs to help me flesh out their current vibes for a fic
fresh as fuck whumper forcing an overworked-underpaid nurse to fix up his various whumpees or risk the same treatment and also maybe kiss kiss fall in love :)? (she would push him into oncoming traffic if given the chance) ((why does he pay her more to stitch up one dude's wrench-beaten face than the hospital pays her in a month))
#whump#whump community#whump scenario#whumpee#whumper#whump ideas#my art#implied whump#whump tropes#whumpblr#defiant whumpee#reluctant caretaker#reluctant whumper#carewhumper#technically their original fic is a whumpee reader insert so she doesn't really exist#but she WILL in the rewrite for a writing event (:#their fic is taking me forever tho i have everything plotted out exactly but ugh#i cant focus to write more than 3 paragraphs at a time
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...........would anybody read a joel miller x pregnant!reader slow burn in the jackson era.........which would have scenes/lines including (but not limited to):
"what do you mean you think I'm pregnant?!"
"on the list of stupid things I have gotten up to, this has to take the top spot"
"you'd think after 56 years of life you'd have perfected the pull-out method...."
"if nobody thought i had daddy issues before, they definitely do now,"
and:
"we're just friends who. . . happen to be having a baby"
"no, we're friends who got irresponsibly drunk and engaged in unsafe sex even though we're supposed to be adults and know better and now have to bring a baby into a post-apocalytpic hellscape, where it has an exactly 50% survival rate."
"you really suck the fun out of everything,"
AND ellie (bonus!)
"oh man. . . you really can't keep it in your pants, can you, old man?"
"i mean. . . it's not like you can get her pregnant again. . . so i'd say go for it,"
"I thought your sex drive was supposed to get lower the older you got,"
#feeling out the terrain#reluctant to say much more ngl i'm clinging to this idea like a liferaft#isa already convinced me lol but i need to be validated#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel miller fic
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Reluctant Reader Wednesday: Dracula by Bram Stoker
Okay, I hear what you’re saying: why are you recommending THAT dusty old thing? How could a reluctant reader be enticed by a book that was written in the 19th century? Well, I’m recommending it because WHAT’S OLD IS NEW AGAIN. Also because (and this is important!) Dracula is a classic book that has aged well.
Even if you’ve never read this book, you already have an idea of what this story is about. A vampire is killing people, and some of the smartest and strongest people fight back. There’s lots of blood, and suspense, and drama. But if, like me, most of your understanding of Dracula came from movies and other kinds of pop culture, then reading the original book will surprise you. By the time you finish this story, you’ll have thoughts running through your mind like …
Who knew that an American cowboy was a major character in this story?
Who knew that a woman was a major hero of this story?
“Lizard fashion”????
I’m REALLY in the mood for some paprika chicken right now!
There are several different ways to enjoy the classic book Dracula. You can definitely check out a copy of the book from the library. But in “what’s old is new again” news, you can also read the story in chronological order through Dracula Daily emails, and you can listen to the story in chronological order through the Re: Dracula podcast!
#Reluctant Reader Wednesday#Dracula#Bram Stoker#horror#vampires#Dracula Daily#Re: Dracula#Kingsbridge Library#NYPL
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Confirmation that Leigh Bardugo has actually written chapters of S&B and S&S from the Darkling's POV
(and they're unreleased 🥲🔫)
And here a user asked her "How did the Darkling reacted when he realized that Alina left after the Winter fete?":
So his POVs show us how he reacted then. What he felt and (I bet) if he went to her room that night or not.
And this is confirmation that his POVs also hold important information about his feelings for Alina:
(ignore the user's comments about the Darkling and the "perfect" Mal)
Now. She has either forgotten about them (doubt it) or she knows that if the readers sees them they'll think "Wait. His POVs make sense. He's not crazy after all" (that's more likely).
Now we just need someone to hack her computer and get those scenes.🙂
#I've said it a million times before and I'll say it again. I refuse to die until I read his side of the story.#Also. she should let the reader form his own opinion about him. Even if he gains more fans because of them it won't be the end of the world#so I don't understand her reluctance#I would gladly erase the Nikolai duology from existence in exchange for his POVs#wanna bet that they make more sense?#leigh bardugo#the darkling#pro darkling#aleksander morozova#pro aleksander morozova#grishaverse#shadow and bone#siege and storm#grishaverse trilogy#alina starkov#darklina#pro darklina#alarkling#pro alarkling
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Neighborhood Academy AU Part 1
Part 2 Part 3 (Final)
It had been a very long time since you’ve been excited for the first day of school, but this time was extra special. You worked hard to beg your parents to let you transfer into Neighborhood Academy, purely because you loved the uniforms.
Like seriously, who could pass up getting to wear rainbow pants, shorts, skirts, or skorts with knee-high rainbow socks? And they had some variations that were supposed to be dependent on the season but they were all just so fashionable that the school relented in allowing the vibe of what the students felt best in so long as they wore their rainbows. Best Academy uniforms ever, even the shoes were neato, being old fashioned looking like from the 50s or so with the black and white pattern but having hearts on the bottom!
The only thing on the attire list that was absolutely mandatory was a little bolo-tie like charm to go around the red kerchief for the sailor suit part of the top. It was a little red house with cartoony eyes in its windows. Weird thing to make mandatory since it was literally a little plastic thing but whatever, RAINBOW SKORTS AND SUSPENDERS YO!
Which is what you decided to go with, not trusting the wind for anything, plus it was super cute and you were certain it looked good on you. You were careful to tie the knot of the kerchief nice and big so the little house could sit on it and not slip past it as you headed out the door to school.
Things started to get interesting the second you crossed the threshold of the Academy gates, you stopped to help a girl gather her script papers that was blowing in the wind, and made immediate friends with her as she handed an extra flier for school play auditions later after the last bell rang. Her name was Sally and you couldn’t help but happily agree to show up since her little ball of literal sunshine personality was just so infectious. You had to hurry though as you were gonna be late for Homeroom and first class.
You overheard a teacher gently scold a tall jokester looking student to hopefully make more of an effort this year and actually pass his classes. Then as you ran you found yourself neck and neck with a dude whose visage screamed that he was gonna be a mailman after he graduated as he football-carried his boyfriend to class. Well you assumed they were an item, they looked like complete opposites to the point of looking like there was no way they should even be friends. But opposites attract, you supposed.
"Well, we must not be too late if we're not the only ones running to Homeroom, Eddie." Grumbled the football-carried boyfriend.
Eddie, the potential mailman running next to you, finally took notice of you and brightened.
"Oh hey! You must be the new transfer student! Which Homeroom did you get?"
You say hello and introduce yourself in agreement to the assumption of the transfer student part. Then you go on to say, "I'm in Professor Pillar's Homeroom!"
"Hey, so are we! I'm Eddie, an' this is Frank!"
Frank uttered a grumpy, "Charmed I'm sure."
You followed Eddie when he turned a corner. Then he continued talking between the three of you.
"Hey, Frank, are Julie and the others still in our homeroom too?"
"Of course! They do it alphabetically by last name so Sally's the only one that ended up in Ms. Poppy Partridge's Homeroom again!” Frank replied. “Aside from Julie’s sisters anyway, they’re all in different Homerooms too for some reason.”
Suddenly you had to screech to a halt as a crowd of students blocked the way to your Homeroom. Mostly made up of girls but there was the occasional guy in the mix too.
“What’s this crowd for?” You couldn’t help but wonder aloud. It was rhetorical, and because of the squealing students, you didn’t expect to be heard and answered.
“Wally.” Frank and Eddie replied in unison in their own distinct tones. Eddie sighed defeatedly, and Frank had sighed disdainfully.
“How are we friends with him again?” Frank asked snarkily.
“Frank!” Eddie chided, “You know why, we’re in the same cul-de-sac as him. Nevermind that we’ve known him since Kindergarten.”
“You’re right!” Frank agreed defeatedly. “Figures puberty gave him its blessing to turn out more gorgeous than he already was!”
“He's really that handsome?" You couldn't help but ask curiously though cheekily. Another rhetorical question, if this crowd of fans were anything to go by.
The two boyfriends nodded anyway, Eddie finally putting Frank down since Homeroom was within reach.
And you were finally making out the squeals of the crowd calling Wally the prince of the school. Oh lovely, you're in an anime now. The transfer student thing should've tipped you off on that, but honestly this Academy was big enough that there's no way you're the only transfer. Right? Right.
Then Eddie finally saw an opening to allow you all to squeeze through, grabbing Frank’s hand, and in turn, Frank was nice enough to grab yours as they both dragged you through the sea of fangirling students and into the safety of your Homeroom proper.
Suddenly you accidentally bump into another student with your elbow, and quickly shout your apologies over the screaming fans, only for that student to silence everyone else single handedly by shouting back “OH HEY! YOU’RE THE NEW TRANSFER STUDENT!”
Every single eye in that crowd, especially the original center of attention, Wally’s were now on you. And it was dead quiet.
“Hi, how ya doin’! Get ta class we’re gonna be late otherwise ya dorks!” You greeted and kindly reminded back, you kept your eyes closed as you smiled at everyone so you didn’t see what Wally looked like.
Regardless, your friendly reminder was effective as everyone scattered, scuttling off to their respective Homerooms unless they were also trying to get to this one too.
Without opening your eyes, you about-faced and headed into the classroom.
“Well, so much for you keeping a low profile, sorry about that.” Frank apologized. Eddie also looked apologetic, rubbing the back of his head.
“No worries, I have to introduce myself at the start of Homeroom anyway, and if I’m the only transfer this year, folks are gonna know about me anyway when I audition for Sally’s play this evening.” You explain nonchalantly.
“Sally’s holding auditions already?! I thought for sure they’d be tomorrow!” Cried a new voice, feminine and bubbly.
“Hi, Julie. Hi, Wally.” Frank and Eddie greeted in unison over your shoulder.
You prepared a friendly smile as you turned to face them. Julie was as adorable as she sounded, and you nodded at her in acknowledgement. Wally on the other hand…holy shiitake mushrooms. Nobody had the right to be that pretty! He wore the blue cardigan that would definitely have been reserved for the fall and winter style of the uniforms, otherwise others just wear white button ups with large enough lapels for the kerchief. Speaking of which, Wally wore his as more of an ascot around his neck, but with the little house ornament on it, made it look like a choker almost. Your smile fell at the sight of him, just a little, if only because he had an intense gaze about him too.
You were about to introduce yourself properly, but Professor Howdy Pillar piped up to get everyone settled so you could introduce yourself to the whole class.
“All-righty, have a seat everyone, so our new transfer student can introduce themselves. Go ahead, kiddo.” Professor Pillar nodded to you to take the floor.
So you introduce yourself, adding a favorite hobby, which was in the arts of all kinds, and plugged in the small advertisement for Sally’s auditions this evening, and the hope to get along with everyone.
Polite claps sounded. Then Professor Pillar directed you to sit in the empty seat that was second to last and a window seat, but also happened to be next to Wally. Frank was in front of you though, so at least you had another familiar face, Eddie was next to him, and Julie was next to Wally on his other side. There was also that jokester student from your vague notice earlier, you later learned his name was Barnaby, he sat behind Wally.
You weren’t entirely sure what it was about Wally in particular that set you on edge. Everybody else seemed nice, even the rest of the classroom. However Wally stood out like a sore thumb, maybe it was his fabulous pompadour, not many folks could pull that style off let alone bother with the time and effort to set it up. No…it was definitely his gaze. His eyes were pretty…but also pretty unsettling.
You ran through the chain of events surrounding Wally in your head and came to an easy conclusion as to why he could be staring at you so intensely. You stole his thunder from him before he made it to the classroom. With fabulous hair like his, the nickname of being the prince of the school, there was no way he didn’t have an ego. He must be pretty peeved.
You shot him a quick apology for earlier as you sat down at your designated seat. Thankfully he seemed to accept your apology as you suddenly no longer felt the hairs on your neck stand on end from his line of sight. You chose to ignore him otherwise.
Professor Pillar went onto a few other announcements before heading right into his specialty, Marketing. Once his lecture was done, other teachers came, taught and went, you even got to see Professor Partridge, who preferred to be called Ms. Poppy instead, she taught Home Economics usually but the Kitchen lab was still being cleaned from the previous semester, as staff got around to it last or some other high up excuse, probably had something to do with the budget. For now at least she taught the Chemistry of Home Economics.
The next thing you knew the day was done, yet you craved more knowledge since all the teachers were so much fun. With a pout you packed up your things, before brightening up again at remembering that play auditions were happening.
Even better, Julie called out to you about it and was happy to show the way. By literally dragging you there, you felt the intensity of Wally’s gaze again, unsure what to make of it before falling out of his line of sight purely because of Julie’s speed down the hallways. Maybe he was jealous this time..or again? What was his deal exactly? Whatever it was, your brain came to the conclusion that he and Julie might be an item since they came into the classroom together, not that you were paying attention to that part, but she stole you away, and who knows? That might’ve been what set him off this time.
In any case, it wasn’t just you and Julie who went, Eddie, Frank, and Barnaby were there, Wally, naturally and from what little you could tell, literally the rest of the school just about. You could only assume that the entire fan crowd of Wally’s told all their friends in their respective classes and the word just spread like wildfire. It was to the point that both Professor Pillar and Ms. Poppy had shown up just to chaperone the whole ordeal.
The kicker was about 70 percent of the school were just there to spectate. After all, who wouldn’t want to see how the new transfer student was talent wise? And up against the prince of the school, ooh, spicy!
All in all a pretty good day, the play was…a musical, and it was The Phantom of the Opera. You auditioned for Meg since you didn’t have enough confidence in your voice to hit high E notes for Christine’s part, you were perfectly comfortable being a Mezzosoprano or an Alto thank you kindly. Which happened to be for the best, because you got the part just fine, but had you gotten Christine (which Julie did thank goodness), Wally would’ve played the direct important opposite of you as the titular Phantom. Raoul was played by Frank amazingly. Eddie didn’t actually audition, he had track meets to worry about later down the line, but he was there for support anyway. And finally there was Barnaby as one of the new Opera House owners, probably just so he could heckle.
“You could’ve gotten the part for Christine easily you know, so why didn’t you?” Wally asked you once after finally getting to know him through everyone else and eating lunch together in the cafeteria. This question was in private, he caught you by your locker, and none of the rest of either one of your collective friends had shown up yet.
“And have to hit high E notes for a month? No thanks, playing Meg is just fine, even if the poor thing gets written horribly in the sequel.” You answer honestly, even if you have no idea where he was going asking this though you had some suspicions.
Surprisingly your answer made him laugh, it was weirdly monotonous but charming, in a way that suited him.
“I suppose you’re right about that. But I guess I was really wondering if you also chose it to avoid me.”
His gaze was on you again, not as intense as the first few days of school, but for some reason, you could always feel it on you even if you weren’t looking at him and knew he was looking your way.
“At the time of the auditions perhaps, but even then I thought you would’ve refused to be the Phantom since you prefer to be so handsome all the time. But Raoul doesn’t sing much so I don’t blame you for preferring to show off either.” You reply earnestly, then added an afterthought. “Besides, I assumed you and Julie were an item, was I wrong?”
“Yes, actually. She and I are just friends, have been since Kindergarten along with Sally, Frank, Eddie, and Barnaby. Howdy and Poppy are our neighbors too so it's always weird having to refer to them formally in the school’s public.” Wally had chuckled monotonously again, quite mirthfully as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Did your simple answers really affect him that much?
“Fascinating to know, but it still sounds like you really want to ask me something deeper though, so what is it that you really want to ask?” You queried suspiciously.
“Why have you really been avoiding me since the first day of school?” He asked…darkly in his own suspicion. You could feel it in his gaze too, confirming your suspicions.
“Several reasons actually. First and foremost, I’m certain now that I ticked you off at least twice that very first day. Second, I didn't really want the drama of the ‘new transfer student’ and the ‘prince of the school’ and any rumors to follow, ‘cuz you know that’s gonna spread like wildfire. Thirdly, let’s face it Walls, you’re too pretty for me.” You closed your locker as you had retrieved all your stuff for the day. That last one was said in a slight agitation, as you had long since resigned to your fate of most likely being a single pringle since the idea of dating was just exhausting. Nevermind the slight insecurity you had about not seeing yourself as pretty either, a thought that still made tears well up enough to poke out the sides of your eyes.
A fact that Wally saw as you passed by him to get to Homeroom, no longer wanting anything more to do with this conversation and having no patience for the others at the moment. Apparently he wasn’t having it and kabedonned you, punching poor Joe Schmoe’s locker hard enough to leave a dent.
Of course you yelped, he punched a locker and stopped you in your tracks! You looked up at him in confusion all bleary eyed since the tears were a little more prominent now that you couldn’t help it.
Worse yet, fear kept you in place rather than shoving the open shoulder off and telling him that this wasn’t cool and you certainly weren’t in the mood for shenanigans. All you could do was wait for him to say something.
“You’re the one that’s too pretty for me, dear neighbor.” Wally replied calmly, the little pet name referencing the fact that you sat next to each other in class and your lockers were in the same area. You really wanted to laugh at his face for it, since he just punched a locker and pinned you to said lockers just to calmly voice an opinion that you couldn’t even take seriously because of how deeply rooted your insecurity about yourself was. But you gawked instead.
No, better, you came up with a witty comeback, self deprecating in nature, but at least it was something.
“If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that…I’d only be five cents richer but at least it's something, though it’s not enough to buy me anything these days.” You quipped rawly, making sure the frustration in your tone was obvious. Finally you broke away from him by going out the opening he left and around his backside to continue on your path to Homeroom.
He must’ve spaced out trying to process the meaning of what you just said as he suddenly looked around for you before finally spotting you on the stairs.
“(Y/N), Wait! I really do think you’re beautiful!” He called after you.
But you weren’t having it.
“Save it for your reflection, pretty boy!” You retorted over your shoulder with a quick, icy glare, hoping idly that it had the same effect as when you felt his intense gaze at least twice over.
It most likely worked…for a second anyway. The next thing you know he’s bringing you bouquets of flowers everyday, but when that got annoying enough that you had nowhere to put them and even the teachers told him to cut it out. So he settled for chocolates…which was better, since they were useful in snack sharing.
Then he got the Academy’s cheerleading squad to spell your name at certain intervals, but you turned that one right around on him with innuendos about how he got the cheerleading squad to do that for him at all.
Then he finally just settled for belting That’s All I Ask of You, under the very sneaky guise that it was for practice. You were never more eager for a musical to be done and over with.
Frank had asked first about Wally’s behavior that was clearly directed at you. And he understood the most when you told him the short and succinct gist of it. He took your side, but also encouraged Wally on this because, how far would he really take this? The entire friend group wanted to know too.
It came to the point that you brought a spritz bottle to school with you to threaten to droop his precious pompadour. He eased up on his antics, but still tried to prove his love in smaller ways. Such as passing you notes with a finger football flick, they had little drawings of the two of you together or really detailed and impressive drawings of your face, lots of love poems. The next play you auditioned for, he begged Sally to play opposite of you no matter what role you got.
Whether or not you relented is entirely up to you, it was entertaining either way, his antics raising in stakes in bursts, or him being an absolute smush of a lover boy should you finally take him on as a lover.
You did get even more frustrated with how gorgeous he looks even with his hair down when you did finally spritz him. It took months to forgive him for even looking that hot. Jeez!
#See on AO3 for other thoughts#Welcome Home ARG#Wally Darling#Wally Darling x reader#Frank Frankly#Eddie Dear#Barnaby B. Beagle#Julie Joyful#Sally Starlet#Howdy Pillar#Poppy Partridge#Reluctant!Reader#Phantom of the Opera#High School AU#GIMME FAN ART#I WROTE THIS FOR THE UNIFORMS
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That Familiar Feeling of Family (or how Hob Gadling ended up as an uncle to his stranger's oftentimes feral children): Chapter 1
It's a pretty universally known thing that families are just strange. As Hob is quickly figuring out, however, this little fact is magnified by AT LEAST a billion when the family in question is Endless.
(A lighthearted story in which Hob Gadling finds out his stranger has married, makes friends with a homicidal maniac/ruler, and manages to become an exemplary uncle to a pack of magically mischievous children. Really, now all he has to do is convince everyone to stop calling his and Dream's weekly meetups "playdates", and then his life would be practically perfect.)
AO3 here, Masterlist here
Hob is running.
Now, that isn't an unusual occurrence in and of itself. After all, the immortal has been forced to flee many many times in his centuries of existence, and he can say without a speck of arrogance that he's become rather adept at it. But this running is dramatically different for one very large reason.
A literally large reason.
In that it's the first occasion, at least as far as he's aware, that he's ever had to try and outsprint a gargantuan bloody dragon.
Try being the operative term here, because while he is indeed foolishly attempting it, he's also failing miserably if the puff of steamed breath that's tickling his neck is any indication. Which he guesses makes an inordinate amount of sense. Really, has he mentioned already how massive his pursuer is?
The beast behind him lets out a loud, guttural roar, its feet causing the ground to shake as it chases after him like it's just a giant dog and he's got a half opened packet of hot dogs in his coat pocket.
Hob idly wonders whether he'll actually die if (probably better to say when) that thing finally catches and devours him. He's never had the misfortune of being consumed before, so he's not quite sure how that will work out for him. What if there's just an arm left? Will it still be him? Will he spend his eternity as nothing more than a single discarded body part that has sentience but no way to speak?
"Archibald! No! Bad!"
The voice, when it calls out this rather ludicrous admonishment, is definitely that of a child. A little girl if he had to guess, and when he does a quick glance around to see where she might be at (so he can hopefully save her from being eaten) he's shocked to spot her standing near his would-be killer. For a minute, Hob can't make sense of what he's seeing. The girl is in front of the reptilian monster, uncomfortably close to one of its frankly enormous nostrils, and she's pointing a finger at it, wearing the sternest expression on her youthful features that he's ever seen in his life.
The dragon crouches down, hanging its head as if in shame while the child, his possible savior, roundly chastises it. "Archie! You know better. What would Dadda say?"
She softens her scolding, though, by running one of her tiny hands along the leathery snout over its mouth, the same mouth that Hob is completely certain is filled with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, and he isn't quite sure how to handle this. What’s the protocol here? He feels frozen as he watches the scene unfold before him, not knowing whether he should intervene and usher the girl out of harm's way or whether she’s really in any danger at all, since she seems almost as if…. as if she commands this thing? Like a young Daenerys Targaryen, except for the facts that she looks to be about five and she's clothed in a ridiculously frilly pink dress paired with shiny, immaculately black combat boots.
He's honestly… so confused. But he finds himself moving closer anyway, driven by that curiosity he’s never lost in all of his hundreds of years of living.
The girl seems to gentle towards her… pet? Can a dragon even be called a pet? He's having difficulty thinking of this nightmarish creature as anything so mundane, but even he has to admit that it’s exactly what the hellbeast appears to be regardless.
"He won't let you… won't let you be a dragon if he… finds out about this."
The dragon, that he's just starting to process must be named Archibald or Archie, since he's heard her say it a couple times, lowers its massive head to nuzzle against the child, a puff of steam unfurling from its nostrils to ruffle her hair as it huffs like it's pouting. She soothes it then, stroking her fingers along its dark scales, the ones that seem shot through with a little sapphire when the brilliant sun from above hits them at just the right angle.
"I know," she goes on. "I won't tell him, Archie, but no chasing the dreamers. Dadda was ad… ada…" She frowns at this as if she's struggling over the word.
And Hob, having once had a precious son of his own who sometimes got caught up on pronouncing things, can't help but to offer a quiet, "Adamant?"
The little girl's face lights up, her ocean blue eyes widening at him in something like grateful glee. "Adamant," she repeats slowly. "That's… it."
He takes a minute to study her then, this too young dragon tamer. She's a small child, lovely in that same ethereal, unnatural way that he's always associated with his stranger. Her hair is a mess of riotous raven curls that seem to be coming loose from a single braid plaited at the back of her head, and her complexion is almost translucently pale save for the bright rosy flush on her cheeks.
"I'm… Hob," he supplies with only a mite of hesitation.
Her smile is almost overwhelming in its joy. "Hi, Hob! I'm Aurora!"
And he opens his mouth then to ask after her parents and where they might be, to question her about the ferocious looking mythological beast that she seems to be in control of, but he isn't afforded the opportunity to do any of those things. Another voice joins them before he can, a melodic, otherworldly one that Hob knows all too well.
It's his… stranger.
His coat is longer here, draping down to the ground like something Hob would have worn in his goth punk days back in the eighties, but other than that he seems to have on the same black shirt, black pants, and black boots combo that Hob last saw him in.
Hob takes a minute to gawk. He isn't ashamed to admit that his stranger is beautiful, all marble skin and high cut cheekbones, his hair a wild disarray of windblown black that sticks up at odd angles, almost as if it's the one part of his appearance that his magic can't seem to render as tame.
"Aurora, what have I relayed to you concerning Archibald? I was told that he was in dragon form and terrorizing the wolves yet again."
"Dadda," the girl in question starts, sounding very contrite. "He won't do it… anymore."
His stranger's face tightens in what Hob thinks is supposed to be a severe expression, though it's clear he's not quite getting there in his daughter's bubbly presence.
Wait.
Waaaaaait a minute.
What?
What did....
His… daughter? She'd said Dadda, hadn't she? Hadn’t she…. referred to his stranger by that title? His stranger? His stubborn, broody, took-a-century-to-admit-that-Hob-was-even-his-friend stranger? For a moment, Hob feels like he needs to sit, like he might pass out between the running for his life not ten minutes prior and the revelation that this child could belong…. to…. to Dream.
Not that Hob ever really calls him that. He’d only gotten the name a few years ago when they'd last met, and while it had been a nice piece of information to have (and long overdue in his humble and frustrated opinion) he’d spent over six hundred years referring to his stranger as just that. And he honestly doesn’t see this habit of his changing anytime soon.
"I believe that is what I was promised when last he engaged in such unruliness," Dream goes on, seemingly oblivious to the panic attack that Hob is having. Truthfully, that shocks Hob not at all.
"He's still a… a baby, Dadda."
And yeah. Hob’s not wrong. She'd assuredly called him Dadda, had just said it again even.
"Be that as it may, he is not permitted to wreak havoc on the realm or its inhabitants. No matter his age, starshine."
At last, Hob seems to find his voice, and he uses it to let out a small, barely there, "Dadda?"
He flushes a little with embarrassment as soon as the word is out of his mouth, because it sounds… not great. It's definitely not what he imagined himself saying at his next meeting with his oldest friend. But his stranger only goes stock still, his shoulders tensing as he glances towards Hob, his eyes narrowing in something that Hob thinks might actually be confusion.
Which… is all too completely understandable. Although, Hob will confess that he's never thought that his mopey stranger would ever be capable of looking as thoroughly perplexed as he does right this moment.
"Hob Gadling?" Dream questions.
"Is that… Is that your daughter?"
"It is," he allows slowly. "This is Aurora."
And while he introduces them, albeit awkwardly, Hob thinks he detects a fair amount of fatherly pride in the way that Dream puts one elegant, long fingered hand on the girl's shoulder to pull her against his side, in the way that his rather harsh, angular features soften as he smiles down at her. Seeing this, he supposes, might make him happy in any other situation, and it's a nice thing that his rather… er, reserved (i.e. cold, distant, and emotionally repressed, though Hob would never say it aloud) stranger is obviously comfortable enough with him to show it.
But… this isn't any other situation. This is a rather… big piece of news that Hob's just been walloped over the head with.
“You have a child?” Hob blurts out, his brain processing this revelation so sporadically that it’s almost humiliating.
Dream's brow furrows. “I believe that I only just conveyed as much to you. Are you…. quite well?”
“I’m sorry. A daughter? I can’t…." Hob struggles to articulate his thoughts, an utterly unsurprising complication given that he's relatively certain that this has to all be some strange fever dream. "Why didn’t you tell me about her the last time we met?”
Dream narrows his eyes again before glancing down at the girl. “Starshine, go and assist Archibald in returning to his dog form.”
Dog form? Dog form? That fire-breathing beast becomes a dog? For some reason, he's picturing Cerberus, with its three terrifying heads and the blood of those unlucky dead who try to escape the Underworld dripping from each of their corresponding fang-toothed maws. Hob wonders idly if the aneurysm he's sure to have soon is going to kill him.
“But Dadda….”
“No. He is forbidden from being a dragon for at least a week. Especially since I now see that he has been chasing the dreamers despite my explicit directive not to do so.”
Pointedly, he looks towards Hob, who in turn swings his gaze to his young, temporarily forgotten, savior. Her eyes have gone wide and pleading, and Hob feels his stomach lurch in guilt.
"I was… just walking about, old friend."
And that wanker, that enigmatic tosspot (who hadn't even bothered to tell him he had a child) only raises an eyebrow in an expression of such incredulity that Hob knows he's trying to call bullshit without actually speaking the words. "Walking?"
"Yes. Briskly."
That eyebrow goes somehow higher up on Dream's forehead. "By which you mean you were running."
Hob shakes his head. He's done some shady things in his very long life, but even he's not heartless enough to separate a girl from her… er, pet. "No. Not at all. Just… strolling. Vigorously."
And for some reason, Dream seems amused by this, as if he is aware that Hob is lying and it's humorous to him. “Very well. Three days then, Aurora.”
She claps gleefully (like she's just won something grand) before wandering out of earshot to presumably tend to her dragon/dog, and Morpheus grants Hob a small smile when she's gone. "You need not have lied on that vile monstrosity's behalf, Hob Gadling."
"I didn't-"
"You indeed did. This is my realm. I know all that transpires within its borders."
There's a loud pop from where the girl and the dragon are, and when Hob swings his gaze over towards them, he sees a great quantity of smoke clearing rapidly away.
"Obviously not, or else you'd know it was on your daughter's behalf that I stretched the truth a bit," Hob snarks back.
Aurora steps out of the cloud before plopping down on the ground, followed immediately by a small, fluffy… thing that comes running out from behind her, yapping loudly. Hob winces, thinking that he almost prefers that menacing roar from earlier to the high-pitched noise it's making now.
"You utterly discarded the truth in this case, friend."
Hob crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. He can admit to feeling a little… well, hurt that Dream obviously hadn't bothered to inform him of his child, and despite that being referred to as a friend by this brooding pillock does make him slightly less upset, he's still angry.
"Pets are important to children. I didn't want to see her lose one to your temper."
Little Aurora pulls a sketchbook and a container of pencils from the bag that Hob is absolutely positive she hadn't had with her before. Humming, she munches happily on something that Hob thinks might be crackers, and he is suddenly aware of the fact that someone must have taken the time to pack these for her. Hob, to preserve what little bit of his sanity he has remaining, is going to assume that it was this child's mother who'd done so since he can't for the life of him imagine this eternal god-like entity before him puttering around a kitchen and preparing snacks like a normal bloke. That might be more unbelievable than the dragon as far as Hob's concerned.
"Ah. I see," Dream tells him, and it sounds almost as if he's trying to be… kind? "Let me set your mind at ease then, Hob Gadling. Even were I willing to hurt my daughter and do away with that ghastly creature, my wife would never allow such a thing. So, you need not worry over the matter."
Hob feels himself go rigid. Did he just say….. "Wait a minute? Wife?"
"You are soon to wake, Hob."
"Oh, no, no, no," Hob protests, putting his hands up, palm out, towards Dream. "You need to explain to me what you mean by wife."
It's no use, though. Between one blink and the next, Hob is lurching from his sleep, the image of his stranger smirking at him still fresh in his mind. His breathing is heavy, and he's soaked through with sweat, enough so that he knows he's going to have to change the sheets today. Wearily, he scrubs a tired hand over his face, and he tells himself that all of that must have been some strange fever dream, after all.
Reaching out for the bottle of water he keeps by his bed, Hob is alarmed to see a piece of paper folded and tucked there. He snatches it up, opening the thick parchment to reveal an array of hearts drawn and colored in what he thinks might be twenty different shades of crayon. The message at the bottom is done in a messy, childish scrawl, and it reads:
Deer Mr. Hob. It wuz nise to sea u. Visit agin turmeric, pleeze.
And Hob Gadling, who'd once won immortality just with the questionable skill of being able to run his mouth, finds that in this case, he can only stare blankly at the invitation in complete silence.
NEXT CHAPTER
#hob gadling#sandman fic#morpheus x original character#dad!morpheus#morpheus as a father#morpheus fic#sandman fanfiction#morpheus fanfiction#morpheus x oc#sandman oc#dragons as cute fluffy dogs#dream of the endless#morpheus hob gadling bromance#hob gadling as a reluctant life coach to an ornery endless#morpheus x reader
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based off of this concept! this fic will feature (besides the obvious romance + smut all my ghost fics feature) a plot centered on dealing with grief, ptsd, his reluctant return to civilian life, a look into his friendship/bond with soap + more! a lot of deeper content and more plot heavy and ghost-centric than any of my other projects, but i am very happy to start working on this <3 the fic will span from his first meeting with you all the way to him starting a family with you, and how he still deals with his trauma and baggage from his time in the army + the effects it has. this fic is all about the healing journey & how it's not a linear progress; there will be days where you feel yourself getting better, and there will be incredibly hard days.
please enjoy this sneak peek of the opening scene & let me know your thoughts 🤍 very excited to give my cod girlies some content
“Tell me a joke,”
His words come out in pants — anxious, soft, desperate. There’s something in our brains that tells our bodies to hold on ‘til the end of the line. Ghost doesn’t want to tell him a joke. He wants to say keep holding on.
“C’mon, mate.” He’s trying to crack a smile, but his breathing is getting more erratic. Ghost looks into his eyes, sees that he’s pleading with him. Ghost’s hand is pressed against Soap’s, but there’s so much blood — just a gunshot, just a flesh wound, still too much fucking blood — that it’s hard to hang on. His hand almost slips a few times, but Ghost is nothing if not stubborn.
It’s important to keep pressure on the wound. He told this to Soap, ignoring the severity of the situation when the pack of gauze he pressed against Soap’s abdomen immediately turned red and damp with his comrade’s — his friend’s — blood.
Now, he repeats it like a mantra. At this rate, Soap’s not going to have any more blood to try to keep inside of him.
“Now's not the time for jokes.” Ghost mutters, but he pauses when Soap takes his other hand and puts it over his.
“No more army humor for a friend? Don’t be selfish.”
“You’ll get your damn joke when we get out of this bloody mess.”
Soap laughs, but immediately stops, wincing in pain. “‘Bloody’, I see what you did there.”
“We need to get you out of here—”
“You know I can’t move.”
“I’ll carry you.” Ghost pretends like they didn’t already attempt this, like moving Soap didn’t put him in an excruciating amount of pain.
There’s something in our brains that tells our heart we have to keep attempting to achieve the impossible. We won’t be able to move on otherwise.
Soap doesn’t remind him what a failure that idea was. Soap doesn’t tell him to just leave him behind, because he’s already tried that, and the look of disgust that flashed through Ghost’s eyes told him enough. No fucking way.
“I’m glad we got to be on the same team—”
“Don’t get sentimental. Save that shit for someone else.” Ghost continues to apply pressure to his wound, but his brain — worthless piece of shit, it is — tells him that it’ll be all for naught. He’s lost too much blood already. It’s not a trick of the light when Ghost realizes that Soap’s skin is turning a sickly pallor. Ghost thinks he tastes blood in his mouth, and he releases the grip his teeth has on his tongue. What he should have told Soap was I’m glad we got to be on the same team, too.
“Didn’t quite get a chance to grow better than you, did I, Lt.?”
Simon wakes up, breathing heavily, eyes adjusting easily to the darkness of his bedroom. The bed’s too soft, his pillow’s too soft, the cotton feels foreign underneath his sweaty skin. He shuts his eyes once more, willing the dream to come back to his mind before it slips away from his consciousness, like most dreams have a tendency to do. Even if this dream features a dying Soap, it’s still a chance to see his friend’s face again.
The dream doesn’t come back to him; he’s slipped from his grasp once again.
The dream will come back to him, like it always does. Sometimes the dream shifts; the scenery is different, or the words Ghost wants to say get caught up in his throat, or sometimes, he does manage to spit it out. It’s getting to the point where he can’t determine what’s memory and what’s wishful thinking. All he’s certain of is that he lets his mask slip; lets the last thing his friend sees be the face of the man who’s with him ‘til the end of the line.
You’re the best of us all, Johnny.
#obviously some creative liberties were taken with soap's death#pay attention to the changes between 'ghost' and 'simon' and his reluctance to call him johnny unless it's a v sentimental moment <3#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#oooh I'm genuinely so excited for this
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Hello!! Can I request for a Billy Knight smut please? One where he has struggled to show affection and now that he's getting better he wants to touch you all the time. You'd let him, and one day when you're out of the shower and watching TV he randomly says that he wants to explore every part of you and you happily oblige because you love him. Please and thank you
of course!! thank you so much for this request!! sorry it's taken me so long to reply to it, but, well... i may have gone a lil overboard with my response. oopsies. also, i took quite a few creative liberties with this one, but i hope you still like it!!! <3
thank you so, so much to @hahahafucku and @punk-in-docs for beta-reading this!!! you're the best!!! <3
CW: pretty much just fluffy smut and some swearing, female ejaculation (squirting), billy gives the reader a massage (idk if anyone would find that triggering, but i'll include it just in case), the reader's gender is not specified but they do have stereotypically-female anatomy (boobs and a vagina…. dw i don’t call them that in the fic).
Word Count: about 8.8k
18+ only!!
side note: this is my first time writing smut in a longggg time, so pls be gentle lol
The evening starts like any other. You’re huddled up on the sofa, still in your work clothes, watching a nature documentary, images of seal pups adorably paddling about in the arctic waters flashing on the telly. At the same time, your boyfriend, Billy, is in the other room, changing into comfy clothes, having just gotten out of the shower mere moments ago. You figure you should probably have a shower as well now that he’s done, but you find it hard to leave your cosy spot on the sofa. It’s one of those nights where departing from the warm, cushiony furniture seems to be the most challenging feat known to man.
Just as you’ve begun to summon the motivation to leave your comfy seat and fascinating documentary behind, your partner suddenly emerges from your shared bedroom wearing his favourite jumper and a pair of joggers. Billy wastes no time joining you on the sofa, immediately plopping down next to you and snuggling close. He curls his limbs round you like a vine as he clings to you and nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The feeling of his cold, wettish hair against your otherwise warm skin sends a shiver up your spine. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when he’s so openly showering you with affection, something he struggled to do early on in your relationship.
“Hey, Kill Bill,” you say, fondly giggling at his antics. Billy snorts at the eccentric moniker.
“Hi, lovey,” he greets you in return.
“You alright?” You ask, amusement evident in your tone, as he clings onto you tightly and nuzzles into you, clearly needing to be impossibly closer to you.
“Missed you today,” he whines petulantly, pouting as if you haven’t been home for hours now. He even goes so far as to briefly remove his face from its hiding spot to flash you an adorable pout.
“I missed you too, handsome,” You admit, your tone tinted with amusement as you rake a hand through his soft, damp hair. The feeling of your fingers toying with his strands causes him to purr as he leans down to rest his head on your chest.
“How was work?” Billy asks as he idly toys with the buttons on your blouse, always needing something to do with his hands.
You heave out a massive, dramatic sigh, your chest deflating with the force of it, as you fix him with a pout of your own and pitifully reply, “Was absolutely exhausting, bub.”
“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you after such a long day, but you think you can spot a little hopeful gleam in his gaze.
“Yeah, my neck and shoulders are killing me from being hunched over at my desk all day,” you complain, shamelessly fishing for your boyfriend’s sympathetic affection.
He offers a mere hum of acknowledgment as he nudges the collar of your blouse to the side so that he can place a warm, chaste kiss on the spot where your neck slopes down into your shoulder. “Think I know what could help with that,” Billy confesses softly, his tone hushed but, surprisingly, not the least bit bashful.
“Yeah?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat as he trails kisses up towards your jaw, each kiss sloppier than the last. “What might that be?”
“Y’could let me touch you,” he huskily replies whilst continuing to smatter kisses across your flesh, “let me take care of you,” he adds finally, whispering the words into your ear before nuzzling his face back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.
As incredibly enticing as that sounds, you’re a bit insecure about letting him pamper you in this state; still slightly sweaty from your walk home and completely knackered from a long day at work. You sigh and reluctantly tell him, “I can’t, babe, not right now. I’ve gotta shower.”
Billy, however, seems entirely undeterred, continuing to lavish your neck with passionate kisses as he hoarsely replies, “Y’smell alright to me,” he then loudly, and a bit dramatically, sniffs you, as if proving his point, which causes you to let out an amused huff.
Billy then pulls away to face you, fixing you with the softest, sweetest smile and the most adoring gaze you’ve ever seen. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose and murmurs, “I’ll help you shower when we’re done. Please, let me make you feel good, baby. Want to touch every part of my pretty petal.”
The way he says that, with more than a hint of yearning, makes it seem like he intends to explore you, and the way his hands begin to roam your body seems to confirm your assumption. And, just like that, he’s won you over completely. You find yourself easily, willingly giving into your mutual desires once again. Though, you never really stood much of a chance at actually refusing him; you love and trust him too much to do anything but spoil him, especially since he has a habit of spoiling you too.
You rake your hands through his damp hair again, gently scratching his scalp in a way that never fails to make him melt, inadvertently encouraging his amorous, wandering touches whilst you blissfully sigh, “Promise?”
Billy pulls away from your neck and meets your gaze, smiling softly, and nods his head in confirmation. He then stands abruptly, catching you off guard, before holding his hands out and smiling warmly at you, “C’mon, petal. Let me take care of you.”
You look up at him with a playful pout and sigh, “I have to get up?”
He nods, his soft smile widening into an amused grin, before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper into your ear, “I’ll make it worth your while.” You feel a shiver up your spine at that honest promise and, not trusting your own voice, you opt for simply reaching out to gently grasp his outstretched hands with your own in response.
Mere moments later, you find yourself sprawled out on your bed, lying on your back, completely naked, with your head resting in your boyfriend’s lap. Whether it was out of solidarity or simply to tease you, Billy has stripped off his clothes as well, enabling you to feel his stiffening cock pressing against the back of your head. Though, he makes no move to relieve himself, simply content with massaging your scalp as he looks down at you lovingly.
“Close your eyes, darling,” he requests softly, as he moves his hands down to gently rub your temples, relieving the dull ache that’s formed there as a result of you unintentionally clenching your jaw throughout the workday. You sigh blissfully as you oblige, your eyes effortlessly fluttering shut. You feel your weight sink further into the plush mattress as Billy begins to massage your sore masseter muscles, relaxing you even further.
“Feels good, love?” He asks, his tone soft and sweet. You opt for simply nodding wordlessly, too blissed out to respond verbally, making him chuckle breathily.
Once your overworked cheek muscles have gone pliant and relaxed, Billy reaches for the massage oil, applying some to his hands. The massage oil took you by surprise when he first pulled it out of the top drawer in his nightstand, as you were previously unaware that he’d purchased it. The unbroken seal told you it was likely a recent purchase. The emboldened text reading ‘100% edible’ on the label revealed that his thoughts might not have been all that innocent when he bought it. Upon seeing the suggestive text, your mind began to conjure up lewd images of him licking the thin oil off various parts of your body, sending a rush of slick desire between your folds. That wetness now smears along the inside of your thighs as you clench them together, desperate for some relief.
The massage oil smells vaguely earthy in a way that only enhances your relaxation as he moves his hands down to gently work the muscles in your neck and shoulders, eliciting another sigh from you, this one bordering on a moan and making his cock twitch beneath you. It’s oddly comforting to know that your suffering is mutual, that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him.
Although, he seems relatively content to prolong your shared suffering as he moves on from your loosened neck and shoulder muscles, reaching down to gently grasp your dominant hand in both of his as he begins massaging the strained muscles there. You sigh in a way that betrays your mounting frustration, causing him to emit another breathy chuckle.
“Be patient, petal,” he chides you gently, his tone a perfect mixture of amusement and fondness.
“You said you wanted to touch me,” you huff.
“I am touching you,” he softly replies whilst releasing one hand to massage the other. His response has you opening your eyes briefly to fix him with a half-hearted glare.
“Let me take my time with you, please,” he pleads, as if he’s not the one in control here.
“Alright,” you readily concede as he releases your other hand.
Billy then begins to massage your arms, with his nimble hands working the muscles in each of them, starting at your wrists and gradually working up to your shoulders. You sigh contentedly as he effortlessly moves his oil-slick hands down to your chest; however, your tone soon gains a slightly exasperated edge when he pauses to sweetly ask, “May I touch you here, love?”
You usually appreciate that Billy always takes the time to ask you for your permission, that he constantly checks in with you to make sure you’re alright. However, right now, your impatient and incessant yearning makes it hard not to get annoyed with his constant pausing.
“Billy, please,” you whine desperately, “you can touch me anywhere, everywhere; just please touch me.”
Billy gulps around the lump forming in his throat due to your beautiful begging and swiftly succumbs to your pleading, gently grasping and kneading your breasts, finally offering you some relief. You moan softly when he briefly pauses his ministrations to toy with the stiff peaks of your nipples. As if they have a mind of their own, your thighs relax and fall apart as your hips buck upwards, desperately seeking friction. The cool air hitting your slick-covered folds makes you shiver. The subtle movement only makes the sight before Billy more enticing for him. He can’t help but let out a guttural groan at the sight of you all spread out and desperate for him, your hips bucking up needily, exposing more of yourself to him. Your eyes flutter open once more at the sweet sound, and you look up to find him staring at your sex, transfixed by the way your wetness glimmers in the dim light of the lamps on your nightstands.
“Billy,” you call out softly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown out by lust, almost entirely overtaking his rich, chocolate-coloured irises. “Kiss me,” you plead, and, with urgency, he shifts slightly to a more comfortable position before leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss starts simple and sweet but soon devolves into something much more sloppy and desperate, with you both moaning into it softly. Despite getting readily swept up in the passion of the kiss, Billy doesn’t let it distract from his ultimate goal of making you feel good, continuing to knead the pliant fat of your tits all the while.
“Please,” you whisper in between kisses.
Although it’s only a single word, Billy knows precisely what you’re asking for and finds himself unable to deny you any further, not that he was ever really trying to in the first place. His hands slowly slip down your abdomen toward where you need his touch most. You shiver with delight as he rubs his hands down the length of your pussy before slowly dragging them back up, kneading the puffy lips that surround your folds and gently pushing them together, putting subtle, indirect pressure on your clit as he glides his hands upwards to your mound whilst maintaining his kneading strokes.
The whine you let out in response is purely sinful, and the sound of it has him yearning to completely give in to you. Billy can only content himself to massage your sex for so long before he becomes powerless to stop himself from giving you what you desire most. You both blissfully sigh as he runs the tips of his right hand’s two middle fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness there. Billy then spreads your slick around your clit as he uses those same fingertips to rub tight circles on your tumescent bud, finally providing you with the stimulation you’ve been craving ever since he began trailing kisses on your neck whilst the two of you were cuddled up on the sofa. The swirling pressure on your clit has your hips jerking as you briefly break the kiss to let out a wanton moan.
“Fuck, Billy,” you whimper needily as you roll your hips, grinding up into his gentle but firm touch.
“You’re so good to me, love,” he whines breathlessly. The statement itself is sort of paradoxical, given that he’s the one pleasuring you; however, in your current blissed-out state, you fail to note the irony.
As you roll and swivel your hips slowly, increasing the pressure on your clit, your pleasure suddenly increases tenfold when Billy begins using his free hand to lavish your tits with attention, alternating between kneading the fat and toying with the nipples of each one.
“Love you, Billy,” you moan softly as you shift your gaze to look up at him in awe, finding him already gazing down at you with a look of profound adoration, the perfect mixture of reverence and affection. In Billy’s eyes, you are — and always have been — as close to a deity as a person can get, your grace rivaling that of even the most revered saints, prophets, and shamans, the compassion you show him outweighing that of anyone he’s ever known, even on your worst days. However, at this moment, with the way you’re calling out to him and baring yourself so vulnerably, your divinity becomes even more evident than before. And, if the sparkle in your eyes is any indication, Billy suspects that his adoration is amply reciprocated; the mere idea of that has a rosy blush spreading across the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks.
“I love you too, baby, so much,” he softly replies whilst smoothing the hand that was previously teasing your breasts — his left hand — back down your torso, using the pads of his fingers to tease your folds once his hand reaches its desired destination. Meanwhile, the two middle fingers of his right hand pick up their pace, their pads swirling round your clit more swiftly than before. However, the pressure they’re applying to the engorged bud never wanes.
Your moans grow louder and higher in pitch, conveying your neediness. Billy knows you need more, and he’s more than happy to give it to you. He teases your entrance with the tips of his left hand’s fingers before easing the middle one inside, causing you to mewl wantonly as your hips lift off the bed, forcing his thick finger deeper inside your wet heat. You reach up and grip his thighs, sure to leave behind the indents of your nails as you desperately cling to him, though Billy doesn’t really mind. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his pale skin provides him with a much stronger sensation than the pressure of your head still resting gently on his stiffening cock, allowing him to focus on that more intense sensation rather than the heavenly one in his lap. Billy then eases his ring finger in as well, curling both fingers just slightly so he can reach that magical place inside you — that special spot that never fails to make you cry out in pleasure — whilst he begins to thrust his fingers. At first, Billy sets a slow pace, wanting to ease you into your release, but his carnal desire to see you completely unravel soon takes over, leading him to work up to a pace that matches how he rubs your clit; fast and hard.
Feeling the tips of his fingers stimulating your two most sensitive points, the internal and the external, has the coil in the pit of your belly wound tight, nearly ready to snap, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. You opt to show your appreciation by turning your head to the side to press warm, wet kisses to the inside of one of Billy’s thighs, making his breath hitch in turn.
“Love you so much, Billy. ‘M so close,” you babble mindlessly in between kisses.
“I know, baby. Can feel you squeezing me,” he moans softly, the sound bordering on a whine, as he leans forward to press sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks, “doing so good, love. Just need you to let go, baby. Please? Need you to cum f’me, yeah?”
You can only manage to nod in response, no longer able to get the words out as your pleasure mounts to impossible heights. Your whole body thrums with pleasure, muscles spasming and legs shaking as your climax nears. The sounds you’re making are truly divine, so melodic and alluring that they have poor Billy nearing his own release. He’s moments away from cumming in your pretty hair just from the sounds you’re making and the gentle pressure of your head resting on his crotch. Wanting to make you cum before he does, he begins to fuck his fingers into you with increased fervour, all whilst trying desperately to refrain from grinding his stubborn, needy cock against the back of your head.
“Let go, petal. Cum for me,” Billy says, attempting to encourage you, though his voice can barely be heard over your loud, lewd moaning. His encouragement seems to work, nevertheless, as your back arches off the bed and the coil in your belly finally succumbs to the pressure and snaps, a rush of slick oozing out of your weeping hole when you cum. Billy works you through your orgasm deftly, prolonging your pleasure until you finally go limp, whimpering from overstimulation.
As you descend from what seem to be clouds, from how high you felt, Billy continues to pamper and take care of you. He eases out from under you, gently placing a pillow under your head to compensate for the absence of his lap before moving down to slot himself between your legs. Billy applies some more massage oil to his hands before carefully grabbing one of your legs — still shaking and twitching from your forceful release — and lifting it to rest on his shoulder. He then begins to skillfully massage the overworked muscles of your calf, still sore from your walk home hours ago. The sensation of him gently kneading the knots out of your muscles has you moaning softly, and Billy melts at the sound. He deftly eases his slick hands up to your thigh, massaging the muscles there until they go lax under his touch, then moving down to rub the achy sole of your foot. The moan you let out at the feeling of his thumbs gently but firmly digging into the arch of your foot is nothing short of sinful. It has Billy’s stubborn cock throbbing, yearning for friction, for release. However, he refuses to succumb to temptation, too determined to see this through, to completely and properly care for his overworked, fatigued darling. If you were in your right mind, you might admire Billy’s surprisingly strong willpower, but you’re too far gone to notice anything other than the feeling of his hands on your skin and the loving look in his eyes.
Gently, Billy returns your leg to its resting position, swapping it out for the other one so he can also knead the strained muscles there. Once again, he begins at your calf, easing the aches, before moving on to your quivering thigh muscles. Finally, he massages the sole of your other foot, firmly working out the knots there. Once your muscles have relaxed completely, he presses a chaste, warm kiss to both the arch of your foot and the spot underneath your ankle bone before gently setting your leg back down onto the mattress.
“You alright, love?” He asks softly as he leans forward to smatter kisses across your chest, occasionally pausing to lap at your oil-slicked breasts.
“Mhm,” you hum, “Yeah, ’m alright,” you reassure him with a blissful sigh whilst you reach down to toy with his slightly damp locks.
“Was that good?” He questions somewhat bashfully.
You hum your confirmation before responding verbally, “Was wonderful. You did so well, angel, made me feel so good.”
“Think you can roll over for me so I can get your back?” Billy inquires whilst pausing his ministrations to look up at you adoringly.
“Billy, you don’t have to,” you trail off, feeling slightly guilty about how much he’s doting on you.
“I know,” he replies simply as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Just want to.”
“You’re far too good to me, baby,” you sigh dreamily.
“Nah, ’m not. You deserve the whole world, dove. ‘M just giving you what I can,” he says sweetly whilst flashing you a kind smile that spreads a delightful warmth throughout your chest.
“Now quit stalling and roll over,” he says teasingly as he peers down at you with a faux annoyed glare.
You huff, feigning exasperation. As you heed his request, the swell of your bum inadvertently brushes against Billy’s stiff cock, causing him to reflexively buck his hips, chasing the heavenly friction. He groans out hoarsely as he wills his hips to still.
“That’s not fair,” he grumbles out gruffly as he shifts to straddle your hips, giving him ample access to the expanse of your back. You giggle at his pouty remark as you settle into your new position, your arms interlocked atop your pillow as you rest your head on them. Once you both have fully settled, Billy applies just a bit more massage oil to ensure his hands will easily glide along your skin. Then, he gets to work on massaging the sore muscles of your back. He starts with your neck and shoulders, alternating between kneading out the knots with the pads of his thumbs and his knuckles, depending on their severity. Billy then glides his hands down to your upper back, just past your shoulders, and begins to work out the kinks in the muscles there. If it weren’t for the feeling of his stubborn hard-on resting warmly on your bum and the way he subtly ruts into you occasionally, the experience would likely be purely wholesome. However, even with his attentive doting, his neediness bleeds through as much as your own, once again tainting the otherwise innocent endeavour with a hint of sensuality.
By the time he reaches the lowest point of your back, you’ve both begun to emit soft moans and blissful sighs, the sweet, melodic sounds serving as relaxing background music. Once he’s finally finished kneading your back muscles into submission, you’re confident that Billy will finally give in to temptation and fuck you. When he nudges your legs apart and shifts downward to slot between them, you’re sure your partner is right where you want him, unable to resist you any longer. However, Billy surprises you when, rather than lining his cock up with your entrance, he simply lays down between your legs, propping himself up on his elbows as he begins to massage the backs of your thighs. You look back at him over your shoulder quizzically, making him giggle and smile impishly.
“Told you I wanted to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning forward to trail kisses along the inside of your left thigh. Meanwhile, he glides his hands up to the plump fat of your arse. He starts kneading the flesh there, alternating between coasting his hands up, in an outward motion — spreading your round cheeks and exposing the most intimate parts of you to himself — and rubbing in a downwards motion, inadvertently pushing the globes of your arse back together as he squeezes the plush fat and sore muscles there. Billy would be entirely content to just lay there, watching in awe as the smooth skin of your rear, now shiny from the oil on his hands, submits to his firm touch. He’s always found it hard to pick his favourite part of you, given how wonderful every single part of you is. Still, if he was forced to choose, he’s sure his first instinct would be to choose your bum simply because of how voluptuous and lovely it is. It’s certainly not the plumpest he’s ever seen; the man did spend years looking at porn daily just to have something to do. Still, it’s his favourite, not just because it’s yours, though that certainly does sweeten the deal. It’s his favourite because of how beautiful it is, with its various dimples and stretch marks. He especially loves the lone freckle that resides on one of the plump globes, constantly calling out to him to place a kiss atop it. Once again, he finds himself powerless to refuse its call, leaning over with pursed lips to cover it in a warm smooch, making you giggle. Not to mention, the first time he had the pleasure of fucking you, he’d had to take you from behind due to the inconvenient location; a small guest bathroom in a mutual friend’s modest London flat. As a result, your arse has gained this sort of sentimental value in his eyes because whenever he sees it, it reminds him of the first time you’d met, the first time you’d had sex together, and, subsequently, the first time in all the twenty-six years of his life that his cock had felt the warm embrace of something other than his own hand.
You’re well aware of his quirky fondness for your behind. Honestly, it has you worried that perhaps he might neglect to give either of you any lasting relief tonight, instead opting to lavish your bum with an inordinate amount of attention. It sounds silly, sure, but you wouldn’t put it past him to do precisely that. Of course, he wouldn’t do it out of malicious intent; instead, Billy would simply get so caught up with the absolute treasure that is your bum that he’d completely forget anything and everything else he was doing.
Fortunately for you, however, Billy notices your anguish, fully aware of how your hips have begun to rut into the mattress, seeking relief in the form of friction, and decides to end your torment. So, he leans forward to lick a long strip across your slit, starting at your mound and ending at the tiny expanse of skin that separates your two holes, parting your folds with his tongue as he does so. The caress of his wet muscle has you reeling whilst you grip the pillow beneath you tightly and moan a wordless plea, begging for more. Ever the people pleaser, Billy happily obliges as he uses his hands to spread the globes of your arse apart, indirectly pulling your folds apart as well, diving in to lap eagerly at your sopping wet cunt. He starts off slow, lapping up your wetness gingerly, moaning as the heady flavour he loves so much dances across his taste buds.
“Taste so good, love,” he moans wantonly, the sound muffled by your flesh, “so warm and wet and sweet. Pussy’s so sweet f’me, baby.”
Billy’s babbling; he knows he is. Still, he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when your scent and taste overwhelm his senses, making him dizzy with lust. Yearning for more of your flavour, he eases his tongue inside your entrance, thrusting it in deeply as he curls it to lap at your walls, his wet muscle fighting against the strength of your clenching hole. He lets out the most sinfully saccharine moan you’ve ever heard whilst he devours you.
“’S good, baby? Am I making you feel good?” Billy asks; he’s yearning for your approval, for your praise.
“God- fuck- Billy, you’re so good. Making me feel so good,” you mewl as you ride his tongue, your hips bucking of their own accord. Your salacious praise has him whimpering into your snatch; the knowledge that he is the one making you feel like this, that he’s the one pleasing you, causes a prideful heat to bloom in his chest, rise through his throat, and spread all across his head, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears in a rosy pink colour.
He removes his tongue, easing it out of your hole and swiftly replacing it with one of his thick fingers before you can even begin to complain about your newfound emptiness. With his tongue now freed, he murmurs, “Want you to cum again, love. Need to make you cum like this before I fuck you,” before latching onto your clit and fervently suckling at the engorged nub, bringing you more pleasure than any one of those fancy, rose-shaped clitoral stimulators ever could. Billy’s bold words have you mewling and whining pathetically, but, much like him, you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed.
He adds another thick finger to your greedy hole, curling them both just slightly, just as you taught him to, and thrusting them deep. Unbeknownst to you, Billy’s become determined to make you unravel in a rare, special way; he wants you to soak him. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about your boyfriend over these past several months, it’s that he can be surprisingly tenacious when given the proper motivation. It just so happens that your ability to squirt, when given ample stimulation, is his new favourite motivator.
With his free hand, he grasps your hip, encouraging you to continue rutting against his face. “That’s it, petal, there you go,” he praises you between the flicks and strokes of his tongue on your clit, “grind on my face ’til you cum.”
His newfound confidence, along with the combined sensations of him lapping at your clit and fingering your cunt, has the coil in your belly again winding tight. Though, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t quite describe with words. Simply put, it feels more, more intense, more captivating, and undoubtedly more significant. You don’t often feel this all-consuming sensation, so it doesn’t take long to identify what it alludes to. Once you realise what’s happening, your eyes widen in shock, and your jaw drops to let out a moan so loud and lascivious that it nearly makes Billy cum all on its own. Luckily, he manages to stave off his premature release by rising to his knees, sitting on his haunches with his face still buried in your cunt as he lifts his hips off the mattress, robbing his needy cock of any friction.
“Billy, fuck, fuck,” you gasp and pant breathlessly whilst your legs shake, the meat of your thighs jiggling with the motion, providing Billy with a stunning view in his peripherals.
“Christ, Billy, please,” you whine as you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in a lustful gaze. “Can’t- gonna make a mess,” you whimper pathetically.
He groans lowly at your words and the implication behind them. You meant them more as a warning, urging your lover to ease up before you soil the sheets with your release. However, Billy takes them as more of a promise, an incentive to keep going.
“Make a mess of me, petal. Need you to soak me,” he encourages you, though his lilting tone makes it sound more like begging. Once again, you find yourself compelled to give in to Billy. How could you possibly deny the man you love something he desires so ardently?
You moan wantonly whilst clutching your pillow so tightly that the skin of your knuckles goes three shades lighter than usual. “So close, baby,” you promise him, “gonna cum for you. Just need more.”
You don’t specify what you need more of, yet Billy gets the point anyways. He latches onto your clit once more, swirling his tongue round it in tight circles as he sucks on it. Occasionally, his teeth scrape against your nub so gently that it only heightens your pleasure. However, the actual source of your unraveling comes in the form of him finally giving in to his innermost desires and gently nipping at your sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure, with a deliciously minimal hint of pain, coursing through you.
The profound sensation has a rush of fluid squirting out of your cunt, soaking the sheets beneath you as you practically scream out of pleasure. Meanwhile, Billy watches in awe whilst he works you through your powerful release. This is only the second time he’s made you squirt in the entire history of your relationship. The sight of it has a mixture of pride and wonderment swelling in his chest, especially since he didn’t need the aid of a toy to make it happen this time. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop ravishing your spasming sex, until you finally reach down and gently push him away, the constant stimulation becoming too much for you to bear.
You both pant feverishly, finally able to catch your breath in the stillness afforded by your brief refractory period. Billy massages the backs of your thighs, easing the tension there as he sits back on his haunches and looks down in awe at the mess he’s made of you and, consequently, of your bed.
“I love you,” He murmurs whilst leaning forward to trail warm kisses up your back, following the barely pronounced ridges of your spine.
“Love you too, Billygoat,” you slur out dopily, drunk on the pleasure he’s given you. Billy giggles, truly giggles, both at your silly nickname for him and at the blissed-out tone in which you utter it.
“D’you want to be done for the night? Or d’you think you can handle some more?” He asks you, sweetly checking in with you like he always does.
You look at him like he’s grown a second head and reply, “Are you joking? ‘Course, I want more.” Your bewildered tone has him giggling all over again. You can’t help but marvel at the way the slight pudge of his tummy adorably quivers as he laughs. There was a time when that little bit of chub didn’t exist, back when he wasn’t eating well, back when you’d first met him, and though you’d loved him all the same without it, you can’t help but prefer this new, fuller form of his. He looks healthy like this — well fed and cared for — and, in the most perverted-yet-still-somewhat-wholesome way possible, it drives you mad.
“Billy,” you softly call out to him, causing his giggles to wane.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Wanna try something I read about,” you confess somewhat shyly.
He leans over to kiss your cheek before nuzzling into the space between your shoulder blades. “What’s that, lovey?” He murmurs.
“Put a pillow under my pelvis? Please?” You ask in an adorably polite tone.
Billy grins impishly, knowing precisely what you’re after, having seen that trick in some of the pornos he used to watch. He wordlessly heeds your request, grabbing one of the plush pillows from his side of the bed, gently lifting your hips, and surprising you with such a casual display of strength as he slots the pillow under your pelvis, causing your hips to angle upwards just slightly.
Billy breathes a dreamy sigh at the sight of you, all spread out and waiting for him. In times like this, he can hardly believe you’re real, that you’re actually here with him, that you actually want him. However, the way you’re gazing at him right now, peering at him over your shoulder with a look of tender adoration, quickly assuages his doubts. You’re real, you truly are here with Billy, you love him just as much as he loves you, and you want this just as much as he does; all he has to do is take it, take you.
Billy smooths his palms along the soft flesh of your hips as he softly asks, “condom or no condom?”
It’s a reasonable question to ask. The two of you have only made love without a condom a couple of times before, once on his birthday, once on yours. Of course, both of you would like to forgo condoms indefinitely. However, you’ve been known to forget to take your pill occasionally. So, since neither of you really wants a kid right now, you two continue to use them regularly, just to be safe. But you’ve been exceedingly good lately, not forgetting to take your pill at all these last two months, and you can’t help but think you deserve a reward for all your effort.
“No condom. Wanna feel you, Billy,” you reply in a whiny, pleading tone that has Billy’s eyes rolling back. Who is he to refuse such a good, pretty little thing like yourself?
He gently rubs his tip along your slit, briefly bumping into your hypersensitive clit, causing you to mewl and squirm needily. Billy’s quick to oblige your wordless pleas, gently easing the head of his cock inside your entrance; it slides in almost effortlessly, thanks to your previous orgasms. The sigh Billy lets out as he slowly slides into you, feeling your warm, wet walls welcome him in, is shaky and breathless. He smooths an oil-slicked hand up the length of your spine as he gradually bottoms out, leisurely giving you inch-by-inch of his shaft as if he’s simply content to continue taking his precious time with you.
Really, though, Billy’s fighting the urge to fill you up all at once with one quick snap of his hips; to take what he needs from you. The muscles of hips and thighs twitch as he restrains himself, using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from fucking you brutishly, pile-driving you into the mattress. He wants to take things slow, needs to take things slow, or else this will all be over far too soon, and all that build-up will amount to minimal payoff. Billy can’t have that; he refuses to give you anything less than his best. This is his opportunity to take care of you, to provide you with what you need, and he won’t take it for granted, not after all you’ve done to care for him.
When Billy finally bottoms out inside your slick, still-spasming cunt, the two of you let out synchronous moans, both so high-pitched and needy that they could almost be considered whimpers. The feeling of your pulsing, silky walls gripping him so tightly is nearly enough to send him over the edge. So, to make this last, Billy has to hold himself back once again; he has to give himself time to acclimate to the overwhelming feeling. He leans forward, his chest presses against your back, whilst he presses warm, sloppy kisses to every part of you that lies within his reach: your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, all of it. Meanwhile, he murmurs soft, sweet praises to you.
“Feels good, love. You always feel so good.”
“God, I can - fuck - I can feel you, feel your pussy fluttering round my cock.”
“You look so beautiful, baby. My pretty petal always looks so lovely f’me.”
Each one has you whimpering softly, has butterflies fluttering in your tummy, and has your walls clenching around him greedily. Billy’s only digging his own grave, making you grip him like that. It’s nearly enough to make him cum, but, fuck, he can’t stop; you deserve to know how good you are and to be worshipped like this.
“Billy, please,” you mewl desperately, rocking your hips slightly to encourage him to move.
“I know, baby,” he coos reassuringly, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek whilst he rests his forehead gently against your temple. “I’ve got you, love,” Billy promises as he slowly begins to roll his hips, thrusting his cock inside your wet heat, “‘M gonna make it so good for you, petal, I promise.”
“’S already good, angel, ’s already so good,” you mewl, equal parts desire and reassurance.
The feeling of his shaft dragging along your walls with each thrust, of his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl, of his heavy balls colliding with your tumescent, tingling clit, is enough to send you into overdrive. Yet it’s still, somehow, not enough; you need more.
“Billy,” you whine pathetically whilst looking back at him with an adorable pout, the kind that you know he can’t resist. As always, the petulant expression has him caving instantly as he leans forward, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss; however, it’s a bit sloppy due to the awkward angle.
“What d’you need from me, love?” Billy murmurs against your lips, his soft, low tone making you melt.
“Need you to fuck me harder, Billy,” you plead pitifully.
Whatever Billy was expecting you to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Your boldness catches him off guard, has him throwing his head back with a loud, lewd moan. As much as he wants to take things slow, to memorize the feeling of your walls gripping him whilst he makes love to you, he’s powerless to deny you. You’ve bewitched him, beguiled him to the point where he’ll give you anything, do anything for you; all you need to do is ask. You have Billy wrapped around your finger; he’s utterly devoted to you and irrevocably yours. He even tells you as much as he pulls away, sitting up on his knees and firmly grasping your hips, pulling you back on his cock as he begins to pound into you just the way you want him to.
“Love you so much. God- fuck- I love you so much, petal,” he rasps.
The force of his thrusts swiftly turns those melodic, lilting moans you love so much into the deep, somewhat raspy grunts that never fail to drive you mad. The sound of skin slapping against skin as his pelvis repeatedly collides with the globes of your arse fills the room, along with the wet, smacking noises made by his cock driving into your slick heat and the dull thump of your headboard hitting the wall. It’s a chorus of sweet, blissful depravity that only increases Billy’s newfound fervour.
“Fuck, baby,” Billy groans deeply whilst reaching round one of your hips to play with your sensitive little bud, swirling the tips of his fingers on it in tight, fast circles, “Wanna live inside this pretty little pussy. ’S always so warm ‘n wet for me.”
You simply mewl in response, too far gone, too fucked out to form any coherent response. Billy’s usually vocal in bed, unable to stifle his loud moans and whines, but he’s rarely so brazenly talkative. He’s usually more unsure, constantly checking in and making sure he’s doing a good job. So, it’s always a treat when he gets like this; confident, daring, and maybe even a little cocky.
When you look back at him over your shoulder, you spot his tongue curled up against his upper lip, a telltale sign of the effort he’s putting into fucking you hard. Were it anyone else, you might giggle at the way their tongue can’t seem to stay in their mouth, but with him, coupled with the sweaty glaze he’s coated in and the way his muscles flex as he drives his cock into you, it seems to only add to the appeal. Billy’s brutish grunts fill the room as he fucks you, and you find that you love the uncharacteristically deep, raspy sounds emitting from him just as much as his dulcet moans.
“God, Billy,” you mewl pitifully.
“’S good? You like it when I fuck you hard, petal?” Billy asks as he leans forward to press a sloppy kiss to your shoulder.
Your mouth falls open with a loud, lascivious moan as you nod meekly. At the same time, your legs begin to shake as the coil in your stomach winds tightly for the last time tonight; your climax approaching swiftly. Billy can tell, can feel how close you are in the way your tight heat clenches around him, like your walls are trying to milk his cock. Your pussy has his thick cock locked in a vice grip, one that he has to fight against the force of as he continues to pump into you, and the feeling of it sends him hurtling toward his own peak.
“‘M so close, dove,” Billy warns you, his grunts morphing back into his desperate, lilting moans as his pleasure mounts.
He leans forward to lavish your neck with kisses, moaning wantonly in your ear whilst continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it; like the only thing he needs in this world is to feel your greedy sex pulsing around his cock.
“You gonna cum with me, baby? Need you to cum with me, love,” Billy pleads, fucking into you fervently as he groans lowly.
You whimper as you look back at him and nod. He offers you a soft, encouraging smile that doesn’t quite match the lechery of this moment but warms your heart all the same. The warmth blooming in your chest seems to grow more prominent when Billy presses a tender kiss to your shoulder and another to the crown of your head.
“Doing so good f’me, love. Taking my cock so well. ’S like it was made f’you, made to fill your- fuck- your sweet pussy,” Billy praises you in between his wanton moaning.
“It was,” you whimper pathetically, “it’s mine. ’S just for me.”
Your possessiveness never fails to make Billy melt. However, it is a bit unnecessary; Billy’s been yours, solely yours, ever since you first spoke to him. You’d found him cowering in a corner at a mutual friend’s party, the same one he’d fucked you at later on in the night, and made it your mission to get him to open up to you, to get him to have some fun. If the nearly ten months you’ve been together are anything to show for it, your unspoken mission was obviously a smashing success.
“That's right, baby. ’S just for you, only for you,” he cuts himself off with a needy groan, “It’s yours, love. I’m yours.”
“I love you, Billy,” you moan weakly. It’s the only warning you give before you cum, the coil in your belly finally snapping as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you, making your muscles twitch whilst a loud, lewd wail of pleasure tumble past your parted lips. The incessant clenching of your walls has the fluids of your release gushing forcefully out of your sex, coating you and Billy’s thighs in a warm, glossy sheen. That same clenching of your sex is also what leads to his own unraveling.
Billy’s head rests between your shoulder blades whilst he lets out a series of wet moans and pornographic whimpers, his orgasm hitting him abruptly and intensely. His hips stutter as he pumps his throbbing cock inside you, shooting rope after rope of cum into your fluttering cunt; however, they finally still when the sensation becomes too much for him. Billy collapses on top of you, careful not to put too much weight on you, as he lets your spasming walls milk him dry, painting them with the last of his release as he fills you to the brim.
The two of you remain like that, still tangled up in each other and unmoving, whilst coming down from your mutual highs, both of you fighting to catch your breaths. It isn’t until Billy begins smattering needy kisses along your neck and shoulders that you start to stir, wanting to roll over so you can kiss his handsome face. He takes the hint, removing the pillow from under your pelvis and easing his softening cock out of your cunt. The sudden movement makes you both hiss, each far too sensitive for such stimulation, but it’s over soon. Of course, even with your hypersensitivity, you whine at the loss of Billy’s cock, missing the feeling of fullness that only he can provide. Your petulance makes Billy chuckle whilst he helps you roll over, knowing you’re too worn out to manage that feat on your own.
You sigh blissfully once you’re face-to-face with Billy again. His beautiful brown eyes, not unlike those of a young calf, gaze down at you adoringly, making you beam up at him happily.
“Hi, handsome,” you greet him softly as you reach up to run your fingers through his light brown hair, still tinted with strawberry blonde highlights from the summer sun, though it’s been months since anyone around here saw that flighty sun.
Billy giggles at your hazy silliness whilst he replies, “Hi, petal.”
“Kiss me?” You ask simply, your tone soft and sugary sweet.
“I’d be honoured,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning down to capture your lips in a languid embrace. The kiss is so tender and saccharine that you both moan softly into it. You part your lips for Billy, letting him deepen the kiss as you wrap your arms and legs round him, encouraging him to fully rest his weight on you. He’s like your own personal weighted blanket. Interestingly, you’d previously never really understood the appeal of weighted blankets, believing them to be suffocating and restrictive, at least not until you cuddled with Billy for the first time and realized how delightful it can be to have such a warm, soft weight pressing against you, holding you down and keeping you safe from the outside world.
Unfortunately, the feeling of the soaked sheets clinging to your skin soon pulls you out of your blissful state. You groan as you reluctantly break away from Billy’s kiss.
“We gotta get up and change these sheets, Billygoat; feels icky,” you inform him with your face pulled into a tight grimace, clearly conveying your discomfort.
“Yeah,” Billy groans in agreement as he pulls away from you, rising up to sit back on his haunches as he peers down at you with a wry smile.
“We’ve gotta get you in the shower, too,” he reminds you whilst he climbs out of bed, coming to stand on his slightly unsteady legs. He then turns to face the bed again, looking down at you.
“I lied to you earlier,” Billy says, continuing his previous line of thought, “You reek, babe.”
The gasp you let out in response to his remark is wholly indignant, aptly conveying your faux offense as you launch a stray pillow at him. It thwacks Billy in the chest, making him drop his deadpan façade as he bursts into giggles.
You climb out of bed on your own shaky legs as you playfully threaten, “You’re gonna be so sorry for that, Billy Knight!”
“Dove, I was kidding!” Billy shrieks giddily whilst making a break for it, running out of the room with you not far behind him, still giggling as he attempts to evade whatever playful punishment you have in store for him. He manages to put some distance between the two of you when he wisely fakes you out, making it look like he’s going to turn into the bathroom before running off in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.
“You’re lucky I love you, Billiam!” You huff out, doing your best to stifle your own giggles. Billy’s laughing increases tenfold at the sound of the odd little nickname you’ve given him.
Billy’s giggles subside as he suddenly pokes his head round the corner and into the hall, fixing you with a genuinely fond smile, catching you off guard.
You halt in place as Billy softly says, “I love you too, petal.”
God, he is unreasonably adorable.
<3
<3
putting symbols at the end so hopefully tumblr won't cut off the last paragraph!!
<3
<3
#ask and i shall reply#soft dom!billy knight#also…#reluctant dom!billy knight#shy bb just has trouble asserting himself sometimes <3#billy knight#billy knight x reader#billy knight fanfiction#billy knight fanfic#billy knight blurb#billy knight fluff#billy knight strike#billy knight smut#billy knight fic#strike lethal white#once again…#FUCK JKR#we don’t tolerate terfs or transphobia on this blog
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🎃Whumptober Day 5: Betrayal + Reluctant Whumper (Goro Akechi x Reader)🎃
You shift in the uncomfortable metal chair as you rub your bruise wrists. Your body aches from all the beating from those detectives. You can hear footsteps and a family voice.
Goro Akechi.
You see the door open to reveal the guard and Goro Akechi. Quickly Akechi took the guard's gun and shots him in the chest, causing you to flinch at the sudden action. The guard died instantly. You look at Akechi as your hands tightly grip your knees.
Akechi looks at you while holding up the gun, "Have you finally figure it out?" He stares at you blankly, but you can see a bit of sadness in his eyes. He got closer to you and leans over the table. Akechi lifts your chin and softly kiss your lips. You tensed up. He holds your chin as he puts his tongue into your mouth.
"M-Mmph~..." You quietly moan. You were still tense, but you were starting to blush. Akechi continues to make out with you as he slowly moves the gun and points the barrel against your head. You start to shake even more
He pulls back from kissing you, leaving a string of saliva, and he stares straight at your eyes, "Forgive me..."
BANG
#whumptober2023#whump#angst#no.5#fanfiction#Fic#goro akechi x reader#Persona 5 x reader#x reader#betrayal#kiss#make out#reluctant whumper#death tw
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