#slowly getting more happy on how I draw his eyes
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Late night surprise - a "Two for the price of One" story
Max x fem!reader x Kelly
Okay, I never thought that so many people would like my story, so you can imagine I was quite floored when I was actually ASKED to do another. So here it is! I’m always happy about feedback, so don’t hold back! Also: would you like some (domestic) fluff with them? Like, how they got together, how it would be open for discussion who would love the Disney movie more between the adults and P. Just let me know. And now: to the smut!
You didn’t hear the door, too focused on thrusting in and out of Kelly with the strap-on, which rubbed your clit almost the right way, like a constant tease, but when you mentioned it to your lovers before, they just kissed your cheeks at the same time, and Kelly whispered “We know, you should see how desperate you look when you fuck me with it. Concentrating on pleasuring me, and at the same time so frustrated because it just doesn’t work for you.” So you never replaced that stupid, annoying, wonderful strap-on, whining and panting while pushing Kelly’s legs up to get even deeper.
But it seemed like she heard something, maybe the lock, maybe the closing, maybe even the steps, as the woman turned her head, smiling at the man standing in the doorway, watching the scene before him. Only then you yourself looked up, and blinked in surprise when you saw Max. But when you started to slow down, a sharp slap to your butt told you to go on. Kelly was quite demanding, and you knew you would be rewarded in the best way possible whenever you obeyed.
“I thought you would come back tomorrow”, Kelly panted, and it was a bit annoying that she still had the brain cells to speak coherently. With a huff, you angled your hips a bit, and that seemed to do the trick, as she moaned loudly. Max still stood there, silent, with a smirk on his lips. He once admitted that he loved watching you two fuck, it was one of his biggest turn-ons. Especially after you started to feel more comfortable, often holding eye contact while still blushing furiously.
After another moment he pushed himself off the doorway and strolled over to the bed. “I convinced the others to let me go earlier. I missed you, with how stressful everything was, I just needed to be with you”, he mumbled, leaning down to give Kelly a truly filthy kiss, before turning and granting you the same treatment. You whined again, trying to chase after him when he pulled back, but another slap on your butt-cheek drew your attention back to the main program.
Almost as if you were apologizing, you kissed the woman beneath you, then slowly worked your way down to suck on her right tit, drawing another moan from her throat. Her hands immediately buried themselves in your hair, making sure you stayed in place.
You felt the mattress dip, signaling that Max finally joined you. But Kelly didn’t let up, making it impossible for you to look at the man. Which didn’t mean you were unaware of what he was doing. A hand, his hand, snuck between your bodies, starting to rub Kelly’s clit in a way that always drove her crazy.
Her moans got louder, with that specific pitch they only got when she was close, and you had to grin against her breast. As the ‘new one’ in this relationship, even after months, it always made you proud to make her cum. Both of them once praised you on how quickly you caught on, knowing now on how to make it more than pleasurable for both of them, if still not as well as the both of them. But to be fair, they had years of relationship behind, so it would be kind of weird and sad if you were better than one of them.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when your hair was gripped so hard that you hissed in pain, and Kelly arched her back, her moan drawn out and raw, before she collapsed back, panting. Not that she let go of you, or that you stopped thrusting, it was just slower, gentler. Just how she liked when she came down from her orgasm. Only when the woman finally pulled your head up to give you a soft, deep kiss, you pulled out.
Immediately two hands were on your hips, pulling on the harness that kept the strap-on in place, and you didn’t even have the chance to help before Max had it off your body and pulled you around, until you laid next to Kelly, your face pushed into the pillows and your ass raised.
It always caused goosebumps and shivers when Max manhandled you like that, and your lovers teased you often enough about how much of a submissive slut you were, whether it was how Kelly commanded you or how Max used his strength on you. And you couldn’t deny it, you loved being their good, sweet girl. No matter that Max was actually the youngest in the relationship, by two fucking weeks. Which you never let him forget.
Any thought left your brain as you finally felt the hard length push into you, and you gripped the sheets, gasping for breath. One of your hands was carefully pulled away and intertwined with Kelly’s, and when you turned your head to look at her, her eyes were both loving and hungry. It apparently was a thing for all three of you, to watch two of you fuck, you were just as guilty of this pleasure as them.
Then Max started moving, and you closed your eyes with a soft moan. Normally the one watching would force you to look at them, but it seemed like today Kelly was in a merciful mood. She just ran her fingers over your cheek, while you drooled over the fabric beneath you, and then you heard her address Max: “Be nice, she was so good today.” Another shiver ran over your body, and you whimpered as Max gripped your hip with one hand, while the other reached beneath you, to softly rub your clit.
Whining and squirming, at least as much as his hard grip allowed, you pushed back against him, the frustrating teasing of the harness helping you to reach your orgasm even faster than normal. But you forced yourself to keep it together, because if you came now, you would leave Max hanging high and dry.
Once again Kelly proved her eerie ability to know exactly what you were thinking, as she leaned to you and softly kissed your cheek. “Just let go. As I said, you were so good today. You don’t need to take care of him, I’ll do it. Relax and enjoy it.” And you don’t even know when it happened, but somewhen in the last months your body became so attuned to her, to her commands, that you felt yourself going pliant, letting yourself just feel.
Max, in an attempt to help, placed soft kisses along your neck, until he came to that specific spot, just below your hairline on the back of your head, your sweet spot where only a small breath would cause goosebumps to appear all over your body, and bit down. That was the last drop, the last push you needed. With a guttural moan you came.
Clenching around Max, you sobbed, gripping Kelly’s hand even harder. But he didn’t stop, he kept thrusting into you, causing you to squirm again, biting your lower lip, until your mouth dropped open again, panting and crying out. Just to feel another orgasm approach. That was something you found out not too long ago, the fact that you were actually able to cum multiple times in a row, as long as Max didn’t change a single thing.
It was scary at first, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, bordering on pain, and no end in sight. Just to end in another peak. The record was four in a row, and that ended in your actually crying and needing to be held even closer than normal. But as soon as you were able to speak again, you reassured both of them that you actually loved it, that it more than blew your mind, and that you would love to try it again. Just… not anytime soon, otherwise your body might break.
Equipped with that knowledge, Max just kept going, just as you kept gasping and sobbing. It didn’t take long for you to finally cum again, and that was the sign for Max to slow down. Two was the limit for normal days, when you didn’t prepare for the mind-mush that came with more than two. A few last thrusts, then he carefully pulled out, but you still hissed.
Rolling to the side, still holding Kelly’s hand, you tried to gather your thoughts and closed your eyes for a second. It must have been longer, you must have blacked out for a moment, because when you opened them again, Max was on his back, whimpering just like you were moments ago, with Kelly holding his hip down and deepthroating his cock.
You personally knew how talented her mouth was, and you had witnessed how quickly she could cause Max to cum this way, so you grinned to yourself and watched while the driver was driven crazy by that wonderful, wonderful mouth.
When the signs of his end were showing, you forced yourself up to lean on your elbows and kissed him, while playing with his nipple with one hand. He didn’t really kiss back, just some sloppy movements, another sign that he was close.
His moans turned to groans, and then he seized up with a pleasured cry, probably trying to thrust into Kelly’s mouth, but that woman was stronger than she looked, without any trouble keeping him pinned down.
A few moments after, he was panting as if he had just run a marathon, and Kelly crawled upwards to press a kiss first on his lips, then on yours. She gave you a few seconds, before patting both of your thighs, and grinning. “Come now, we all need a shower. If you are quick, I’ll change the sheets while you shower.” That was definitely an incentive, and while it took you both a moment, Max and you crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Because sleeping in a sweaty bed was really gross, and not having to change the sheets yourself was always a plus.
#formula 1#formula1#f1#fanfiction#max verstappen#x fem!reader#x female reader#kelly piquet#max verstappen x reader x kelly piquet#max verstappen x you x kelly piquet#max x reader x kelly#max x you x kelly#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#kelly piquet x you#kelly piquet x reader
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whew
#off game#the batter#off the batter#off mortis ghost#I have been yassifying him again#slowly getting more happy on how I draw his eyes#they are difficult to draw...#wavy's art
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader
From the request here
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.
Word Count: 4.3 k
Warnings:
“Look at the jugs on her,” one of the guys says at the busty blonde that has just been introduced for the first time in the film. A few others follow suit, whooping at the gorgeous, petite female main character popping up on screen as the movie really gets going. “That’s a woman you could lose yourself in. Fuck, I wish I could find a girl like her; I’d be a happy man for life. To have that waiting at home for me, I’d never even be tempted to stray.”
This is usually how movie night on base goes: people piling into the rec center ready to watch the latest movie from the personal collection from one of the members, but mostly it just devolves into a testosterone fest of horny boys itching to have something to focus their sexual frustrations on by ogling at the new pretty little thing on screen. Usually it doesn’t bother you, you’re used to being around all that chaos, but tonight just feels different.
Simon isn’t one for this type of gathering, but he comes to keep an on the crowd and be nearer to you and as he watches out of the corner of his eye from his place standing towards the back, he notices how your body language changes as the guys continue to raucously talk about the leading lady and how beautiful she is. It’s almost imperceptible the way you shift in your seat while you pick at the skin of your lower lip with your teeth, your shoulders slumping down as you cross your arms, but he catches it outright. He knows you and he knows this isn’t normal.
Something is bothering you.
The longer you sit there the worse it gets. Their lustful words just cut different tonight; maybe it’s exhaustion from being overworked or perhaps you’re just having an off day, but the longer they hoot and holler over the girl plastered before your eyes, the more you want to crawl out of your skin.
It’s about halfway through the movie when you slowly get up from your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself by leaving too quickly and exit the rec without looking back. Simon is instantly concerned and wants to rush after you, but one of the newer recruits that seems to be the ringleader in all this turns to him as if to drag him into the depraved fun.
“Whatcha think; gotta admit she’s a fine thing, ain’t she Lieutenant?” he asks, nodding back at the screen. “Come on, even you gotta admit she’s perfect. Couldn’t hope to find anyone better.”
The look that Simon gives the young man through his mask, that stone cold glare that could make even the bravest man shiver, instantly shuts him up and has him facing forward again to join his brothers in arms in their jokes. His brow furrows angrily behind the fabric as he looks over the crowd of boys once more before heading out, leaving quietly like a specter on his way to find where you had gotten to.
Simon checks all the usual places, but you are nowhere to be found: the little area outside the rec where you usually join him for a smoke break, the mess hall, even your barracks are empty. Then he hears movement in the communal bathroom and knows he’s finally found you.
It looks like you’ve been rushing to get done before anyone can catch you. Your hair is damp from the shower and it drips down to leave dark stains onto your t-shirt as you stand staring at yourself in the mirror behind the sink. Simon watches quietly from his obscured place by the door as you look yourself over, scrutinizing each detail from head to toe before you give up with a sigh and a diversion of your eyes, focusing on your toothbrush instead as you pick it up and turn on the faucet. So absorbed in what you are doing, you don’t hear the lock click closed or the pair of heavy boots that cross the length of the room until there is a presence upon you.
“God, you’re so beautiful baby,” you hear that deep, gravelly voice sound from behind you while a bulky arm wraps itself around your waist from behind as Simon presses up against your back. You look back up into the mirror in front of you and are instantly met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes as he slowly removes his balaclava. “Just standin’ there fresh outta the shower and ya look like a fantasy.”
Setting the mask on the sink he joins his other arm around you and leans his face in, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck before he presses his lips against your jugular. His lips catch the feeling of your pulse quickening through the vein at his touch. Rough hands begin to splay across your clothed stomach, running across and down to your hips with gentle caresses that make you pause. Your eyes stare into the mirror to take in your combined form as he drapes himself over you, hot lips peppering your skin with no sign of letting up.
You chuckle dismissively, trying to play off his words as a joke. Your head still isn’t in the right place and even though you enjoy the feeling of his touch, disastrous thoughts still circle throughout to cloud your mind so that you second guess even his affections.
“Oh, come off it,” you return as you grab the toothpaste off the countertop. “I do not.”
There is no hesitation in his reply. “I’m serious,” he breathes that husky whisper against your skin as his lips continue down to your shoulder as his fingers pull the t-shirt away from your collar bone to reveal more skin for him to adorn with his mouth.
You roll your eyes in the mirror so that as he looks up briefly he catches the movement. “Yeah, sure,” you again dismiss him. “Whatever you say.”
Before you can even unscrew the cap to the toothpaste, Simon reaches past you to turn off the tap and take your things out of your hands before he rotates you around so that you face him. Your backside presses into the edge of the sink as you rest up against it, mouth scrunched to one side as he gazes back at you with intent. There is a subtle frown on his lips and an anxious look in his copper eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. “Somethin’ happen? Cause I did see ya leave in a hurry back there.”
You divert your eyes, ashamed of your lack of confidence that has come forward tonight. “I don’t know, it’s nothing,” you shrug, but he isn’t buying any of it.
His large hand rests itself up under your chin, pulling your head back up to look into his face. “I think ya do know,” he says. “Will ya tell me?”
Clearing your throat, you give yourself a moment to figure out how best to proceed. “It’s just,” you say hesitantly, “I guess sometimes I just wish I looked like that, you know? I know I’m usually not this self-conscious, but tonight I guess I just hit a rough patch with my insecurities and something about the shit they were saying just got to me I guess. You see the way the guys talk about girls like in that movie, like she’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. She’s so perfect and… I…”
You gesture with your head down the length of your body to emphasize your point that you are nothing like the actress: your breasts are on the smaller side, your thighs are incredibly thick, and your stomach is not completely flat. Simon follows your hand, looking you up and down before his eyes meet yours again.
“I’m not. I know it’s fucking stupid and I shouldn’t care about all that, it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes it’s just hard to ignore. I’m not the standard when it comes to beauty, but sometimes I just want to feel like I’m the most irresistible person in the room.”
It seems like he wants to say something, you can see his mouth shifting, but instead his gaze drifts down to your lips and he pulls your chin forward to close the distance between your mouths. Instantly he overtakes your mouth with his own, tenderly capturing your lips over and over with a gentle desperation that makes him shudder against you as he moves in closer.
“Who the fuck said ya ain’t perfect?” he asks, his voice breathy against your lips. “Gimme that bastard’s name. You tell me right now so I can go ring their fuckin’ neck. Cause that is a goddamn lie.”
“No one said anything like that, it’s just the way I feel,” you answer honestly. “And you’re only saying that because you like me.”
Immediately Simon pulls you into another long kiss as if he is trying to take those insecure words right out of your mouth before you can say anything else. Breaking the kiss, Simon licks his flushed lips and shakes his head. “Really? Ya don’t think your body can drive someone wild? Then what’s this, hmm?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand forward so that he can place the palm over top of the soft bulge growing in his boxers. “See whatcha do to me, sweetheart? Ya think that’s lyin’?”
Your hand rubs over the swell and his hips unconsciously buck slightly against your hand as he hums in approval of your touch. It is instantaneous the way you have him begging for even a simple touch from you; no other has ever held that kind of power over him, not anyone that he would give it to so freely like he does you. The warm pressure from your hand causes the pulsing to intensify as he grows harder and you find your heart beat starting to match its throbbing.
“Ya don’t think I catch the men lookin’ at ya from time to time?” he asks as he leans his head forward until it rests against your own, hands moving up under the hem of your shirt to play with the toasty skin of your abdomen as he talks. “Ya don’t think I see that their eyes glaze over as they linger on your body a bit too long for my fuckin’ likin’? Just cause they won’t say it out loud doesn’t make it any less true that you have something about ya that would drive any man wild.”
His words are like a balm to your mind and the longer he speaks the more you find yourself falling under their spell. Rough fingers are pushing up higher into your shirt, pulling it up over your waist as he runs his palms across the area while his hips press into yours. He’s not forceful or harsh, his advances are only full of adoration in that type of intense devotion that only Simon Riley is capable of when it comes to savoring the best damn thing he has ever had.
“Don’t let what ya heard back there hurt ya,” he says softly. “Yeah, ya don’t look like that bird on the screen, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t an absolute beauty. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen and I ain’t just sayin’ it, baby. But ya don’t just have ta take my word for it. Let me show ya that no one can hold a candle to what ya got.”
Simon pulls you over to one of the empty showers and gets it going, fiddling with the taps to make sure the water is going nice and warm before he turns his undivided attention back to you. Instantly his mouth is back on yours as one by one each piece of your clothing is removed and set aside in tandem with his own until you both stand before the other bare.
“I’ve already showered,” you mutter out between pauses as merely just a statement of fact rather than a reason to deny him.
Simon murmurs his disagreement into your mouth. “Don’t care,” he replies through a break in his kiss, continuing to take off your clothes as he dizzyingly tries to get at your body. “Can’t be havin’ those fuckin’ negative thoughts in that head of yours. Wanna take care of ya, make ya feel like the true beauty ya are.”
More kissing, so much that your lips are burning and raw from the friction. His mouth must be aflame too, but he doesn’t let up; he can’t, he’s captured in the wake of your allure and there is no getting out.
“What if someone comes in?” The last of your questions spills out quick.
He chuckles at your needless worry. “Already locked the door sweetheart.”
Stretching his hand out, he checks the temperature to be sure it’s right before dragging you inside the steamy oasis. The curtain is barely pulled closed before he has you pinned at the back wall, his stocky torso rubbing against your voluptuous naked body as he steals the breath from your lungs, kissing you so thoroughly that there is no distinction between faces anymore.
The change in temperature has your nipples hardening, the blossoms spiking forward at attention, and Simon can feel them poking against his chest the longer he has your mouth locked in that dance of back and forth. The moment he is aware of their presence his mouth is salivating to get at them.
You might think they are not perfect enough, but to him they are exactly what he wants.
Breaking the kiss abruptly, removing his mouth so quickly that a trial of spit still connects your lips a moment, he tilts his head downward. Being on the smaller side, he can fit your breast almost entirely in his mouth and he does, filling the cavity with as much of your tit as he can without choking.
You can hardly remember anymore why the stupid comments had you so upset in the first place when you have a man like Simon who will dote on you like you are royalty. His is the only opinion you have come to care about and it is clear that there is nothing he will ever want more than you.
He moans deep and guttural into your breast as he sucks while letting the end of his tongue flick around the nipple, circling the sensitive tissue until you are writhing against him as he holds you steady to the wall so that he can work. There is another breast after all that requires his attention and he intends to show it the same amount of affection as the other. Switching sides, he gets to work, keeping the first breast warm by cupping it in his hand.
It’s minutes of you quivering and whimpering before he emerges panting with his lips swollen and red, satisfied with his work so far. Giving his lips a break, Simon gently strokes your cheek with his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, swaying your bodies from side to side in easy movements. “Stay with me luv,” he says softly as he watches you take heavy breaths, “I ain’t done just yet.”
Those lips are on the move again to decorate your body, over your sternum and waist, until he has to kneel before you to get any further. He’s on his knees, all 6’4” of him bent to you as he places kisses across your belly while the heated water runs over his dirty blonde hair and down his back, rippling across the muscles in his shoulders as he holds your hips squeezed securely between his broad hands.
“You’re perfect just the way ya are, baby,” he groans against your moist skin, letting his lips linger wherever he puts them. “Just like this: real, curves for fuckin’ days, so much skin I get drunk tryin’ to get at it all. And the best goddamn part is that it’s all mine.”
More kisses he places along all the areas you think unworthy of adoration, but that he finds absolutely exquisite. “Mine, all mine.”
His words devolve into incoherent babble as he nestles his face into your abdomen to leave burning trails of his desire with his lips that even the warm water cannot wash away from your skin. Your body writhes in his double-handed grasp as your head falls back to rest against the wall as every inch of tender flesh prickles with the overstimulating sensation of being doted upon.
Lips keep trailing further downward from your stomach to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs.
“Ya think I get on my knees for any girl?” he asks from his place at the bottom of the shower as he stares up into your face with half-lidded eyes that darken the more he plays with you. “You’re the only one who can bring me to fuckin’ kneel, baby. You and your gorgeous body. I’m at it’s goddamn mercy.”
Placing his hand on your calf, he nods and you know exactly what he wants: that juicy cunt smothering his features, your bulky thighs crush against his ears. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and he leans in, smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip.
There is little oxygen to be had between the heat from the water and the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft, breathy gasps and moans as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up to breathe. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, if there is even a whisper of a negative thought left in your brain it is overshadowed completely now by the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured to the brink of insanity.
You buck wild and untamed, panting heavily as the warmth in your belly begins gathering quicker than you could have thought, the coil pulling tightly as minute by aching minute Simon draws your body to the edge of its release. He is relentless in his endeavor, putting your needs above anything else- even breathing. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you soon are spilling over the edge and he has to hold onto you tight so that you don’t slip and fall.
Simon stays locked to your pussy until the very last second, keeping his movements going even as you try to pry him off from the sensitivity that is almost too much to handle. It isn’t until you finally stop writhing that he emerges from between your legs with a smile that has your stomach doing somersaults as he wipes his mouth clean of your cum.
“Second course,” he growls before you even have a chance to fully come down from your high.
Oh you have got him down bad tonight.
He carefully flips you round to face the wall and uses his feet to make you spread your legs as wide as you can get them. A hefty hand runs itself over the curve of your ass, following the line down all the way to the underside before he grabs it in his hand and gives the meat a firm squeeze.
“Those little boys just don’t know how to handle this much woman; all these fuckin’ curves are too much pleasure for a bastard that don’t know the treasure he’s got. But I know what a fuckin’ feast ya are,” he groans as he aligns your hips and enters you from behind with a forceful grunt that reverberates off the enclosed space of the shower.
You push palms flat against the wall to steady yourself. “They don’t know how ta treat ya right, how ta love a body that just keeps givin’ and givin’. But I don’t have that problem, sweetheart.”
Simon’s devout words are like liquid fire and as his cock stretches you wide, the euphoria of his talk runs through you to make you burn. Your body is his religion and goddamn does he always worship it right. All those cares, all that self-loathing and doubt entirely evaporate from your mind as he pushes your shoulders forward to make you arch your back so that he can pound into your pussy hard and deep from behind, making your plump ass bounce off his pelvis with a recoil that draws his gaze.
“Fuck,” he breathes, so obsessed with the way you look around him that he is trying to ingrain the image in his mind.
His aching exclamation thrills you, making your heart skip a beat as his thrusts continue to rock through you. To be craved in such a way, to be thought of like the woman in the movie, that is what he is giving you now and it is euphoric. His intensity is orgasmic and your body responds in kind as he grabs you to move you closer.
“Don’t concern yourself with the bullshit ideas of some puny little boys when ya got a man who will always make sure you feel like a fuckin’ princess when you’re in his arms,” he says in a whisper at your ear as he pulls you back to leans against his chest. “Cause ya are, sweetheart. Your my fuckin’ goddess of a woman.”
The way he says it makes you ache all over and you can feel it twinge in your clit. “Say it again,” you beg, needing to hear him make those sweet combinations of sounds once more until your body vibrates with pleasure.
His hand comes up to cup around your breast so that he can massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to mewl at the sensation. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful baby, so goddamn perfect just like this, and I love every last fuckin’ inch of ya. My princess.”
Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you full on all of his passion for your body. You will never be able to make everyone see you for the gorgeous being that you truly are, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Simon is more than enough to keep you feeling like the most beautiful girl in the whole world; you are safe with him.
Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arms that are filled with your waist clamp down tighter to secure you to him so that he can shove his cock even harder into your now dripping core. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out.
“Come for me again,” he practically demands as he watches you falling apart once more. “Come on, pretty girl, one more for me. One more together.”
Your limbs are tingling with each snap of his hips against your ass. It’s close, right there, you can almost feel it again as the coil wounds itself tight once more in the pit of your stomach. You clench down on him, making him falter before recovering and continuing on. A few more pumps of him deep in your core and it is right there at the precipice.
“Let go for me,” he whispers into your ear as you clench once more around him and something about the way he says it sets you off. You come for the second time, the orgasm rocketing through you until you can feel it like fire shooting through your veins as you shake with the intensity of it all.
Quickly he pulls out just in time as he too pops off and comes between your thighs as you clamp them together around his cock. The ejaculate runs down your legs as he milks every last bit out of the tip until his body hangs limp and his head falls down to rest the forehead against your shoulder. Still he holds you close, murmuring soft praises against your neck about how fucking amazing that was and how there is no one else that will ever look more beautiful all flushed and exhausted.
Holding onto you, Simon takes a few steps back forcing you to come along until you are both submerged under the showerhead to let that soothing water run over your bodies until you can both come back down from your high. There are no words yet, none that need to be said out loud, all he needs to do is keep you wrapped in his arms a little longer.
It’s quiet, just the sound of the water rushing filling the silent space for a while, until a noise breaks you both out of the moment. There is a banging on the door from the outside, repeated knocking loudly and clearly; you’ve been in here for too long, but Simon doesn’t seem to be bothered. There is no attempt to leave the steamy oasis yet and soon the sound subsides and you are both left in the silence once again.
“They’ll just have to fuckin’ wait,” he says against the side of your head in a hushed whisper, lips tempting your earlobe. “They can consider it a punishment for making ya upset. Besides, I’m still busy and you’re not goin’ anywhere.”
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon smut#simon#ghost simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost smut#simin ghost riley#simon ghost x you#ghost#cod ghost#cod mwf2#cod
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nobody understands how you did it.
how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.
‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’
that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.
the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately
“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.
they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.
so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?
certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.
definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.
“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,
you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.
scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.
he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.
“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.
he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.
he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.
“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”
“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”
simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.
truly is a sight.
“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,
he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.
“you’re just so beautiful”
something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.
you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.
“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”
the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.
something you’d see when two people are in love. c
so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.
he found a solace within your existence.
only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.
vbecause you. are his home
#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley
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Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it
He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all
To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.
You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.
My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭
a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe
MDNI this entire blog is 18+
Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?
He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.
Steve Harrington has stamina.
At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.
And, god, does he fucking love you.
You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.
“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”
Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”
You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.
Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.
“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”
His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.
“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.
You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.
“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”
Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.
Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.
But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.
He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.
“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.
Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.
“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”
He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.
“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.
His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.
Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”
Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.
Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.
Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.
It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.
The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.
“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.
“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.
“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.
You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”
Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.
“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.
“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”
“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”
You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”
From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”
#after many many moons…. a wild jay appears#i lied i wrote those two fics not that long ago#sorry it’s more lovey and less subby!#i’m in my lovergirl era almost always#anon#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve x reader#jay writes#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve smut#wrote this while high so if there’s mistakes take it up with my manager
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happy new year | l. norris
warnings: smut, whole lotta smut, everyone gets head, dirty talk, lando won't shut the fuck up, spitting lol, praise, don’t really know what’s going on half the time
authors note: found this in my drafts from december please enjoy x
31st december 2022, monaco - 11:54pm
“come on mate, get another drink down you,” max fewtrell handed his best friend a jagerbomb, his spare hand resting on landos shoulder, his drunken self unable to stand properly.
lando smiled slightly, before taking the drink and shotting it in one. it had been a few days since him and his girlfriend broke up, and he wasn’t anywhere near over her yet. he didn’t know if he ever would be, judging by how he felt right now. he wanted to be at home, bottle of some 40% spirit in hand and trying to forget.
max wouldn’t let that happen though, forcing him out tonight so he finally left the confinement of his apartment, hoping that the party scene would alleviate some of the stress on landos shoulder.
“come on, there’s so many fit girls here, take your pick,” he slurred, before being pulled away by his girlfriend for the traditional new years kiss.
lando hadn’t realised it was almost midnight, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the reminder that last year he was doing this with his ex. he grabbed another drink from the bar and got it down him quickly, planning on sitting at the bar while everyone around him spend the next few minutes with their loved ones.
until he saw you.
his eyes were glued to you the moment he saw you, stuck on how the short red dress you were wearing clung to your curves, stuck on how your hair tumbled over your bare shoulders, stuck on how the sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the neon lights or the club and lit up your whole face.
you made eye contact was you turned towards the bar, and obviously he caught your fancy, with a black button up that pronounced his muscles more than usual, a chain around his neck, and his hair in defined dark curls that contrasted his tanned skin. he looked almost like an angel descended from the heavens, except an angel would never have such a sorrowed look upon their face.
he beckoned you over with a flick of his fingers, eyes never leaving your body, and you may have been upset if you weren’t as gone as you were. you settled yourself in between his legs, taking the half drank glass from his hand and finishing it off for him, leaving a faint red mark on the rim.
he was infatuated at first glance. his hands settled in the dip of your waist, almost engulfing your body with their size. his mouth slowly curved into a smirk as he watched you lean over him to place the now empty glass on the bar, allowing him a small look at your lace bra you were wearing under your dress.
he checked the time on the clock. 11:57.
“what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, thumbs drawing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress.
you told him your name, before then asking for his, and his eyes widened with the realisation that you didn’t know who he was, or you were too drunk to realise.
“lando,” he smiled softly, voice deep and husky.
11:58.
“you here with anyone?” he asked, eyes dropping down to your red-stained lips before meeting your eyes again, the actions so quick you could barely recognise it happening.
you shook your head. “well, my friend, but she’s here with her boyfriend so…”
“i’m in the same boat,” he chuckled softly, subconsciously pulling you closer and closer towards him, so your thighs were brushing against his, “my mate max is here but he’s ran off with his girlfriend now.”
“god i hate people in couples,” you laughed, receiving one in return from lando, “they act all in love with no regard for those of us who are single.”
11:59.
“tell me about it,” lando rolled his eyes, his hand slowly climbing up your body so they were now resting against your rib cage.
you looped your arms around him, hands settling in the nape of his neck, a finger wrapping around a loose curl in his hair. he stood up now, looking down on you, and leant down so your faces were mere centimetres apart.
“you know it’s almost midnight,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin.
you hummed in response, feeling your heart beat doubly as fast against your ribs, the air suddenly feeling so much warmer.
“and i don’t have anyone to kiss.” as the final word left his mouth his lips attached to your neck, soft under ear, leaving a sloppy kiss that made you want more, want so much more.
“i don’t have anyone either,” you almost whispered, scared you had the wrong impression, but of course you didn’t.
chants of people in the background took you out of your little bubble, as the familiar ‘ten, nine, eight,’ sounded through the club.
lando leant right in, so your lips were practically touching already. “can i kiss you?”
you nodded just as the clock struck midnight, and his lips crashed into yours, with a sense of lust that you hadn’t felt in far too long.
the kiss was wet, it was sloppy, but it was desperate and needy and it sent a shiver through your body down to your core. your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling against his roots and causing him to groan into the kiss, allowing him to stick his tongue in and control the kiss.
your tongues moved in harmony as his hands ran down the lengths of your body, as if he was scared this would be the last time he could touch you, the last time he could feel you under his fingertips. they eventually settled against your ass, cupping it lightly as he pushed your hips against his, so you could feel his semi through his jeans.
you wanted to kiss him forever, wanted all of him all at once. you decided that if the world ended now, you would be happy to die here and now, in landos embrace, his lips pressed against yours.
he pulled away, but only for his lips to find your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses until he found that sweet spot, the spot that made your neck roll back, giving him more access to suck against your skin, undoubtably leaving deep purple marks wherever he went.
your hands detached themselves from his hair and instead you dragged them down his body, fingers spaced out as you passed his pecs, passed his abs (though you were very tempted to linger there), and finished at the waistband of his jeans, dipping an index finger inside to trace the elastic of his boxers.
you felt him groan against your skin, pulling away to give you a look as if to say ‘really? in public?’. deciding to play it innocent, you just beat your eyelashes at him, a confused look on your face, and slowly ventured lower and lower.
lando wasn’t having any of that, however, grabbing your wrists easily in one hand and dragging you over to the door, pulling his phone out to call a taxi. you tried to kiss him again, but he just tutted, with a dangerous glint in his eye that told you you were in for it when you got back to his.
the taxi arrived sooner rather than later, and lando made an effort to sit in the front, leaving you in the back alone. you were confused, wondering where the sudden coldness had come from, wondering if you had pushed it too far. but when he turned around midway through the journey, and mouthed ‘behave now, and i’ll be nice later’, you knew it was going to be a fun night.
you quickly sent your friend a text to let her know you were okay, not that she would read it for another few hours, before deliberating whether or not to behave. on the one hand, behaving means that you wouldn’t piss lando off and that he’ll ‘be nice’ later, whatever that meant. but one the other hand, you kind of wanted to push his buttons, see what you could get him to do. which is why you decided to call your friend and stir up some trouble.
“hey bitch!” you practically sang into the phone, the drunkenness being more apparent than ever. you could see lando in the rear view mirror, and watched as his face seemed confused, but not upset.
“hey!” she slurred back, as drunk as you were, “where the fuck are you?”
“i’m with this guy,” you smirked to yourself as you started your plan, “but i can’t lie, he just doesn’t seem all that you know. like he seems like he’s all talk and he won’t deliver.”
lando raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn’t say or do anything, thought you could tell he was definitely listening in now.
“then why are you going with him?” your friend asked, and you could faintly here the music of the club in the background.
you hummed into the phone, but loud enough for lando to hear as well. “don’t know, maybe i just feel bad for him. he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to fuck, you get what i’m saying?”
lando’s fist clenched at that comment, but he still kept his cool, at least from the outside.
“like, i don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to make me cum.”
that particular comment must have hit a nerve because lando leant back and grabbed the phone from your hand. you pouted and lazily attempted to grab it back, but really you were glad you were able to rile him up.
he quickly spoke to your friend, telling her you were okay and where you were going, before hanging up and ignoring your pleas for your phone.
it was only a few more minutes before you were back at lando’s flat, and he still ignored you while he paid the driver and guided you up the stairs, other than a link through your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. you liked the fact that he was still a gentleman, even though it seemed like he was about to not be.
“lando-” you whined as you waited outside his apartment, watching him unlock the door, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.
“what did i tell you?” he asked, voice still and stern, not facing you at all.
you tried to grab his wrist to get him to face you but he resisted. “to behave.”
“and you didn’t behave, did you?” his voice was almost patronising, but it was deep and rough and so fucking sexy that you didn’t care. “so now, i have to show you that what you were saying to your friend isn’t true. unless you’re going to apologise and tell me you didn’t mean it?”
he was giving you a chance to back down, to take the easy route. but it was new year’s day and you were never going to see him again, so you decided to have some fun.
“i don’t know what to tell you, you just don’t seem like you could make a girl cum,” you played it like you didn’t care, when your heart was racing knowing that something good was coming next.
he finally opened the door to his apartment and picked you up, your legs naturally looping around his waist as he pulled you into a rough kiss. it wasn’t like the one earlier, where even though it was rough there was a sweetness behind it, but instead this was pure lust and need in a kiss. his tongue explored every part of your mouth, at a ferocity that you felt like you were on fire, and that no bucket of water could ever pull you out.
his hands settled under your ass, kneading the skin under the silk of your dress. your hands found his shoulders, broad and wide, and you needed them stabilise as your world was spinning around you.
he carried you through his apartment, with you getting a brief look before he threw you onto his bed, leaving you looking up at him with rosy cheeks and lust-hazed eyes.
in the light he looked majestic, with two dimmed lamps either side of you projecting warm orange hues onto his face. fuck, he was gorgeous, chiseled by the gods themselves, and as he undid the buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, your mouth almost started to water at how beautiful he looked.
you pulled yourself up, going to try and finish undoing the buttons to take his top off, but he stopped you, once again capturing your wrists but this time pinning them behind your back.
“you don’t get to touch if you misbehave, baby,” he said, fake-pity written all across his face.
his other hand pulled your dress off your shoulders, and he let go of your hands for just a moment to remove it from the rest of your body. your heels were next, as he undid them slowly and carefully, taking his time to admire you, watching as your patience was running out.
left in just your lacy red lingerie, you watched as he climbed back over you, obvious hard on that he ignored as his lips met yours in another kiss. it wasn’t quite like the other one, slightly softer, as if he was checking that you were okay with all this. and of course you were.
he pulled away. “i can’t make you cum, yeah?”
“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” you teased back, tilting your head while trying to catch your breath.
“well, i guess you won’t be coming tonight then,” he almost sighed, before diving into the crook of your neck and leaving harsh, aggressive kisses wherever he could, adding to the deep purple marks he caused earlier on.
he slowly made his way down your neck, before finally making it to the valley of your breasts, where he sucked harder than before, obviously trying to deepen the colour and add to your pleasure. his hands found your breasts, taking one in each and kneading them, a soft massage that felt better than it ever should have done. was it the alcohol? or was it him?
he pulled your right boob out of your bra, eyes widening as his index finger and thumb took your nipple in between them and started to roll it gently. you arched your back in reponse, a weak moan falling from your lips, which pushed your breast into his fingers more. his other hand pulled out your other breast, but instead of his fingers his lips attached to it, and your mouth parted subconsciously as a wave of pleasure washed over you.
god, he was good. and he knew he was good judging by the smirk on his face. you almost regretted not letting him pleasure you how he was planning to.
almost.
“fuck, lando,” you let out a breathy whine as he swapped over, both of your nipples having an overwhelming sense of pleasure, “look so pretty sucking my tits.”
you could tell he liked that, as a vibration shook through your body when he moaned against your skin. he pulled away, much to your dismay, but you stopped minding as he slowly made his way down your body, still leaving the open mouthed kisses as he reached your belly button.
“you know,” he almost panted, hands still fixed on your tits, “i was gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
one hand leaves your nipple, a cool trail down your stomach before it settles at your waistband, mimicking your actions from in the club. your hips buck against his hand, causing him to chuckle slightly, as you crave more and more and more of his touch’s
“i was gonna make you come on my tongue, it would have felt so fucking good,” his sultry voice was working wonders as his fingertips traced the patterns in the lace, “would have had you screaming my name as i sucked your clit, would have felt fucking euphoric.”
even his words made you feel something, made you feel like any moment now you were about to combust. one finger trailed down your panties, feather light over where you needed him the most, but with the lace barrier in the way.
“god, you’ve ruined these, huh?” he chuckled, feeling how your wetness had soaked through your underwear. “so fucking wet and all i’ve touched are your tits. so responsive for me.”
you wanted to talk back, wanted to have some bite to you, spur him on even more, but you couldn’t conjure up anything while he left soft kisses on your inner thighs.
“still want my mouth, baby?” his voice was sickly sweet, but the tone behind it was cruel and teasing, because obviously you still wanted his mouth.
you nodded as best as you could, but he shook his head a response, a ‘tut tut tut’ leaving his mouth.
“need words, darling,” he almost sang, “or else you’re not getting anything from me.”
you mustered up every last drop of energy you had and spoke up. “please, lando. i want you.”
“want what?”
it took every fibre in your body to not tell him to fuck off there and then. you wanted to, you really wanted to, but you also wanted him. and that want won.
“want your mouth on me, please, lando.”
and that was enough for him, as he pulled down your lace panties and finally revealed your pussy to him.
“fuck me, darling,” his finger trailed over your folds, feather light, as he took in the sight of it, “you’re glistening, look, you’re dripping out.”
you would have felt embarrassed, but the dutch courage must have taken over. “not used to seeing a girl so wet, huh?”
his tongue poked his cheek. “easy, pretty girl. let me make you feel good.”
he gently blew over you, making you squirm slightly, before he dived straight in and began sucking your clit. the pleasure was instant, your hips bucking into his face as he chuckled against you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. everything he had made you feel up to this point was microscopic compared to the pleasure you felt now.
it only grew when he slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up at hitting that spot inside of you, looking over as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth hung open, he thought you looked like the prettiest girl in the world.
you were already close, no idea how as you hadn’t been going for that long. but the mix of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit was bringing you to the edge.
“i- i’m close, lando,” you stuttered, speaking hard when so much pleasure was coarsing through your veins.
he tilted his head slightly. “you’re close did you say?”
you nodded, feeling your orgasm approaching faster and faster, you could already feel it happening now. to add to everything, his fingers somehow reached deeper inside of you, contorting in a way where everything was just so fucking good.
“i wait,” he let out a soft, fake laugh, “i forgot. i can’t make you cum.”
and with that he pulled away, leaving you recovering from a high you never even got. you had to take a minute, your body feeling worse than ever as the euphoria slowly went away, and the lack of human touch was getting to you.
“what’s wrong, baby?” he faked pity, reaching down to swipe his thumb across your cheekbone. “you weren’t expecting to finish, not according to what you said in the car.”
you slowly opened your eyes, seeing his gorgeous face looking down on you, and fighting the urge to throw a punch. you subconsciously leaned into his touch, craving it despite the atrocity he just performed, and watched as he undid his belt with his other hand.
“here’s the deal,” he pulled away, leaving you with a whine, before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it all off, allowing you to see his abs for the first time that night. “you’re gonna suck me off, and if you do a good job, then, and only then, do you get to cum. understand, darling?”
you nodded. secretly, you wanted to suck him off anyway, and with this deal you would get to come as well. he took a step back from the bed, tapping his foot against the floor as a gesture for you to come down. you couldn’t understand though, brain slightly fucked from the shortly lived pleasure, and instead looked at him confusedly.
“get on your knees for me, baby,” he cooed, and you did as he said, sinking onto his wooden floor and looking up at him, waiting for his next order. with the promise of an orgasm at the other end, at this point you would do anything to get to the prize.
he started to unzip his jeans, and as you went to help, he instantly took a step back. “hands behind your back, no touching remember?”
you poured, but did as he said, linking for fingers behind your back as you waited for him to get ready. he pulled his boxers down, and jesus christ were you not ready.
he looked big through his hard on in his jeans, but you were not ready for all that. you could tell you were shocking your shock through your face, and he let out a soft chuckle and grabbed your chin with his right hand.
“think you can take it?” he asked, holding it with his other hand as he kept your eyes on it, watching as your mouth suddenly seemed to water.
you nodded. “mhm. just wanna make you feel good, baby. that’s all i want.”
he smiled down at you. “give me a kiss.”
you tried to climb up to kiss his lips, but his hand kept you pressed down, and you understood instantly. you leant forward to press your mouth against his dick, kissing the tip gently and watching as his head fell back. you left open mouthed kisses all down his length, finished at the base before climbing all the way back to the top. you started leaving kitten licks on the tip, watching the veins in his neck pulsate at your actions.
“god, you’re so fucking good,” he grunted, hand moving from your chin round to the back of your head, nestling in your hair as he started to take control. “you gonna take me all in?”
you hummed against his cock, opening your mouth as he guided you down, controlling your movements as he gently fucked your mouth. you tried your hardest not to move or choke, instead trying to focus on his pleasure.
you couldn’t help your eyes watering though, and when he looked down he obviously felt bad, relaxing a little bit as he let you take more charge.
“look so pretty naked on your knees for me,” he cooed, taking in sharp breaths as your tongue swirled around his tip. “who knew that such a sweet looking girl could give head like this? yeah, keep going, fuck, you’re so fucking good.”
you just kept going, knowing that the more you pleasured him the more likely you were to get pleasure yourself. lando didn’t want to seem selfish, however, as his hand wrapped forward to stroke your cheek again.
“fuck, play with your nipples for me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath, but moaning as you started to play with yourself. he let out a groan as you moaned around his cock, head bobbing like this was your last day on earth. “such pretty tits, should be framed in a museum how good you look right now.”
you could tell he was close by how his breaths got shallower and shallower, and his thrusts into your throat got weaker. he pulled away though, leaving a string of saliva from your mouth to his cock, which you licked up instantly. you went back to kissing his cock, waiting as you squeezed your nipples even harder.
“you were so good, huh, baby?” he picked your naked body up, grabbing your hands and wrapping them round his neck, telling you that you could finally touch him again. “listened to everything i told you to do, such a good girl.”
his praise was music to your ears, and his actions matched the tone of his words. he lay you gently down on the bed, climbing over you as his lips met yours in the softest kiss of the night. it was an ‘are you okay?’ kiss, an ‘i hope i didn’t go too far’ kiss, a ‘you look beautiful’ kiss, and it was possibly your favourite of the night.
“gonna fuck that dripping pussy,” he mumbled into your lips before continuing the kiss, lining his cock up against your entrance, tapping it against your clit purely to watch you squirm with elation.
and as he thrusted into you it was like your world had stopped. fuck, he felt so good inside you, filling you up more than you could have imagined and left you choking on air as inch by inch he entered more and more.
lando felt much the same, obsessed with how you felt clenched around him, how tight you were as he continued in. he waited once his whole dick was in, holding back from setting a rhythm until he was positive you could take it.
“feel so good clenched around me,” he muttered out, leaning back so he could check you were alright, check that you were ready for this, “such a tight little pussy needs to be stretched out.”
you nodded at him, a signal to start moving, and he did as he was told, beginning to thrust in and out of you at such a pace that your mouth flew open in shock. his hands dug into your hips, undoubtably causing marks as he fucked you deep and hard.
the moans emitted from your mouth were ungodly, borderline pornographic, and led to you covering your mouth in embarrassment. lando was having none of that, however, stopping his movements to gaze into your eyes.
“don’t you dare not let me hear those pretty sounds,” he thrust at the end of the sentence, as if to solidify his point, and you allowed yourself to moan, “want all the neighbours to hear how good i’m fucking you.”
you were so close to the edge, once again seeing it in the distance, and you clenched around lando trying to let him know. he chuckled and leant into your shoulder, kissing over the deep marks he’d left earlier, just adding to the euphoria you were feeling.
“gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your clit, needing that final push to make it over the edge.
he understood instantly, rubbing rough circles while sucking against your neck. the pleasure was washing over you in waves, and it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you feeling lighter and in a state of happiness you couldn’t remember ever feeling before.
lando kept going, however, chasing his own orgasm, and you decided to help him get thrre, however harsh it was for you. your lips found his neck for the first time, leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbones that were followed by a row of dark purple and red.
“fuck me,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer and closer to the edge. “gonna pull out, yeah?”
you nodded against his chest, nails tracing over his abs as you rocked your hips in tandem with him, so sensitive that you might even come again.
as he kept thrusting into you, you remembered how much he loved being praised earlier, and thought that might help get him over the edge.
“being so good, fucking me so well lando,” you sighed, whispering into his ear as you kissed up his neck.
you felt his thrusts stutter with your words, obviously having a positive impact as a blush rose to his cheeks. his hands gripped even harder around your hips, and you began to feel another orgasm coming.
“such a pretty boy, so so pretty, look so good and fuck me so good,” you kept going, your hands leaving him and instead finding your clit. “got the prettiest dick as well, feels so good all wrapped inside me.”
“fuck-” he choked out, before pulling out and finishing all over his chest.
he panted while you got yourself to finish, cumming over your fingers. you threw your head back against the pillow, watching your chest as it rose and fell, trying to catch your breath.
lando joined you, lying across the bed while pulling himself together. you decided you weren’t finished, however, crawling over on top of him and licking his cum off of his abs, making sure to get every last drop off. his hands tangled themselves as you finished, pulling you up to him so he could kiss you again, making out like teenagers as you just enjoyed each others company.
“so,” lando finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the kiss, “i did make you cum.”
you shrugged as you rolled back to the side of him. “was it more fun that i challenged you?”
“definitely. never known someone so responsive to some dirty talk,” he jested, earning a slap on his bicep.
“never known someone love to be praised so much,” you retaliated, shutting him up as he went to grab you a glass of water.
he returned quickly, along with some boxers for him and a baggy t-shirt for you. you noticed the t-shirt it had ‘mclaren’ across it, and you hummed for his attention as you threw it on.
“you like cars then?” you asked, not expecting him to laugh in reponse.
“yeah, you could say that.”
you tilted your head in confusion, but decided you were too tired to understand whatever was going on. “you don’t mind me staying the night?”
“not at all.”
“you gonna tell me why that was so funny in the morning?” you asked, knowing it would be your last question before you drifted off to sleep.
he hummed. “of course. happy new year.”
“happy new year.”
#f1 smut#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris blurb#lando norris drabble#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you
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Between Dreams and Sugar
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)
A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after.
On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before.
Hell, you wished you were drunk.
“Sergeant.”
You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop.
You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.
“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles.
Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?
Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function.
A dark growl bounces off the walls.
Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars.
They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out.
You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.
“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…”
“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.
Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe.
Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony.
Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day.
But you entertain him.
Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood.
Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did.
Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away.
His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present.
The gulping sigh.
“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”
“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”
A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out.
“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?”
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before.
But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.
They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished.
Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen.
Fuck, it made him sick.
Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.
What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.
How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest.
“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team.
His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.
You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well.
Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.
Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.
“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.”
“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.”
The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.
A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry.
But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost.
“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver.
“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”
“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks.
You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day.
“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets.
He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.
“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.
Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.
“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred.
Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.
The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.
He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.
You had to be okay.
Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.
“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone.
The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”
“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”
The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest.
Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later.
Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.
The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend.
“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.
“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—
Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade.
The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart.
Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on.
It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.
The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight.
Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment.
You on the other hand.
Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.
“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.”
Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.”
Alric smiles.
“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness.
Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils.
It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself.
“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.”
Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells.
“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”
Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain.
The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.
Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life.
The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed.
His bird doesn’t bleed.
Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment.
He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.
“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!”
Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.
—
You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one.
But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat.
Every limb is a cinder block.
“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely.
“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple.
Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.
A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.
“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.”
The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.
Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.
“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?”
Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.
“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”
He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds.
Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth.
Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp.
“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart.
Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.”
He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs.
“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.”
“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.”
Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.
“They’re nothing.”
“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.
“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house.
Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise.
“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form.
Ghost snaps forward.
“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”
The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.
So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine.
Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.
He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.
“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.”
A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter.
“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.
“What’s that?”
“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.”
A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.
“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”
Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”
Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.
“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured.
You know what he means.
“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb.
When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body.
“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention.
“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.
“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”
“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.”
“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body.
A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back.
Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you.
The word seems to stop.
“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to.
Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.
“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.”
“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”
“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.”
“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles.
You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”
Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him.
Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.
“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.
“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.
“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.
“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.
Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward.
“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward.
“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head.
“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.”
—
“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.
The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread.
“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.
“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide.
“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue.
“I think that was a challenge.”
“It wasn’t.”
The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.
“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can.
The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.
You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.
“One of everything.”
TAGS:
@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,
#simon ghost riley#cod#cod x you#cod x reader#cod mw22#mw2#mw2 2022#call of duty#call of duty mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#mw2 x reader#modern warfare#mw2 fanfic#x female reader#cod fandom#cod fanfic#female reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#ghost cod#cod mw2#modern warfare 2#cod mw fanfiction#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty
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Heave you done hcs with Wifey scratching/touching Alastor’s ears/tail?
I HAVE NOW??
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Suggestive
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor only trusts his wife to mess with his ears and tail, everyone else would lose a hand if they tried, some people actually have
But with you, it's different, he's comfortable with you and doesn't mind letting you see all his different reactions
Will actually seek you out on certain days, laying himself in your lap and hoping you'll get the hint
You know exactly what he wants but it's more fun if you pretend you don't, patting his head before going back to your book
"Long day, my dear~?"
He let's out a small bleat, his ears twitching upwards in an effort to draw your attention to them
"Better now that I'm with you..."
You don't even glance at his ears, nor do you look at his tail when he suddenly stretches out like a cat and wiggles it
Don't make him say it, it's embarrassing
Alastor let's out another bleat and stares at you pitifully, making you hum and hover your hand over his head
He happily meets it and rubs his head against your hand, letting out a happy sigh as your fingers graze along his ears
You can't help but laugh at him a little, rolling your eyes as you rub and scratch behind his fuzzy ears
"You could've just asked me~"
He's gone lax on top of you, his tail swaying as the rest of him lays in a daze
"Hn... too embarrassing..."
His eyes are closed, head tilting to get you to scratch at a different angle as he practically drools in your lap
Once he's asleep, you lean down to kiss his ears and watch them twitch from the soft touch
He's such a cute man
His tail is a slightly different story, he covers it for a reason and finds the area to be very sensitive
His tail is far more expressive than his ears, and you use it against him whenever you can
So usually, when you're touching it, it's to rile him up or let him know just what he's in for later
He's taken off his jacket and is distracted by whatever he's working on? His tail slowly swaying as he hums to himself with his back turned to you?
How are you not supposed to mess with his tail when he leaves it out like that???
You saddle up next to him, kissing his cheek and neck affectionately as your hand creeps it's way down his back
"Darling, just what has gotten into you~?"
His tone is playful, tilting his head to give you more access as he wraps one arm around you to keep you from pulling away
Your other hand plays with one of his ears, leaning up to kiss the tip of it before whispering in his ear
"Nothing yet~"
Your words paired with the fact that you're twirling his tail in your fingers makes his entire body go hot
His ears stick up straight, and he drops what he's holding, giving you a wobbly smile as he tries to compose himself
"You are an insatiable woman!"
You just smile at him sweetly and keep rubbing his tail, the traitorous thing wagging from the attention as a pleased shudder runs through the rest of his body
It's all he can do to suppress a groan, giving you a dangerous look but not trying to stop you
"Upstairs. Our bedroom. Give me two minutes."
You can't help but laugh and give him one last kiss before sauntering out of the room, eager to do as Alastor says
You stop at the doorway, looking back to give him a look that would scare most people but instead turns Alastor on
"Don't keep my waiting, Alastor~ Or I'll come back and bite those cute ears of yours~"
His ears and tail both stick up straight, frantically putting away his little project and scrambling after you
Don't threaten him with a good time
I'm a sucker for teasing this man 😭
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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— comforting you on a bad day
including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader
genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort
— scaramouche
scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.
easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.
scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.
he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.
however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.
hopefully you do.
"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?
troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.
his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.
scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.
you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.
for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.
the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.
scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.
"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."
you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.
strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.
"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."
— wriothesley
you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.
you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.
as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.
as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.
in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.
yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.
"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.
wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.
"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.
— alhaitham
alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.
instead, he just listens to you.
you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.
he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.
"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.
although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.
his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood.
"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"
shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.
— childe
childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.
it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.
naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.
you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.
for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.
the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.
he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.
it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.
"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.
your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.
childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"
"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.
it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.
ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#wriothesley x reader#alhaitham x reader#childe x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin fluff#genshin impact fluff#childe x you#alhaitham x you#wriothesley x you#scaramouche x you#al haitham x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin drabbles#genshin impact drabbles#scaramouche fluff#wriothesley fluff
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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you. [8.8k]
warnings 18+ only smut, fem!reader, eddie teaches you how to masturbate, p in v sex, light praise kink, mutual pining/lusting, lots of kissing, dirty talk, weed ment, aftercare, they are not so secretly infatuated with one another, eddie is a soft dork but also dirty <3 r implied as dressing very femininely
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie kneels outside his trailer.
You stop at the lip of the grass and wonder what he's doing. His back is to you, covered by a band shirt familiar even from this angle and riddled with rips and moth holes. You're about to call out to him when he speaks.
"You're hot, huh, sweetheart?" Softer than you've ever heard him. "Why don't you go inside? Escape the heat, yeah?"
You approach slowly, footfall smothered by the lush green underfoot. He's scratching behind the ears of a tabby cat.
"It's so hot out! The sun's gonna cook you," he says, whisper-shouting.
Like the tabby can understand what he's saying it stands, stretches tall and then slinks off into the trailer. "Good girl," Eddie says, standing up.
"Are you collecting strays?" you ask lightly.
He turns to you, surprised but not scared. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."
Good girl. His words ring loud between both ears. "I'm not a stray."
"Uh-huh. What's my shy girl want today?" You spin on your heel and Eddie starts laughing. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Come on, you'll like what I have!"
"You know I can't talk to you when you get like this," you tell him, pouting from over your shoulder.
He pushes a mess of black curls behind his ear and beckons you forward. "Come on," he says, sing-song. "Let daddy set you up."
"Jesus Christ," you mutter, following Eddie into his house unhappily.
You hate when he gets in this mood, not because he's ever really made you uncomfortable, but because you like to be teased, and he knows it. Or he likes watching you squirm. Either way, it's dangerous territory.
"How much did you want?" he asks.
The cool inside of his trailer is a blessing. You hold your naked arms away from your skin and try to take a deep breath of cool air. "I have thirty dollars. So… however much that is."
"Babe, what the fuck do you want so much for?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you incredulously.
You follow him into his room. "Do you not have it?" you ask, tracing posters you've seen upwards of ten times by now. Eddie's a good dealer – reliable, sweet, and prone to freebies without any pervy requests in place.
He once swapped you an eighth for a cheap charm bracelet. He wears it now, the silver delicate and entirely too sweet for his metalhead appearance. It looks good on him, anyhow.
He pulls open the usual lunchbox you hadn't noticed sitting on one of his amps and pulls out more pot than you've ever seen at one time. "Don't I?"
"Woah."
"Uh-huh. Ern't she preddy?" he asks in a drawing southern accent.
You hold out your hands and he lets you take it. When you open the zip lock bag, the smell isn't awful. The buds are thick with green fuzz, and your eyes water.
You pass it back to him. "How much can I have for thirty?"
"For you? Half."
"Don't do that, Eddie. Gimme what you'd give anyone else."
"But you're not anyone else, babe. You're my favourite customer."
"I'm gonna put you out of business," you say, lightly chiding. "Can I sit down?"
He hums and nods and you sit cross legged at the top of his bed. His bed sheets are pushed away and the space is cold. His pillow under your hand is colder.
Eddie doesn't bother weighing it. You roll your eyes at him but also feel amazingly happy, because it's a lot of pot for not a lot of money, because his favouritism speaks for what you hope might be a small crush. Still, when he passes you the new bag you feel guilty.
"Eddie, I can't take that. I know that's more than thirty."
His eyebrows jump. "I don't care. What's the point in doing this if I can't give pretty girls a little something extra?"
"I don't know. To make money?"
He holds out the bag. You don't take it. "Fine," he says, sighing.
"Thank you." You watch him fish three or four bigger buds out of the bag. He presents you with a much more reasonable amount, his hands stained with the smell. "Thank you," you say again.
"Yeah. Wanna stay and watch a movie?"
You've known Eddie since middle school. Classmates, not really friends, not not friends, though ever since you've started buying a small kinship has blossomed between you.
"What movie?"
"Whatever you want."
You nibble the inside of your lip. "You'll roll up for me?"
"Sure will."
So you end up on Eddie's couch with the tabby cat that isn't his purring heavily on your lap as he rolls a couple of joints for you. You won't smoke anything until tonight so Eddie drops them into your newly acquired ziplock bag with papers and the leftover bud.
He sniffs. "So, you're not sleeping?" he asks knowingly, straightening out with a groan and disappearing out of view into the kitchenette. You're a total overthinker. Pot helps you calm down.
"I'm sleeping."
"After toking up."
"There's…" You scratch the vibrating cat behind its ears, frowning to yourself. "Worse things to do."
"Better ones, though. Hey, do you want a drink?"
You say no and he brings you a glass of water anyways. His hands smell strongly of hand soap and faintly of weed as he passes it to you. You take it carefully, wary of disturbing your cuddle partner.
"Like what?" you ask.
"Cranking one out, for starters."
You wince, afraid to bring the lip of the glass to your mouth in case you choke on it. "Anything else?"
"Running?" Eddie suggests, sitting with you but leaving a more than comfortable gap between your legs.
"Not my thing," you murmur.
It's weird, but anything above murmuring feels like shouting in the calm of his home. The movie plays on the TV and the cat purs, Eddie spreads his legs out and slouches into the cushions, his face surrounded by dark hair. He smiles at you like he always does, amicable if slightly flirty.
"Maybe pot is your only option," he says mournfully. He pulls a lock of hair in front of his face and his eyebrows pinch together. "Make sure you brush your teeth after though. Or you'll get bad teeth."
"Bad teeth?"
"Smoking ruins your pearls."
You put down your glass of water and weave your fingers into the cat's rough fur. Eddie is really nice. Really really nice. And he probably likes you, so… what's the worst that could happen, by asking?
I'm only asking, you decide.
"Eddie," you say softly, disrupting a big tobacco rant that he'd started. "What- when you say cranking one out, that's-"
"You know." He holds his hand above his crotch and squeezes the air. You feel a terrible heat start to collect in your abdomen. "Five to one? Uh- Nulling the void?" He grasps for words at your lost expression. "Making soup?"
His voice goes high. You think he's as embarrassed as you are, and you're not gonna ask again. You giggle. "Oh, right."
He drops his hand heavy against the seat of his pants and leans back. "Crank one out and sleep like a log."
"That works for you?" you ask tentatively.
"Every night."
You sink down into the couch and hide your face in cat fur. Eddie starts asking about how your job is, a genuine, earnest interest that further cements your next decision. You clear your throat.
"Eddie, can I ask you something?" He grins and waves his hand. "When you," you wince, "'make soup', do you just- how do you…" You slink down so far you're almost falling off of the couch. "How do you make yourself-" You gesture to your pelvis and then screw your hand into a fist, self-conscious.
He blinks. "Finish?"
You look at the chain around his neck rather than his face. "Yeah."
"Are you asking me because you want to know how I do it, or because you don't know how to do it to yourself?"
You rub your cheek with your shoulder. "The second option."
"Shit," he mutters.
"Sorry, you don't have to- I just thought-"
Eddie sits up. He looks more serious than he had before but not any less patient, elbows braced on his knees and head propped up in his hand. He parts his fingers over his lips.
"You don't know how?" he asks.
"I must've missed that lesson in sex ed," you try to joke. It comes out awkward. Eddie laughs anyways, a huff of breath.
"Lucky you, I've sat through sex ed three times." He grins brilliantly, but his joking tone softens when he sees your hesitant expression. "If you wanna know, I'm happy to tell you."
"Are you sure?"
"We're friends, right? What are friends for?" You don't miss the sarcastic twist to his words or his ironic smile.
Friends like you and Eddie likely aren't meant to be giving one another lessons on masturbation. But really, he's the only person you know who you could ask and wouldn't feel totally looked down on. Eddie's nice to his core, but better – he doesn't judge.
You struggle to know what to ask.
The cat chooses this moment to wake and jump off of you, strutting out of the trailer's open door and back into the sunlight without so much as a grateful look back.
And now you're alone with him.
"How's your anatomy?" he asks. You shake your head slowly. "You know, grade wise? Are we passing? B? B-? C?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Munson."
"Do you know what's what?" he asks concisely.
You sit up and press your knees together, suddenly very aware of your 'anatomy'. "I think so."
He purses his lips for a few seconds before shrugging. "Alright. We can work with that." Eddie pushes his cheek into the couch and looks at your face unflinching as he says, "You know what your clit is?"
You cringe. Full body.
Eddie shrugs. "What? That's what it's called. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."
"I know what it is."
"And you can't make yourself-"
"No."
He doesn't miss your frustration. "Hey, hey, it's fine. Some people think that it's, like, a magic on-button, but it's not. There's a whole process."
"How do you know?" you ask genuinely.
His answering smile is wolfish. "I'm in a band, babe. Fucking a guitarist is like, a bucket list thing or some shit. Girls will tell you exactly what they want if you're willing to listen."
Something about his knowing look has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe two. He pushes his hand across the couch and you're not sure if it's on purpose or accident, only that he's leaning in, a small smile on his face.
"And I'm a damn good listener."
You meet his eyes and know what he's offering. He waits, ring heavy fingers splayed wide in the space between you. It's the sight of them – thick, long and adorned in string-wrought calluses – that tips you over the edge.
He's already pulling back with a reassuring smile on his face, lips parted to likely say something too nice when you interrupt him.
"Will you teach me?" you ask quietly.
A split-second of surprise is quickly overtaken by enthusiasm. "You're not high, are you?"
"No."
He gets up to close the door and starts for his room. You linger on the couch uselessly and he doubles back, hand on the wall. "Are you coming?"
The noise from the TV fades as you walk down the hall and into his room. Your socked foot nudges into a tower of books close to the door and you reach out to steady them. Eddie pulls the sheets back into place and flicks on the lamp. He pauses by the stereo before turning that on, too.
A song you don't recognise starts to play. Eddie climbs up onto his bed and stands there for a second, suddenly very tall. "You wanna take off your jacket?"
"It's a cardigan." You peel the thin white cotton off of your shoulders and shift from foot to foot, unsure of yourself.
Eddie settles on his knees, pulls off his rings. "It's pretty. Come here," he says, holding out his arms.
You slide onto the bed cautiously, naked calves rubbing against the sheets. You feel as though every sense has been dialled to eleven; you're thinking about every brush of fabric, every small sound that they make.
Eddie takes one of your hands and you sit with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the edge of the bed, surprised at his soft touch. He soothes your hand and brings it to his lap, eyes on your now-bared shoulders.
"You dress real pretty." He says it with his usual dramatics, though there's enough sincerity there to make you smile.
You look down at your delicate clothes thoughtfully. "You think so?"
"Mh-hm. It suits you," he says as he drums his thumbs against the back of your hand.
He pushes one palm up the length of your arm and pulls it towards him at the same time. You've never been touched like this before and you want it bad, shuffling towards him with a shameful speed. He takes it in stride, hand bumping up the hill of your shoulder. His index finger slides under the skinny strap of your top and tugs at it playfully.
"You look sweet. Really sweet," he says, his voice more hushed than before. His eyes drop to your thighs. "You'll have to take those off, though."
"My shirt too?" you ask weakly, eyebrows pinched up at the starts.
"Not if you don't want to." You hesitate. He takes your thigh into a big hand and gives you a small shake. "It's okay. Take your time. Or, if you changed your mind, that's totally cool."
"No, I haven't," you deny, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. You kick your legs out in front of you one at a time and ease your shorts over the slopes of your thighs and calves, pushing them off of his bed with your feet.
“If you change your mind at any point-“
“I’ll tell you,” you say, nodding as you pull your knees together.
Eddie manoeuvres so he’s close, twisted toward you with his hand braced by your thigh. The cold metal of the charm bracelet you'd swapped him bites into your skin. If you leaned back and he leaned forward, he could kiss you. You think maybe he has the same idea as his eyes dart to your lips.
They linger.
He blinks and it’s gone.
“I’m gonna rub your leg,” he says quietly, “and when I get to the inside, I’m gonna touch you. Okay?”
As he says it, his hand moves onto your thigh. Down to your knee.
Slowly, so slowly, back up. His fingers caress the inside of your thigh. He pauses.
“‘Kay,” you whisper.
His fingers flex over your flesh as he draws in. Then, like a shock, his fingertips press to your underwear.
“I’m not surprised,” he says steadily, fingers brushing over your cunt, ghosting but never truly touching where you want him to.
“By what?”
“That you wear such cute panties.” He strokes the hem with the tip of his finger and you hold your breath as he slides it under the elastic, running the fabric over his digit gently. “S’exactly the kind of thing I pictured you wearing.”
“You’ve pictured them?”
He looks up from his teasing and your panties snap into place. You gasp on instinct and his eyes narrow, his lashes kissing in the corners. “Does that bother you?” he murmurs.
You shake your head. His lips quirk up, a smugness that makes your heart race ever faster.
"Do you do anything like this with yourself?" he asks.
"I'm never this nice."
"That's a crime," he says, and he laughs loud, momentarily shattering the distilled atmosphere that had settled over you both. "Thighs like these and you don't touch them?"
"Is that what you do?" you ask, insecure.
"No, but it's different. I don't need to get warmed up like you do."
"Warmed up?" you whisper. Having to ask these questions feels so embarrassing.
Eddie being so soft about it makes it easier. "Relaxed," he whispers in turn, laughing towards the end.
His thumb rubs the elastic of your underwear and drifts slowly inward until he's pushing over your folds. You gasp and it's slightly startled, sounding too close to panic for Eddie, who's hand flinches away.
"Didn't like that?" he asks.
You rush, "It's okay. Surprised."
One big hand holds your thigh, the other strokes your cunt. He's a little firmer now, pushing the breadth of his thumb over your panties until he touches something very sensitive. "Here?" He pushes up a little higher and your breath catches. He makes an almost inaudible cooing sound and flattens his hand, rubbing the length of your cunt without finesse. It feels good anyway. It surprises you how much you like it.
He pinches your panties.
"Ready to take them off?" he asks.
"Yeah."
You lift your hips and peel your underwear down, folding your legs to pull them off of your ankles. You clutch them in your hand, unsure.
Eddie sits back and pulls you towards him. You let him manhandle you with a small gasp, his hands pressing into the soft of your tummy. You can't see his face anymore.
"Alright," he murmurs, pulling your thigh over his lap and spreading you wide. His voice is loud in your ear because of his proximity, and you resist the temptation to turn your face to his.
"Let's just-" he works your underwear out of your hand and tosses them aside.
His hand lands on your knee and moves down fast.
You lean back heavily into his chest with your hands pulled to your sternum.
"Eddie," you say, "what do I do?"
He hums. "Touch yourself."
You seize up and he's quick to soothe, fingers closing around the crook of your elbow.
"Hey, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you," he repeats. He pulls at the lip of your cunt and spreads you open, groaning softly. You wouldn't hear it if his lips weren't so close to your face. "How'd you have a cunt this sweet and never touch it? I mean, fuck."
His fingertips whisper past your pubic hair like he's going to say something more, but he only asks, "Hand?"
You put your hand into his, the back to his palm.
He sets it to your thigh. "Do what I did before, okay? Slowly…" He drags your hand up and down the length of your thigh.
Your heart is racing. Every time you crawl close to your cunt the burning longing to be touched, to touch yourself, and to have him touch you intensifies.
Eventually he pulls your hand to your clit. "You're so sensitive. Is it always this bad?" he asks sympathetically when you jump, tickled at the feelin.
"I haven't tried in a while."
"Oh, I see." Eddie encourages you to push your fingertip into the bead of your clit, drawing slow circles. "Poor baby. Just desperate to have someone take care of you." His voice is so low, so ridiculously soft, you find yourself sinking into his hold. He squeezes the crook of your elbow with one hand, the other still guiding your ministrations. You bite your lip at the sensation that's begun, the tiny spark of pleasure.
"Here, let me-" He lifts your hand away from your clit and you whine involuntarily. "Shh, sweetheart, I'm only gonna give you something to work with."
You turn your head to him and watch as his mouth opens. He sucks the very tip of your finger between his lips, the heat of his tongue a momentary flash. When he pulls it back, your finger shines with his spit.
Your eyes are half-lidded, watching through the crush of your lashes as he presses it back to your clit. "How's that? S'that better?" he asks, crooning. His tone sports an underlying mockery, a light-hearted teasing that's slowly turning intense.
It is better. It's different. Your fingertip searches for purchase against the slick skin and struggles to find it, the wetness allowing for freer, faster movement.
You push a second finger against the first.
Eddie stops helping. You pause, confused.
"No, you got it, sweetheart. You keep going," he reassures, grabbing a hold of your thigh again. He teases the dough there, never cruel but maybe close, fat moulding under his fingers as he squeezes.
Your breathing builds with pleasure. Still, it's hot enough; there's no sign of an oncoming climax, no tightening coil in your tummy. You huff with exertion and frustration. "Eddie, it's not working."
"I'm not done." He sounds almost stern. Your stomach flips. "You have to think about what you want."
"What I want?"
"What turns you on."
You think of his hands and their rings. His happy trail.
His voice. Good girl.
You slam your eyes shut.
Eddie gives you another mean squeeze. "What do you think about, when you-"
You don't let him finish. "What do you think about?" you ask, too loud.
He stills. His nose pushes into your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin as he asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"
Your breath catches. Your fingers stutter where they work into your clit and Eddie starts you right back up again. His lips brush your shoulder.
"Yes," you say, gasping as pleasure like little shocks of heat shoot to your core.
The hand at your elbow starts to rove, tickling your arm as he strokes downwards. "You first," he murmurs, teasing your wrist. You swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder.
You breathe in through your nose. "Uh, I think of- of somebody…" You try, but you just can't say it.
Eddie's fingers push down your crease. Stop right before your entrance. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah."
"Mmm…" He circles your entrance. "Now what does a pretty girl like you think of when she's touching herself?" You don't think he wants an answer. His middle finger brushes across the slick well and pushes in. You squirm and he holds you in place.
There's something very hard digging into your spine.
"Something sweet as you… Let me guess. Boy next door comes around to mow the lawn, you invite him in for a drink, one thing comes to another-" He pushes his finger in deeper. "And he's fucking you.
"That sound about right?"
You shake your head. His own perks up where it rests on your shoulder. "No? Huh."
Your circles have grown slow and staggered, distracted by his touch as he eases his ring finger in beside his middle. "Something more romantic? Wedding night, love of your life. Guy that's gonna treat you like a diamond. Way a girl like you deserves." He pushes in, stretches them out. You moan as he curls them, as his arm works back and forth. "Gives it to you gentle." His movements slow to match.
And sure, that sounds nice. But it's not what you think about.
"No," you manage to get out through shallow breaths.
"No? You don't want it gentle?"
"Not- not all the time."
"How about right now?"
"Please."
Slowly, slowly, the shape of Eddie's hard cock against your back starts to move in time with the thrusts of his hand. He pushes in deep, fingers searching emphatically for the sweet spot, the thing that's gonna make you-
"Fuck," you whimper.
His cock jumps. You feel it.
"You keep rubbing that pretty little clit of yours, sweetheart."
You do as he asks. You're desperate enough now that you imagine you'd do most anything he says, your climax a tangible, physical possibility. Your tummy feels heavy and aching with want, worse when he probes deeply and marks your sweet spot again. His lips press to your shoulder, soft enough that you worry you're imagining it.
"You see what I'm doing here? See what fingers I'm using?" he asks. You open your eyes reluctantly. His wrist turns. You watch his fingers sink into the gummy heat of your cunt. "Tight little hole's just pulling me in, fucking clinging to me, baby, she's greedy."
You gasp, a hiccup of scandalised sound.
"Want you to try, okay? You gonna do that for me?"
"Yeah, Eddie."
"Good girl." You moan, you don't mean to, but he's fucking into your quick and your finger pushes into your clit roughly. Eddie revels in it. "You like that? You like being called a good girl? I fucking knew it."
You frown and start to turn to him. He presses his cheek to your head so you can't, stuck looking down the length of the bed at your trembling legs.
"You looked so flustered, standing all sweet and quiet by the van out front with your thighs squeezed together. You think I didn't see that shit?"
You're limp against him, thighs spread wide as you work into your clit, chasing this new feeling. You can hardly breathe, every exhale a keening moan that has you shame-faced and weepy. You roll your hips to meet his fingers, his hand slapping against your cunt with a slick slap.
"You looked so sweet. Y'always do." He turns his lips to your ear and curls into you until your squealing. "Guess looks can be deceiving."
You're so close, so close. Tendrils of heat curl heavily at your core. "Eddie, I'm- I'm-"
"You wanna cum?"
"Yes," you pant.
He pulls his fingers from your cunt and you're so confused that you stop, your climax slipping away in seconds.
"Sorry, but you have to do it yourself. This is all pointless if you can't get there on your own," he says.
Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."
"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage, babe." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside, your tongue between your lips in concentration. Your fingers aren't as thick as his, they don't feel quite the same, but Eddie pushes your thumb into your clit. "Move your wrist. Feel that? Feel how soft you are? How fucking warm you are?"
You're not nearly as good as he was but every clumsy touch feels electric. You push your thumb into sweeping circles and pant your frustration aloud, feeling close to tears.
"You wanna know what I think about, when I jerk off?" he asks unexpectedly.
You nod, your head moving back into his collar. He rubs the lengths of your arms leisurely, his lazy demeanour in total juxtaposition to your desperation.
"There's this girl that comes to see me," he starts, coloured by a smug amusement. "Sweet thing, soft-spoken, always wearing these pretty clothes looking like something straight out of the movies.
"I think about a lot of things. Her thighs-" One of his hands falls to your thigh in time, massaging, "fuck, just wanna bury my face in them and never come out. Pull down those cotton shorts she's so partial to with the dainty stitching and-" He laughs and his lips part over your shoulder. His teeth scratch up, up, up. "Make her fucking cry my name. Feel those thighs tense up around me."
You're so close your entire body shudders. You slow without meaning to, holding your breath in wait for Eddie to finish his story
He gives you one final push. "Always wondered if she sounds as pretty as she looks when she cums." He kisses the small graze he'd given you mere seconds ago and everything is blue-white with heat. "Gonna clue me in, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?"
Your eyes close hard and you breathe out, an exhale ragged and weak and mewling. You don't moan so much as sob without tears, tensing up in Eddie's arms as bliss blooms. You pull your hand from your sopping cunt and feel your walls contract around nothing as you cum.
He pulls you close, throbbing cock pressing hard into your back. "Fuck," he hisses, hands placating where they lay.
You go lax, head tipping back as you suck in air that had felt elusive moments ago.
Eddie rubs your arms without saying anything. You cover his hands and try to summon up words.
"Just as pretty as you look," he murmurs.
He's so fuckng nice. So fucking nice, and what? He thinks about you when he jacks off? Since when?
You sit up and drop your chin to your chest, panting still.
"You okay?"
After a few seconds you smile and turn to him, intent on saying, Yes, thank you, and maybe something with more gratitude, something silly, just something. But you can't speak.
His face is close.
Eddie brings a hand to the slope of your rising shoulder, follows a line to the curve of your neck. You look to his eyes and find him staring at your lips unabashedly.
He pulls you into him. You close your eyes.
Eddie Munson tastes like lots of things as he kisses you.
Cigarettes, unavoidable. Under that, sugar. Something sweet but heavy as bourbon vanilla. Your lips part and close in tandem with his, slow and hungry. Your heart races and your fingers are still wet as you twist in his arms and take his face into your hands.
You climb up onto your knees and Eddie doesn't know what to do with you.
He smiles so hard he has to pull away. Not smirking, smiling, a cheek-aching, too-happy smile that softens everything in your chest.
You rub a shaking thumb over his cheek. You don't know if it's because of the post-orgasm rush of hormones or because he just kissed you and now he's smiling like he might do it again.
He does. He kisses you and grabs your waist. His fingers mess with the hem of your shirt and he breaks the kiss short to say, "Take it off?"
You sit back on your knees, feel the mess of wet between your legs spread as you grab at the edge of your shirt and pull it up. Eddie helps though he doesn't need to, and just like that you're shirtless.
"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice weak in what you suspect is one of his dramatics.
He slides his hands up your sides and stops just below your breasts. His thumbs grace the undersides and his brow puckers. "Fuck," he mouths appreciatively.
You flush head to toe. "Yours, too?" you ask gently.
Eddie reaches back to pull off his shirt. His hair's in total disarray and he runs his hands through it, biceps flexing with the movement, torso taut. The black ink of his tattoos move with him and your eyes eat up every single one.
He catches your eyes where they linger on the volley of bats. "You like that one?"
"I've always liked that one."
He grins and it's honey thick, hands at the small of your back and tugging. You spread your knees wide on impulse and find yourself flush to his chest, his arms locking you into place as he dives in for another kiss. Again you're surprised at how deeply he kisses you, how it ebbs and flows from slow to fast like he's both savouring and gorging himself on your closeness.
You've never been kissed like this. You're weightless. You feel every contiguity between you, the hot and wet of his mouth, the crook of his elbow against the nape of your neck, your nipples peaked against his chest and the length of his dick pushing up into your aching cunt.
"Fucking pretty," he says, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, your chin. He kisses your jaw over and over and over, lips pulling into crescents and then the same word. Pretty.
His mouth opens wide at your throat, teeth scratching lightly as it closes. He sucks your skin between his lips and rolls it, hand spreading wide and palm flat at your shoulder blade. Steadying. .
"That's cute," he says when he pulls away, lips shining.
"What?" you ask, hand drifting up. You poke at the quick-forming contusion.
He nudges it aside with his face as he moves in to further mark up your neck. "You're so fucking pretty," he says, each word separated by a nipping kiss.
His hands are everywhere.
Everything is warm and you can't breathe. You plant your hands at his shoulders and push away from him, and he stops you from falling flat on your back, levelling you with a worried glance.
"Is it too much?" he asks.
"No, I'm just hot. Really hot." You take a big breath and wipe your face with the back of both hands.
"That's true," he says, leaning back against the wall. His hands fall to your thighs. "Are you okay?"
You drop your hands abruptly and can't believe the fondness you're feeling. "You're pretty, too," you tell him. Honest if very shy; meek, entirely sincere. "I'm okay. I want…"
"You want?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I have this fantasy," you begin.
Eddie widens your legs to move from under them. It doesn't surprise you when he comes to lie on your chest, holding his weight off of you with an arm at the side of your ribs. His hair falls and hides the room from view. All you can see is his face, and it's beautiful.
"Tell me about it."
"It's- okay. It's…" You drift off as he dips down to kiss your collar, only chaste pecks but enough to distract you. "It's kind of like this."
"Yeah?" His breath warms your chest. More ditzy kisses.
"I get here and you're coming out of the shower-"
"Tasteful."
"With a towel low on your hips," you add pointedly. It's useless, his sarcasm has pinned you spot on. "And you- you touch me."
Eddie kitten licks the skin he's just nibbled and looks up. "Like this?"
"Like this."
"And after that," his hand moves between you to the zipper of his jeans, the sound of metal clicking metal ringing through the room, "what do I do?"
"You push me down into the bed, and-" You feel the fabric of his jeans rub your thighs as he pulls them down. "You…"
"What do I do, sweetheart?"
"You push my legs up and you fuck me," you confess.
He scrambles back towards his nightstand, a hand on your ankle that says, I'm not going far. "How do I fuck you? Am I rough?"
"Not at first."
There, in his hands, the red plastic of a condom wrapper, bright as a maraschino cherry. He holds it up and you nod.
"Not at first," he murmurs, ripping open the condom, hissing as he pulls it over his weeping cock. It's big – not too thick, but big, surrounded by a thatch of dark curls trimmed neat. "But eventually?"
He rolls it on tight and then there's nothing but this admission of your guiltiest fantasy. You spread your legs without thinking and he pulls you towards him, thumb collecting slick where it's pooled and pushing it up towards your entrance. What's left on his fingers he smears over the length of his shaft. You watch him rub at the head and sigh.
"Eventually," you agree.
His cock rubs up against you as he leans down and pinches your chin between his fingers, lips parted from a sharp gasp and opening further. "Can I fuck you? Is that what you want?"
You nod voraciously.
He gives you a very firm kiss at the highest point of your cheek. "In words."
"Yes, you can fuck me. That's what I want," you say without hesitation.
"You tell me if I do something you don't like," he says, lining up.
"I will," you say earnestly.
Eddie pushes your leg up towards your tummy and holds it there. "Good girl," he praises, and pushes in.
You're already worked open by his hand, your own hand and your climax, and still it's a snug fit. You cross your arm over your chest with your lips bitten hard to stop from making what you anticipate to be a very great and mortifying sound. He takes it slow, real slow, towering over you with his brows furrowed just slightly and his back arching. Every move he makes is accompanied by a careful thrust of his hips. He's rhythm in motion.
"Fuck," he mutters, more than once. He's halfway when you feel that stretch, your pulpy walls accommodating him with little complaint and a lot of pleasure.
You drop your head back against the bed sheets and hug yourself.
Eddie reaches for your hand where its cracking your breast absentmindedly and squeezes your fingers. "How's that?" he asks. "How's that feel?"
You close your eyes. "S'good, Eddie." You lay out your own roll of expletives as he pushes in ever deeper. "You're really- oh," you gasp, "really deep."
"You should see it, babe, pretty pussy gripping my every fucking inch." He leans down and his cock fills another inch of you. Your fingers ache with how hard he's squeezing them, and you look up to find his eyes on yours. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? You gonna be a good girl for me and take it?"
You blink and your lashes feel heavy with tears. "Yeah. I can take it. I can take it."
"I know," he says, hovering over you, close enough to hug if you wanted to.
He grabs your side and his thumb pushes into the soft swell of your breast, his grip tightening as he fits those last inches of his cock inside you. You rub your cheek against his bedsheets, your head fuzzy from being so full. He takes your bared neck as an opportunity and ducks into the juncture of it and his face fits there like it was made to, his nose bobbing against the column of your throat as he starts to fuck into you. His hips roll, a mess of his sticky pubes kissing your clit.
This close you can smell him, the heavy scents of pot and smoke, the sweet nutty smell of oil clinging to his hair. Sweat, as you imagine you smell of too, and sex. The room is filled with it, the smells and the sounds of his thighs thudding into yours.
"Eddie- Eddie," you whimper, muffled by the sheets beneath you.
He pushes in deep and rubs his nose into your skin emphatically. "What's wrong, hm? What's got you all wound up?"
You wrap your arms around his back. You're not sure if you're allowed to but you're hardly thinking ahead – you can't. Every thrust, every movement he makes is at the forefront of your mind, commanding all of your attention. The tickling of his hair against the side of your face. The skipping of the chains of his necklace where it teases your neck.
"Babe?" he asks, pulling back to turn your head. He stills inside you.
You protest, loud and completely unlike yourself. "Eddie, don't stop. Please don't." Your hands push into his shoulder blades. He ruts in at your request, thumb rubbing your cheek. "Feels so good," you say. You trip over your praise, voice breaking.
He starts up again, whispering, "Do you want me to hold your leg up, pretty girl?" and, "Taking me so well- taking it so fucking well," and, worse, "Fuck, sweetheart, just like that," when you tigthen around him.
You weave your fingers into the messy crush of black curls surrounding his face, careful not to tug as you covet the back of his head and nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly with one hand as the other strokes his side.
Your moans become a half-sobbing sort of mess, quiet and desperate, drawn out of you with every tap of his cock into your soft spot. When he finds it he can't not search for it, rutting into it over and over until you can't produce anything but an unintelligible stream of babble and happy sighs.
He laps lazily at your neck, the stretch of skin dampened and stinging from love bites. He thrusts in hard and hits something sweet that has you clinging to him.
"You smell good," he says into your skin.
Your hips ache with pleasure. "I must taste pretty good," you say. What, with how he's willing to nibble on you like this.
He squeezes your neck and narrows his eyes at you playfully. "I intend to find out." He moves down until your lips are a hair's width from touching. "Bet you taste as sweet as everything else."
You lift your chin and kiss him, dedicating your affections to his top lip. He groans into your mouth, hips moving slow and thrusts shallow when suddenly they're not. His cock drags out slowly and slams in deep, his pelvis hitting into yours.
You keen into the kiss, gentle and at odds with his fucking. His fingers find your ear and his thumb follows down the shell until he's pinching your earlobe, a split-second touch that melts you into putty. He pulls away from the kiss and inhales loudly, his fingers under your ear and pushing your face to the side so that he can wade in from a new angle.
You curl your fingers around his wrist and let yourself be kissed and fucked and touched. Anything he wants to do, he can do.
Eddie breaks the kiss.
"What did I taste like?" you ask breathlessly.
He traces an invisible teardrop down your cheek with the back of his pinky finger. "Oh, sweetheart," he says quietly, lowering his lips to the shell of your ear. "That's not where I meant."
Another hard thrust. You gasp at the dull aching spreading through your tummy and Eddie softens slightly, not so deep but just as fast, faster, his cheek to your cheek as he works you open. His rugged panting in your ear is everything you need. You force your hand between your body and Eddie's and search for the wet mess of your clit, chasing quick circles into the swollen bump.
Eddie realises what's happening and his fucking turns desperate. "You gonna cum again? Shit- keep touching, I'll get you there, fucking promise you." He's hardly pulling out an inch before he's rutting back in, kicking up the speed until all you can feel is pleasure again.
Eddie slows down as you cum, moaning as you tighten around him. He pushes away from you to kneel between your legs again, eyes locking onto your cunt obstinately, his panting loud as he drags his cock in and out.
"Insane," he mumbles, hands coasting down your legs until he's grasping the fat of your thighs and pulling you back onto his cock. "You're insane."
As if proving it, his hands rove the hills and troughs of your torso, your skin clammy underhand, his hips moving mindlessly. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and blink back into focus.
"Are you close?" you ask him, whispering.
You're lucky he can hear you with the music he's playing and the sounds of your slick hole being stretched. Eddie tucks a lock of sweat-dark hair behind his ear and his eyes pause in their reverential searching to meet yours.
He peels your hand off of your mouth and holds it.
"Fucking teetering, babe. Been close ever since I felt you wrapped around my fingers." He pulls your hand and you take it as a cue to try and sit up. Eddie helps you into his lap, your thighs straddling his thighs, slipping down his length until you're stuffed to bursting.
You hide your face in his shoulder and he rubs your back. "You're okay," he says sympathetically, "I got you. You just sit pretty, there's a good girl."
You wrap your arms around his neck and try your best to bounce on his cock as he thrust up into you, a steady pace that turns sloppy. You rake your hands through his curls and kiss at the curve of his neck down to the slope of his shoulder, dizzied and cock-drunk, totally fucked out. You hum into your kisses with every prodding of his mushroom tip against your deepest spot, rambling nonsense at him in a way you hope is making a difference.
"Fucking me so good," you mumble, equal parts tearful and euphoric, lips wet and spreading a shine like frost in the sun over his lean shoulder. "So good, Eddie. Thought about this too much."
"Yeah?" he asks, sounding like a different person. Voice rough as hewn stone and hands bruising where they grip you, his heavy sack slapping into you with every sluggish rock of his hips. "Good as you pictured? M'I fucking you like you wanted?"
"Better," you say sincerely.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he says, and he's close, you know he is.
You roll your pelvis in circles and try your hardest, aflame as you plead, "Cum for me, please? Please, Eddie, wanna feel it."
Despite your shy intonation Eddie goes rigid. He fucks in with one final thrust that sends shocks deep to your core and spreading out, cutting your happy little gasp short as he pulls your head tight to his neck. His hips twitch underneath you and he's making sounds that are going to haunt you, whiney, begging moans over your head.
Eddie's tight hold on you slowly loosens. You're breathing fast, finally out of motion. Your thighs burn where they're spread over his lap and you squirm unintentionally.
He pulls your neck back from his shoulder and looks over your face, concern lining the soft set of his eyes. He cups your cheek in question.
"I'm okay," you say softly. "I'm more than okay. That was amazing."
"It was amazing," he agrees, caught off guard.
"Yeah."
You shift backwards and the two of you wince at the sensitivity. You ease your legs open and Eddie pulls out, pumping the sticky shaft once. His eyes flutter closed.
You move off of his lap and turn to the side so you can stretch out your aching legs. Eddie follows suit, collapsing off of his knees and onto his back, the pillow behind him keeping him propped up.
You watch him ease the condom off of his cock curiously, White cum has smeared and drips down the length of him, his pubes tangled by a mixture of your slick and his.
He spots you watching and smiles. "What, sweetness? What are you thinking about?"
"I made you cum."
His eyebrows jump but quickly smooth. "I think I went blind, for a second."
You giggle at his hyperbole and he pulls you down against his chest, your side pressing into his navel. Your cheek to the space shy of his heart.
His hand comes to rest on your forehead.
"Do you really think about me?" you ask, knowing the answer.
"Every night."
You close your eyes and hide your smile in his skin. He chuckles and wraps you up in one arm, his hand a firm pressure as he massage the dipped plane of your back.
Nestling your cheek into his chest, you say, "I think about it, too. All the time."
"Uh-huh. Maybe we can make some more of those racy thoughts a reality. What was that one about me coming out of the shower?"
You like this casual conversation and decide to try and make him laugh, stretching your words out low. "Well, you're coming out of the shower, and your towel slips open-" There, his bumping laughter at your over the top salaciousness.
"That's awful. Most cliche, overdone, cheap porno concept ever," he chastens.
"I never said I was creative."
"What happens after that?"
"The towel gets swept away by a sudden gust of wind, so I have to cover you. With my body."
He bursts. There's no other word to describe it, his back arches with the force of his laughter and he holds his fist to his mouth, shaking and giggling like an idiot.
"Where's the wind coming from?" he questions incredulously.
"I don't know! The window?"
"Oh my god," he says. He hooks his hand under your arm and pulls you up his chest, dotting a fond kiss to your forehead as you near. "And after that?"
"Well, I told you that part."
"Right, we hook up, but after that."
You clench your fists, insecure. "After?"
He brings the hand that isn't loving the length of your back to your face, stroking the skin under your chin with the backs of his index and middle finger, the flat of his fingernails sliding gently in a soothing back and forth.
"I guess it's kind of like this," you answer eventually.
"Does fantasy Eddie get another kiss, too? Or does he- do they stop, afterwards?"
"It's a fantasy. The kisses never stop," you tell him. Adrenaline must linger in your veins; you can barely speak.
His expression becomes impassive, and a lull in the conversation blossoms. He searches your face for something and you don't know what, but he must find it, because he dips down and kisses you chaste on the lips.
Your hands are back to tentative as they explore his neck. Your fingertips grace the curves of his throat and then sink behind, into the dampened mess of his hair.
He stays chaste, dainty kisses, pulling back to dot them against your lips over and over.
"Eddie," you say softly, "what are you doing?"
"It feels like kissing," he says, tone a mirror of your own.
You huff a laugh against his lips and kiss back.
Later, after more kisses than you could ever count and an hour dozing on his chest whilst his hand rubbed circles into your tired back, you get dressed into your clothes that he likes so much and slip your goodie bag into the belly of your strappy purse.
"Don't go over the top with it, alright?" he says, watching the green bud dissappear.
Jeans back in place and still bare-chested, Eddie sits on the end of his bed and scratches the back of his neck. You give him a grateful smile. "No, I won't. I actually think I might sleep really well tonight without it."
He smirks. "I bet you will."
Eddie walks with you to the front porch. You'd linger if you didn't have to go, and you're pretty sure he'd let you. There's a fraction of awkward silence.
"See you later," you say, walking sideways down one step, another.
Eddie catches your hand. It takes you a second to realise what he's done: forced your crumpled thirty dollars back into your hand. Your heart misses a beat and you feel your stomach plumet – you hadn't fucked him for the free pot.
"Eddie-"
"My girl can't pay for her own supply. That's not happening."
You take one step up. "Your girl?"
He has the good graces to look nervous. "If you wanna be."
You don't know how to answer. He looks pretty like this in the last dregs of sunshine, big brown eyes waiting patiently for you to say something, hand clutching his elbow. It doesn't feel entirely real.
You step on tip toes and work your hands behind his neck to kiss his cheek before rubbing your forehead against his chin. "I'll come by tomorrow?" you ask hopefully. He relaxes under your weight.
"Any time you want. I'll take you some place nice, if you're up for it."
You set back on your heels and pull away. "You don't need to go all fancy on me, Munson." You're happy to get stoned and eat burgers on the couch.
He looks you up and down, eyes catching on the flanks of your thighs before he takes in your face. His smile is almost dorky when he says, "No I- I think I do. I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."
You nod with an aching smile and are a little ways away when he smugly calls, "Sleep well!"
After the lesson he just gave you, you're sure you will.
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#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#stranger things#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine
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(10:02 PM)
seungcheol always looked forward to coming home after a long day. after all, what could be better than changing into his comfiest clothes, falling straight into bed, and cuddling with you to fall asleep?
since his work ended so late, by the time he'd get home, he'd be greeted with the usual sight of you already fast asleep in bed, clutching a camel plushie (it reminds me of you, cheolie! , you always said, smiling softly).
and no matter how hard he tried to keep you from stirring awake, he always seemed to know exactly when he even lifted the covers.
today, he had thought he was in the clear. he tiptoed into the room, his steps hushed in an attempt not to disturb your peaceful slumber. the dim light from the hallway spilled softly into the room, revealing the silhouette of your sleeping figure beneath the cozy blanket. carefully, he had untangled your hands from the tight grip they had on the camel plushie before slotting himself in that space. you had stirred a bit at the close proximity to another figure next to you but after pausing for a second, fell back into your usual slumber. slowly reaching across your waist, he attempted to pull you closer into him.
he quietly sighed in relief, thinking he had succeeded in his mission to slip into bed unnoticed.
however, a sleepy murmur escaped your lips as they blinked away the remnants of dreams, their eyes adjusting to the subtle glow of the room.
"cheolie?" you mumbled, voice drowsy yet filled with warmth. "Is that you?"
seungcheol winced, caught in the act. "yeah, it's me," he whispered, his fingers gently finding their way to intertwine with yours. "sorry, did i wake you up?"
a soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "no, just checking if my imagination was playing tricks on me. what time is it?"
he glanced at the clock on the nightstand, "a little past 1 am. i swear, i really tried to be quiet this time, but you're like a human radar for my presence."
you laughed softly, the sound twinkling in his ears. "you know I always notice when you come in late. how was your night?"
seungcheol sighed, the tension of the outside world melting away as he settled into the warmth of your shared space. "long. busy day. but being here makes it better."
you lifted your hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, before shifting over slightly to leave a soft kiss on his cheek, a silent reassurance that you were glad he was home. "i'm happy you're home baby. let's just go to sleep and get some rest. we can talk more in the morning, okay?"
he obliged, drawing you in with his arm wrapped around your hip, his fingers drawing figures absentmindedly along your side. the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being your soft breaths, slowly rising and falling before syncing with his. in the stillness of the night, seungcheol couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments — the quiet exchanges, the warmth of your bed, and the simple pleasure of coming home to someone who made everything feel right.
as sleep gradually reclaimed you, seungcheol pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and murmured "goodnight baby." before letting sleep overtake him to his dreams to meet you again.
#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt drabble#svt soft hours#seventeen fanfic#svt angst#seventeen soft hours#choi seungcheol#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fluff#seventeen fluff#seungcheol soft hours#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol smut#svt
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Price and his lovely caddy girl. 🏌🏻♂️
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Every time that Price has free time, he plays golf.
He picked up the sports a while back, when during rehabilitation after a special shitty injury his doctor recommended light walks.
So he started to play. Sundays in the morning until noon, then a pint, then home.
It was nothing more than doctor's orders at first.
But then he met you.
The little caddy girl with dangerously short skirts and a sharp tongue to get the juiciest tips.
That's what he thought it was at first, that you were just doing his job.
He felt perverted on the way he would look at your young body, how his eyes would lay on your pink lips when you bite your nail. How he wished to slide his-
“Mr. Price.” Your sweet voice draws him out of his trance.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks in a beat, seeing how your face lightens at the nicknames.
“It's your turn.” You say, pointing with your head to the ball. “Which club?”
“Whichever you think is best.” He says, handing you the one he had on his hand from the last hit.
“Hmm… letting me choose, Mr. Price? What a privilege!” You exclaim, walking the couple of steps back to the cart. Leaning over the seat to pick the club.
And Price's shameless eyes roam the back of your legs all the way up to your cheeks spiking from the skirt.
“How about this one?” You say, pulling it from the bag and handing it to him. “I'm sure you'll get it in… the ball, I mean.”
He shakes his head, taking the club and getting in position. Slightly swinging his hips as he gets the motion, hitting the ball swiftly but too soft to actually reach the hole.
“Aw, Mr. Price… I expected better aim from the military…” You say, a teasing pout on your face as you look up at him, using your hand to cover your eyes from the sun.
“My aim is perfect, mind you, little minx.” He says, walking to the cart to grab a water bottle.
You skip after him, a mischievous chuckle leaving your mouth. “You call that ‘good aim’? I’m sorry for your lovers, Mr. Price.”
“Oh, shut up!” Price exclaims, making you laugh again. “All my ‘lovers’ are perfectly happy with my aim.”
You hummed, satisfied with the raise you got out of him. “I bet they are.”
Price scoffs, looking at you; checking your face for any joke hidden in your features.
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
“Maybe I do”
And maybe Price thought he was perverted, but if you are just as filthy as him… what's the damage?
That's how you found the two of you hiding in the maintenance closet back at the resort, with you squatting down and with Price rolling his cock deep into your mouth.
“Fuck… just like that, sweetheart… suck on it like the good girl you are, fuck!” He lets his head drop back, his hands keeping your head in place as he slowly slides his cock deeper and deeper, hitting the back of your throat with ease. The lewd noise filling the small space. “I bet you are fucking soaked, aren't ya? Hm? Play with your little cunt, love, let me hear how fucking wet you are…”
You move your hand under your skirt, pulling it up and sliding your hand inside your underwear. And the moment you peel your lips apart, the sound of your juices gets to Price's ear, urging him to fuck your throat faster.
“Just like that, darling… fuck your pretty little cunt while I fuck your mouth… such a good girl, letting me do what I please with you… Look at you… so fucking pretty…” You look at his eyes, seeing the hungry stare on his face, making you clench around your own fingers. You feel his thick digits dig into your skull, making you wish so badly that it was his fingers inside of you.
“C’mon, pretty girl… make yourself cum… let me feel you moan around my dick, yeah, just like that… such a good fucking girl.” His thrust emphasises every word, making your eyes tear as your spit rolls down your chin.
And it's the way he is talking you through it, how he slows down his pace to keep himself from cumming, making sure you do first, making sure you follow his orders. But he still holds your head so dearly, his thumbs caressing your head as if his dick wasn't bruising the back of your throat.
But it's the promise of what will come after this, after today, that has you spilling over the edge, soaking your hand and underwear, and your throat clenching around his lengths.
He cums so deep into your throat that you only manage to get the taste on his way out, making sure to clean his shaft sucking him in just for a second making him hiss. You let it go with a sonorous pop, and sit back on your feet taking your hand out.
He stands in front of you, an intimidating 6ft man, wide and strong, looking down at you as you kneel between his feet. Your chin wet from the spit of sucking him off and the little mischievous smile still on your face.
“I think I just developed a new kind of appreciation for golf.”
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bambi eyes (3) r. cameron
[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
word count: 3.4k
In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.
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You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on.
You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore.
As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return.
Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch. You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls.
One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you.
“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook.
“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”
You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”
You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”
“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”
“I think it’s fun,” You said.
“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”
You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”
“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”
“Maybe,” You spoke honestly.
The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”
“We could paint together?” You perked up.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”
“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”
“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”
“I do,” You said quickly.
Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”
“I . . . “
“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”
“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”
He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”
“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”
It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you.
You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”
“You don’t care?”
“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”
You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye.
“We should take the boat out.”
“Now? Where?”
“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”
It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”
Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”
Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”
“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”
The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you.
You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”
You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other.
You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”
You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it.
“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”
“It really is,” You agreed.
“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.”
The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way.
As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were.
Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”
You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”
“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”
“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”
No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head.
“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”
“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.”
As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time.
After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”
“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”
“How do you know?”
“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”
“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs.
You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”
You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”
“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”
You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.”
If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time.
Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties.
“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”
You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology.
Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”
Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers.
“We could take his girl.”
Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”
Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him.
“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”
“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”
“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”
Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him.
“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”
“And after you’ve cornered the market?”
“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter.
“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”
With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.
“I-I couldn’t find you.”
Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”
“She doesn’t drink.”
Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment.
Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him.
“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”
When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you.
“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”
“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along.
Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs.
“How you liking Kildare?”
“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”
“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously.
Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?”
Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”
“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”
A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)
PART 4
#dark fic#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron#outer banks smut#barry outer banks#rafe cameron x black!reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction
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Think she grippin’ on my dick but that’s my gun baby~
(Eren Y.)
A/n: Lil sum sum— srry fa neglecting yall. My schedule is so fuckkkkkeedd. But, I got sum more ‘plug’ eren comin up for my luvz. Anyway I hope yall enjoy this my luvz🫶🏽!
Synopsis: First link w Eren Yeager after not seeing him in a long time. ♥︎
Warning (s): Gun kink , dirty talk, Eren talking you through it, Mentions of drugs, riding an inanimate object, f/m, Uhm like reader calls him sir? Pet names, Needy s*x, Smut, ovi. girl yk the deal 17+ around here!
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You kicked your feet while biting your bottom lip, “Yeah, I know you miss me, baby.” You cheesed at his comments. Eren knew exactly what to say, his words were so sweet and slick. “Of course I miss you ren. When you gon come see me?” You heard his music blaring through his speakers. This boy really had you thinking about him every second of the day and night. “Whatchu mean? I’m outside right now ma.” You nearly took flight running down to the front door. It felt like time was nothing more than a mere interference with your speed. You swung your door open , your smile instantly dropped looking at your empty driveway “Fucking asshole, you lied.” He cackled as if you said something funny. “Nah I’m here.” He flicked his head lights grabbing your attention, you forgot his car was completely black. You didn’t understand why he would make his Hellcat so dark. Didn’t he want people to see it?
You smiled seeing him get out of his car, he looked so fucking fine in his Nike tech. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. Knees nearly buckled as Eren approached the door. You gulped back your salvia, it felt like swallowing a golf ball. “Heyyy baby.” His lips met your cheek, it’s been so long since you saw Eren. His voice held a sweet tang and a long draw to it. His fragrance was a mix of Dior Sauvage and Backwoods. His eyes spoke for themselves; red and low. “Eren—are you high?” you pulled his face closer to yours. Examining his eyes—yeah, he was fucking hammered. “When am I not?” He flashed his pearly whites, you always wonder how he got his teeth so nice and white. If perfection was a human it had to be him, there was no visible flaw within that man. “You gonna smoke your brain away if you keep it up.” You closed the door and walked with him up to your bedroom. Eren looked at you with a soft expression, his eyes locked on to yours. “Aww, you care about me, baby? Fine, I guess I have no choice but to do as you wish.”He jokingly replied. Eren didn’t have many people who cared for him, so it was nice to know you were one of the very few.
Eren found himself in your bed once again, he nuzzled into your neck while a basic Netflix movie played. He wasn’t particularly interested in the movie, and you were aware of this. But he acted like he was excited to watch it. Your hands ran over his thigh grazing over his dick. Fingertips wrapping around it. “Damn Ren, you must be very happy to see me huh?” you giggle sinking into your bed lining. Eren's dark jade eyes met yours, the lower part of his face was covered by his hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had a new hand tattoo; a skeleton face—damn he looked fine. “That ain’t my dick, that’s my gun baby.” He laid on his back, his shirt slightly lifting revealing the weapon. You couldn’t resist wrapping your fingers around the handle of his gun; it was calling your name. You held it in your hand admiring the weapon, it alone held the power to remove a soul from this world.
“You like it?” he took the gun away from your grasp. He parted your thighs placing the cold metal against your cunt. “Yes sir.” You bit your lip at the sheer cold touching you. The hairs on your neck stood up, it was so dangerous, it turned you on. He slid your panties over letting the blistering cold metal meet your pussy. The gun started at a gentle pace, moving slowly against your clit. Erens lips occupied your neck; kissing and sucking it. His tongue lightly brushed over your collarbone, you felt his tongue piercing glide against your skin. You rutted hard against his gun trying to relieve the built-up pressure in your abdomen. You didn’t want his gun, you wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you silly until you could no longer comprehend your surroundings. “Fuucck, I need more ren, I need you.” The gun hastily left your thighs. “I need you too ma.” His mouth met his glock licking your slick off of it. Eren's lips pressed firmly together creating a ‘mmm’ sound. He got on top of you pressing his chest against yours. You felt his bulge through his sweatpants, his dick was begging to be left free. He pulled his sweat pants down, just below his crotch panel. Your fingertips slipped under his elastic waistband; tugging his boxers downwards. His dick pounced out, an angry red color washed over his tip. “Fuck, it’s been too long.” He stroked his dick letting the bead of pre cum coat his tip. Eren slid inside inch by inch, he grunted feeling your heat. “Damn baby, I ain’t fuck you good in a minute huh? You miss this dick?” You nodded quickly, yes—you missed everything about him. His hand wrapped around your mouth looking at his tattoo covering your face. It turned him on seeing it on you— whether his hand was around your throat, mouth, or ass. It always looked so perfect on you.
Eren tugged your shirt up watching your tits bounce as he pounded into you. You tried to push him away from overstimulating your cunt “Nah, This what you wanted right? Take this dick.” He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder, he fucked you faster making you scream out. You could have sworn you put holes in the sheets because you were gripping them so tightly. You threw your head back clenching around Erens cock. Your body jolted at your release, finally letting go of that pressure you once had. “Ahh- fuck-“ you moaned while subtly grinding against his abdomen. His pace faltered, but not ending, Eren didn’t stop fucking you until he came all over your stomach. By then you were already on your third orgasm. He positioned himself beside you kissing your neck while tracing circles on your arm. “I know you love that shit.” He sighed, he was a fool for you as you were for him. He loved looking at your fucked out expression knowing he was the reason you looked like that.
“Mhm, I do, I really fucking do.” He grabbed his gun again setting it down on your chest, “That’s my favorite gun now, ima get your name carved in it.” That gun will forever be by his side from now on.
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4 my whores.
#eyena writes♡#eren jeager smut#eren jeager x reader#eren smut#eren x black fem!reader#eren x black reader#eren x reader#eren x y/n#eren x you#eren yeager
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Lando waking you up on this fine valentines mornings
Smut under the cut!, I apologize for any errors this was rushed
❣️💌💋
You could feel the kisses on the back of your neck before your sleepy mind was able to register the hand between your thighs that had slowly began to creep inside your panties.
“Mm, Lan..what’re you-“
“Shh, just lie back and relax baby.” He shushed as he pulled your body flush against his as he pushed the soft cotton of your panties to the side.
You whimpered as his fingers came in contact with your clit, he moved in slow tedious motions, never going faster even as you begged him. You could feel the burn at the bottom of your spine emerging as your cunt began to clench around nothing.
“Please Lan, m’ getting close.” You cried but the boy did the exact opposite of what you were begging for.
Ripping his wet fingers from your cunt Lando shushed your protesting whines as he pushed his pants down freeing his hardened member.
Your protests came to a stop the second you felt the weight of him on your back, you could feel the bit of wetness left on your back from his thick tip.
You both shared a moan as he ran the head of his cock through your folds, hooking one of your legs over his Lando pushed in with ease thanks to your wetness.
“Oh fuck.” You cried as he filled you until all you could feel was him, his hips flush against your ass while the tip of his cock nudged that spot deep inside you.
“So tight baby, always so good for me.” He moaned out behind you as he picked up his thrusts, his hips slapping against the skin of your plump ass as one of his hands circled your waist.
Your head fell back to rest in the nook of his neck as your body took in his unwavering thrusts, his cock never failing to hit your sweet spot with ease.
“So good lan, so fuckin good.” You cried as you gripped onto the arm he held around your waist.
“Yeah? You enjoy being fucked first thing in the morning huh?” He chuckled knowing this was how you preferred to be woken up.
“Mhm.” You whined.
Lando smirked as he felt your cunt tightening around him hugging his cock so deep he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to last for you.
Removing his arm from your waist he reached down and resumed his movements on your clit, his fingers moving as fast as his hips did, drawing a loud cry from deep within your throat.
“Lan I’m getting close, please don’t stop.” You cried out hands gripping the sheets as you felt the fire growing strong in your lower belly.
“Go ahead baby, come for me.” He encouraged as his lips made contact with your shoulder over his shirt you wore.
“Fuck!” You cried as the feeling took over your body, your legs shaking as your chest heaved.
Lando wasn’t far behind as the feeling of your orgasm pushed him to reach his, with a few more strong strokes he stilled inside of you.
You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth filling your walls, Lando’s hips rutted a few more times before he pulled himself from the warmth of your core.
Turning around you smiled up at him, his eyes bright as he dipped down to press his lips against yours. It was sweet and full of passion, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.
“Happy valentines love.” He spoke softly as he finally pulled his lips from yours.
“Happy Valenti-Lando! Your car launch!” You gasped as you turned to look at the clock on the bedside table of the hotel room.
“It’s not for a few more hours relax” he laughed as he pulled you closer and snuggled into the warmth of the bed.
“We can relax for a bit longer before we have to start getting ready and then I can give you your gift.” He smirked.
“I said no gifts this year!”
“I don’t care, got you one anyways.” He sassed as he placed one last kiss to your head before closing his eyes.
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#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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Touch Tank
James Potter x reader (Smut, bit of fluff at the end.)
Summary: Cancelling a threesome with Sirius and Remus to get eaten out by James Potter, that’s it, that’s the plot.
Warning: smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving) - I also did not spell check, I apologise in advance 🙏
Maybe Remus and Sirius would be furious to know that this is why you cancelled on them. With your head leant back against James’ headboard, you didn’t care. Not one bit. Being told you were bored by James meant one thing and one thing only. He was hungry.
You were more than happy to satisfy his cravings. You could see him, face concentrated. He’d start by kissing up your thighs. Biting them, sucking them. Doing everything in his power to make your stomach swirl. His hands grabbing tightly at whatever he got his hands on first. It didn’t matter what, he needed you more than he understood.
Looking down, seeing his messy hair watching his head shake slightly at times when he was trying to show the different angles he could get to. All just to make you feel good. There was not one part of you he left untouched. Sometimes slowly swirling up your clit, licking and sucking when he was desperate.
Then pushing his fingers inside you, curling them deep inside you. Taking every chance he could to make you moan his name. Sometimes separating himself from licking your clit to rub it with his thumb. Leaving his fingers inside, he’d watch you as you squirmed for him and kiss your thighs.
His smug smile not even present, just a look of pure adoration. His fingers buried deep inside you, adding another to watch you open your eyes. Surprised about how full he was making you feel.
He brought his head back down, tongue toying with your clit again, fingers still inside. Suddenly he was groaning against you, sending shock waves through your core. He pushed his face deeper as he removed his fingers and quickly replaced them with his tongue. Your noise of disappointment cut short over the loss of his fingers due to his nose rubbing against your clit as he brought his tongue deeper.
James’ groans didn’t stop though. He was practically whining, grabbing at your thighs. Pushing them closer to his ears. He kept pushing and pushing until you got the message and wrapping them around his head.
He moaned satisfied to finally have what he wanted. He then decided to focus on your clit. Licking at it until he felt you convulsing above him. He kept licking, letting you ride out your orgasm, bringing himself back up when your legs slackened against his head.
He looked up at you, gently kissing your thighs. Stroking them as you calmed down.
‘Any good?’ He asked smiling at you.
‘Yeah, was alright I guess,’ you teased breathlessly.
He chuckled at you as you laid there. Then he turned to his draw to grab you some clothes. He came back to the bed and dressed you in his boxers and a red shirt. You smiled at the gesture.
You stared at each other for a minute, both of your cheeks red and eyes tired. He crawled into the bed next to you, turning you on your side to cuddle into you.
‘Well, was it worth missing out on whatever you had going on with Sirius and Remus?’ He asked kissing your cheek lightly.
‘Definitely.’ You smiled. It was peaceful for second, James still littering kisses around your face and neck which was broken by an offended scoff.
‘Well me and Moony had a great time without you, if you must know.’
#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter smut#james potter fic#harry potter x reader#harry potter fic#the marauders#marauders x y/n#marauders#marauders smut#marauders x reader#marauders era#marauders era fic#wolfstar x reader#smut
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