#$100 shirt feeling sexy feeling fun

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

taglist:

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[the-californicationist]

Let's get you to 100, new gif addition and prompt ask!

Reader likes being controlled, even as she chafes against it, but there's only 1 person she wants to have that privilege.

You decide who, have fun writing lovely 😏

heyyy!! im backkkkkkk 😘 sorry for the wait! had to go on a bit of a hiatus, so thanks for being patient. and thank you so much for the ask!! sexy as hell babes omg. hope you like it. i went a little overboard on the word count sorry 🫣

TW: light bdsm and contol themes, rough sex

Soft Reins

His voice followed you down the wet sidewalk as you made your escape, striding in long reaching steps to put more distance between yourself and your apartment. 

“C’mon, bonnie! Ye cannae walk in this shite. It’s pissin’ down. Bonnie!”

You waved and smiled up at Soap as he hung over the balcony of your shared space, a deep frown pasted across his mouth as he tried to dodge the raindrops. 

Living with the boys, as you lovingly called them, was full of challenges. For one, they seemed to be oblivious to deep cleaning of any kind, and if you didn’t have the primary school style chore chart hanging on the fridge, your whole house would descend into chaos. The only exception was their captain, and his standards were thankfully on par with your own. 

But, even worse, they were nosey. They seemed to love to be in your business, always making excuses to join you on nights out, standing in an all-too-intimidating pack when you brought home dates from said outings. Even Price was not above casually bullying an unsuspecting potential someone. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

You never got a call back. Any bloke brave enough to follow you back to your place, flanked by your surly entourage, was only as courageous as he needed to be to get his dick wet. After that, he’d ghost you. There were plenty of eligible partners who had much less intimidating roommates. 

In the past year, the longest relationship you had was with a man who didn’t make it over to your house for nearly four months. You had gone through all sorts of trouble to keep the boys from finding out about him, and you guarded his address like it was the nuclear launch codes. You thought you were in the clear when the team had to leave for another deployment, but one morning — when you were wearing only your boyfriend’s tee shirt — they decided to come tromping back in, totally unannounced. 

It was all over, then. Back to the drawing board. 

Gaz was the worst offender by far. Once, when you had planned a spa date for yourself, you’d been treated to all sorts of services that you didn’t order. The staff kept insisting that it was complimentary, but you knew in your heart that it wasn’t. By the end of the visit, you were left fretting about the bill. But, when you walked up to the counter, you discovered that it had already been paid. 

 “Oh! Your mister called it in. Already paid.” The clerk’s smile was blinding in only the way a clerk’s smile could be.

“And who is the mister?” You smiled to yourself, not with much joy, shoving your credit card back into your wallet.

“Well, he said he was your mister. A Mr. Garrick?”

Of course. 

You had only to turn around to see his shining red Beamer revved and waiting to take you to lunch. Gaz’s sunglasses gleamed in the daylight as he grinned down at you, standing over his car, his elbows resting on the roof, smug as could be.

You met him in the parking lot, bags and bags of essential oils and spa creams, heavy in your hands.

“Kyle,” you said curtly, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’, babes. Get in. We’ve got a table at that sushi joint you like.”

You complained that Gaz was overstepping. You moaned about Soap being heavy-handed. You lost your temper when you found the fourteenth Air Tag that Ghost had sewn into the bottom of your trainers. It was too much. You hated feeling trapped, and you thrived in your independence. But, living with these men meant that your desire for freedom was directly at odds with their desire for control. 

It wasn’t their fault, really. That was who they were. They were good at their high-profile special operation world-saving careers because they were good at control. It was what made them great soldiers. 

But, one of them was far better at it than the others. 

Captain John Price didn’t follow you down the street. He didn’t chase you in his shadowy, blacked-out Evija. And he certainly didn’t need to hide trackers in your clothes. No; his control was insidious. It made your blood boil, and it had you questioning your every move. He had a way of making you think that what he wanted was what you wanted, and when you ultimately discovered his plans, you could only blame yourself. Price was the king of control, but that wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst part was that you liked it. 

You hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. Ever since lockdown, and your huge workload at your office, you just couldn’t find the time to make it back. International flights were hard to plan, expensive, and it seemed like something always came up. When you mentioned it off-handedly to Price, he’d comforted you, 

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll find the time this year.”

That was in June. By December, your boss had mysteriously found out that you had a full week of extra paid time off that you needed to take, and your credit card called you to let you know that your airline mileage points had doubled. It was as if everything in the universe had aligned so that you could make it back to your family. 

You’d told the boys over dinner one night, and they celebrated with you, happy for you to be able to finally live your dream. Then, Price had grabbed your phone, reading the email and going over the fine print. 

It grated on you, but you needed to learn how to pick your battles in this house. So, you waited for his approval, tight-lipped. 

“Double miles… ah, there’s a catch,” his voice rumbled in his chest, low and even. 

“What catch?” You panicked. Nothing could upset this perfect balance you’d achieved.

He pointed down to the conditions, and you read it for yourself as he told you,

“Says here they granted double miles for two tickets purchased.”

“Two? Who the fuck am I going to get to come to Saskatoon in December?” You sighed, head in your hands, trying to figure out how you were going to make it work.

“Well, the boys are heading up to check on MacTavish’s mum, but Kate’s got me on a leash. I can ask her to make me remote on this project, if you want.”

His tone wasn’t sly. It didn’t sound like he was hiding something. If anything, he sounded earnest, and it was such a kind gesture of friendship that he would be willing to join you in order to help you see your folks. 

But, that’s what wormed its way under your skin. You knew it was him. You just couldn’t prove it. Months of God knows what kind of backdoor, black-market dealing and manipulation, all orchestrated just to…

Just to what? Make you happy?

Inwardly, you struggled against your bindings, the invisible ropes he’d so carefully weaved just to have you come to him of your own free will, bent on your hands and knees, obedient and eager for your reward.

“Jonathan…” You started to resist, to rebel. Every time you started your sentence, you were stopped in your tracks by the cold, hard truth: He didn’t force you to do anything. You’d done it all of your own free will. 

That was how it had started. But, holy fuck had it escalated. 

Price was the perfect gentleman on your flight over, mysteriously charming his way into business class seats. He downloaded some of your favorite movies onto his iPad, even though you didn’t remember ever telling him that they were your favorites. He even snuck his way back to the flight attendants’ galley, laughing and joking with them, procuring you two extra desserts from the carts since you were such a fan. 

Then, he met your family, and he fit in perfectly. It was as if he was the missing member, a long lost kin, just waiting to be reunited into the fold. Your mother couldn’t figure out what had you so bothered. 

“About time you brought a good one home. Even your Uncle Billy likes him, and Billy —”

You rolled your eyes, 

“And Billy doesn’t like anyone, I know. I know.”

“Honey,” your mother looked at you with a sternness that she didn’t often muster, peering at you over her rose-rimmed glasses, “Why can’t you just let someone take care of you for a change? He’s a good man.”

A good man. 

John Price was a killer. No, he was worse. He was a CIA-funded, black ops, government-overthrowing war machine, capable of literal atrocities. You hadn’t heard much, but you’d heard enough. If any of these people knew how quickly he could turn a crowded room into an empty one, none of them would be looking so fondly at the way he snuggled with the dog or complimented your dad’s knife collection. 

But, that wasn’t why you protested, was it? If you were really being honest with yourself, the reason why you were so against letting Jonathan War Machine Price run your life was that it was yours to run. You didn’t need anyone’s help.

You didn’t need it.  

You could handle things on your own. 

You liked being able to spread your wings, fly your own path…

You were nobody’s puppet.

But, you were starting to like the way he was pulling your strings. When he would take the pressure of choice away from you, after you’d already been making a million other decisions at the end of a long day, it eased something inside of you in a way that nothing else could. It was like he was using those huge, rough palms to massage the hurt out of your head, to show you that it didn’t need to be such a battle, you didn’t need to keep fighting. He would do the fighting for you, and he was determined to show you that he was good at it. 

Even now, as you stomped through the rain, you knew what you were running from. You told yourself you were avoiding John, that you wouldn’t let him see you struggling to hold yourself together. After a much needed switch into a different position at work, the stress of your own expectations weighed heavy on you. But, you wanted them to. You wanted to know that you could still make it alone. You didn’t need John Price. 

But, you’re wearing the slicker he bought for you when yours got left in a cab.

So?

But, you smell like oud, saffron, and bergamot; the perfume oils he found for you at that local boutique you love. The same one he always compliments when he smells you wearing it. 

So?

But, you’re tired and wet and cold, and all you want is for him to tell you what you want.

So?! 

The soft, amber glow of a cigar stopped you in your tracks. A man was sitting on your bus stop bench, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his legs spread wide, taking up as much space as he liked. He was smoking slowly, enjoying every breath, savoring the flavors. Flavors you knew all too well: vanilla, licorice, sweet cedar, and whiskey. 

His sharp, blue eyes only met yours when you let out a labored sigh.

“What are you doing here, John?”

He took another drag, letting the ashes smolder, their warm glow making him look more and more like the Devil, a fallen man bathed in the light of a fire he lit all by himself. And damn proud of the blaze, too. 

“Just waitin’ for my ride,” he smiled in the way that a cat must smile at a mouse under its paw, “Do you wanna sit down, sweetheart?”

“No! I don’t wanna sit down,” you threw up your hands, “I want you to stop meddling in my life. You’re not allowed to keep making me feel like… like I need someone… some — Like I need someone’s fucking help. I don’t need anyone but me.”

His tone shifted in a sudden heat, like a flash in the pan, unexpected,

“Do you think I have any bloody help?”

Price let the question sink in before standing in front of you, his gaze never leaving your eyes. His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with smoke, and yet each and every word cut into you as sharp as a blade,

“Do you think anyone comes to help me when I’m deep in some bullshit, fuckin’ around in Rammaza? Just me, is it? By myself?”

“I don’t… no, I don’t know…” You hated how small your voice sounded in this tiny bus stop hut, the pounding rain drowning out your words. 

John looked at you as if he was waiting on you to find another answer, and then his face softened. He flung the cigar onto the pavement and crushed it out under his boot, smashing the tobacco into the cement without mercy. The object of his affection, once consumed, now snuffed out under his own power. 

His hands wrapped around your shoulders, caging you in, warm and safe from the wind blocked by his broad back. He sighed, his mouth drawing a tight line across his face, 

“Of course I need fuckin’ help. I have my men, and they have me. And I keep you here,” he jammed a finger hard into his chest, “Deep inside me, remindin’ me what I need to come home to. I’m not… meddling in your life, love. I’m trying to put you in mine. I thought…” 

He pulled away, sitting back down, looking up at you with a unique look on his face, 

“I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’m wrong,” he let out a dark, bitter chuff, “You need to tell me right now. ‘Cause all my plans have you in them.”

The rain made the plexiglass roof sound like it was shattering, over and over, the concussive slam of the storm created an oppressive din. He was waiting there, looking at you, asking for your next move. What was your plan?

“Am I wrong, sweetheart?”

You waited, trying to see how many steps ahead he was in front of you. If you said yes, if you said no; what decisions had already been made for you? Did he know what you were going to say before you did? And the real question: Why were you fighting so hard against something you wanted so badly?

You shook your head back and forth, just enough for him to see. HIs eyes lit up with hope and energy, a renewed flame.

“Then, come home with me. Quit bein’ so bloody hard on yourself. Let’s get you dry, love. C’mon.”

So, you obeyed. 

Nothing was more humbling than climbing into a squat little sports car when you were drenched to the bone. You curled yourself right into his cage, feeling silly for ever wanting to escape from it. Why were you pulling so hard against such soft reins? Couldn’t you see that he wanted to take care of you? To remove all of your barriers, to clear your path? You would be more powerful under his wing, soaring far beyond what you were capable of on your own. Why deny yourself a bite of the apple? It was ripe, the snake had promised, and sweet. 

He helped you up the stairs to your flat, walking you past his men as they gathered together in the kitchen, speechless, for once. None of them dared question their captain’s choices, and he had chosen you. More than that, it was clear that you had chosen him. 

Once you were in his room, behind a locked door, he held up a hand and stopped you in the entryway, shivering and dripping by the door. 

“Wait here.”

You waited. 

You waited some more. 

Just when you thought you would turn around and take yourself to bed, he returned dressed in a dry tee and a pair of running shorts. He carried two large, fluffy towels, and his face was set into a serious mask. All business. 

“Take off your clothes.”

You hesitated, looking at him to make sure you heard him correctly. 

He met your gaze, standing so close to you that you could feel his breath against your cheek. His chest was inches from your face, and you had to look up in order to meet his eyes.

“Take.”

He grabbed your phone out of your hand and dropped it on his entry table.

“Off.”

He rucked the jacket off of your back, peeling it down your arms and letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap.

“Your.” 

His fingers pulled the tie out of your ruined braid, letting the elastic roll onto his wrist. 

“Clothes.”

His hands went back to his side. It was up to you to do the rest. He wasn’t here to do everything for you. You were not his plaything. You had to choose to obey him. He wanted to watch you choose to follow his orders, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to.

Slowly, and a bit unsure, you began to shed your layers. You started with your shirt, almost knocking into him with your elbows since he was towering over you, standing in your space. Then, you writhed out of your jeans, peeling them off of your legs, kicking away your shoes in the process, stepping gingerly out of your socks, needing to hold onto his thick trunk for balance. 

Now, in just your bra and panties, you waited, hoping he’d hand you a towel. 

“What did I say?” He asked in a hushed tone, the timbre containing just enough warning to make your cheeks hot. 

“No, John. The boys are here in the kitchen!” You protested, whispering in a low hiss. 

This was beyond what you expected from him. You’d been keeping him at arm’s length, despite his constant pressure to be in your life. Sure, there had been moments of weakness. You’d shared a kiss, and you had let his hands wander when you watched a movie together on the sofa last weekend, but that was as far as things had gone. Stripping naked in the bright light of his apartment suite was something else entirely. Not to mention what sort of noises would seep out under his doorway if things got out of hand. 

“Stop,” he grabbed you by your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Stop fighting me. I am in this. All the way. The only time I wanna hear you tell me no is when you really mean it. If you say stop, I will immediately stop. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded. He released you and put his hands on his hips, impatient. 

So, you slid out of your bra, slowly letting the cups pull away from your breasts, the lace cold and damp on your skin as it joined your outfit on the floor. As you rolled your panties off of your hips, stepping out of them and shoving them under your jacket with your toe, you felt more than just naked. You felt vulnerable and a little scared. 

What would he say? What did he plan to do? You realized, with a chilly shudder, that you didn’t even know his personal preferences. He’d never even given you a cursory glance into his mind, and reading his thoughts was impossible with that serious poker face. Most men wore their thoughts right across their eyes, or some (like Soap) even muttered them aloud, unconcerned about any judgment or scrutiny. If a man wanted you, you’d know. They were an open book. 

But the captain was very hard to read. 

Suddenly, as you stood back up, warring with your own mind, you were surrounded in fuzzy, comforting warmth. He was drying you off, wiping your arms and legs with reverent care, squeezing the rain out of your hair, using the corner of the cloth to wipe your face, holding you in his arms when you felt weak, off-balance, exhausted. 

It seemed as if the more you relaxed into him, the more power you gave up, the more it began to stoke his fire. While you became soft and pliant, he shifted into a fierce protector, covering you with his hands, bracing you with his heavy bones.

Price wrapped your hair into a high bun with an unexpected level of skill, and he carefully stretched your hair tie around it. When he turned to face you, you caught him staring at your body, raking his eyes over your breasts and studying the curve of your mons. It was as if he was groping you with his eyes, and each swipe of his gaze felt like a lick from his warm tongue. It was enough of an invasion that you wanted to put your hands in front of yourself, to hide out of some sort of shame.  

But when you made a move to cover yourself, the look in his eyes was enough to make you stand with your hands at your sides, allowing yourself to be on full display for him and that ravenous glare. He hadn’t even needed to chastise you. His mere desire was enough of a correction. 

Then, almost like a reward, he wrapped the towel around you, letting you hold it tight to your chest. 

“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that pretty head,” he commanded you, his voice quiet but firm. It was just a simple question, but you knew it was loaded. So, you brushed him off, tossing out cheap bait, wrapping the towel a little tighter around yourself, hoping he’d drop it. You shrugged,

“Just cold.”

His jaw set with a click, and that soft purr became a warning growl,

“That’s one,” he held up his finger, “The next lie will cost you that towel, pretty girl.”

You stared at him blankly, trying to find a way through this labyrinth he had — apparently — custom built for you, sending you down twists and turns and dead ends as if he knew exactly how you’d try to steal back some control. But every way out seemed like a worse fate than simply allowing yourself to trust him. Nevertheless, you tried again. 

“I am cold, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day, John,” you sighed, shifting towards him, trying your best to take back the lead to his strange dance, “C’mon, don’t you wanna take me to bed?”

You reached out a hand and snaked it under the hem of his shirt, exploring untouched skin, letting your nails scrape through a dark patch of thick hair, right above his waistband. Your fingers got as far as his navel before he snapped. 

The cold absence of him ripping the towel away from you felt worse than you expected it to. In fact, you hadn’t actually taken him seriously. You protested, indignant,

“Hey! What —-“

“You think this is the same game you’ve always played,” he snarled, throwing the towel away and shoving you to your knees, his hold crushing and cruel on the nape of your neck, “You think, because those lads will eat any scraps you throw to them,” he nodded behind you, gesturing toward his men only a thin wall away, “That I’ll be satisfied with a taste, hm?”

His tone was mocking, and there was an undercurrent of darkness that lingered between each word like a warning, like the red of a poisonous berry that shouldn’t be picked and yet sagged ripe and ready on its stem. 

“You always get your way with them, don’cha? You know that a bit of skin and a little attention will keep them on you for days. And they reward you for it. They text you at all hours of the fuckin’ night, beggin’ you for just one more look, one more bite,” his mouth was right next to your ear, bending over you, casting his shadows across your face, and all you could do was kneel there, fully under his control, unable to move against his immense strength, “But, that’s not what I want.”

Your eyes dared to slant over to the growing monster that pressed its warm body against his shorts, hanging heavy and stretching the fabric, and you dared to hiss at him, even in your compromised position, using his title like a knife, aiming to scrape him with it,

“Seems like you do, Captain.”

He smirked, you could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, and you could see his almost infernal expression out of the corner of your eye. Even though you were trying to get under his skin, it made you feel like you were playing right into his hand yet again, helpless to his will. 

He stood up, never letting go of his grip on your neck, pinching the muscle like you were a caught rabbit, his writhing prey. Then, with a force that made your stomach drop, Price shoved your cheek into the crotch of his shorts, bringing you face to face with the outline his swelling shaft. Your nose was buried in the fabric, and you could smell the soap of his detergent as well as the musk of his sex that throbbed underneath. 

Then, he rucked down his waistband to show himself to you, pressing his length along your cheek, the softness of his skin surprising you just as much as the size of his thick, hefty prick. 

He held your neck in one hand and his cock in the other as he began to stroke himself up and down, letting your temple  and cheekbone feel the slip of his velvet foreskin. You could hear soft, wet clicking sounds as he coated himself in his own fluid, using the clear, dripping pearls as lube. 

You tried to move your jaw to taste him, eager to know if the heady, intoxicating smell of his skin matched his precome, hungry for his reaction to your mouth. But he stopped you, tightening his grip and scolding you like a naughty pet,

“My body wants your body, love. I’ll admit that,” he chuckled, not halting his lurid, jerking pulls, using your cheek for friction, “But I want more. I don’t want a taste. Or a bite. I won’t be satisfied.”

He frowned a bit, shrugging off his confession before he continued, 

“I want you to trust me. Trust that I’ll be here for you, that I’ll always be here. So,” he tugged on your flesh, forcing you to meet his fiery gaze, “Tell me what you thought.”

What were you supposed to say? That you were insecure about your looks? That you weren’t sure if he’d approve? That you were either too much or not enough and you weren’t sure which?

You turned your mouth as much as you could, trying to at least lick along the warm underbelly of his rod, aching to taste him, but he jerked you back into place, laughing at the disappointment on your face,

“Lips to yourself, love. Only good girls get fed.”

You rolled your eyes up to him, and you knew you had to make a choice. He was joking, but it was a façade. He was using it like a shield, waiting to see if you would actually relinquish your control or if you’d cut and run like you did with everyone else. 

So, you decided to trust him, giving him what he wanted, a full confessional on burning, bent knees, eyes cast up at your new master, praying for his communion, your tongue eager for his body and his blood and his love.

You made sure his eyes were locked on yours as you spoke softly, unflinching in your resolve,

“I was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. I needed you to want me. I was afraid.”

The relief that washed over him was nearly palpable. His whole body responded to your admission, all of that tightly-wound uncertainty melting away in the heat of your submission to him. 

“That’s it. Good,” his voice was heavy with his relief, and he almost seemed like he was slipping into a trance, rubbing himself in steady, long strokes, shuddering against your cheek, “And what now, hm? You want me to let you go? Let you free? Or are you gonna let me in?”

You didn’t break your eye contact with him, but you wavered, sure of your decision but overwhelmed when you had to say it out loud. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the slick mess he was forging between them, trying to find some comfort. You took a breath and told him,

“I’ll let you in, John.”

His throat held back a long, low groan, the pleasure of your surrender or the pleasure of his hand forcing it from his chest. You weren’t sure which. 

His grip loosened on your neck, but he didn’t let go. His voice was barely above a whisper as he told you his rules in hushed, broken phrases, holding himself back from the edge,

“You belong to me, now, sweetheart. You might be in charge at your bloody job, but everything else is mine. Do you hear me?”

You were going to answer him, you’d even planned to tack on a cheeky little yes, sir, just to show him you were playing along, but he had other plans. Always a step ahead. Before you could even breathe to speak, he pressed the tender head of his cock between your lips and deep into the warm hollow of your mouth, his wide form forcing your jaw to fall open to let him inside of you. It shocked you to be taken that way, not roughly but so certainly, with such surety, as if there was no other choice but for him to take you. You shifted, but with his knuckles tight against the base of your skull, you couldn’t retreat. Other than lolling your tongue along the body of his shaft, or swallowing against its drooling tip, you were powerless. 

His face twisted into a hungry sort of smear full of teeth and lips, grimacing at the feeling of being surrounded by you. Every inch that he drove himself deeper, his breathing would halt until at last, as he buried himself into your clenching throat, his lungs had emptied, and he was sighing with a ragged, guttural cry. 

“When you’re with me…” He continued his dark promises to you, the words choppy and broken, only threaded loosely together between panting gasps, “Even when I’m a fuckin’ world away, I promise that I will take care of you,” he pet your cheek with the softest affection, admiring you like a work of art, “All of you. You will sleep when I say. You will eat when I say. You will come when I say,” he smiled a little more cruelly at that, watching your eyes widen. And, as you began to wish for air, planting your palms against his firm, muscular thighs, ready to push away, he looked down at you with a lurid satisfaction, “You will breathe when I say.”

You were choking. You could hear yourself in the quiet of his room, your throat gurgling, full of your own viscous drool, escaping where it could along the stretched line of your mouth, running down your chin and neck. You felt the flare of panic rise up within you, and you tried to pull away in earnest, writhing against his grip, trying to escape from him and failing, turning your body in shameful futility. 

Price bent his face toward you, folding himself to whisper his lustful words, making sure your eyes met his, pressing your nose into his soft pubic hair,

“You. Breathe. When. I. Say.”

He kept himself contorted like that, keeping his face low to watch your eyes, to witness your struggle, and you felt hot tears burn down your face, the effort overcoming you. But, you wanted to show him that you could obey. You wanted to trust him, to show him that you were willing to give him your freedom, knowing that only he was worthy of such a gift. So, you swallowed deeply, watching as it made his eyes flutter, and again, and again. Over and over, you closed your throat around his steel-hard length, choking when it became too much. 

Still, he kept you there. As brave as you’d been with partners in the past, even those moments were fully eclipsed by this one. You had never even thought that you might be capable of holding your breath for so long. 

You were sobbing wholeheartedly now, your eyes reflecting your desperation, tears pooling and spilling across your face. He was watching you cry, whispering breathless nothings, soft words of encouragement,

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ good. My good girl.”

Just as purple and blue spots began to obscure your vision, he pulled himself out of you in a terrible, wet departure, leaving you clutching his hips, sobbing into his belly, watching his hard cock pounding, swaying at full height, swollen with blood and eager for its finish. You could feel those same soft, dark hairs matting down as your tears soaked into them. He ran his fingers through your hair, keeping the fallen strands out of your face, still holding you at your nape, but just to comfort you. 

You imagined him letting go, and you felt… sad, somehow. He would have to release you at some point, but you were in such a submissive state, just the idea of him leaving you without his guiding hand was too much to bear. 

Your cries turned to a twisted kind of grief, and when he heard your tone change, he dropped to the floor with you, holding you to his chest, rocking you back and forth, shushing you and talking to you in a hushed voice,

“Shh, baby. Tell me to stop. Tell me…”

You grasped at him wildly, uncontrolled, holding onto whatever part of him you could, shaking your head,

“No, no. Don’t — don’t let me go. Please, I can’t… I need… I need you to touch me.”

You planted one of your hands across his, covering the one that gripped your neck, pressing it like a plaster, like it was keeping a wound healed, like it was a dam in front of your frothing, vengeful river; it was a lifeline and you were adrift. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m right here. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. C’mon. Come with me.”

He lifted you, helping you walk on sore, shaking legs, your nerves sparking across your skin. Then, with his hand still firmly planted against your neck, he led you like a shepherd with his lamb, marching you to his bedroom. As you approached the bedframe, your thighs hit the mattress, and Price guided you forward until your body lay flat against it. The duvet was cool and smooth against your belly and breasts, and you tucked your arms into yourself, looking for warmth. 

You felt John plant gentle kisses across your back, trailing them down your spine, and after the overstimulation you had just gone through, even his lightest touch was electric. 

Your tears had stopped, but still you panted, sniffling, trembling from the shock of his careful kisses, waiting for whatever would come next. 

You felt his hips press against your exposed ass cheeks, his shorts now missing, and all you could sense was his warm, furry skin. You sighed into it, happy for the connection. 

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

You complied immediately, all of your tortured resistance gone from you now, ready to trust him to take care of you. 

The unknown was what made your belly swarm with butterflies, and as you waited for his next move, your mind raced with possibilities. 

Would he be cruel? Would he punish you for your lying when he had first taken you in? His hand might strike your tender flesh, slapping your ass and leaving red, angry marks. 

Would he be lustful? Your mind fed you imaginary moments where he would press his cock into your pussy, skipping any foreplay, simply using you like his warm, wet toy. You thought that he wanted more, something more intimate, but if not, you would let him. You were his to use. At this point, you were so pliant, so open to his will, he could use you over and over and you would take him. It was a dark confidence you had never known until now. 

Perhaps he would simply stop. Maybe he perceived you as weak, as if you couldn’t take what he wanted to give you. He would simply comfort you, pitying you for your wrecked state. It was this thought that turned your stomach. Surely, he knew you better than that. John Price was not the pitying type. 

As the base of his cock lay nestled in the cleft of your ass, still as hard as a stone, his long shaft was shoved up against his lower abdomen, pulsing with unslaked desire. Then, as he settled himself, pleased with your spread display, John began to slip the very tips of his fingers into your pussy. He was just feeling your softness, plucking at your petals, laying them open with his hand, using your own wetness to paint your lips and the tight muscle of your hole, preparing you for more. 

His voice broke the trance that his touch had put you in, 

“It kills me when I have watch you putting yourself through hell. You are so strong, but you deserve to have everything you want. Everything you need, I’ll make sure you have it. I promise.”

He was so sincere, and his voice sounded so sure. It was like he was sharing an old memory, something he knew by heart. 

“John, please…” You whispered, feeling yourself slipping, slowly becoming untangled by his touch. You needed more, but you had no words. You could barely concentrate, and your mind was swimming in a liminal space, trapped in a loop of mounting bliss. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you felt your tears return, and although you were desperate for something, you couldn’t find the answer. 

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright,” John rubbed your back with his free hand, smoothing your skin with his warm touch, “Does my pretty girl need to come?”

You nodded, daring to glance over your shoulder at him as he worked on you, his finger now sinking deeper into you, gently prodding your walls in long, aching circles. His other fingers were cradling your folds, slipping between them with each undulating thrust, brushing beside the swelling body of your clit and making you throb with need. 

He felt it, and you saw a warm smile spread across his face,

“I can feel you needin’ me. So wet for me. Fightin’ me so bloody hard. Thought I’d be wantin’ you forever. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of havin’ you under me like this? Fuck, I need you so badly, baby.”

You felt his grip tighten on your neck again as he pressed you deeper into the soft mattress, his prying hand picking up the pace. His thick finger finally slipped down to the knuckle of his fist. As he fucked you on his hand, you could hear your body’s slick as it softened for him, submitting to his power just as you had done, your body at peace with your mind. 

He pressed a second finger beside his first, twisting them together, curling the tips to rub you from the inside, making you feel the deep ache of your orgasm building within your belly. 

You tried to find more friction, rocking your hips against the bed, squeezing your legs together, needing more but completely helpless to his pace and pressure. 

Price stopped, pushing his fingers right into the tender flesh of your neck as a warning,

“Open,” he shoved your foot away, spreading them for you, “You keep fighting and fighting… fine. I’ll give you something to fight for, hm?”

You tried to twist your knees together again, but his legs stood apart, holding you open. Then, you felt his threat. He put the head of his heavy prick against your greedy hole, dipping it into your wetness like a seal into warm, melting wax.

“C’mon,” he squeezed your nape hard, once, just enough to get your attention, “You wanna drive? Fuckin’ drive, love. You think you can fuck yourself better than I can fuck you? Prove it.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him, watching the muscles ripple and pop in his forearm that held you down, unwilling to give you full control, and yet allowing you to set the pace. You saw his other hand rub the curve of your hip, dropping lower to grope your ass, egging you on. 

Unwilling to beg, you thrust yourself down onto his shaft, gasping from his girth, only managing to fit half of him inside of you, physically unable to go any deeper on your own. But, you tried again, lifting away, sinking back, repeating your movements and reaching between your legs to rub your clit as you fucked him.

But, it wasn’t enough. You felt so close to the edge, and yet you couldn’t tumble over it, losing your rhythm, chasing it down, too weak to reach the peak you knew was right within your grasp. 

You grunted in frustration, and his cruel laugh made you turn back towards him again. 

He shrugged,

“I thought you wanted to be in charge. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You gasped, trying to catch your pleasure and feeling it slip from you yet again, humping your hips against the bed shameless and desperate. 

“Tch,” Price gripped the inside of your ass cheek, shaking it and rolling your soft flesh in his hand, “Too bad, love. I wanted to give it to you. Shame, really.”

“John! Please,” you caved, sobbing out a short moan, begging him impatiently. 

“Please, what?” His question came just as he decided to press himself deeper into your body than you had been able to go, sinking into you like a hand into a glove, a tight, all-encompassing fit. 

You whined, rolling your fingers over your clit faster, feverish, ready for relief, 

“Please make me come.”

“You will come…” He stretched you, giving you no warning, the sharp feeling of his invasion making you catch your breath, “When I bloody tell you to.”

Then, as if to prove it to you, he stuffed his length into your pussy, never pulling back very far, choosing instead to massage you with his cock, using his base to stretch you wide before rolling away. The sensation overwhelmed you, and his size made your mind go blank. Any words that formed in your mind turned to whining cries of pleasure on your tongue.

There were no sounds of lewd pounding of flesh on flesh. All of Price’s work was deep and wet, churning inside of you like a volcanic sea, hot and untamed. He, however, made plenty of noise, praising you in every way he knew how, speaking in half-clipped phrases, losing his sentence to a groan of relief as he fed himself to you, filling your pussy like a hungry mouth. 

You felt yourself getting closer by the moment. Each grinding thrust was pushing you ever nearer to that gleaming, crackling fuse. He had lifted you, unintentionally, unable to understand the effect of his strength, and your toes could barely scrape the floor. You could feel your sacral core clenching around him like a delicate vice, grabbing for his cock, trying to hold him within your belly, some twisting grip of nature used to ensure that his creamy come ended up where it belonged, soaking into your womb.

Your clenching made him pause, which, in turn, caused you to cry out to him, wordlessly babbling, begging for him to return, to keep his pace. 

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. Don’t you dare come,” his voice was like rattling brimstone, smoky and burning within his throat. 

“Please…” You whispered, unable to lift your raspy, keening voice. 

With shallow, teasing thrusts, Price used his cockhead to softly pop in and out of your soaked hole, swollen from being well-fucked. Just hearing a vibrator would have sent you over the edge at that point, and you fought him, trying to get any sort of power at all, rolling your body like a caught snake. 

“Stop,” he said curtly, “Stop fighting. Be still.”

You quieted yourself down, breathing heavy, sweating into his sheets, shivering like you had a fever, burning up from the inside out. 

For the first time, you felt his hand leave your neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into your hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, carefully, he lifted you by your head, forcing your back into a vicious arch, letting your breasts hang freely, your arms trying to balance you, mostly worthless since Price had full control of your torso in this position. 

His free hand slid around your front, groping you wildly, plucking your nipples and filling his palms with the meat of your breast. Then, he replaced your fingers with his own, pressing beside your sensitive clit, rolling it softly in long, firm strokes. 

You heard yourself make a new sound, one you’d never made, an animal’s grunting, something reckless and feral. 

Then, Price took up his stretching rhythm again, fully in charge of everything you were sensing. To you, he may as well have been in control of your mind. It was no use to you; you were at his mercy and it was everything you’d ever wanted. 

“Do you trust me?”

Your thoughts swam, unable to even consider anything but the truth, and amongst all of your vocalized ecstasy, you managed to reply,

“Yes.”

“Don’t come. Keep it. Just like that.”

“J-John!”

“Wait, wait, wait… good girl. Good.”

“Ohhh, fuck…”

His next words seemed barely human, snarled at you through bared teeth,

“Now. Come for me. Come f— fuck! Holy fuck.”

When you felt him spill into you, you had almost no control left over your own orgasm. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat, and all you could experience was your shining, explosive finish. You heard no sound, and your eyes went white, rolling back into your head. You couldn’t breathe, or scream, and if it wasn’t for John’s immense body holding you tight, you would have crashed into his bed, all used up.

His orgasm was as long as yours was, and he finished in slow, fearsome thrusts, burying his head into you as deep as he could reach, smearing your lips with your mixed fluids, caring nothing for the mess. 

“C’mere, love. Come to me,” Price held you to his chest, finally pulling himself from you, holding you as close as he could, laying beside you in a sweaty, spent tangle of arms and legs. 

You lay your head on his chest, catching your breath, only to tumble into a dreamless sleep with him, your body exhausted from your effort. 

When you woke up the next day, you could feel him all over you. He had left you alone in the bed, and yet your skin and bones kept his imprints. You could feel the ghost of his fingertips on your neck, and you were sore in places you weren’t sure how you could be. Everything was a wet mess, and just when you worried about how you’d cross the apartment without yesterday’s outfit, you saw that John had left you a note. 

Training day on base. I'll be back tonight. Dinner on me. Wear this. xx

Under the note, Price had laid out his favorite dress of yours, a blue satin slip of a thing, and (with the tags still on) you found a matching lace set of bra and panties in the same pretty color, just your size. You couldn’t see the price, but when you searched for the brand online, you couldn’t help but blush. He'd spent more than just a pretty penny on this outfit. You couldn't help but notice that the delicate lace would show through the thin fabric of the dress, making little raised ridges where your nipples would be.

Whatever you’d just agreed to when you said you’d let John Price into your life was about to get very, very interesting. 

AO3 Link

[wcbblife]

can you do juju watkins or paige bueckers hcs

Juju Watkins & Paige Bueckers hc

Juju:

Juju is such a chill gf. That being said, she strikes me as a quiet and hidden jealous gf. Like if someone’s flirting with you she won’t necessarily go out of her way to make it known she’s jealous but her eyes tell the other person to piss off and when you ask what’s wrong she’ll hit you with a “Nothing’s wrong” (She’s so hot when mad yall).

Eye contact goes crazy. Her eyes are so sexy and she knows it and uses them to get what she wants from you.

Feel like she would secretly love when you take care of her after her games bc cmon, this girl scores double digits like they are nothing. She would just love for someone to tell her she did good and help with her recovery.

She remembers small details about you so she could spoil you later. Acts all nonchalant when you ask her how she remembers.

Def sleeps a lot to regain her energy. Girl is always sleeping.

Also, she looks sooo good when she wakes up. Like she’s groggy sure but (my idea) she def wakes up all tousled and her shirts are always too short and her eyes just tie it all together (my gosh) and she knows this.

Loves quiet and slow mornings because she needs to reserve all of her mental and physical energy for her games but she is not a morning person. When you wake her up for games, practice, or whatever she’s just so grumpy and lowkey mean but that’s nothing a cuddle session can’t fix

Although she’s not 100% against PDA and will wrap her arms around your waist every now and then, she would prefer to just hold your pinky in public or your hand under the table. It’s more personal for her and it makes her feel good and lowkey cocky.

However, once she’s a little jealous she will have both hands around you and will cling on to you with no shame.

After a fight, she can be so many ways. Like if it’s before a game I think she would go radio silent and just focus on her game because she's a perfectionist and doesn’t want it to affect her performance. If it was your fault she would be so quiet and distant because although it might not seem like it, she’s hurt. If it was her fault she would apologize after just a bit and would get you your favorite snacks (see the remembers the little things about you).

You guys first met in class after she asked for your notes because she was busy with her games.

Loves messy/sloppy make out sessions. Makes her feel so smug at the end. However, don’t get me wrong, it drives her crazy when you completely take control because she's not used to it.

Lowkey is very sassy but she controls it around you.

Loves to whisper some stuff in public (iykyk) and watch with the most devilish smile how you react because she finds it fun.

Paige:

Hands on your lower back, ass, and shoulder girl 24/7. Like she’s truly shameless.

Acts tough when you guys are public but is a complete baby when you two are alone. Like she wants cuddles, kisses, and to be cared for behind closed doors and TRUST she will be on top of you whenever you lay down with her in bed.

Finds it lowkey sexy when you give her sass right back at her. She will have the biggest smirk on her face and will definitely say “Yes ma’am” when you tell her to quit it.

I think she just loves when she can be chill after tough games with you. Brings her peace of mind to have someone to get home too who will help with recovery after her body takes beating after beating.

That being said, she probably makes her watch her games and acts all cocky when she makes a fancy layup.

Loves cheek and temple kisses bc I said so. Whenever she’s nervous about a big game, receiving/giving you kisses will always calm her down.

Likes creative dates (aquariums, wine, drawing, etc).

Loves to go to the library with you (ik it’s random but just go along with it) because it is a secret getaway for you and her. Loves to just be in silence with you and study because it truly calms her down.

Polaroids, polaroids, polaroids (especially spicy ones shhhh). Paige loves to keep pics of you because she takes them when she goes away for games.

Talking about away games. Paige will get so whiny when she’s away. Like she will call, text 24/7 when she’s away because being away from you is too much. (Ik this one is sad) but she will def call you before she falls asleep and falls asleep with you on call. It just makes it more bearable.

Once she’s back she will be attached to you like there’s no tomorrow. Get ready to be completely engulfed in bed and basically everywhere you walk.

Loves to see you wearing her clothes. Mostly because they are always too big on you and she thinks you look cute.

Hands around your shoulders when you guys go out to eat with the team but if you guys are too public she’ll settle for something simple like knees brushing or hand on your thigh beneath the table because it just makes her feel so exclusive and cocky. Especially seeing you react to it.

Basically mush after games and loves when you give her massages or just lay down with her. Falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow and you definitely tuck her in her in bed.

That being said, Paige loves to take care of you too and will make sure you are always happy no matter what bc happy wife, happy life.

[imababblekat]

TmnT Boy's Reaction To April's Roomie Dressing Nice; Hc's

Anon request, "Hey so I have a quick request- but first ima say that I love your writing style and your spider-person/tmnt AU! It’s so fun to read your work and I say it again, I love it! Anyway tho, can I pls request on how the turtles react to our sleepy roommate, actually looking their best. Such as in a nice outfit and they freshened up. Please don’t feel like you have to write this. And you can skip it if you want. But ya, amazing work! ✨✨✨"

A/N: Aw thank you! sorry i've been dead lately, hopefully i'll be able to get to it tho ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

◍ Previous/Mentioned Post◍

◌ (c,c) = chosen color ◌

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

100% whistles when he comes to pick you and April up for a special NYPD ceremony and gets a look at your nightly outfit

It’s not even anything super sexy; a (c,c) long sleeved, v neck jumper with a simple floral design down one of the open pent legs accompanied with a pair of (c,c) block heals and simple but stylish jewelry

The outfit and your styled up looks are just so different from what Mikey is used to seeing you in, which is usually either comfy sweats or casual clothing depending on the location

He lets you know how stunning you look and doesn’t miss the way you shyly try to hide your blush at his compliments, which only spurs him on some more

At one point in the night he makes a slightly flirtatious comment about how he’s not surprised you pulled off such a look, because he thinks you’re gorgeous in anything, and is promptly met with your very flustered response of shoving your matching orange purse in his face (he regrets nothing!)

Donatello:

This poor turt feels his stomach fluttering when lays eyes upon your outfit for the nights celebration

Accentuating your appearance is a soft (c,c) dress with a sewn on silk cape that covers your upper arms, frilly tights cover your legs and adorable (c,c) flats support your feet, and to top it all off is a simple but very cute pastel purple bow clipped neatly to your hair to pull it all together

Donnie nearly chokes up on his words trying to think of the right thing to say, as he’s so used to seeing you wearing anything else but this type of style

Eventually he settles for just offering you his arm to walk with him into the rented convention center the NYPD is hosting in, to which you appreciatingly take

You’re just so pretty and to be frank the purple bow is definitely throwing him off in the best of ways

Of course, Donnie being too smart for his own good, has a sneaking suspicion the accessory was a purposeful choice based on your little smirk and glinting gaze

Raphael:

All the impatience Raphael felt waiting for you and April to finish getting ready dissipates like water in the Sahara when his golden eyes lay witness to your get up

Enveloping you is a beautiful (c,c) asymmetrical cloak sleeved top that cascades diagonally down your form and to match are a pair of equally flowing wide leg trousers and (c,c) coned heels

The accessory picked to match is a very pretty necklace with a glimmering ruby, a detail that does not escape Raphael’s notice

Speaking of notice, it does not escape you the slightly awkward silence you and April are greeted with from the burly ninja

Raph is quick to fix himself when April ask if he’s okay, hoping no one notices the deep blush upon his cheeks, and he jokingly pretends to not recognize you, saying he’s just focused on trying to see where you’re at

You of course roll your eyes at his antics and smack his arm, Raphael chuckling at your slight feistiness he adores, and commits your un-characteristic appearance to the catalog of memories he has of you

Leonardo:

Much like Raphael, Leonardo is left speechless when the balcony window to your and April’s apartment opens to reveal your chosen attire for the NYPD ceremony

A (c,c) suit blazer tops a neatly ironed dress shirt that’s tucked into matching (c,c) slacks held up by a fastened belt and to match are a pair of (c,c) oxfords to offer your feet comfort as well as added fanciness

The blue tie around your collared shirt is what catches Leo’s eyes, a grin spreading across his face as he steps inside and makes a comment about how the outfit suits you

Ignoring his punny compliment you simply say thanks before adding that you just wish you could get the tie to not be crooked and if he would be okay lending a hand

Leonardo has no issue helping especially when it comes to you and as he closes the gap between you to adjust said troublesome tie, it takes all of his willpower to not get completely enraptured by the deepening blush upon your soft cheeks, that of which always seems to make him equally flush

~xXx~

[chestharrington]

🌝 hi im back hehehehe a steve harrington fic where you’re teasing him (grinding at a bar????????? mayhaps?????) and then you turn around to him just 🤠 bc he 100% came in his pants thank u mamas

Heyyyy sexy <3 This is short (sozz) and I took liberties pls forgive me. But the heart of the matter is the same: Steve Harrington WILL bust in his pants. AMEN!

Rating: E (18+) Kinda

Warnings: Drinking (which shouldn’t be a warning. GROW UP!), making out, premature ejaculation

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had been clinging to your side like a baby duck the entire night, never wandering farther than arm's length. A warm hand on the small of your back as you made your way through the crowded frat house, a warm lap to sit on when your feet started aching and the ugly leather couch started calling your name.

“You don’t have to babysit tonight,” you murmured after you sat down in the , pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“I know,” he replied. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, protective and comfortable. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the plush skin as he looked at you. “I trust you, I just don’t trust these college guys.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re all protective,” you teased, poking his side. “Are you even having a little fun?” His guilty expression and lack of response said all you needed to know.

You stood and pulled him off the couch with a scheming grin. “We’re going to go slam a beer, and then you’re going to dance with me to whatever shitty music they have playing. Then we’re going to try the jungle juice, dance a little more, and after that we’ll bail and go make out in your car.” You raised a brow. “Any questions?”

“No questions. But you’re really sexy when you boss me around,” he said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. You grinned at his words and guided him through the packed house to find the nearest cooler.

Things were going pretty well until your first cup of jungle juice. There was definitely some sort of mixer there, but, by taste alone, you would’ve guessed it was just food coloring to turn all the liquor red.

“We’re gonna have to call Robin to drive us home,” Steve shouted over the music as he downed the last swill in his red solo cup. You nodded and poured a little more in your cup, which you easily chugged down.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood on tiptoes to press a messy kiss to Steve’s lips. As soon as you pulled away, a smile spread across your lips. “Let’s go dance! I love this song!”

Despite the crowd, you managed to pull him through the crowd on clumsy footing. Everyone was in similar states of carefree and giddy drunkenness, so no one really cared if you bumped into them. You guided him until you were practically back to back with the sound system and started dancing.

You really didn’t love this song. You didn’t even think you’d heard it before. But there was a good beat, and Steve’s hands were warm on your exposed skin, pulling your back right against him.

He was planting clumsy kisses along your jaw and throat as he held you tight, letting you move and sway against him. You relished in the feeling of his fingertips toying with the hem of your shirt just itching to slip beneath.

Your hands settled atop his, guiding them to your hips as you moved. You spared a glance back and felt your heart flutter at the sight of him— hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed.

A few songs later, his hands were back under your shirt and you were itching to escape the crowd. Which is how you wound up down the block in the backseat of the Beamer.

Warm hands splayed across your ass as you straddled his lap, lips barely leaving his except for very necessary gasps for breath. He tasted like jungle juice, but you didn’t care.

“See?” You gasped between kisses. He held you firm on his lap, guiding you as you ground against him. “Told you that we needed to get out for once.”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, chasing your lips, tongue licking into your mouth with a needy desperation. Occasionally, passing cars would light up the interior, but you were both too drunk on each other to care.

Distantly, you could hear the bass shaking the frat house off the foundations, and cheers as someone broke the keg stand record for the night. But after a while, the sounds of Steve’s lips smacking against yours, and soft moans slipping past his lips when you moved against him took over your entire brain.

It could’ve been fifteen minutes or an hour. Time got a little fuzzy when you both got drunk and touchy. His hands were so tight on your hips that it might have actually left bruises, which would’ve been a problem for tomorrow.

You had only just started toying with his hair when he pulled back from the kiss with a muffled whimper, panting softly.

“Did I pull your hair too hard?” You asked sheepishly, giving his scalp a soothing scratch.

“No! No it felt nice,” he insisted. His cheeks were a burning pink, which matched his kiss-swollen lips. You leaned in and gave one chaste kiss, before leaning in to start up the make-out session again. You rolled your hips against his briefly before he grabbed your hips in his hands, keeping them still. “Can we just take a… I dunno… five minute breather?”

You raised a brow and moved your hands between the two of you, only to find a wet patch on his jeans. You bit your lip in an attempt to hide your grin, but it was too late. “Aww… you came from a bit of kissing?” His cheeks flushed impossibly deeper, as you pecked kisses along his cheek. “That is… surprisingly sexy.”

“It’s so not my fault,” he insisted, practically pouting until your words registered. “Wait— it is?”

“Mhmm…” You replied as you began stroking him teasingly over his denim. “Actually… I kind of want to make you do it again.”

[roosterforme]

Why Not Both? | Rooster x Reader x Hangman

Summary: When Bradley hooked up with you, it was meant to ease his frustrations while deployed. But when his bunkmate walks in while Bradley has you in a compromising position, things get a little more interesting.

Warnings: 100% smut, threesome

Length: 1100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

This was written for Smutsational Smutfest! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley barely knew you, but you were sexy and willing. And his pent up need for release before his mission tomorrow had him inviting you to his shared bunk on the aircraft carrier.

He practically growled when you knocked on his door with a smirk on your face. "My bunkmate will be in the gym for a while. Come here." Before the door was closed behind you, Bradley had his lips on yours while you started unzipping his pants.

Your hand was stroking his cock, giving him a little relief while you moaned into his mouth. "You're huge," you gasped, running your hand along his entire length and gently squeezing his balls.

"Mmm," he agreed, gently opening your mouth with his thumb to get a taste of your tongue. Your hand felt so good, but he wanted to feel your pussy. He stripped off your shirt and your bra, teasing your tits until you were rubbing yourself all over him.

You were moaning into his mouth, tugging his bottom lip gently with your teeth while his cock throbbed in your hand. Bradley guided you to the edge of his bed where you sat down, and pulled his dick free from his jeans.

It seemed like you weren't the type to waste any time, and that's exactly what he was hoping for right now. You sucked his cock while he managed to free himself of his clothing, taking him deep to the back of your throat and gagging. When you released him, saliva dripped down your chin and he grinned at you.

"Pretty," he whispered, bending and kissing you rough on the lips while you whimpered. Then he knelt in front of you and removed your shoes, jeans and underwear, placing a kiss to the soft skin just above your pussy before standing again. Then he pulled you to your feet and you were looking up at him with wide eyes. "Bend over."

"Yes sir, Lieutenant," you whispered with a grin before turning your back to him and bending over his bed. Bradley took your ass in both hands, lined himself up, and pushed deep inside your pussy. You gasped as he bottomed out, and Bradley's eyes fluttered closed. He fucked you hard, bending over so his chest was pressed to your back.

"Do you like that, baby? A little rough?" he grunted, working his hips so he was slamming into you. He peppered your shoulder with gentle kisses while he railed your pussy.

"I love it," you promised, looking at him over your shoulder as you gasped for air. Then Bradley froze with his cock buried inside you when the door opened, revealing his roommate.

"S-Sorry," Jake sputtered, eyes wide at the scene in front of him as you both turned to look at him. "I was just leaving," he whispered loudly as his cheeks started to flush.

But Bradley kept on stroking your clit and kissing your soft skin like it didn't matter if Jake was there or not. You looked at Bradley and bit your lip before turning back toward Jake and saying, "You can stay. Could be fun."

Jake's eyes were wide as he made eye contact with Bradley, who was actively thrusting into you again. "Come on man, she has a mouth, too. Don't you, baby?"

You giggled and agreed with him while Bradley repositioned you a little bit. You coaxed Jake a little closer while Bradley fucked you harder from behind, and then you were pulling down Jake's gym shorts, revealing that he was already so hard.

Jake hissed when you wrapped your lips around his cock and sucked on him, and Bradley watched him caress your cheek. "She's sweet, right?" Bradley asked, reaching up to squeeze your tits, keeping you in this Eiffel Tower position between himself and Jake.

Jake just grunted, his eyes mesmerized as he watched you take him in your mouth. "Hit her a little harder," Jake told him, and Bradley railed you so you were deep throating Jake.

Bradley watched, fascinated by the sight of you taking both of them so well at the same time. He'd never done anything quite like this before, but he was definitely enjoying himself. Whenever his eyes met Jake's, Bradley could tell he was just as turned on.

The combined sounds that you and Jake were making had Bradley getting close to his release. "Can I cum in your tight, little pussy?" he asked, panting hard as he fucked you with long, hard strokes, hands grabbing your hips.

"Mmmhmm," you hummed around Jake, bobbing your head in time with Bradley's thrusts. And then he felt that tightening sensation, followed by the sweet release of his cum filling you up.

"Oh, god damn!" Bradley barked. "Fuck. So good!" You wiggled back against him until you were gagging on Jake. Then Bradley watched his cum drip out of you and onto the floor when he pulled himself from your hole.

Jake stroked your cheek and pulled your hair until you released him with a pop. "Turn around, baby." And then Bradley was treated to the sight of Jake fucking your pussy which was oozing with his cum. "So wet and warm. Rooster did a number on you, yeah?"

You reached for Bradley, and he stepped toward you in a daze as you stood up straighter, still getting fucked by Jake. Bradley kissed your lips softly and stroked your clit, murmuring about you being a good girl for both of them. "I could tell you were sweet," he praised you. "Such a nasty little girl."

Your tits were bouncing against his chest with each thrust you were treated to, and soon you were cumming at the same time as Jake. Your lips were quivering against Bradley's mouth as you held onto him.

When you stood, both men were transfixed on the sight of their cum dripping down your legs and the fucked out look on your face. You smiled softly and kissed first Bradley and then Jake before switching back to Bradley, and then the three of you were sharing kisses. Your eyes drifted closed as both men let you know you'd be more than welcome in their bunk at any time.

"Fly safely tomorrow, boys," you whispered, pulling your clothes back on. "Let's do this again right after your mission."

And then you were gone, leaving Bradley and Jake staring at each other, standing in the mess of cum on the bunk floor.

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

Thanks for reading this smut blurb that turned into a one-shot. And enjoy the sequel Why Not Again?

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[lexithwrites]

some fluffy domestic bakudeku because I love them being in love:

• they have a nice two bedroom since Katsuki does bring in the most money as a hero, but izuku uses the second bedroom as an office space for when he needs to focus

• they 100% have a cat together, idk why but I love the idea of their cat having a really weird name like Mouse or Socks, I feel like izuku named it and Katsuki was just along for the ride

• they have dinner together every night (unless Bakugo has night patrols) in which case izuku packs his lunch for him

• Katsuki does the cooking and most of the cleaning purely because he enjoys making izuku feel relaxed at home, he doesn’t want him to be stressed, but if izuku cleans it low-key makes Katsuki so red and flustered because he’s not used to being taken care of

• izuku cannot cook I’m sorry he wasn’t taught, Katsuki does try to help him tho, and he usually just likes having izuku sit on the countertop beside him just rambling about things as he quietly stirs vegetables and rice and they drink wine together it’s lovely

• the day izuku got the teaching assistant job with Aizawa he came home crying because he was so happy to still be around heroes and help the next generation and even tho Katsuki made fun of him a little he was so proud of him

• izuku still uses his reflexes as if he had One For All and this has resulted in some smashed glasses and plates because he isn’t as coordinated

• izuku usually has Todoroki, Uraraka and Iida over for lunch on the weekends and Bakugo sometimes brings back kaminari and Kirishima when they go to the gym on Sundays

• Katsuki is a shockingly good host for parties, he’ll make so much food and put on good music for everyone (he’s firm about no shoes on the carpet and no feet on the coffee table tho)

• when Mina and Kirishima got married Katsuki was the best man and it’s the first time izuku’s seen him so grown up (also he’s sexy in a suit)

• Katsuki grew up on 80’s music (FTS shoutout) and does he sometimes pull izuku in for a dance around the kitchen? Maybe, and izuku blushes every time

• they’ve 100% done it in every room in the apartment at least twice,,,that’s all I’ll say

• izuku’s love languages are words of affirmation and quality time and katsuki’s is quality time and acts of service

• their parents come over for dinner once a month, Inko brings dessert and Mitsuki always bring a nice wine or gin for them all to share

• Inko and Katsuki get along so well I love their relationship I feel like they would bake together whilst Bakugo’s parents would show izuku photo albums of them raising him lmao

• they’re the old married couple for sure

• they get takeout once a week and izuku always picks since katsuki cooks all the time

• I said this in a separate post but they have a matching sleep set; izuku has the oversized shirt and boxers and Katsuki just wears the oversized pants

• they switch who spoons who every night

• izuku’s weakness is his shoulders, neck and back whilst katsuki’s is his hands, hair and lower back

• a little later into their relationship katsuki randomly calls izuku ‘love’ and izuku nearly dies on the spot but it doesn’t go away after that and he loves it

• they both play video games together and with class A and B, they still get competitive with each other

• speaking of, don’t play monopoly with Bakugo, it doesn’t end well

[wordsofhoneydew]

fic rec time!! lfg

here i compiled a list of 11 amazing fics under 500 kudos!! you have angst, smut, fluff, pinging, grief, hurt/comfort. you fucking name it, it’s here.

happy reading!

Invisible by @nocoastposts [100, G]

For the Brownstone Discord Server's weekly drabble prompt "invisible".

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites [1k, T]

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here.

“And if you only hold me tight…”

A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Be Mine (And Be Yourself) by @itsmaybitheway [9k, E]

It starts with a misunderstanding, the way it always does with them.

Early on in their relationship, when there wasn’t even a relationship to speak of, the misunderstandings used to feed the animosity.

Then they’ve turned into something softer when their relationship turned into something softer. Purposefully misunderstanding each other just to take a jab, messing around for the fun of it or turning an innocent comment into a filthy innuendo and watching the other squirm.

But this? Oh a misunderstanding has never been this delicious, this appetizing. This one feels like the door to fucking sexy Narnia and Alex can not wait to eat those delicious Turkish delights

OR Henry just wants to be Alex's pretty little princess and Alex will make sure he gets his wish! AKA my Valentine's Day fic with housewife!Henry

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by @anincompletelist [6k, M]

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

the tragic flaw is that they hide the truth (that you’re enough, you’re enough) by srrafoxjournals [6k, NR]

Alex has been staring.

For weeks now, actually.

Henry had originally chalked it up to Alex being, well, Alex. But lately, Henry can’t help but take it in as more than just his boyfriend's usual oddness.

Or: After gaining some weight, Henry feels self conscious. Alex however, loves his tummy.

blurred lines. by seafloor [5k, E]

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

I will/I will/We will by @tintagel-or-cockleshells [6k, T]

Alex's wedding planning business is going from strength to strength, but if he never has another wedding at Mountchristen Manor it will be too soon. He just can't get along with Henry, the venue coordinator, and the feeling is mutual. But when push comes to shove, the couple's big day has to come first.

I’ll be with him again soon by mymistakesweremade4u [3k, T]

It's sometime in mid-January, just a couple of months shy of his 95th birthday, when Henry finds himself surrounded by family in his and Alex's bedroom.

Or, Alex and Henry grew old together.

beg you on my knees (to stay) by @littlemisskittentoes [13k, E]

“Up.” Henry keeps the tone low. Controlled.

Alex is often frantic to follow commands, his limbs falling over themselves in his haste to obey. There’s no sign of that rushed need now. He takes his time, unfolding himself leisurely.

“You’re bold,” Henry monotones. He takes calculated steps forward, punctuating each slow stride with the unbutton and roll of his shirt sleeves. “I’ll give you that.”

“You’re only now realizing? Thought you were brighter than that, baby.”

keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n [1k, M]

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges.

Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything.

Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb.

“Get on the couch.”

don’t let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic [3k, E]

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

[robin374]

I've had this idea for some time but maybe spy, sniper and medic (mayybe even engi) interrogating an afab reader but it kind of escalates into more nsfw stuff kind of as a way to humiliate/tease/punish the reader? Adjfjfkzkskkd

You can see how I'm running out of sleep as you advance through the text 💀

Interrogation gone wrong (100% real no fake) (Engie, Medic, Sniper, Spy)

Engie: 

You were so confident with yourself. He knew that he would never take the information he wanted from you. Everything he did was in vane. 

Except for one thing…

Your hands were tied to the chair, which meant that you couldn’t stop him from doing what he was going to do. 

He approached you from behind, placing his hands on your shoulders. He smiled when he felt your body tremble at his touch. 

He kissed the back of your ear, as a warning. Then, he moved to your shoulder and a small trail of kisses until he reached your neck. He moved your hair out of his way, you swallowed hard knowing what was coming, but you couldn't do anything to stop it. Sure the man was attractive, but he was your enemy… 

You repressed a moan when he nibbled a point of your neck, you felt him smiling against it. That smooth bastard. 

He moved in front of you and just when you were going to complain, he shut you up with a hungry kiss. You could tell that he was wishing for it for a real long time. 

His hands were touching your entire body, he tried to separate your legs but you had been fast enough to close them as if they were a strongbox. 

“Guess I’ll have to force you…” He said while kissing you again and activating his sentry. 

Medic: 

Man is crazy and a sadomasochist. 

The moment he saw a glint of fear in your confident eyes when he took out the scalpel, he was another person. It awakened something in him, and it was not a feeling. 

His heavy breath against your trembling face was the only thing he could imagine. He wished for this moment with you everytime he went to bed, he was obsessed with you. Every time he saw you covered in blood around the battlefield, he wondered if you would be that sexy with your own blood too. 

He cut off your shirt, not listening to your complaints, just admiring how your body responded to the sudden cold air that hit it. Your hands and ankles were tied to his operation table, you were at his mercy. 

He caressed your stomach with his already bloodied gloved hand, leaving a small trail of blood around it. Then, he did the same with the scalpel seeing how you tried to escape the pointed knife. 

Slowly he started to carve a “L” in the supposed place of the heart. With that, everyone would know that you were his, even if you didn’t want it. 

He kissed the drops of blood that fell from your new wound. The taste of your blood was like alcohol to him, he wanted more, he wanted to end up drunk of your blood. 

With his mouth stained with your blood he kissed you. You could taste your own blood on the kiss, and you could feel his maniac smile against you. 

“I will activate the Medi-Gun so I can have more fun with you, Liebling…Wait here.”

Sniper: 

He was waiting for Soldier to finish his interrogation with you, he was taking a nap. Until Soldier’s roaring woke him up. 

“She escaped! Do something useful and find her, you kangaroo!” 

He wasn’t feeling like running that day, so he ignored Soldier and walked to his sniper-nest acting as if he was looking for you. 

Then you bumped into him, your confused eyes slowly changed to scared ones. Just like a prey when it saw its predator. 

Realizing he had to catch you, he started to chase you. He felt like a cat chasing a mouse, and just like that astute animal he cornered you near his sniper-nest. 

He approached you slowly and placed a hand on your mouth. 

“Don’t mess with a sniper, never.” 

He always watched you from his scope, but never tried to talk to you or even kill you. Now it was his moment to let you know the consequences of running away from the RED Team. 

“Make a single sound and I’ll make it longer and worse for you, roo.”

Spy: 

French = Asshole

He is a tease. He will start making comments about how humiliating you would look all messed up after he made you suffer. 

“You are not brave enough to do it, bitch.”

Gurl, you did not. 

His lips moved to a subtle smirk, knowing that you would regret it later. 

He took his butterfly knife and placed it under your chin. If you moved you would die, the fear in your eyes told him that you already regretted it. He slowly kissed your lips, feeling your breath against his. 

With his mouth he took off his gloves and with his bare hands separated your legs, squeezing your thigh. 

You couldn’t do nothing but show your disgust verbally, whenever you were going to say something (probably an insult) he kissed your lips, shutting you up. Then he would slip his hand under your shirt and start caressing your torso. 

“I’m going to eat you like a cat eats a mouse, ma chérie.”

[glassshrew]

I wrote this for @vapolis

Highly recommend you play their game demo, it's an awesome game and the main character can be such a feral trash goblin, I adore them!

I'm obsessed with their character Jax at the moment, and instead of working I've been daydreaming all day. I created this blog purely to post this because I'm too shy to post on my main! Writing is not my strong suit but t his was fun to do. Anyway here's some flirty sexy tension with Jax.

Written with a F!Merc in mind.

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

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

You grin at him tiredly, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself as you stand in the club foyer. You’re 100% sure Jax has seen you in worse states but standing in front of his unimpressed stare in nothing but underwear, a cropped gaudy carebear t-shirt and a bloody jacket made you feel more exposed than you ever had. Or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on your bare legs, or his own half dressed form, hair still damp from an impromptu shower. His appearance unusually sloppy for him. “Jaxxie! New uniform? A little risque. I like it.”  You waggle your eyebrows and for a long strained minute, Jax didn’t reply, a frown on his face like he can’t decide whether to just throw you out or not. “Blood and vomit is more your style.”  

“Gross. True but gross. Sounds like your night was as fun as mine,” You point towards the growing lump and bruise on your forehead. “But my new accessories are cooler than yours.”

He stays silent, and you're forced to confront the sight in front of you that you were trying to ignore. His arms crossed over a dark red shirt that was fully undone, exposing his chest. Your brain helpfully shutting down until it was just screaming incoherent body parts at you. Pecs, collarbones, nipples, tummy. You couldn’t stop your eyes from following the line of his body down to the trail of dark hair below his naval.“Carpet doesn’t match the drapes then.” Fuck sake. You could scream. You swear to god that your mouth was not connected to your brain in anyway shape or form.

His head tilts as he continues to stare at you, but he doesn’t shut you down or even button his shirt and little warning bells start to twinkle in your brain. That ever growing sexual tension between the two of you sparks to life and you suddenly wished you had gone to Delilah for help instead. You couldn’t stop staring at him, his hips moving as he shifted his weight and your perverted brain took over again. If you dropped to your knees right now would he throw you out?  Or would he grip your hair tight in his fist as he -

You jolted as Jax cleared his throat, eyebrow raised. Shit. 

 “Uh right, I know it’s late, or early, closing time? Opening?” You tried to focus on what you were saying. “but I need you.” 

Fucking Christ almighty your stupid fucking mouth.  “Need me?” The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched, he looked a mix between entertained and annoyed.

“Uh no, not th-, you and Orla,” You stumbled over your words, cursing yourself internally as Jax made a low noise in the back of his throat. “help! I need your help, nothing else not that – I -, Is she still here?” You force your mouth shut so fast you almost bit your tongue. Why was it so fucking hot all of a sudden. Were you sweating?

“Yeah she’s still here,” Jax was still staring at you, and he had still made no move to button his shirt. Asshole was enjoying seeing you flustered. “Turn around.”

Turn around bend over be good –

“Seriously? Where exactly do you think I’m hiding a weapon?” You didn’t sound as annoyed as you were hoping for, you sounded a little breathless as your thoughts continued to spiral.

“Rules are rules,” Jax grinned at you, he was obviously enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Turn around, jacket off.”

“Fine.” You are moving to follow before you can stop yourself. Shivering slightly as you shrugged the jacket off, leaving you in your panties and cropped shirt.

It’s silent. You’re just starting to think that this was some sort of prank when his fingers lightly brushed over your wrist making you jump. “Stay still.” 

His hands trail up your arms, not his usual pat down but a slow, gentle touch, caressing you almost. “Are you hurt?”

Your body stiffened. The quiet genuine concern in his voice throwing you completely off balance. His gentle touch making you feel warm, and something else you didn't know how to name. Did he genuinely actually care? A lump starts to form in your throat, and you once again bite the inside of your cheek, hard enough this time to taste the coppery tang of blood, desperate to kill those feelings before they can become a problem.

“Not badly,” you shrugged. You wanted to run but wanted to see where this was going so very much. “Used to it. You know I could just nip in and see her, there’s no need to-,”

“Stay still.”

You cleared your throat. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir.”

Jax froze. Your momentary glee at having flustered him in return is short lived as the hand on your shoulder slid up the back of your neck and through your hair, causing a little flutter of panic in your gut. This was new territory for you both, usually one of you would have backed off by now. You could feel his breath over your skin as he tugged your head to the side, the sensation making your stomach tighten and your thighs squeeze together. “Can't you just shut up for once?”

Your sarcastic reply is lost as your breath hitches when his lips brush gently over the skin just beneath your ear. Its hesitant, but when you make no move to pull away his grip tightens in your hair, pulling your head more firmly to the side.

“I’m not hid-,” You start, and he makes a low warning sound at your inability to shut up, his teeth grazing harder over your skin. “- not hiding anything up there.”

Jax pulls away abruptedly. Disappointment growing in your chest as you realised you’d reached that point again. The point where Jax realises who he’s flirting with,  what he’s flirting with, and shuts down.

“Better things you could do with that mouth than yap all the time.”

You feel like you’ve just been slammed into an alternate universe. Getting lost in the moment is one thing, but jesus Who are you and what have you done with Jax?

He continues his search before you can ask the question, before you can, as usual, ruin the moment. Both of his hands sweeping down your back, pushing into your spine and round to the front of your hips.

“Easy ther-,” You flinched back against him when his fingers pressed a little harder over your ribs. The pain turning into something that drew a whimper from your throat. Jax went still behind you, you could the warmth of his bare chest, and - fucking fuck me sideways-  your brain short circuiting as you realized you could feel him.

“This is cosy,” You let out a breath, voice strained. Does he remember it’s you? The intrusive thoughts slip in, nagging and chipping away at you. He knows its you right? The two of you stand there, his hands holding you flush against him while his cock presses against your ass. The silence lingering for all of a second before the pressure to talk gets too much.

“Bruised, not broken,” You had no idea what was going on, what to do, whether this was actually happening or if you had done more damage to that already fucked up brain of yours. “probably not broken.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment, warm breath over the shell of your ear causing your back to involuntarily arch and he cursed under his breath.

“You're clear,” He lets go, steps back from you and the loss off his body heat hurts. “You can go through.”

 “Right, great. Told you.” you turn to face him, arms crossed over your chest, disappointment and rejection making your heart sting. For the first time in a long time you feel vulnerable. You want your jacket back. You almost, for a second there, genuinely believed he wanted you. A stupid foolish childish thought. Why would he? When you didn’t have anything to offer, when you didn’t deserve it. You’d destroy him, infect him, pull him down into the dark to drown with you. He deserved better. “Catch you on the flipside.”

Flipside? You cringe. You can feel him frowning at you as you grab your jacket off the desk, and you’re tempted to sneak out the little pen knife you have hidden to show him as a ‘ha ha fuck you’ but you don’t. Your heart is not in it. The abrupt withdrawal of his attention has you feeling cold, exhausted all of a sudden. You avoid looking at him as you move towards the door, and he makes no move to stop you as you go through.

[hyunsvngs]

hey baeee

so im def a stonerslut and im glad we have established hanji as the designated stoner of skz, maybe felix too w his special brownie recipes lol,

but i was wondering if we’ve established any other stoner hc’s for any of the other boys? one of mine is definitely hyun, mostly taking place in a college au (dare i say stoner hyunsung roommate bffs) LMAO bro def sparks up and finishes his art projects in the dead of night <33

oh felix and his special brownie recipes. i'm also a stonerslut getting stoned tonight actually and i know this has been sitting in my inbox for a while but it feels RIGHT answering it right now.

so because i'm delusional and a stoner ANYWAy. (also please please send me more stoner skz asks because i really want to write more about these) and thank to bby mayu @jyu037 for helping <3

chan who definitely smokes regular joints and is a fucking master at rolling them. has the fun coloured papers and swears to god that weed makes him make better music. he also swears it makes blowjobs better so obviously you have to give him one everytime you're both high despite the cotton mouth LOL. likes to bottom when he's high!! always cums so quickly but he just keeps going, he just wants more. not too loud, quiet little whimpers here and there.

minho who smokes in his room to destress at night and definitely ends up jerking off. when you two get together, you both hit the bong together and fuck stoned regularly and it changes your lives. he'd have a stupid little smile on his face and just be grinning at you like a freak. soft giggly sex with minho when he's high and he'd be moaning so loud like a fucking pornstar because it feels so good! hyper focused on your ass. smokes strains that make him kinda lazy so he just likes to lay there and use lots of toys on u <3

changbin who would just be so fucking sexy smoking man. like imagine him sat relaxed in a tight fitting t-shirt smoking a j? no i'm literally clenching. i can imagine him with one of those cute little pipes too and i also think changbin could be a bong man. definitely wants you on his lap when you smoke so he can put the joint to your lips and also smoke you out lol. probs shoves his hand up your skirt while you sit in his lap with that sexy little downturned smile. definitely hits it from the back while he smokes his joints and probably rolls FAT blunts too

hyunjin who yes 100% does get high and finishes his art in the middle of the night. i see hyunjin with a small little glass bong orrr a crystal pipe? and he likes to get high and finish his paintings because in the morning it's probably just a bunch of colours on the page but he swore it was a masterpiece the night before. definitely gets all giggly and blushy too! and gets extreme munchies. also high hyune who paints on you because he likes the colours. drools all over you when he fucks you high and gets so sloppy, keeps cumming inside and just can't stop fucking you

jisung who's a horny high. can't roll for shit and makes chan pack the bong for him too lol. he weirdly knows everything about every single fucking strain and would love to grow a few plants of his own just for personal use because he somehow knows everything about that too. CERTIFIED STONER. probs palms his cock unashamed in the studio when 3racha get high and chan and changbin r just used to it. if you two got high together he'd NEED to eat you out, not above begging for it and gets so pussy drunk!! if you fucked high he would cum two pumps in and not even be ashamed, groaning all "that's what good pussy does." and continues to fuck you senseless LMAOO

felix with his weed brownies yeah!! he'd probably make weed cookies too, or like little weed red velvet cupcakes?! he's so cutie. i honestly think he prefers edibles to actual joints or smoking it in general, but if changbin's got a joint going he'll steal a few tokes. maybe changbin smokes him out too lol idk (i'm going fucking crazy). likes to watch cute little cartoons and disney films when he's high and get all bundles up in blankies :( alsooo usually not horny but then he tries a strain like wedding cake and gets so hard. just starts rocking ur shit and won't stop until ur shaking and empty minded and he's still hard. it's like viagra

seungmin who is definitely a very chill stoner. definitely does it to de-stress and everytime you piss yourself laughing over something he just does a little chuckle he's not bothered. and he definitely talks about the meaning of life and conspiracy theories. meeeean sex like he's usually mean but when he's high he's so much more condescending. takes it as far as stepping on you and spitting on your face. miiiind blowing sex and then the aftercare is him asking you how you think stonehenge got there

jeongin who is confused at first but an absolute menace after you smoke him out a couple times. you teach him how to roll if not only just to watch his hands and his tongue when he does it. definitely a pre rolled joint type of guy and only rolls when he's with you because you see it as foreplay. flirty, says the nastiest fucking shit when he's high and probably fucks your throat while smoking a pre roll, maybe even finishing it when he's got you on all fours for him... (might put it out on your asscheek). so loud, sloppy, messy. when the horny subsides he's got the munchies and begs you to make him instant ramen and then probably spills it on himself and burns himself with the soup

[chvoswxtch]

Imagine Frank getting head from reader with a tongue piercing 🥰

nonnie...let’s discuss below the cut.

if you're under 18, look away.

this may be more information than you ever wanted to know about me, but as someone who has been…entertained, if you will, by someone with a tongue piercing-I feel like i'm qualified to speak on this. that being said...

frank castle & a partner with a tongue piercing

frank has never been with anyone that’s had a tongue piercing. I am like almost 100% certain of that. I think it’s something that would definitely intrigue him if he had a partner that had one

the first time he kisses you, like really kisses you with it, I think it would take some getting used to (it’s a different sensation) but eventually his mind would begin to wander because tongue piercings are sexy and you’re sexy so.

"feels like you got a bullet in your mouth. kinda tastes like it too. it ain't bad, though." "I...don't even wanna know why you know what that feels or tastes like, frank."

he’s such a gentleman sometimes, I feel like he doesn’t ask for head, unless he’s in a mood™️ (you feel me) like he’s just happy to fucking be there and get to touch you and if you’re gracious enough to offer your mouth to him, he’s not gonna say no

but he really fucking wants you to because he wants to know what it feels like with your piercing like he’s so curious about it and he finds himself getting hard when you talk because he can't stop looking at your tongue and he just keeps thinking about how good it would feel if you sucked him off with it

and since you can read him like a fucking book you know exactly what he wants but won’t ask for, but that doesn’t stop you from teasing the fuck out of him to make him extra sensitive because that’s where the real fun begins

you’d turn this giant mountain of a man into a puddle: lips trailing over every inch of his neck, hands slipping underneath his shirt to lightly trail your fingertips along his warm skin, fiddling with the buckle of his belt, ghosting your mouth over his earlobe asking so sweetly if he would let you try something when you both already know he would never deny you, especially not with you on his lap running your tongue over that spot at the juncture of his neck that makes him feral

“course, sweetheart. whatever you want, know you don’t gotta ask.”

and poor frankie is trying so hard to be patient and contain himself, moving his hips slightly upwards as you rocked yours on his lap slowly, soft grunts and noises getting caught in the back of his throat as his jeans get impossibly tighter

the second you sink between his knees onto the floor, frank’s jaw nearly falls along with you and his chest starts to rise and fall quickly because he knows exactly what’s coming and he can’t hide the excitement and hunger in his eyes

you don’t even bother teasing him anymore since he’s been so sweet and patient, you just get right to work freeing his massive cock from his jeans, keeping eye contact as you open your mouth to show him your tongue, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly seeing the metal gleam in the dim light

and he nearly comes right there the first time he feels the metal ball glide along the sensitive slit of his tip because fuck he thought it would feel good-but it’s even better than he could’ve imagined

there’s a coolness to the metal despite the warmth from your mouth, and the light pressure of it gliding along the veins on his length as you take him further into your mouth drives him fucking crazy

he likes it the most when you focus on the head of his cock, enjoying the way the metal feels slipping along the most sensitive part of him, and his knuckles are solid white from gripping onto the edge of the couch so hard because he wants to come so badly because it feels so fucking good but he also doesn’t think he could handle it if you stopped

he’s never felt anything like it before and he can’t even speak to tell you how good it feels. his entire jaw is slack as he watches you in awe, doing his best not to buck his hips into your face, but then you look up at him through your lashes and smirk around his goddamn cock and he loses it

because he knows you figured him out. because you know him so fucking well. you always know what he wants, even if he never hints at it, and it’s one of the things he loves most about you

he’s never come as hard as does when he suddenly finishes in your mouth, and he’s so blissed out, he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about how fast he came as the sound of your cute giggles fills his ears entirely

he just grins when you tell him he should speak up if he wants something

“where’s the fun in that? I like your little surprises.”

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 6: You Can Be My Baby For Tonight

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

“Okay, that’s going to be an hour,” I say, pressing the power button. Finally, I made eye contact with Jungkook, who was now busy smelling the fabric softener in my basket. 

“Hhmm, peaches, that’s why you smell so nice,” he grins softly, meeting my eyes. I hide my flustered state with a giggle and pack up. Hoping that something comes up so he can leave, I ask if he has any plans for tonight. He shakes his head. 

“Nope, which reminds me, there's going to be a welcome party at one of the frat houses, you should come,” he says, his doe eyes sparkling under the basement lights. I genuinely try to give it a chance, but the mere thought of another party is making me nauseous. 

“Oh no thank you, I really should just stay back and focus on school,” I reply with a soft smile, hoping he would get the hint. 

“Come on Mira, it's only the second week. Plus, Jiah and Jimin will be there as well.” Jungkook says, not breaking our eye contact. 

“Well, I'll think about it, but thank you again for the invitation. Anyways, why are you so determined to make me go?” I laugh, flipping my hair to the side feeling my ego rise as we speak. 

“Have you become obsessed with me already?” I tease. 

“Relax Kenough, I want to redeem myself from the last party. That was sleep-deprived Jungkook,” he scoffs, leaning back on the laundry machine. 

“Ok ok well, can't wait to see your redemption arc,” I tease, sticking out my tongue as I make my way to the exit door. Jungkook follows behind.

--

When Jungkook said he didn't have any plans for tonight he really meant it. For the next hour, we just walked around campus and talked about our life before university. He was in a band with Tae and Jimin when they were in high school called, Bulletproof Boys. I had to laugh. 

“And you dared to make fun of my shirt?” I cackle, trying to maintain my composure at the goofy name. 

“YAH! That was the best option, be glad we didn't go with Tae's idea, The JJV” he quickly scoffs back, stuttering from frustration. I can't help but begin to hiccup from all the laughing. 

“JJV? That sounds like a disease … or a cult. Did you guys even want to attract girls or …?” I giggle, looking him dead in the eyes. He pushes me gently before sitting on the bench in front of the dorm building. 

“So, have you decided yet?” Jungkook quickly changes the subject as I take a seat beside him. Amid the giggles, I look up at him with confusion. 

“Oh, you meant the party? I mean sure, I guess, I'm feeling better now. Anyways, who would want to miss out on the opportunity of seeing a not sleep-deprived Jungkook?” I smile at him, sticking out my tongue. 

“Be careful Miraya, you might manifest something,” he leans in, giving me a grin. I pretend to puke and walk to the entrance. Again, Jungkook follows like a puppy, teeth peeking through his soft smile. 

--

7:00 p.m.

Jiah: Hey lovely, are you almost ready? I’ll pick you up in about 15 mins. 

I look down at my phone, hair still in rollers as I touch up my makeup. My body tenses up, nerves are at an all-time high. I’m still not 100% sure about going but evidently, it’s too late now. What’s the big deal? It’s just going to be me and Jiah, Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook. Stop it, Mira. I dismiss the tension and quickly fix up my hairdo with a layer of hairspray. 

We were at the destination within the next hour, both of us looking great as usual. Jiah wore her new mini silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Hair in a half-up, half-down style she was giving sexy princess vibes. I was contemplating between two options but decided to go with a black ruffle mini-dress with my knee-high boots, leaving my hair down in soft curls. Borderline looking like I planned on cosplaying someone from Pirates of the Caribbean, but hey, it looked good so who am I to change? 

The welcome party was set at a huge frat house. Very surreal as I’ve never seen one in real life, let alone stepped foot into it. After leaving our Uber, I could see the mob of people flowing in through the entrance door lit by bright neon lights. Jiah gives me a reassuring smile as we blend into the madness. 

“Hey, girls!” I hear Jimin’s voice waving from across the room. Jiah waves back as we try to make it through the crowd of people, some of whom are already tipsy while others are too busy busting down moves on the dance floor. The whole place smells of alcohol and a mix of every perfume you can think of.  

“Hi baby,” Jiah melts into Jimin’s embrace as I say hi to the rest of the guys. 

“Hey Flip-flops, don’t you look nice?” I hear Tae’s tease as he salutes a hello. My eyes can’t help but roll, as I giggle at him. 

“Hey Tae, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” I grin with a soft smile. We spend some time catching up before I ask about Jungkook’s whereabouts. 

“He should be by the food table, said he was going to get us drinks,” Tae replies as I nod and excuse myself before heading to the said place. 

It was like looking for Waldo, everyone looked identical under the dim lights. Before heading back to the group with a plate full of various snacks, I’m halted by the feel of a hand on my shoulder. 

“Hi Peaches” Jungkook whispers into my ear. My eyes widen as he smiles back, his doe eyes somehow still sparkling. 

“Oh, peaches?” I giggle raising my right eyebrow. 

“What? Tae can call you flip-flops but you draw the line on peaches?” he grins, leaning back on the table, taking the plates off of my hands. I try to talk back but he is already walking back to the group, looking back at my appalled state. 

--

So far the party was nice, we talked, or should I say gossiped, ate lots of food, and drank. I am not intrigued by the idea of alcohol, but it fits the theme tonight so I let loose. However, from the few instances that I did consume it, I can definitely say I’m a light drinker. The phenomenon proved itself once again, as I found myself swaying on the dance floor after two tequila cocktails. Jiah and Jimin decided to take a breather outside, while Tae was busy playing beer pong with his other buddies. 

“Please don’t stop the music … music … music,” I muttered under my breath as Rihana blasted on the speaker. With my hands in the air and eyes closed my body gave into the ambience. Before I could mutter the next lyric I was interrupted by Jungkook’s presence. 

“There you are, baby,” he says, his body filling the space between us. His hands pretend to rest on my waistline, cautious to not make actual contact. 

“Baby?” I question, looking up at his concentrated face. My eyes are hazed, lids heavy as I try to make out what is happening. 

“It was either that or some random stranger disturbing you,” he whispers into my ear, as I feel his lip ring on my skin. I was too drunk to even notice the guy in question, but something about Jungkook’s protective side made me step closer. 

“I like baby more than peaches,” I tip-toe, trying to reach his ear, placing my hands on his broad shoulders. Within a split second, my sober consciousness revokes my action, backing away as my gaze lowers to the floor. I try to shake my head before letting out a soft sorry. 

Jungkook steps closer and lifts my chin with his index finger and thumb, his eyes meet mine as he lets out a little chuckle. 

“You can be my baby for tonight,” he reassures, knowing dam well that he would be dead on a stick if I was sober. However, right now, neither of us protest the tension as our bodies groove with the music. My hands are once again on his shoulders, as he gently pulls me closer by the waist. Eyes locked on each other, the room becomes silent. For a moment, it was just the two of us. 

“You look beautiful by the way,” he whispers into my ear as I lean my head on his chest, feeling the fatigue build up. I try to reply with a soft thank you before feeling my heavy lids close. Jungkook’s hold on my body becomes firmer, as I melt into his embrace, the smell of his cologne blending in with my perfume.  

Before he could check on my state, Jungkook was interrupted by a bright flash coming from Tae’s phone camera. His boxy smile grows wider when he analyzes the situation on the dance floor. Pocking out his tongue he teases Jungkook with the photo, before taking a sip of water in hopes of sobering up. 

“How did this happen?” Tae chuckles, trying to see if I was still awake. His hands inches away from moving some stands of hair out of my face before being interrupted by Jungkook tsk. Tae shakes his head, raises his hands and backs away with a wide smile, rolling his eyes.

Previous l Next

[starythewriter]

KLAUS MIKAELSON X READER

WARNINGS: P IN V! SMUT MINORS DNI!

Summary: you seduce klaus and make him chase you in a masquerade, while you run into Stefan and have fun (no sex but some dry humping) with him to make klaus jealous.

A/N; I did rerelease this because I made an error before so.

WATTPAD

you walked out trying to leave the masquerade, however you saw ran into this hot sexy British man. "hey love" said klaus, you recognized him there the mask, he looked surprisingly hot, you could feel yourself get wet, but you tried to remain focused on leaving. "hi klaus I was just leaving" "dance with me Y/N, i wanna see you dance darling" you blushed as his eyes darkened, you felt wetter, you took his hand and began to dance, you could feel his ledge as you pressed up on him, which just made you so horny,you saw him smile, you gave back needy eyes, trying to signal how desperate you are. "love look at me" you turned your attention to Klaus as he leaned in towards you, before crashing his lips onto yours.He moved from your mouth to kiss down your neck, then slowly down your chest, you felt yourself get more excited as he pulled off your skirt, you had always been good at seducing people, even without a dress on you still managed it.

"look at me love" you looked back up at Klaus, he grabbed your hips and lifted you in the air.

he then started to move his way back to your mouth.You closed your eyes trying not to imagine what Klaus could do to you,

he would definitely,

want that, however, when he stopped kissing your

lips.

you moaned, quickly whispering "try again daddy" as you skipped away. you ran into Stefan. klaus was not far behind so you pulled him into another hallway, filled with 100s of people, "how are you?" said Stefan. he blushed and you could feel and see the darkness in his eyes... so much raw lust for you... why? you thought to yourself.

"I'm great Stefan... uh- are you ok you seem nervous you replied with a seductive voice.

"I- l'm glad your great, I just- you look really hot in that crimson red dress... I've never seen you in anything like it... it's really breath taking....

he said with a long pause sort of trying to take you in, and eye fuck you. he was aware of your little situation with klaus so he quickly forgot about doing anything with you.

aww... thank you. your not so bad yourself, that shirt looks beautiful on you... i wonder what would happen if I just opened it" you said driving your finger right thru it unbuttoning it all the way down.

you turned around slowly moaning and rubbing yourself on his growing bulge..

Stefan quickly pinned you toward the nearest wall. *if your doing this to get back at klaus I want no part in it... I don't need the extra mess.." he said with anger, rage but also lust... he knew he wanted you.

you slowly turned to face him. running your fingers through his abs, you loved him and wanted to cherish him. but you had one focus tonight and that was klaus. "awww, I'm sorry if that struck a nerve... don't you remember what happened 4 nights ago?? I set you off, then klaus and you both fucked me to see who could make me cum faster. I'm pretty sure your the one who came inside of me 7 different times.... this is not the attitude you had then... what changed?" you said slowly brushing your finger's against his jaw, he snapped, grabbing your throat he blushed as he was unsure how to feel "fuck- just tell me what you want"

"Stefan... give me some action... I need you right now. I want klaus to be jealous and all over me... I’ll reward you later.”

you said twirling with Stefan. he quickly kissrd you, you kissed back slowly twirling, touching his abs, he squeezed your ass and your tits. you moaned, as you heard klaus approaching. "he's coming Stefan. l'lI talk to you later, but promise me, you'll save all that raw anger for me in bed tonight" you said as you kissed him, he slowly but into your neck, forcing you to yell. it was SOMETHING you both enjoyed, as it was a way for Stefan to mark you and a way for you to entice and keep Stefan hooked.

klaus Quickly grabbed you and vamp sped you to the nearest bathroom.

you moaned "don't give me any of that crap. let me fuck you while you watch me in the mirror baby... I know what you did with Stefan... trying to make me act up huh?"

"yes master"

"we'll it worked my love... get ready"

you threw my head back, moaning his name

chanting it, he slowly kissed and undressed you.

He then pushed you onto the sink, you stood up pulling your dress over your head, as he kissed you deeply. you kissed each other deeply, sucking on his tongue. you wrapped your legs around him as he entered you roughly, hitting every soft spot. you moaned loudly as he held himself up on the counter. he gripped your hair as he thrust harder.

His thrusts getting quicker and wilder, eventually he picked you up and slammed you against the shower wall, causing you to scream in pain as his thrust hit the wall. as he got closer to your walls his thrusts got stronger, his thrusts became faster. your walks clenched on his hard cock.

fuck- baby do that again..

"beg for it klaus"

"fuck- you always know how to get to me... please do that again...

you moaned as you clenched harder, he threw his head back in pleasure. for some reason, having your walls tighten around him made him feel like he was in another world of pure pleasure. It was something he loved doing, giving you control. it felt amazing to have his cock in you, his hands around you, his dick deep in your cunt, feeling how tight you were around him, how you were holding him tight. he could see in your eyes how you were enjoying it, wanting it more than anything else in the world. he could see how much you needed him, how much you wanted him. he could see how much you wanted him to fuck you, how much you wanted him to come inside you. he could see how much you wanted him to fuck you. as you screamed and shook around him, your orgasm hit him hard. his cock shot his cum into you as he came undone. after his orgasm he put you back onto the ground.

«fuck- thank you baby" he whispered softly. You blushed at the sweet nickname he used for you.

"thank you klaus... I love you" you whispered back to him."oh god you're so fucking adorable~" he whispered, hugging you to him tightly

[performativezippers]

for the director's cut:

“You look like a sexy vampire,” Chloe says, grasping onto Helena’s bicep because she has absolutely no sense of personal space. “Like you’ve been around since the 1800’s, seducing people and drinking blood and generally lounging on, like, deep red velvet cushions.”

Helena laughs, and someone next to their table makes a slightly strangled sound.

Kate looks over to see Myka, who must have just walked up. She’s staring a Helena with a weird look on her face, but as soon as Kate takes a step towards her, she gives herself a little shake and focuses on Kate, the weirdness completely vanished. “Hey, Whistler,” she says, and Kate grins.

“Hey, Bering.”

Their hug is quick, because neither of them are naturally touchy. Myka’s hair is curlier than Kate’s ever seen it, like she’s finally figured out how to condition it properly, and she’s dressed the way she always is, in dark jeans and a simple purple cotton t-shirt. She looks like she gave absolutely no thought to being on TV, and Kate loves her for it.

Okay I have several Director's Cut asks about this section of the Ultimatum which I love! Here's this one.

In general, I love love LOVED writing this scene. I've never written Helena, Myka, or Chloe before, so it was really fun and challenging to simultaneously:

Pull them from their canons (Warehouse 13 and Pitch Perfect) and drop them into this one while remaining recognizable

Make them work as people Kate would actually be friends with

Fit into the conventions of The Ultimatum, aka fulfill the purposes of this brunch for the show

Move my fic's plot forward

Create tension for Kate and Lucy's romance arc

Show Kate and Lucy something new about each other

Show a new side of both Kate and Lucy to the readers

So that said, now let's play through this section. The fic is in black, my commentary is in purple.

“You look like a sexy vampire,” Chloe says, grasping onto Helena’s bicep because she has absolutely no sense of personal space. [Chloe Beale has negative zero conception of personal space. Doesn't she lick Beca's nose at some point? They basically make out the first night. This is just 100% canon Chloe and I love her. I also like thinking about some similarities between Beca and Helena, in terms of pasty-ass white girls with dark hair and enormous emotional walls.] “Like you’ve been around since the 1800’s, seducing people and drinking blood and generally lounging on, like, deep red velvet cushions.” [Obviously this is a joke/nod to Helena being a time traveler from the 1800s, and also I think she'd make a very sexy vampire. She HAS been seducing people since the 1800's and she looks like it! She'd do well against some blood red velvet cushions and I think Myka for one would like to see it]

Helena laughs, and someone next to their table makes a slightly strangled sound. [It's fun to find new ways to introduce characters! And in this setting, people keep arriving, so it was nice to say something other than "Now Myka walks in." I don't think Myka knew Helena would be here today, so not only is she (a) seeing Helena in the flesh for the first time in who knows how long, she's also (b) seeing Helena ON TELEVISION. This whole section is really just me playing with Helena wanting to take a bite out of Myka and Myka being desperately uncomfortable with how desperately she wants that to happen, while also trying--AND FAILING--to conceal all of it from Kate. Meanwhile Helena is like, Katie can know we fucked, darling, I'm not ashamed.]

Kate looks over to see Myka, who must have just walked up. She’s staring a Helena with a weird look on her face, but as soon as Kate takes a step towards her, she gives herself a little shake and focuses on Kate, the weirdness completely vanished. [Myka is good at focusing through absolutely wild shit going on] “Hey, Whistler,” she says, and Kate grins.

“Hey, Bering.” [SOMEONE needs to call Kate "Whistler" in this fic and I'm glad it got to be Myka! I feel like they would have called each other last names in college to mark themselves as different from the other sorority girls and I like that.]

Their hug is quick, because neither of them are naturally touchy. [Myka only touches HELENA] Myka’s hair is curlier than Kate’s ever seen it, like she’s finally figured out how to condition it properly, [I hate her straight hair fyi] and she’s dressed the way she always is, in dark jeans and a simple purple cotton t-shirt. She looks like she gave absolutely no thought to being on TV, and Kate loves her for it. [Myka's fashion sense is so funny. Everyone else on that show is so dated in what they wear -- the LONG TANK TOPS AND TINY VESTS, CLAUDIA, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD -- but for Myka it's like, cotton t-shirt and jeans of the week. I respect this. I wonder what Helena thinks about it.]

[flightdale]

Recruit to Officer

When candidates arrive for their appointment at Academy will meet this Instructor who will start training process

Called Recruit are scan by Instructor to design custom plan for repair and enhancement then Instructor step behind Recruit and start being sexually close which Recruit thinks is very strange but their collar was saying Enjoy this, One of Instructor's hand grab face of Recruit so can kiss lick then hand moved down to ripped off shirt continuing to feel muscles of chest and arms while other hand had found Recruit's hips to rip off pants then grab bulge with bit of smile across Instructor's face he say 'You are well built and ASSET to Force' in sexy voice then was interrupted by electronic tone 'Injection Activated' so with this Instructor went formal pushing his chest into Recruit's back while hand on bulge was forcing Recruit's ass onto Intstructor's bulge where long large hard cock was extending deep inside Recruit then Instructor release massive load of special liquid which overwhelmed every thing making Recruit go extremely floppy and collapse to floor as Instructor's cock return to home with same voice say "Stage 1 accomplished Now Ultra Class Stage 2' Instructor pick up shirt and pants to put in nearby waste bin along with shoes and collar then got Recruit off floor, march to shower so can do sensual clean then deliver body to service portal for conversion where Stage 2 is declare completed and Instructor return to Entry to repeat whole process again since despite human exterior Instructor is pure robot built for one purpose - preparing Recruits for insertion into portal, Each Instructor can do 50 Recruits in 10 hour shift and Academy employ 100 of them who work 7 days on 2 rotatioal shifts of 9am-7pm and 7pm-5am with gap (5am-9am) use to clean and repair portal plus install updates to Instructors who know nothing outside of Academy as are not allow to leave when off shift thus often engage in some fun with other Instructors in 1 of pods that is their home or use Gyn where can find enhanced Recruits (see my earlier post for example) willing to get very personal but as both got fixed built in plugs no injection will be possible and cock remains off line