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mcumorningstar · 4 months ago

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Prove It, Cowboy

pairing: dodge mason x reader

summary: after the player's ball, you find yourself without a bed for the night until dodge offers for you to stay at his, but when his mom and sister catch you sneaking in they get the wrong impression.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dry humping, protected sex (p in v), dodge’s mom and sister being kinda invasive about his sex life (?)

a/n: dodge and his mom being so open about her sex life was so funny to me. this is kinda the reverse of a canon conversation... kinda! also i had a dream i went to one of dodge’s rodeos but he was flirting with all the girls so he was my enemy for a few days <3

A midnight sky hung over Carp, Texas when you arrived at Dodge’s house. Dodge put a finger to his lips fruitlessly as the front gate creaked loudly. The curtains of the front room twitched.

A female voice came from inside the house, “Dodge’s brought a girl home!”

Shit.

“That’s Dana,” Dodge sighed, fiddling with his keys and rubbing his forehead with a tight smile. Before he turned the keys in the lock, he turned to you, “Sorry, in advance.”

Your brows screwed together as he guided you inside.

After the player’s ball, Heather disappeared and so you were left without a bed for the night. God forbid you sneak into your own house and face the wrath of your parents.

Dodge came to the rescue.

A sigh fell from his lips at the sight of his mom and sister waiting in the living room doorway with excited smiles and hooded eyes. They behaved more like sisters than mother and daughter. It was sweet.

A dim lamp on the entrance table and the bright colours of the TV cast shadows across the room.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You smiled politely despite two pairs of unfamiliar eyes trained on you.

God they must think you’re here to sleep with him or something.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m Jessica. You want something to drink?” Dodge’s mom raised her glass of red wine, “We’re watching Jeopardy.“

She was a very beautiful woman, cherub cheeks and bright green eyes. Dodge was all hard angles, he must take after his dad.

Dodge ducked into the sea-foam coloured kitchen to grab two waters from the refrigerator.

“I’m Dana!” His sister beamed. She shared an unspoken look with Dodge, who rolled his eyes. Before you could thank her, Dodge rejoined your side.

“She’s locked out and just wants somewhere to sleep,” He quelled their unspoken barrage of questions.

His mom nodded along, as if he was lying, “Okay well there’s spare blankets in the laundry room, condoms in the bathroom...”

“Oh my god,” Dodge cursed under his breath, “We’re going now.”

Jessica and Dana giggled behind their glasses of wine, the right side of drunk, “The book, Dodge.”

She winked with exaggeration, her filter totally gone with the amount she’d drank but she was clearly having a fun night in.

Dodge shook his head with a flustered laugh.

With a hand on your back, Dodge guided you to his bedroom. Your face flushed at the unexpected attention and the suggestive situation.

The two laughed rather loudly, saying how pretty you are and how Dodge will fair with a girl spending the night, for the first time you assumed.

The sound of the women stifling laughter echoed around the house. Dodge closed his bedroom door with a sheepish and apologetic smile.

His room was pretty plain; grey bedsheets, grey walls, rodeo trophies and medals, a bookshelf with framed photos on. It smelt like laundry soap and his cologne.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” He offered, tossing his backpack onto the carpet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t bite,” You teased, as you looked at his collection of trophies and books, “Plus they already think we’re fucking.”

Dodge gave a quick laugh, watching you read the spines on the shelf.

“What book was your mom talking about?” You turned to him and his face flushed.

“You heard that, huh?” He mumbled, “It was a joke really. She thinks she’s funny.”

Even more intrigued by his avoidance, you sized him up with squinted eyes.

Dodge cleared his throat, tidying away a pile of laundry sitting on his bed, “They uh… god this is… They used to worry about me with- with girls. They thought I was a virgin because I never brought girls home to meet them or anything… and so for Secret Santa one year I got a book about… women… My mom insists it wasn’t her and that whoever it was was trying to be funny…”

There was a long pause. Dodge shied away from your eyes, his body turned away from you, despite the little air of embarrassed laughter.

Dodge cleared his throat again, “Super weird, I know. She had kids super young and didn’t want us to make the same mistake. Not that me and Dana are mistakes but it was hard for her. She’s cool about that sorta thing though. Dana’s ex-boyfriend used to stay over all the time and she didn’t care. So if you’re worried, she won’t say anything about you being here or anything.”

Another bout of silence fell between you as Dodge assessed your features, his lips pursed and shoulders tight.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me,” You laughed and Dodge visibly relaxed.

“No, it’s cool. Not cool but, you know, I wish my family were cooler about sex. My dad saw your name in my phone and reached for his shotgun,” You laughed, “Anyway, a book is probably better than drunk hook ups at the lake.”

“Yeah probably,” Dodge nodded, leaning against the bookshelf, and there was a lull in the conversation.

“Oh… did you read it?” You giggled, a flush of red creeping up his neck and ears, “You did!”

“You can’t prove anything,” Dodge shook his head with a half-cocked smile.

“But you could,” You raised your eyebrows and he furrowed his. It was a joke, he knew that, but Dodge steeled his expression and licked his lips.

“Yeah?”

You kept your eyes on his for a long moment before smiling, “Yeah. Prove it.”

You reached out and rested a hand on his stomach. His abs were tight and lean under his button-up shirt.

One by one, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, running your hands along the sturdy plane of his stomach and chest.

Conflicting thoughts ran through your head. Heather was like your sister and Natalie had been planning to win Panic for years.

Would fucking Dodge Mason, their competition, be a good idea?

Your judgement was clouded by the heat radiating from his skin and the smattering of hair on his chest. His dual coloured eyes watched your face as you stood before him, admiring him.

“I saw you like this at the jump but not up close,” You rested your hands on his shoulders, biting your lip, “Thank you, saddle bronc.”

Dodge couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his cheeks, as a sputtered laugh escaped his lips.

In one movement, Dodge threw you over his shoulder and deposited you on his bed, kneeling over you.

A soft line of kisses traced along your arm to your shoulder. With every press of his lips, you itched to feel them against yours, whining at the wait.

Pink and plump, his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back to look down at you, stilling hovering over you.

Taking his head in your hands, you craned your neck to kiss him. Each press of his lips had you sighing contently and the swipe of his tongue had you moaning.

Dodge licked into your mouth with fervour, tongue and lips colliding with no precision, only desire.

You hooked your leg over his hips and rolled him onto his back beneath you, straddling his hips.

Dodge instinctively gripped your hips and watched with kiss-bitten lips and doe eyes as you discarded your dress onto his bedroom floor.

“You gonna give me some tips, cowboy?”

Dodge groaned, your hands pressing against his chest, as he slowly guided the rocking of your hips against his.

With every roll of your hips, your tits bounced in the lacy cups of your bra. His eyes flickered between your chest and your pink panties, rubbing against his bulge.

Dodge groaned, tightening his grip on your hips, “Lean forward.”

Following his instructions, a loud moan escaped you at the change in pressure against your clit.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good,” He rumbled, rutting his hips against yours in a perfect rhythm. Warmth bloomed in your chest at his praise.

Thank you, saddle bronc.

His muscles rippled and bulged underneath your hands as the slick between your legs dampened the skin of your inner thighs.

Cupping a hand at the nape of your neck, Dodge guided your mouth to his, kissing you with pinched brows and deep groans. Pulling away from the heated make out and pressing a deep kiss to his lips, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans.

Dodge lay back, stroking your thighs and watching you with bated breath. Pulling him from his trance, you hooked a finger into the elastic waistband of his boxers, twanging the material against his alabaster skin.

A smile twitched at his lips as he slowly sat up and kissed you softly, rolling you onto your back. Dodge pushed his jeans off and lay between your legs, the hard length of his cock pressing into your inner thigh.

Settling your hands on each other's heated skin, Dodge kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip playfully. His strong arms wrapped around you, his hand palming at the globe of your ass.

Warm and plump lips mouthed at your neck, teeth tugging the strap of your bra from your shoulder and kissing at the newly bare skin. He unhooked your bra, tossing it onto the floor and laving his tongue at your pebbled nipples.

"Please, need you," You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Dodge pressed a final kiss to your chest before sitting on his haunches and pulling your panties down your legs.

With firm hands on your inner thighs, Dodge parted your legs and bit his lip, staring at your dripping sex. You squirmed under his undivided attention, hooking your calf around his waist and pulling him on top of you.

Kissing him deeply, you pushed his boxer briefs down his hips, dragging your nails across his back once his erection sprung free. The wet tip smacked against your heated skin.

Dodge kicked his boxers off and reached into his nightstand, tearing the foil of a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his cock.

Caressing his biceps, you watched as he hovered over you and lined himself against your entrance. You hooked a leg around his hip, gasping into his open mouth as he slowly thrust into you.

Dodge's eyes fluttered shut as his hips pressed flush against yours. A ragged breath escaped his lips, tickling the skin of your neck. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Dodge sighed shakily.

"C'mon cowboy," You rolled your hips, "Buck."

Dodge let out a mix of a soft groan and a laugh into your neck, "You feel really good."

A small giggle fell from you, scratching your fingers through his hair. You bucked your hips again and Dodge clamped a hand on your hip, pulling back and rolling his hips against you.

Picking up the pace, Dodge fucked his thick cock against the sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Sloppy wet sounds echoed around the room with each buck of his hips.

Sweat beaded on your skin as the coil within the pit of your stomach tightened. Your nails clawed at the rippling muscles of Dodge's back, his skin slapping against yours.

Groans tumbled from his lips, pressing heated kisses to your skin, silencing your loud moans with his tongue in your mouth.

Digging your heels into his ass, you tightened your legs around his hips, letting him push one against your chest and his cock sinked deeper into you.

A broken gasp escaped you before his hand clamped over your mouth and his hips stopped, pressing his weight onto you.

The sound of footsteps outside his door and the subsequent flicking of light switches and closing doors alerted Dodge to the presence of his mom going to bed.

Dodge met your eyes, willing you to be quiet, as he continued to fuck you. Your brows pinched together as your interrupted pleasure began to build again, noises muffled by his strong hand.

Pressing his forehead to yours, Dodge slowed his pace and you took the opportunity to turn him onto his back, keeping his cock nestled in your cunt.

A surprised grunt tumbled from his chest and his hands groped at your body, holding you against him. You wasted no time before raising your hips and bouncing on his cock.

Dodge moaned and his eyes rolled back, covering his own mouth. A sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the limited light. Leaning forward, your clit caught against his pubes, igniting a hotter flame within you.

"Good," Dodge praised, brushing your hair out of your face and watching your tits bounce in his face, "Such a good cowgirl."

He tipped his head back further into his plush pillow and his knees bent off the bed, fucking into you, his body pulling taut at the impending release.

"Gonna cum," Dodge rasped, panting and licking his dry lips.

You couldn't form words, only nodding, meeting his eyes and rocking your hips with the uncoordinated buck of his. The band within you was one thread away from snapping before Dodge gripped your jaw and pulled you into a heated kiss.

White hot bliss coursed through your body as you moaned into his mouth. Dodge mouthed at your unresponsive mouth, too preoccupied with moans of pleasure to reciprocate his kisses.

Dodge pulled back to watch your orgasm wash over you before he hit his peak, white ropes of cum filling the condom as he groaned deeply.

Sinking into the mattress, you lay on his sweaty chest, both trying to catch your breath. Dodge discarded the condom in the trash by his bed and pulled you into his side.

His cheeks and neck were rosy with exertion and he ran a hand up and down your back, "You should try saddle bronc."

Fucked out, you laughed into his sweaty chest, "You should keep that book."

Slowly you drifted into a blissful sleep, bodies entwined and satiated.

#dodge mason #mike faist x reader #dodge mason x reader #panic (2021)#art donaldson

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starcrossed-lov3rz · 6 months ago

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The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions.

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.”

Silence.

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention.

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin.

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out.

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair.

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.”

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them.

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.”

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-”

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly.

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home.

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest.

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks.

“How long have we been married?”

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her.

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years.

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his.

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #married life #isekai #game of thrones #reader insert #fem reader #hotd daemon #hotd rhaenyra #hotd fic

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mushies-stories · 8 months ago

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Drinking- how TF141 handles a clingy drunk reader for the first time

PART ONE- Price and Soap

PART TWO- Ghost and Gaz

F!Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, little tiny bit suggestive... think that's it?

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle had gotten off work a bit early, the mission going faster than expected but just as tiring. The only thing on his mind was seeing you, he needed to feel your soft body against his.

He called you from his car, figuring it was early enough and you'd still be awake. He was correct, but when you answered the phone you didn't sound like your usual self. Your words are slow and a little slurred. “Baby, ya okay?” he asks.

You hum a response. “M’okay, just been drinking a little.” you tell him.

“Sounds like it, you alone at home love?” he asks, a little nervous. It wasn't like you to get drunk by yourself, or really that often at all actually.

“Yeah… but could you come over, please.” your voice was a little shaky and it twisted something in Kyle's gut.

“Of course lovie. Be there in just a bit, eh?” he tells you. His drive was faster than normal, you sounded off and it worried him. His only thought was to get to you and the elevator ride up to your flat seemed endless.

When you entered he saw you sitting on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, glass of red wine and an almost empty bottle next to it.

Your head turned when you heard his steps and the sound of his shoes being kicked off. “Kyle.” you say quietly. Standing you shed the blanket and take a few shaky steps towards him.

He rushed to meet you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against himself. Your own arms wrap around his middle, gripping the back of his shirt. “What's wrong love, why ya crying?” he asks, voice tender and soft. His warm eyes looking over your tear stained cheeks before wiping a tear away.

You give him a small shrug. “I'm just so tired, and work was stressful. I just wanted to relax a little and I knew you are normally at the base late...” you admit.

Kyle hums softly before kissing the top of your head. “Well, drinking is no way to feel better, right lovie?” he asks, making sure you look at him by guiding your face to look at his. “Next time, just let me know, be over as soon as i can.” he tells you.

You give him a small smile. “I will, I'm sorry I know I was overreacting.”

“None of that love, let's just get ya to bed.” he says with a sweet smile. You lean into his touch and nod.

He figured after such a stressful day you should take a hot bath. Topped with some essential oils he found it was ready. You both relax in the warm water. Kyle behind you so you can rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you kyle.” you mumble. Eyes closed and soldering his arms around you, you sigh constantly. “I love you.” you add, a little slower and sleepier.

Kyle smiles down at you. Perfectly content in his arms, just as he wanted. Here to keep you safe and happy. “Anything for your lovie, I love ya too.” he says. Just above a whisper, the last coherent words you heard before drifting off.

When you had dozed off Kyle gathered your body in his arms and brought you to bed then wrapped you in a fluffy towel. The whole time you barely even stirred in your sleep. He crawled in next to you and wrapped you in his arms once again, this time pulling your head to his chest, arm holding you back so your firm against him.

He kisses your nose. “Goodnight love.” he says. That night you both slept soundly. Kyle happily content with your bare body against his own.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Simon had called after getting back from a long mission, wanting to see you instead of going home alone. All he needed at the moment was your arms wrapped around him.

To his delight you had picked up, even in the late hour. To his disappointment however, it sounded like you were out with friends.

That didn't seem to mean much to you. Judging by your excited time when you answered. “Si? You home already?” you ask, smile evident in your tone.

He smiles to himself. “Yeah, sound busy though doll, see ya tomorrow?” he offers.

You make a sound of displeasure. “But I gotta see you tonight Si, please? I'll get an uber right now!” Simon just chuckles and tells you to stay put, he will come and get you.

Not even twenty minutes later and you're in his passenger seat with his hand on your bare thigh and a drunkenly sweet smile plastered across your face. You loved admiring Simon, even with most of his face concealed. Everything about him made you drawn to him.

“See something ya like love?” Simon chuckles and glances over to you. His hand on your thigh squeezes the soft skin.

You nod and giggle. “Always see something I like around you, Si.”

He snorts before paying attention to the road, eyes focus on getting home. You babbled about your night with your friends and he nodded along, humming in response when he needed to agree with you, all the while his hand rests on your warm plush thigh and a small smile plays at his lips.

You were adorable. The way you stared at him the whole time like he was the moon, the way your hands laid atop his and gripped it when you talked.

He loved the attention. From you, and only you that is. Loved that you just wanted to see him, needed too.

When you got back to his place, he carried you in. insisting that the stairs were too much for you and it would be faster. “S’alright love, just let me bring you up. Be much faster.” he explained.

The whole way you kissed at his neck, making sure to lift his mask enough so you could pepper them to his jawline. “Lovie, none of tha. S’to late and you.” he glanced down at you and your blushing cheeks, warm from the alcohol. “Are much too hammered.” he chuckles, stepping into his flat before closing and locking the door.

“But Si… I missed you so much, you were gone for a whole week.” you pout softly up at him after he set you down on his bed.

One of his hands comes out to cradle the side of your head, making you look up at him and hold his gaze. “Don't worry lovie, when your pretty little head is pounding tomorrow, I'll make sure to do everything I can to help you forget about it.” he promises.

I shiver rolls down your back and you smile dumbly up at him, the thought of what to come already turning the little gears in your head. Simon however forces you to push the thoughts aside and get ready for bed instead.

With you in only his shirt, his mask set aside and his protective arm wrapped securely around your middle, you start to drift off. “Love you Simon, can't wait for tomorrow.”

Simon kisses the side of your head. “Love you too doll, can't wait.”

#ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john price #price x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #cod #cod x reader #cod imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #tf141 imagine

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heartlilith · 10 months ago

Text

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astrology community #astro community #sagittarius #scorpio #leo #cancer #venus signs #venus #Leo venus #Aries venus #Taurus venus #Scorpio venus

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scealaiscoite · 2 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ one hundred paired prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles

²⁾ orange peels and a car battery

³⁾ sand dunes and leather boots

⁴⁾ a printer and a knife

⁵⁾ incense and handcuffs

⁶⁾ a crushed velvet sofa and a video camera

⁷⁾ stale cigarettes and cotton candy

⁸⁾ loose change and headlights

⁹⁾ grey hairs and a gold belt buckle

¹⁰⁾ burnt coffee and grass stains

¹¹⁾ cherry cola and blue jeans

¹²⁾ chipped green nail polish and an empty dinner table

¹³⁾ a stack of paperwork and metal music

¹⁴⁾ a patchwork quilt and sweet tea

¹⁵⁾ a hockey sweater and a two-seater sofa

¹⁶⁾ perfume oil and rolled up shirtsleeves

¹⁷⁾ fallen leaves and guilt

¹⁸⁾ radio channels and a birthday card

¹⁹⁾ ravens and meadowsweet

²⁰⁾ apologies and bitter red wine

²¹⁾ library books and pouring rain

²²⁾ a breathalyser and popcorn

²³⁾ princess plasters and iodine

²⁴⁾ a tote bag with one broken strap and a winding staircase

²⁵⁾ a parasol and a tumbler of straight whiskey

²⁶⁾ fresh honey and a cult

²⁷⁾ wisdom teeth and blue eyes

²⁸⁾ sour cherries and a stolen hoodie

²⁹⁾ the flu and a heatwave

³⁰⁾ a boonie hat and a sunset

³¹⁾ vanilla perfume and a kitchen counter

³²⁾ a buffalo skull and a leather armchair

³³⁾ a throw pillow and a doorway

³⁴⁾ pink fluffy handcuffs and an unexpected guest

³⁶⁾ a package and a divorce

³⁷⁾ a stripper pole and a hangover

³⁸⁾ familiar cologne and a black eye

³⁹⁾ a lit candle and a snowstorm

⁴⁰⁾ an unsealed letter and a fallen pine tree

⁴¹⁾ headlights and footprints

⁴²⁾ a blocked number and traffic lights

⁴³⁾ a racesuit and a countdown

⁴⁴⁾ a butcher’s apron and a phonecall

⁴⁵⁾ battered comic books and a broken window

⁴⁶⁾ cold floorboards and a roommate

⁴⁷⁾ smooth vermouth and gold rings

⁴⁸⁾ a lip piercing and a rough hand

⁴⁹⁾ someone’s spare room and an eclipse

⁵⁰⁾ a game of mahjong and bad jazz music

⁵¹⁾ a jigsaw puzzle and a mortuary

⁵²⁾ a broke-up sidewalk and a knitted scarf

⁵³⁾ a poundshop wig and broken glass

⁵⁴⁾ a bunk bed and a crush

⁵⁵⁾ a red ink tattoo and a dinner gone cold

⁵⁶⁾ a warm palm and a flannel shirt

⁵⁷⁾ fresh basil and a half-empty bottle of arrack

⁵⁸⁾ a nightclub bathroom and smeared eyeliner

⁵⁹⁾ a busted lip and strawberry icecream

⁶⁰⁾ a floral-patterned dress and a looming balcony

⁶¹⁾ peach pits and a pressed shirt collar

⁶²⁾ a white mercedes and cheap perfume

⁶³⁾ a fwb and a housekey

⁶⁴⁾ a blue sarong and a fingertip tracing over a scar

⁶⁵⁾ a sauna room and a terse exchange

⁶⁶⁾ fried plantains and a briefcase

⁶⁷⁾ dried lavender and a tiled bathtub

⁶⁸⁾ a hotel room and a bouquet of lilies

⁶⁹⁾ sweet mango lassi and a suitcase

⁷⁰⁾ orange streetlights and a nightmare

⁷¹⁾ a crucifix and a thigh tattoo

⁷²⁾ a palm tattoo and the thrum of a heartbeat

⁷³⁾ a champagne room and a police siren

⁷⁴⁾ blue nitrile gloves and a hickey

⁷⁵⁾ a double-wide trailer and shotgun shells

⁷⁶⁾ stitches and pyjama shorts

⁷⁷⁾ karaoke and a snowdrift

⁷⁸⁾ an older man and a twin bed

⁷⁹⁾ chinese takeout and a graveyard

⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens

⁸¹⁾ carbolic soap and a creaking staircase

⁸²⁾ an undercover assignment and wrung hands

⁸³⁾ the back seat of a limousine and bustling night streets

⁸��⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards

⁸⁵⁾ a grand prix and a breakup

⁸⁶⁾ a third place trophy and a picture frame

⁸⁷⁾ the last slice of birthday cake and crossed legs

⁸⁸⁾ squashed raspberries and heated cheeks

⁸⁹⁾ pink lipgloss and brass knuckles

⁹⁰⁾ a ghost mask and a late visit

⁹¹⁾ loose bullets and slashed tires

⁹²⁾ a tactical belt and patterned bedsheets

⁹³⁾ a goaltender’s stick and a lonely walk home

⁹⁴⁾ a dog bed and a migraine

⁹⁵⁾ lit billboards and a floor-length gown

⁹⁶⁾ a divebar negroni and a game of pool

⁹⁷⁾ olive trees at harvest time and divorce papers

⁹⁸⁾ a caviar bump and vanilla coke

⁹⁹⁾ a whale tail and pantsuit

¹⁰⁰⁾ legs thrown into a lap and calloused hands

#enjoy my prettiessss #another instalment of trio prompts on the way!!#prompts #paired prompts #aesthetic prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #rp meme #otp prompts #soft prompts #imagine your otp #otp writing #drabble prompts #drabble meme #writing inspiration #writing inspo

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Mafia au with Price perspective

Content: Implied Violence

John, for the life of him, can’t believe he ever ran SpecGru without you.

It’s a hit to his pride to admit it, certainly. That an outsider has discovered a small conspiracy within his own organization less than three months into employment. That, apart from even that, he’s never been less scattered, having someone right by his side remembering details, appointments, bits of information.

Morning smells like Earl Grey and your perfume now. Steam mixing with whatever you’ve spritzed for the day, his own little aroma therapy. Revitalizing after however late the previous night dragged him out.

In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of color and delicacy in his world of saturated shadows, blood and brutality.

Clean-cut dresses with patterned tights, soft-knit scarves. Lace accents and modest stilettos. Thin, sparkly jewelry and smart makeup. The scent of you drowns out the lingering burn of gunpowder; or maybe just transforms it into something heady.

John lingers on your hair. Smooth ponytails, tight coifs, intricate braids. Likes when it’s loose enough to brush you shoulders and neck, a little bounce to it as you toddle in and out of his office.

You’re gorgeous, he knows it like a gun in his hand or the stench of fear in the air. Has encountered (and indulged) in more than his share of stunning women. Women with beautiful smiles, and bright laughter, and sweet voices. Cunning women, too. Women who could outfox all but his best on any given day.

You have all of that in spades, though you’re not the first.

The difference, he thinks, is your sincerity. You’re never anything but honest with him. Even when you maybe shouldn’t be. Not that you share your opinion every time you have one, but if he asks for it, you’ll answer without pulling punches.

Respectful, always. Polite. But scalpels are elegant tools as dangerous as any dagger. You’re not cold by any means, but you’re made of steel. Precise and implacable in some ways. Have never hesitated too look him in the eye and cheerfully explain why he’s wrong.

That, he knows, is a rare commodity.

“I understand this is time sensitive Mister Graves, but raising your voice is not going to open Mister Price’s schedule.”

Your voice goes silky when you get like this. A finely draped, overly pleasant “no” in each word. A wall is still a wall no matter how finely it’s painted.

You’ve just gotten your nails done again, glossy wine red tap-tap-tapping over your customized keyboard. Whatever Philip is saying on the other end does not seem to be impressing you. Soap and Gaz are trying not to snicker. You shoot them an amused look.

“Well, he’s booked every morning for the next two weeks,” you continue.

John is not, in fact, booked every morning for the next two weeks. There are two mornings with two hours open and you’re serenely looking at them on your computer screen. He doesn’t correct you, interested to see how this plays out. You know he hates Philip and are gleefully taking advantage of that fact.

“Well, Mister Graves, a lot of people have time sensitive issues to bring to Mister Price,” you explain, a touch condescending now. “I’m afraid I can’t reschedule them just because you have… a trip to Glasgow, is it?”

You don’t sound impressed. Neither is John. You clear your throat, arch your eyebrows at him. Put up three fingers. He nods.

“I can schedule you in on the 3rd in the evening. Your assistant said you’ll be back by then.”

You blink, an almost smug curve to your lips at whatever is said. A pleasant shiver runs down John’s spine. Philip will just have gotten in then - a full day of travel after whatever business he’s been up to will put him at a disadvantage.

“Well, I’m afraid Mister Price’s next availability won’t be until the… 8th. So shall we schedule something for the 3rd? I can always call if he has a cancellation.”

A pause. Your eyes narrow into a mean little smile at nothing in particular. Practically glowing with satisfaction. Without your attention on him, he shifts a bit.

“Of course, Mister Graves,” you hum. “I can forward your people the details. Have a lovely day now.”

Soap and Gaz start laughing the moment you hand up. You huff at them in amusement, shaking your head, then turn to John.

“Was there anything you needed, sir?” You ask, syrupy sweet.

John snorts and finally approaches your desk, leaning his hip against the edge as he crosses his arms. You tilt your head to give him your full attention, a stray curl falling against your jaw.

“Since you seem to be on rampage,” he says, “I need you to get a reservation for Friday at Muse.”

You blink at him. “Muse? Sir, that’s… don’t they book that place out months in advance?”

He smirks. “Just use my name, luv. I’m sure you’ll have the rest under control.”

You don’t look convinced, but you slide your sticky pad over - light purple clouds, now. With a pink glitter pen.

“How many and what time, sir?”

“Six for eight o’clock.”

You hum as you scrawl it down, pretty round letters that shimmer under the office lights.

“Before you go,” you say as you set the sticky pad aside. “I have those inventory logs from the docks - as well as the incident report from security that evening.”

You pluck up a neat stack of papers, held together by a star-shaped paperclip. Already he can see pink highlighter on the first page, a little memo-note summarizing information for quick review at the top. Somewhere within, you’ve attached a pink tab to something.

“I’ve highlighted anything in the original shipment that wasn’t found in the inventory log,” you explain, tapping at one of them.

He hums, skims the summary, then starts rifling through the papers. Will never admit how much he appreciates the thoroughness, even if he’s comb through every detail himself just to be sure nothing has been missed.

“Oh, also,” you add, spinning the glitter pen between clever fingers, “I think we should maybe set up a camera near that back entrance to the warehouse.”

He pauses. The back entrance where they do the more gruesome aspects of “business.” Odd that you would suggest that.

“Why’s that?”

You hum. “Well, I’m no narc, but I heard from someone who works over there that one of the shipping guys smokes weed with his cousin in that area. Maybe someone saw them and realized that’s a good way in.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat again. The computer dings, calling your attention. John shoots Soap a glance, who nods and quietly steps out. You don’t seem to notice, clicking your tongue at whatever you see.

“Nicely done, luv,” he says, voice warm in his chest. You beam at him, pleased as always when he recognizes your hard work. “I’ll call if I need anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

Twenty minutes later, you tap lightly at the open door to his office.

“Got the reservation!” You announce, a funny little smile on your face. “They were so nice about it too. What are you, some kind of mafia boss?”

He chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

How did he ever manage all this without you?

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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swordsandholly · 4 months ago

Text

Little Death

Incubus!Soap x fem fat reader | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI | cw: dubcon, noncon, drinking, biting, afab reader, blood, PiV sex, cunnilingus, anal, monsterfucking, size difference, kidnapping, dead dove

Word Count: 4.5k

You sit in your apartment on your worn out couch, sipping a glass of shitty gas station wine at some godforsaken hour in the morning. Just like you do nearly every night these days. Love Island plays loudly on the TV while you try to drown out the overbearing silence that seems to cling to you. It surrounds you at all times, everything just a little too quiet. A little too distant.

You knew getting divorced would be lonely. You didn’t expect it to be this bad.

Your eye connects with a piece of paper that’s been living on your side-of-the-road coffee table for the past… who knows at this point. The friend that gave it to you meant well. She intended it to be a funny, light hearted gesture. Instead, you just feel pathetic. The pitiable fat girl that can’t get a date. Not that she’d be wrong. Out of drunk boredom, or maybe sheer desperation, you grab the stupid cut out article. It’s some plasticky, cheap print with the title ‘How To Summon A Lover’ which is probably the laziest headline in the world for a supposed spell.

Are you lonely? The summary asks, Do you need some special company? Just follow these steps and get exactly what you’re looking for!

It’s stupid. It’s corny. Luckily - or unfortunately - you are just drunk enough to take part in stupid and corny. Your eyes graze over the materials list - paper, a red marker, a metal baking sheet, and a stick candle. Your brow scrunches. You suppose you can sacrifice one of your outdated, unused decor candles that sit on your mantle. You gather the supplies with clumsy, uneven steps.

Fuck your ex. Fuck him for making you this sad and pathetic. Fuck him for piling on the insecurity, for isolating you and taking nearly all your friend group. For all of it. You plop down on your rug, items in hand and thoughts swirling angrily.

Step 1: Place the paper on the baking sheet

Step 2: Draw a pentagram

You roll your eyes. Of fucking course it’s a pentagram. You do it, still.

Step 3: Write “I Light The Flame of Desire” on each side of the page

Step 4: Place the candle in the center of the paper

Step 5: Light the candle and concentrate on your intention until it burns out.

You regret picking up such a big candle.

When you wake your mouth is dry and your back aches. The sunlight offends your eyes when you attempt to crack them open. You must have fallen asleep on the floor at some point. You look down at the mess in front of you. The candle burnt the paper into almost nothing at some point. Thank god the article told you to put it on a baking sheet.

You feel so fucking stupid.

You stumble into the shower, allowing the hot water to help rouse you from your hungover, groggy state. That feeling of stupidity tickles the back of your mind. It’s not like you expected it to work - really, what’s making your heart twist and shame crawl up your back is the disappointment, is that it didn’t. At least you don’t have to work today. You don’t particularly feel like being around people. Not that you do the rest of the time.

As you turn to get out, fear strikes through you at a shadow in your periphery through the fogged shower glass. Just as soon as you see it, it disappears. You shrug it off, heart still thumping wildly as you towel off. Something in your gut churns as you do your best to get ready for the day. An unease that won’t leave as you make yourself at least appear like someone with their life together. A feeling that someone is watching makes your hair stand on end.

You send up a thank you to the universe that you managed to get up early enough to make it to the grocery store during quiet hours. While buckling your seatbelt, that shadow comes back. Right behind you, in the back seat. It’s gone as soon as you check the rearview mirror. You let out a shaky breath. It keeps happening. While you get your shopping cart, while you choose produce. Every time you turn an isle, it’s there. It sends shivers down your spine. Some black, effervescent shape that follows you worse than a shadow. That catches your eye even when you consciously try to ignore it. You really need to lay off the drinking.

As soon as you get home, you toss everything from the night before - including the baking sheet. Some superstitious part of you rears its head, telling you to walk the damn thing all the way to the outside dumpster rather than leave it to fester in your personal trash. You don’t believe in ghosts or spirits. You’re sure you just drank too much, that you slept strangely and it fucked with your head. That not speaking to anyone besides brief interactions with coworkers and customers for weeks on end has left you jumpy and off. Maybe you really should see that therapist your lawyer talked about. She’s expensive though, and not covered by your insurance…

You turn over another bottle of wine in your hand, wrinkling your nose. Not tonight. Not when you turn to put the bottle down and nearly jump into the ceiling at some shape moving to the living room from behind you. Only in your periphery, only vague images, leaving you uneasy. You toss and turn when you finally get into bed. It still feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s a camera just over your shoulder, or in the ceiling fan, staring down at you. For the first time since you were small, you bury yourself under the covers and screw your eyes shut, hoping it will save you from the monsters under your bed and in your head.

You stir at a weight dipping your bed. It’s slight, so slight you almost miss it entirely, until it isn’t. Until whatever it is moves again and you feel something brush over your legs. In a panic, still half asleep, you turn onto your back, fists flying through the air only to be caught by inhumanly large hands. You flail, kicking as a scream catches in your throat.

“Shh, sh, yer a’right.” A distinctly Scottish brogue coos, pinning you to the bed without so much as a grunt. You finally manage to open your eyes properly. He’s big - eyes a bright, unnatural blue with a wild light in them. When he grins at you it exposes long fangs where his normal canines should be. Two horns poke out from his head, the shorn sides of his haircut further exposing them. There’s an unnatural red tint to his skin, darkening to nearly pure crimson at the ends of his exposed limbs. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh- who the fuck are you?” You squeak, far less threatening than you might have liked.

The beast’s grin only widens. “Donnae ye know? Ye called me, after all.”

Your eyes widen to saucers as you stare up at him. Did- there’s no way that stupid spell worked! It was a cut out from a damn off-brand Cosmopolitan. It was stupid sleepover bullshit. It was - It’s wasn’t- You couldn’t have summoned a real, actual factual demon into your apartment. No, this has to be a prank or intruder or - or hallucination even.

You try to shove at his chest as soon as he retracts his hands, a weak attempt at escaping. Part of you expects to phase through him - to wake up in your quiet, dark bedroom. Except his hands are very much real and warm as they pin your wrists back against the mattress. The silhouette of massive wings block out the little bit of moonlight that might have otherwise drifted through the slit in your curtains. You can barely make him out, now. Those too-bright eyes glint like a cat’s as he stares down at you.

“Now, why did ye call me, little one?” He leans in, nose brushing against yours before ducking his head down to lick a long stripe up your neck.

Your face heats, mouth struggling to form words. “I… didn’t think it was real…”

“Tha’s not a reason.” Too-sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear.

“I just… why do you want to know anyway?” You spit defensively, thrashing under him in a sudden burst of confidence - or desperation. You’re not sure. It does fuck-all for you, the beast pinning your thighs under his weight. A deep, warning growl rumbles in his chest. You freeze at the sound - some ancient instinct telling you to stop all action and pray it saves you.

“It’s no’ polite t’dodge my question, bonnie.”

You whimper involuntarily, his sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck with just enough pressure to threaten a bite. The words tumble from your lips near incoherently, “I haven’t- I’ve only been with one person… for a long time. I’m nervous… about a second…”

He hums. Something brushes your shin - a tail, you think. You can’t make it out in the dark. “Whit’s yer name, doll?”

You blurt it, a little horrified at giving that information to some supernatural creature. For some reason you find yourself following it up with, “What’s yours?”

He laughs and mulls it over, jaw clenching briefly, as if he can’t make up his mind about what it is. “Call me Soap, aye?”

You snort despite yourself and he - Soap - quirks a brow. “Weird name for a demon.”

“Incubus.” He corrects.

You have half a mind to complain when he tears your nightgown off before you can react. The cloth rips fast, practically disintegrating in his rough hands. That’s until he climbs down the bed, taking one nipple between his lips and flicking the other. Your back arches, hands fisting the sheets. You let out an indignant ow when he bites down on the fat of your breast, leaving a mark just shy of drawing blood. Soap ignores it, continuing to lavish them with attention as he sees fit. Your thighs press together and you can’t help but squirm, becoming desperate for more in spite of the voice in your head telling you to run. He senses it, you think, moving down your body leaving nips and bites in his path before settling between your thighs. He takes your underwear off in much the same fashion, turning them to shreds in barely a moment. His wings disappear into the shadows - there but not simultaneously. Shifting in and out of your vison.

“Look a’ tha’.” He sighs. “Whit a pretty pussy. Cannae believe yer lettin’ her go unused.”

You whimper and attempt to close your legs, failing when those massive hands hook under your knees and push them up to your chest as far as they can go. His nails - near claws - dig into the flesh of your thighs. A gasp tumbles from your lips as his tongue drags through your folds. Soap places a light kiss your your clit before following with a harsh suck that leaves you twitching and whining. Part of you feels ashamed for enjoying this as much as you are - for lapping up the attention from this stranger like a starved dog - but it feels too unreal for you to really care. Too fictional to apply your real world morals or sensibilities.

You yelp in surprise when his tongue flicks over your back hole, causing him to chuckle and mutter, “Tha’s for later.”

He doesn’t leave you time to think on that promise. You throw your head back as he slips his tongue inside. Fuck, it’s deep. Unnaturally long - built to systematically pull pleasure from you just like the rest of him. You find yourself grinding down onto it despite yourself, pent up body giving into instinct and abandoning rational thought. You grab onto his stupid hair to further press him into you. He doesn’t seem to mind as a low guttural sound rumbles through his chest.

A thick finger circles your entrance, replacing his tongue in one swift motion. He doesn’t wait to add a second - the stretch causing you to hiss. His fingers are big. His proportions just on this side of incompatibly large. You wonder briefly, distantly, why his claw-nails aren’t hurting you. It’s hard to care much when the pad of a thick finger presses roughly against that spot that leaves you gasping. His lips wrap around your clit again, sloppily sucking and licking at the little bud as you careen closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches harshly, almost painfully, as you tumble over with a choked moan.

“So easy.” He chuckles. Your face gets hotter, an indignant pout forming on your lips. Rude. Your eyes drift over his body and, somehow for the first time tonight, you realize he’s already naked. Not a single piece of cloth in sight upon his arrival. You let yourself take in his strong torso, the thick dusting of hair from his chest all the way down to a healthy happy trail, down to-

“That’s not gonna fit!” You squeak, clumsily trying to back away. His cock hangs heavily between his legs; thick and veiny and already leaking. His hand on your sternum stops you in place. You’re sure he can feel the way your heart hammers away in your chest - practically beating against your ribcage. For a moment, you think you see sympathy in his eyes. Rather quickly you realize that warmth is, instead, hunger. An eagerness to swallow you whole dances across his sharp grin.

“We’ll make it fit.”

That’s all the warning you get before he’s bullying his cock inside you, inch by inch despite your shaky pleas to slow down. It burns, just crossing over the threshold into too much. Your teeth grind, a deep whine resonating in your throat. Your fingers claw at the sheets below you and your body jerks with odd shocks of pleasure and pain all tied up into one.

“Fuckin’ tight…” Soap groans.

“S’too much!” You practically sob, hips squirming to get away from the intrusion.

“Y’can take it.” His other hand grabs onto your waist to still you. You can’t stop the moan that forces its way past your lips as his hips meet yours.

You expect it to hurt when he fucks you - he doesn’t allow you time to adjust, each thrust practically punching the air from your lungs. Instead, it sends electricity up your spine. Your brows knit together, eyes screwed shut as warmth pools at the base of your spine. Soap hooks one of your legs around his hip, the other over his shoulder. You watch him through bleary eyes, the strange red of his hands contrasting with your natural, human skin. The way his hand nearly wraps around your thick calf. The way his core flexed with every thrust. The pleasured knot in his brow.

Soap lets your raised leg drop, pressing his weight down onto you and bracketing your head with his forearms. He smells so good - spices and trees. It invades your senses, leaving your mind somehow foggier than it already felt. He pulls you into a kiss. It’s not romantic, not emotional, just a searing exchange made up of messy teeth and tongue. He tastes like cinnamon. His fang catches your lip and copper coats your mouth. A light whine escapes him as he licks it up and sucks at the small wound.

“Please, please, please.” You pant rhythmically, chest heaving.

“Please, please, please.” He mocks, chuckling at your begging as he presses his thumb to your clit.

You practically seize, already overdone and so close to another. You’re babbling, you know that much, but the contents of your words are lost on you.

“Gonnae cum f’me?” Soap presses his nose to your temple. “Gonnae cum on this cock?”

You nod vigorously, nails leaving half-moons his strong shoulders. His thumb swirls your clit as he continues to spill filthy words into your ear. Things you’ve never thought of, otherworldly promises no man could keep, and groaned nonsense to match your own. Your climax slams into you. You practically howl, whole body shaking. Soap’s tongue drags up the side of your face, licking up sweat and tears. He’s not far behind, a growl rumbling through his chest; his hips stutter as he spills inside you.

You think, for a moment, as you desperately try to catch your breath, that it’s over. He’ll disappear off into the ether and you’ll wake up tomorrow from this strange dream. All of it a lonely, mentally unwell delusion that you can tell your therapist. After you book her. You really should if your brain is coming up with shit like this.

Except, he doesn’t stop. The slowed rocking of his hips immediately picks up again. He leans up, hands gripping your waist as you let out a long, keening whine. You try to shove at his hands, to kick your shaking legs. They’re clumsy. Weak and used and uncoordinated. The sweat on your palms leaves you slipping, unable to get a grip around his wrist. Soap just laughs - dark and unnatural. Far too entertained by your panic. A malicious spark lights his eyes as he stares down at you.

“S-soap!” You gasp, mind and body going into overdrive. “P-please! You don’t have to - you can - fuck - just stop!”

He laughs again, only speeding up - using the hold on your soft waist to fuck you back onto him. An anger flares up in you and you reel back, slapping your open palm against his face as hard as you can manage. It doesn’t do anything to deter him, his hips still slam full force into yours without so much as a stutter. His chuckle cuts off into a gravelly groan. “Do tha’ again.”

As much as you don’t want to give in to him, you do. You batter your fists against his chest, his arms, anywhere you can even slightly reach. You dig your nails into his hands. He just speeds up, lewd, wet sounds an loud slaps echoing in the room along with your moans and shouts. Soap pulls out just long enough for his arm to encircle your waist and flip you over as if you weigh nothing to him. You hardly get your bearings before he’s forcing his cock back in your cunt. His hands latch onto your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll bruise, if not be crushed completely.

“Please! Fuck - Soap - please - st-” You choke out, barely able to lift your face out of the sheets to breathe. Your whole body tremors violently. You try to reach behind yourself for him - to get some purchase, but all you’re met with his a hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades to hold you in place.

“Whit? Ye think tha’ was all? Jus’ one round an’ yer done?” The beast condescends, voice rough. “Nae, we’ve go’ forever. Well, until yer body gives out, at least. Gonnae shove my cock down tha’ pretty throat next, I think.”

The hand still on your hip lets go. Gathering slick from between your thighs, Soap pushes his thumb against your back hole. You gasp and attempt to lurch forward, to get away, but it doesn’t work. You can’t move out from under the weight of him. You feel a glob of something land there, quickly realizing he spit on you just to gasp as his thumb pushes inside. Part of you hates that it feels good, hates the words spilling from his lips about your unused ass. The rest of you succumbs to the fullness as his thumb is replaced by a finger, then another, working you open.

You whimper, fear mixing with the ongoing growing pleasure in your gut. It’s all too much. You’re overstimulated, soft body bruised and exhausted. Filled to the brim. Soap drapes himself over you, removing his fingers with almost a pop, and sinking his sharp teeth into the crook of your neck. His arms bracket your head once again, nearly flattening your against the mattress underneath him. You cry out, tears streaming as you feel another climax approaching, your pussy drooling down your thighs.

Something deep in the back of your brain snap as you cum. You lose yourself to base instinct. The heat in the room and anger in your chest consumes you. The air burns as it enters your lungs, sparking and electrifying your skin. Your head turns, eyes locking on the strong forearm anchored just above you. On impulse you lurch up, sinking your teeth in as far as they’ll go. A dog with prey caught in it’s maw. Soap growls in your ear - deep and animalistic. His blood isn’t quite coppery, not like yours, it’s far too sweet. It only spurs you on, your fingers twisting so tightly in the sheets you hear threads pop. Your other hand reaches back to dig your nails into his upper arm, to scratch at wherever you can reach. The sounds tearing through your throat aren’t right. Aren’t human. His arm muffles them slightly, the grunts and growls becoming borderline screams as you cum again so soon.

Soap flips you again, tearing his arm away from you and planting his feet flat on the bed, using his inhuman strength to help bounce you on his lap. You snarl, nails digging into his pecs to draw more blood. It drips down your lips, onto your chest, it covers the pads of your fingers. It’s animal. You’re just an animal.

“There ye are.” He grins, eyes practically glowing.

You don’t think much of it, you can’t think at all, really. Not in words, or even images. Pure instinct drives every action, your nose flaring at the scent of sex and blood that’s filled the room. Your skin is feverish, limbs shaking. Frenzied. That’s the word. Frenzied and rabid as you reach for strength you don’t have an meet his thrusts.

The two of you keep going that way - for how long, you aren’t sure. At some point you end up on the floor, at another he holds you against the wall by your throat. At another you hear the bed frame crack in two. Claw marks and bruises litter your body - litter his, as well. He pushes his cock into your back hole, not caring about the minimal stretch. You don’t need lube, you’ve drenched the both of you enough. The last thing you’re conscious for is Soap moaning in your ear as your hands wrap around his horns, holding on with all you have as your lips meet.

When you wake, your body feels heavy. Buried under something - blankets, you think. Though, your blankets at home have never had this weight to them. It’s more than quilts - your fingers tentatively running over both the texture of soft cloths and thick furs. It feels luxury, buttery smooth under your touch. Briefly, you shut your eyes again, content to drift back into blackness out of this cozy dream.

When you do peek your eyes open, a shudder runs down your spine. This isn’t your apartment. You shoot up, looking around the odd bedroom. It’s strangely decorated. Modern but with hints of something more scattered about. The smooth, painted walls of a modern home and ornate, lit fireplace of a castle mixed with current and antique furniture alike. A large couch sits in front of the mantle with embroidered, thick blankets hanging over the back. There’s a cracked door that seems to lead into a walk in closet. The area rug covering the far half of the room is a rich emerald green embellished with flowing designs in various golds and darker tones. Drawings and random scrawl are pinned to the far wall. There’s an open sketchbook on top of an old, hardwood desk with similar designs carved into it as the mantle.

Panic begins to surge as you open the massive curtains on the wall opposite the mantle to reveal floor to ceiling windows. They’re heavy like tapestries. You realize quickly that two of the panels are sliding doors onto a balcony, though you hesitate to step out. It would only corner you further. The sky looks like fire - waves of clouds lit in orange and yellow hues. It moves to fast. Streams of flames twist and run across the sky, overtaking one another.

You swing open the only other door that doesn’t appear to be the main exit. All it leads to is a bathroom. Large and expensive but nothing abnormal. Except for your shampoo inside the shower upon further inspection. Memories flood you, the night before comes in flashes. Was it the night before? Time feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. You’re sore, eyes heavy and body weak. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, dressed in some gauzy, black floor-length thing that leaves little to the imagination.

Just as you exit the bathroom to look for somewhere else to hide or run, the main door opens. Soap steps in, adjusting the sleeve of his t-shirt. You freeze, as if he won’t see you as long as you’re still.

It doesn’t work, of course. Those bright eyes lock onto you, thick brows raising. “Bonnie? Yer up!”

He looks… different. Less demonic. Not that anything has visibly changed much besides the fact that he’s wearing actual clothes. He simply fits into the scenery better - the room made to accommodate him. You realize part of the strangeness of it is the furniture size; meant for someone much taller and wider than you. The light helps as well, defining the contours of his face that you couldn’t make out in the dark. You back away from him as he approaches, pressing yourself against the wall as tightly as you can.

“So glad yer up. Are ye hungry? I can-“

“Where am I?” You cut him off meekly, eyes darting around the room.

“Och, my home of course.” Soap grins as if that explains anything.

“Why?” It doesn’t come out like the demand you want it to, more like a plea. Your voice cracks and you can’t meet his eye.

He tilts his head, eyes watching you, raking over you from head to toe. A predator observing it’s prey - deciding how best to catch it. “Ye live here, now.”

“What?” You gasp, trying to back further into the wall as if you could phase through it should you just try hard enough. “No- no, please! You have to let me go home! I need to go home!”

Johnny shrugs far too casually for your liking. “A soft little thing like ye? Nae, think I’ll keep ye fer the time bein’. Never met someone who could keep up like ye can. Go’ a lot of pent up energy in there, hen.”

“I don’t-“

“Yer gonnae feed me fer years tae come.” He continues as if you didn’t say anything at all, “Besides, I’ve go’ some friends tha’ I think would like ye.”

#dont look at me #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #reader insert #reader insert smut #fem reader #fat reader #plus size reader #cod smut #john soap mctavish #soap mactavish #tw monsterfucking #monster fic

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patankar · 2 years ago

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#a2 cow ghee #ambemohar #buy cold pressed groundnut oil #Buy desi cow ghee #Buy indrayani rice #buy jaggery powder #Natural wild honey #Red Wine Soap #Rice Combo Offer #Sonchafa Soap #Unpolished Urad Dal Online At Best Price

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ghcstao3 · 4 months ago

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maybe civilian au, but au where ghost and soap have only recently started dating, but ghost is a vampire unbeknownst to soap (think like… stereotypical vampire).

ghost tries to be inconspicuous about it, but it’s difficult sometimes. like when soap invites him home the first time and he has to come up with some excuse to have soap say, explicitly, that he can enter the threshold. or when ghost has to explain his sun allergy, his garlic allergy, and his allergy to silver without soap piecing it together.

obviously it’s only inevitable soap will find out, because all these little things add up. one can only watch their boyfriend consume borderline raw red meat and hiss at inconveniences and drink suspiciously thick wine for so long until questions need to be asked. but to soap’s credit, he’s not freaked out by it. honestly he’s more relieved, than anything, that his partner has a good reason for being as strange as he is.

(not that he has a problem with that, of course. ghost being a little bit strange was part of the allure, after all.)

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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shotmrmiller · 11 months ago

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You don't need anyone else but us.

TW: implied dub-con, drug usage.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.1K

A/N: Im biting my knuckles at the idea of you going on a date with this guy at some restaurant, and the bum slips some aphrodisiac into your drink :)

It started small, with symptoms so faint they were barely discernible. Fanning yourself with your hand, you hoped to keep the beads of sweat forming at the nape of your neck from ruining your perfectly coiffed hair.

“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” you asked your date with a flustered, timid smile.

“No, I feel fine, but you do look a bit rosy. You alright?” As you give him a reassuring nod, a striking hum passes through your body, like a raindrop rippling still water, and every wave shoots arousal straight to your core.

He reached across the table to grasp at your wrist, bringing you closer to him so he could press a cool hand to your burning forehead. “You’re burning up, sweets. Maybe it’s time we take you home, hm?” You try to stammer out a response, but fire is pooling in your belly, making it hard to think. He quickly raises his hand, and gestures for the tab, then changes seats to be right next to you. “I’ve got you.” The fabric of his long sleeve grazes your uncovered back as he pulls you flush against him with his arm, and every shift of it scrapes at your nerve endings.

The pants that escape your mouth sound deafening in your ears, every twitch of your muscles amplified. It hurts, and even then, the edges of that pain are blurring, twisting into scalding pleasure. Your cheek feels the vibrations of his voice as your head rests in the hollow of his throat, and with the last of your lucidity, you catch the tail end of the conversation between your date and the server.

“— she’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid,” and through fogging vision, you observe as he hands the server the two wine glasses, remnants of red liquid at the bottom— but he had finished his wine and the rest of yours. “Have a good evening.”

He moves to get up, scooping you in his arms, and you’re powerless in your vulnerable state, body listless against his, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Before you know it, you’re being practically carried out the door, frosty air nipping at your feverish skin. Your date bends his legs to hook his arm under your knees, and with a grunt, picks you up in a cradle carry. Head lulling on his chest, a pathetic whimper slips past your lips at the smell of him and his cologne that you had formally thought was overpowering.

“I know, sweets. We’re going to my flat, and I’ll take good care of you there.” But as he approaches his car, you’re abruptly wrenched from his arms, an unmistakable voice speaks up, tone harsh, severe.

“She’s not goin’ anywhere with you.” Simon?

Simon gently lowers you onto your wobbly legs, allowing you to steady yourself against the car. The freezing surface of it stings, a raw sensation surges through your body, and a sibilant hiss escapes your mouth.

Simon steps away, and Johnny takes his place, cupping your face. You let out a soft moan at the contrast of his chilly hands on your burning skin. “Hey,” he softly says, “you a’right?” Your peripheral vision catches a flurry of quick movements, making you instinctively turn your head, but Johnny’s hands exert a gentle force, keeping your head locked in position, fixated on him.

“Eyes on me, bonnie.” Johnny’s hands lower, trailing down to your neck, cool fingers enveloping your throat, and this time, you mewl. Loudly. “Och, I ken, i ken. We’ll be home in no time, hm? Simon’s just takin’ out the trash.”

Johnny’s thumb traces soothing circles against your fluttering pulse, and you whine when you imagine those circles being drawn on your throbbing clit, how euphoric it would feel. Maybe it would assuage the liquid fire in your veins— satiate the need to be filled, stretched.

“A’right hen, we’re takin’ ye to my house, gotta keep an eye on ye.” Johnny lifts you into a side carry, effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing. “It’ll be over soon.” God, you hoped so.

Placing you on his bed, Johnny takes off your heels and sits by your side, holding your hand in his. “How ye doin’?” Blinking, you thickly swallow and realize that your mind is clearer than it was at the restaurant. “Better, I think.”

Johnny hums, and turns to Simon. “Can ye get her a glass o’ water?” Simon looks at you, then flicks his gaze to Johnny, and slowly dips his head, before pivoting to leave. “Just rest, hen, I think that dunderheid spiked yer drink. I told ye he was nae good, but nae, the lass is grown, she can make her own decisions, hm?” Johnny reaches out to caress your sweaty forehead and drags his roughened knuckles across your cheekbone.

With a gentle touch, you reach up and firmly press his hand against your cheek, nuzzling it, and holding his gaze. “I’m too dependent on you,” and Simon walks in, a glass of water in hand, and your eyes shift towards him, “the both of you. One day, you’ll both move on, and,” your voice trembles, choked with emotion, as tears gather in your eyes, “I’ll be left behind and—” Simon’s deep timbre voice cuts off your outburst with a stern tone.

“Enough.” Johnny gives Simon a reprimanding look, and takes the glass, handing it to you.

“What Simon means t’say, is that yer haverin’, hen. Go on, drink yer water. All of it, gotta rehydrate, a’right?” As you knocked back the cup, you remained oblivious to them sharing a meaningful look, and Simon giving an imperceivable nod, one that Johnny reciprocated.

Carefully setting down the glass on the nightstand, you get cozy under the covers, breathing in his comforting scent, eyes sliding shut. Johnny pats your leg once and whispers, “Get some rest, hen. We’ll be outside, call if ye need anythin’.” A sluggish tip of your head is his only response, and without a sound, the two men exit the room.

Johnny casually rests his weight on the kitchen island, absentmindedly scratching his arm. “How’d ye get that bawbag to use the drug?” Simon shrugs nonchalantly, and says, “A little persuasion.” Johnny hums low, and after a pause, questions, “And how long will it take fer the drug in the water to take effect?”

“I gave her room temperature water,” Simon chuckles, “I say 5 minutes, give o’ take.”

In a matter of moments, the distinct sound of your high-pitched keens and mewls reached their ears, causing them to exchange a knowing look.“Heads er tails?” Johnny asks, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Simon removes his mask, running his fingers through his tousled hair, and states, “Tails and the winner gets to come in her first.”

They shake on it.

A/N: i was told to make a pt.II by my moot @rookiesbookies so I GUESS I WILL. set under the cbf! johnny x ghost au.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #cod #john soap mactavish #cod mwii #cod mw2

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ooffmlsorry · 1 year ago

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OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #ace x reader #sabo x reader

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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This is my first time doing this!!!!! can you please do 141 with a rich reader! Like she buys them cars,supplies,homes,etc but not in a sugar momma way like “ I’m make money……..and my love language is gift giving” like imagine them walking into her house mansion and is like “this is 10 times bigger than my flat building” and she’s like “oh shush….besides this is your home now” or when she picks them up to go to the pub she pulls up in their dream car and their like “love your car” she like “it’s yours” and throws the key. And when they give her gifts she ADORES them (it’s some purfum she likes) she’s just loves spoiling her baby and they don’t know how handle Being so special! CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A REACT ON THIS ITS BEEN ROTTING MY MIND

hehe thank you so much for requesting! we love expensive taste and a woman who's love language is gift gifting!!

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summary: When the 141 met you, they had no idea what kind of life you came from. However from extravagant vacations to luxury vehicles, you make sure to treat your man right.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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price

Looking at John, you can tell he enjoys the more expensive taste in things. Holidays are always a joy for you both as you spend your hard-earned salary on practical yet extravagant gifts. For your anniversary, you wanted to impress. Earlier in the year for your birthday, he had gotten you a bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 and you were over the moon. It had it's own shelf in your home and he always made sure to compliment the rich, sultry scent when you wore it. This inspired you as you dragged John to the bright red building in Grasse. You had spent the last week in the south of France, seeing the sights and enjoying the extravagance of wine and pastries. He had been wondering where you were going as you maneuvered through the streets and eventually walked up the path. "This is the final part of a French tour," you smiled as you entered, "a perfume-making class!" As he chuckled at the idea, you checked yourselves in with the minimal amount of French you knew. "What made you pick this?" he asked as you waited for your perfume instructor. You looked around at the various creations and bottles that glistened in the afternoon sun. "You always talk about wanting to find the perfect scent," you commented, "especially when you have one of your fancy military balls or ceremonies." He nodded as he cozied himself onto the leather couch. "Well looks like this is the perfect place to do so," he smiled, kissing you on the forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to pick an expensive-smelling one for my luxurious husband."

soap

"This can't be right," Johnny mumbled as he arrived at your address. You told him you lived in the English countryside and he expected a cottage fit for a granny. He was not expecting a castle that looked like it stretched various football fields. The exterior was extravagant and he was calculating the price of your marbled columns before you opened the door. "Johnny, a pleasure to have you," you smiled as you let him into the foyer. He took a minute to look at the not one but two staircases you had leading to the upper floor. Furthermore, the interior looked like a smaller version of Versailles. He thought he knew luxury when he saw Price's flat but that was a shoe closet compared to this. "Are you alright?" you questioned, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You live here?" he asked and gasped at the way his voice echoed amongst the mansion. You laughed for a moment before looking back up at him. "Yes, I do," you replied as if it was a silly question, "it's quite nice." He turned back to you with a shocked face. "This is more than nice," he said, gesturing to your extravagant home, "I was not picturing this during the drive." You blushed a little at the realization that this wasn't the typical home he had been accustomed to. "Well do you want a house tour?" you offered and he immediately took the offer, "let's start with the first library." "There's multiple?"

gaz

Kyle looked at his watch as he wondered where you were. "The missus running late?" Price asked as he searched for his car keys. "Probably had a meeting or something," Kyle said, looking back down at his phone, "perks of dating a CEO I guess." Just as Price offered him a ride, a silver Rolls-Royce Spectre came revving in front of the two awe-struck men. "Sorry I'm late boys," you said as you got out, "hope Kyle stayed out of trouble long enough, John." "He's a good one, Y/N," Price replied as he gave you a quick hug. He smiled back at you before waving off and walking over to his own vehicle. "This a new company car?" Kyle asked as he examined the pristine exterior and the practically silent hum of the EV engine. You had a small smile on your face as he tapped the front of the car and looked into the windows. "It's new but definitely not company-issued," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his torso. "Didn't think you needed a new car," he continued and the suspense was killing you. As you opened the car door and sat in the red leather passenger seat, Kyle looked at you dumbfounded. "You want me to drive?" he questioned as he moved the seat back into a comfortable position. "Of course, babes," you said, practically bursting with happiness, "you should drive your own car home." There was a brief moment of mixed screaming and excitement as he realized this was his. Once he was finished (and you stopped laughing), you turned on the seat warmers. "Go ahead," you smiled, "take us home in your new toy."

ghost

Simon was never one to gorge himself on the finer things in life. He would save 80% of his paycheck and spend the rest at the grocer's or off-license. He often would have to hold you back from ordering items for him or buying something at Armani on a whim. "Return it." you could hear Simon say behind you and you sheepishly closed your laptop as you knew you had been caught. "You need new jeans though," you tried to convince him but he shook his head. "I could get a pair of Wranglers for less than £47.50 on sale," he responded and that's how most conversations ended. However, you had spent your time finding him an expensive gift that you knew he would value. "What's this?" Simon asked as you pushed over a small parcel. "I know you don't celebrate your birthday but I got you something," you smiled before sitting down with him on the couch. He shook his head as he ripped open the packaging. Inside was a small box that depicted a pair of sturdy-looking earplugs. "For when you exercise or go on runs," you commented, "they're Beats Fit Pro." He opened up the box and you watched as he adjusted them into his ear. "You know I can just use those wired ones," he said before trying them out. You shook his head as he admired the noise-canceling quality. He was enjoying the gift no matter how much he said it was unnecessary. "Well if you don't like them I can always return them," you joked, reaching your hand across the couch to get them before he pulled it away, "yeah, that's what I thought."

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