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screampied · 3 months

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ʚ MILLION DOLLA BABY. ɞ ( n. kento )

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. nanami gets dragged to a nearby strip club by his colleague gojo. he insists it’ll help him stop being so pent up and tense from work. there, he meets you—and for some reason, he just can’t keep his hands off your body. perhaps nanami wanted a bit more than just a dance though.

── ◜ ❦◞ wc. 6.0k

── ◜ ❦◞ cw. fem! reader, reader is a stripper, modern au, unprotected, semi-public, ōral (f! receiving), brief gojo cameo, vīrgin nanami, dry humping, lap dance, lots of praise, premature ejaculatıon, size kink, overstim, impact play, breedıng, whiny nanami, teaching him how to touch you, pet names.

you were the star girl,

and the moment nanami had his eyes laid on you it was all over. with his hands buried into his work slacks, his eyes scan around the erotic club. the music blared an unfamiliar tune with salaciously explicit lyrics. he has a look of deadpan as he stands beside his eager colleague, satoru gojo. “c’monn. why so serious, loosen up, nanamin,” he jibes, slinging an arm around the blond. the entire club had pretty luminescence lights flashing in each area. his eyes dart toward the bar before back at gojo who had a scheming grin. “you work too hard, ‘s time you had a little fun, huh.”

“maybe,” he utters, bringing a hand toward his back to scratch near his faint undercut. part of that was true. nanami basically lives in the workplace. overtime was his best friend, and it was the only source of entertainment he had. until now. with a sigh, he skims around the venue full of women. “i’ve never been to these … things before, how do i even—”

gojo hums. “oh, what a coincidence,” and the white-haired male does a subtle waving gesture at a pretty dancer that was currently unoccupied, you. “excuse me angel. yeah, c’mere,” and you sashay toward him with a gentle smile. nanami eyes land toward you and you were so pretty. compared to the other dancers, your outfit wasn’t as revealing. it showed a bit of skin but had just the right amount, perfectly bedazzled and all. your heels clank and clank against the carpet floor before you peer at the revisiting customer. “would you be a doll ‘n take him near the back?”

“right this way sir,” you reply in a sweet coo, and it was a split second of eye contact. nanami felt a hitch in his breath. he’s never been one to be nervous, but it was something about your laid back aura. it was captivating. as you led him toward the secluded vip room, his eyes peek at your back. straps of your lingerie decorate against your skin before he turns away once you face him. “kentooo nanami,” you read his name tag that stuck against his shirt. once he sits down—you notice how stiff he was. with a sly smile, you strut a bit towards him. “is this your first lap dance?”

“is it that obvious?” he murmurs with a timid hum, an attempt to be playful back.

“to me,” you purr, and the locked eye contact makes him realize — you were definitely gonna be his favorite girl for tonight.

the air grew substantially thick, it was so thick that you could cut the invisible tension with a knife.

nanami laid back against the velour cushioned sofa, bringing his hands toward his thighs to allow them to rest on his clenched muscles. his eyes remain on you the entire time, your body and the way your hips slowly sashay and roll toward him.

your cobweb designed fishnets wrap and snake around your thighs like ribbon before you teasingly make him spread his legs a bit more.

“ease up, nanami,” you whisper, the thundering music in the room almost talking over you.

“kento,” he corrects you in a low husky tone, feeling himself get a bit turned on from your touch - your demeanor.

nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off you at all. you toyed with his tie that was neatly tucked into his shirt, literally wrapping it around your finger, wrapping him around your finger. after a second passes, he sighs. “you can call me kento, sweetheart.”

“okay, kento,” and the way you repeated his name back to him did something to him. your words, the undertone of it all - the smoothness. your delivery was as sweet as honey.

leisurely, you make your way onto his lap before you straddle him. his breath hitches immensely, feeling your silk woven attire grind itself against him. your arms wrap around his neck, teasingly moving up and down as you start up your regular routine.

your body, it moves with the constant repetitive beats of the loud pop track playing in the background. you’ve probably heard that same song for about ten times this entire night.

nanami grows quiet, gentle fawn eyes never leaving yours. you were so enticing, hitting every beat with your body as if it was nothing.

the man struggles to contain himself, tips of his stubby fingers desperately fighting the urge to touch you. he knows the policy, gojo rambled to him all about it and how the dancers weren’t supposed to be touched but you made it hard.

so fucking hard—

actually, you made him hard.

that was the point though, as tempting as you were. nanami ogles at your hips and the way it does a few simple twists and jerks. he grunts, and already, you could feel a bit of a hardened bulge.

the warm friction that clings from his pants to your lingerie feels like shocking static. it makes him hurl his head back slightly. you spot his adam’s apple bobbling in rapture before he bawls his fist. “good … god,” he grumbles in a gruff hiss.

the more you move against him, the more he gets a few sweet wafts of your scent. you smelled so good. so sweet, it’s almost peachy. as if your touch wasn’t enough, your aroma had him going crazy. driving him to the first street of absolute insanity. nanami has a nervous grin, eyeing you finally. “forgive me, sweetheart—but i can’t touch you .. like at all?”

you pause with a cunning smile, leaning up close to where you can spot his blond stubble through your peripherals. “hmm, well no. but i wouldn’t mind if you hold my hips, kento.”

you got a smell of his own cologne, it was strong and definitely not the cheap kind. the rich pricey kind that gives you a headache after a while. nanami gifts you a look of what seems to be lust. hesitating, he utters in a soft voice. “can i?”

“go ahead, ‘ken,” and you were just a tease, shortening his name like that. gradually, his hands grab ahold of your waist. you’re still rocking to the steady, booming beats of the song’s chorus before he huffs. you start to pant a little yourself, feeling the tepid heat of his fingertips ghost against your skin. with a playful simper, you lean into his neck, whispering into his collarbone. “that’s it, touch me more. don’t be shy, ‘s good.”

nanami was sober but he felt like his head was spinning. he’s never participated in something so erotic, so … lewd.

it was just a simple lap dance.

he was addicted to the way your hips gracefully went against him. you made sure to rub yourself against his obvious growing bulge, feeling him harden right underneath you. “f- fuck,” he swallows, making sure to not hold onto your skin too tight. he was gentle, a pure gentleman. you’re still moving swiftly before you turn around, having your back face him. he watches with bronze dilated pupils, feeling your rear bump and bump against his zipped fly. “mhm,” he takes a peak at your back again, the moving muscles so pretty that they could be easily painted into a sculpture. you had him enticed, the way you moved was just pushing him further and further toward the edge. “you’re s- so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low but still had a bit of cute awkwardness underneath. you could tell this entire thing was new to him. nanami’s never had a girl straddle against his lap—let alone dance on him.

not in the way you do.

“touch me,” you mumble, grabbing his idle hands. he gasps, watching as you guide them toward your chest. you’re grinding against his lap with an impish closed-eye smile. he’s gingerly feeling you up, thumbs bristling against the glittery fabric that stuck on your skin like glue. “like that, yeah.”

still,

nanami kento was a gentleman.

he made sure not to touch your breasts until you made a gesture that it was okay. he was respectful—something you weren’t that used to. it was a nice new touch. he was savoring your beauty right in front of him. you grabbed both of his broad hands, making him gently feel against your tits and he grunts. you weren’t making this easy, not with those hips.

it seemed as if it was only you and him in the entire world. as his fingers dance near your skin, he feels a faint sharp edge of dollar bills sticking out of your top piece. “so gorgeous,” he says hoarsely, and you found it cute how he didn’t know what else to say except to compliment you. “your curves are so mesmerizing.”

your breath gets caught in the back of your throat for a moment— feeling his warm breath tickle against your right earlobe. nanami was easing up a bit, though he was still a bit nervous. you heard a tiny tremor in his voice, his hands still roaming everywhere on your body from your guiding.

the lap dance lasts for a good ten minutes, though it’s as if time barely passed. it’s as if it was hours,

and as you’re finishing up, you feel a sudden wetness prod underneath your panties. glancing down, you stare at his pants and you hold back a smile. oh, perhaps you were a bit too good. nanami groaned, appearing worn out with blond strands all ruffled. “did you just … cum?”

“i— fuckk,” he swallows a lump in his throat, feeling the embarrassment take over.

nanami definitely came right through his pants. you saw the grey dampening mark - cute. looking at the man, he tried to hide his discomfiture by flashing a smile but it’s just adorable. “no,” he tries to play it off, but not even seconds later, throwing his shoulders down, he sighs with an almost pout. “yeah, i .. did. i came.”

“don’t be ashamed.” you sweetly reassure him, still taking a seat on his lap. you gently brush a thumb alongside his undercut, feeling the stain paint against the outer part of your panties.

nanami stares back at you, and for a moment, his eyes dart toward your lips. they looked so kissable,

he saw the crooked smile on your mouth about to form before you inch closer and closer. teasingly, you finally speak again and your breath fans against his lips. “do you want a kiss, ‘ken?”

you were gonna be the death of him,

he’s already panting. his eyes, mousy brown eyes were all shot and blown—never once leaving your tantalizing hips. “y- yeah, if that’s alright,” he swallows, and you hum. he was covered in nervousness. as if it was an attempt to stop the sudden heat in the room, nanami yanks his tie back and forth. you’re still straddling him, feeling against his prodding boner before strumming a thumb against his lip. “you .. won’t charge me extra for a kiss, right? not that i’d mind, hah.”

“don’t worry, this one’s on me, ‘ken.” you mutter in a sweet voice.

he grunts, the staticky friction scooting against his slacks was almost too much to bare. you felt the outline of his cock and it’s big. with a quick glance, he stares at your lips - shimmery.

the gloss that smothers against your mouth made him want to get a taste. just a tiny taste.

not now but right now.

you were slow, making sure to purposely drag every second. the music continues to blast loudly in the background before you finally close the aching gap between you and the businessman.

nanami groans, his hands having a mind of its own—grabbing and feeling all down your body. you rocked your hips in a playful rotation, swerving all against his lap as your lips crash onto his.

sweet,

you tasted the sweetest you’ve ever been. his heart was racing as his tongue gently glissades near yours, creating a sloppy sultry slope. “mhm.” a raspy grunt escapes out of him, wanting more of you each second. you were a tease, shaking your body against him in such a coy manner.

his boner only grew and you felt it - all of it.

with his eyes flickering, you gingerly ghost a finger down his undercut to hear him moan gravelly into your mouth. it was as if just a little touch from you had him forming into putty.

nanami could taste the brief tang of what tasted like tequila roaming on your buds. so sweet, his head reclines back and you grab a fistful of his collar.

each sway had him lusting for you harder — you peep nanami reaching into his suit pocket, pulling out a fifty dollar bill before sticking it right between your pristine-colored straps. “damn, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, feeling the bulging sensation intensify. and yet, as he’s speaking between hot, wet kisses, he feels you run a finger down his chest. “i want a better taste, sweetheart,” and his hands trace down the curvature of your curves, stopping near your ass.

he wanted that kind of taste,

the taste where you’d be bent over the sofa gasping for air at the sloppy stripes of his tongue work.

nanami didn’t know what he was doing but one thing was for certain—he knew how to make you whine.

he’s never had a taste of something so sweet before. especially nothing a sweet as you,

just a few kitten licks and he was whipped. strands of satiny saliva dribbles past the naturally crooked corners of his lips and onto your cunt. you’re throbbing, failing to keep your legs open as he’s dug face first between you. the noises that echo out of his mouth had you feral — you moan, your own sobbing cries for more being tuned out by the screaming erotic lyrics. “k- kenn,” you huff, using two hands to grab onto his fawn strands.

you’re met with the kindest eyes but oh, the most pussy drunken expression imaginable.

it’s as if he’s been waiting for this day.

his tongue glides against your clit before it turns into quick succulent sucks. it’s loud, you’re panting heavily in irregular breaths before your head tosses itself back. nanami’s on his knees and you bite your lip at the expense of feeling such ecstasy. you’re met with delicate, mahogany eyes which were full of nothing but lust and desire.

usually, you weren’t one to just have a client propped up between your thighs, but if you were being completely honest, nanami was quite easy on the eyes. not only that, but he was patiently tender. his awkwardness only made him ten times more attractive if anything.

it seemed you were his first lap dance and it also seemed that you were his first taste of pussy.

“t- that’s it, ‘ken,” you puff out a single breath, both hands digging into the thin roots of his scalp. he groans, leaning forward as he allows his tongue to do all the talking. nanami slurps against your swollen cunt, adding suction onto your sensitive nub. you’re a whiny mess, seconds barely pass and you’re already rutting your jagged hips against his face.

by now, it’s a shimmery snail trail of your sweetened slick racing down the chiseled areas of his chin. right near the bottom, he made sure to go slow because he wanted to savor your taste.

perhaps maybe this was what he was missing.

you,

his nose gently thrashes against your folds, taking a brief whiff of your scent. your glacé-like scent drove him crazy. nanami grouses a tiny pout, he can’t help but slither a free hand down his beige slacks. you glance down, watching and the thought of him attempting to get off to your pleasure makes you throb. “f- fuckkk.” he grumbles, blond brows contorting together into a slight curve.

nanami was so pent up, his tongue plays with you for a bit, licking against your halfway torn fishnets. they were designed to make it look like it was a spider web . .

soooo pretty, tangled and all.

speaking of tangled,

that was the entire definition of your fingers. you comb each digit swiftly through his strands, yanking his face closer against your dribbling slick.

nanami’s tongue was fragile yet rough - once he started, it was no stopping.

you’re whining over and over until your voice was a broken record. your body slumps back against the fat cushion before you feel your tummy start to heave.

“mhm, look at me, kento. eyes up here baby,” and you’re staring face first with most sweetest eyes.

brown and full of care. a dirty kind of care though.

you continue to massage a hand through his scalp before positioning his head a certain way. “hah, stick out your tongue more. lay it a little flat,” and once he does what you say, twitching muscle collapsing onto your cunt, you moan. “good fuckin’ boy. suck it there, yeah.”

and he groans. lowly, it’s so low that it’s almost a snarling growl.

he didn’t expect for his dick to twitch again. this time it’s not from your taste or even your touch but your words. nanami’s stroking himself, fisting his fat cock with his bare hand before you could almost make out a whine from him.

“say it again,” he murmurs, nose deep into your pussy. and even still, his breath fans against your folds and you were already so so close. you were reaching the breaking point - it was inevitable.

nanami’s staring at you as if he’s pleading for you to repeat your words. pleading for you to praise him once more. “call me that again, sweetheart.”

with a sly smile tugging right onto your lips, you cup his face, giving him a teasing expression. squeezing his pink lips together for a moment, you hum. “oh, you like that?”

“a bit, yeah,” he sighs, feeling the strain in his pants tighten. you had him so hard, so fucking hard. nanami could have came just from the sound of your voice. once you drag his face away from your cunt, a bunch of saliva starts to trickle from the sides of his mouth. it pours out slowly in such a way, it’s as if he forgot what manners were. there was no manners when he was slobbering down your folds with your own slick following from his spit-slick lips. nanami leans into your touch, watching through his peripherals at how you strum a bit of spit away from his mouth before making him nod up and down. “your voice turns me on, pretty.”

“bet it does,” you play along, breath hitching from the rigorously circular rotations of his tongue. he’s so nasty, flicking and sliding it, allowing it to roam through the opening of your slit before sucking mercilessly. you whine, leaning back until you’re all spread with your thighs being pried open from his hands. “good boy, ‘s good. make me cum, ‘ken. can you be a good boy ‘n do that for me?” and you peer down at him, ruffling his already ruffled strands. “y- your tongue can be my tip if you want.”

with a dry chortle, he laughs against your cunt, sucking against your pulsating nub until you’re almost wailing out desperate cries. cool breath fans against your entrance and you swallow, looking down at him. “you’re too kind my love,” and his words were so smooth.

you’re haphazardly jolting and rutting back against the cushioned sofa and pretty much fucking yourself against his face as he’s slurping you clean. dragging his head against your wet cunt with your mouth open, dangling like an earring.

a strong ripple of waves surge out of you before you’re creaming. you’re laid back against the sofa, legs all sprawled open and he’s eating up your expressions everytime. he has a flustered look, tasting a nice amount of even more slick trail down your folds. nanami gulps, pretty long lashes fluttering as he’s relishing in the aftertaste of your candied juices.

your legs felt like they were about to fall off. your orgasm was loud, incredibly falling on deaf ears as the music remains to drown out your lewd sorrows in the background.

“f- fuck, fuckkk,” you drag out in a cute elongated syllable, so dramatic.

the air feels feverishly hot again and you start to fan yourself, glancing down to see a pussy drunk nanami right between your thighs. yet, you’re still riding out your release and he starts sucking your pulsing cunt again. you gasp, squirming with a hand gripping his strands, giving it a solid yank before you moan out his name in pleasure. “ken, oh my g- goddd,” and he’s making out with your pussy. a simple french kiss, tickling the slit open area with the pointed tip of his buttoned nose. “s- sensitive, ‘m sensitive.”

“so good,” he groans and you had to physically pry him face off of your pussy. his tongue, you could still feel it. as you’re looking down, he shoots you a sleazy grin, and removes his hand from his pants. “c’mere.” he huffs through full lungs. a sheet of your tasty arousal drips down his chin, coating his stubble before he leans into you. with your legs still wide and dangling over the cushioned furniture, you feel him go between your legs, softly cupping your chin.

out of breath and out of mind, your eyes become significantly half-lidded.

you moan, feeling his warm plushed lips make haste against yours. it’s sweet, bittersweet.

lazily parting your lips for him to gain access, he slides his own into your mouth, one hand gently caressing every part of your body. he feels against your attire, your skin. the plethora of goosebumps that sets against you, you whine into his mouth before feeling his bare cock rub against your soddened entrance.

it’s hard,

he grunts once you feel it because he feels it too.

again, his cologne gets louder and so does your own aroma. nanami’s session ended a long time ago, but no one could even care about the time limit. already, he started to gain a liking to you. perhaps strip clubs weren’t so bad, not if you were here.

your hand playfully runs down his buttoned up shirt, tugging him closer and you taste yourself on his tongue. for a concise second, it’s a bit sour but it turns …. sweet.

your brows furrow as you lock your legs around him, feeling his mushroom tip prod against your opening. he was growing impatient, so so impatient.

“god, i want you so bad,” he speaks between kisses. nanami’s voice was a low gruff. almost dangerous with how much baritone lingers on his voice. dangerously sexy,

he felt the familiar lump in his throat arise again. it’s as big as a saucer, making him find it hard to swallow down for a second. with your hands running down his chest, he felt a pang of chills surge all down his body. your fingers knew what they were doing, dancing against his body. with rough breaths mashing against each other, he finally breaks away and his forehead touches onto yours. “i need you.”

“what’s stopping you?” you reply breathlessly, and his jaw clenches at the slight tease in your tone.

a tease until the very end,

nanami’s now back to his current position, sat on the squashy cushioned material—once he falls back in defeated surrender, it slouches inward from the weight. all eyes were on you,

he could see a bit of shine glisten near your thighs. nanami’s entire mouth from the chin down was covered. he didn’t even care nor bother to wipe his mouth either, he licks it clean with his tongue, luxuriating in your candied taste. his new favorite treat.

the taste was just a reminder of how good he was devouring you earlier. right near the crevices of your legs, your fishnets were practically torn and he goes manspread. “don’t make me wait, princess,” he grumbles with a cute pout, already developing some kind of attachment to you. this entire thing was new, he’s never tasted something as sweet let alone run his fingers down someone’s pretty cunt that was even sweeter.

with arched brows, you watch as he wraps a hand around his fat base. “want another lap dance.”

“do you want a lap dance or do you want me to give you a ride, ‘ken?” you tease, slowly working your hips toward him. he gulps, the bratiness hiding underneath your tone turning him on ten times more.

you knew what he wanted,

nanami’s dick was pretty. a mushroom tip with a bit of loose foreskin that peels from each stroke of his hand. his cock was hefty too — it had a bit of a downward curve, hanging just from how fat it was alone. you spot a few slanting veins that run down his shaft, decorating his cock and you couldn’t help but lick your lips. rolling your hips to where you’re doing an appetizing belly roll. your rhythm was hypnotic, he studies the way your abdomen curls in such a hot manner. and just like that, he’s hard … again.

as he’s deep in thought, having a little fantasm about you, you gradually take your seat on his lap.

he strums a finger against the beads that wrap around your waist, giving them a playful tug as they lightly thwack against your skin. the beads he didn’t even notice because he was too busy being enthralled by your beauty. “i… need to feel you.” he grunts, hearing the shudder in his voice.

pathetic, maybe,

but he desperately wanted to feel your warmth. his earns burn with torridity before you hover your entrance over his tip.

another song starts up in the background again and it’s loud. the same casual beats of some random tune playing, raunchy explicit lyrics from the singer’s voice. “you want me, baby. you don’t need me,” you purr, and you’re holding back a bundle of your own moans. his tip, it’s sweltering hot, a few splotches of pre-cum coating the top. you grind your hips slowly and he’s already about to lose it. nanami’s head was tilted back to a sexy degree angle and you fiddle with his loose tie some more. “mhm, you’re so tense, ‘ken. relax,” and almost instantly, his dick twitches.

it was barely even movement - barely any friction and yet, just your sloppy cunt was enough to make him cream. and surprisingly, it does.

he doesn’t even go in yet and he’s cumming. nanami groans, pulling you into his chest, hot breaths burying into your neck as he’s painting your entrance with a few spurts of pre. “f- fuck. ‘m sorry. didn’t know i was s- so turned on,” and it’s cute. whilst he’s babbling his sorries into the corner of your neck, you jerk your hips forward into his. slowly, your chaotic rhythm was doing nothing by driving him mad. “god, i- i— i want it. ride me, sweetheart.”

judging from his body language alone, you could tell he’s probably never done this before, experience this.

already, he’s came twice and he’s breathing heavy as if he’d ran a marathon. swiping a thumb over his undercut, you meet his lust-driven gaze. “you sure?”

“m sure,” he nods, entirely breathless. nanami’s unkempt strands of hair ran down his face, making him more attractive, more needy. his lips were glossed and sheeny, covered in your own natural gloss from earlier. his hands wrap around your waist, guiding you to feel him more from the inside. “take my stress away, baby. do your dance on me some more, p- please.”

“lie back ‘n relax, kento.” you whisper against his ear, teasingly licking near his lobe. your hands playfully shove him back. he groans, feeling his body collapse into pleasure against the sofa. it’s a long pause before he feels you starting to make your way onto him. his jaw tightens and he tries to relaxes, he tries but he can’t help but grunts.

it’s so warm inside, parched and hot. your walls were so welcoming, having him on a leash. your pussy gets ahold of him tightly and you’re only just a few inches in. your lips spread open from the stretch, it’s so big and wide that it’s literally hard to miss.

just a few,

inhaling a single three second breath, your arms toss over his broad shoulders and you moan.

nanami was a packer, it was really no secret. he had some girth along with the sides of staggering tall inches. you never give any other customers this kind of treatment so you wondered what made him so different.

nanami’s charm for one, and his adorable awkwardness drew you closer to him … teaching him how to touch you, how to feel you up in all the right ways made you throb regardless.

he sucks his teeth at the curt tightness that made an appearance. you’re getting a front row view of his russet blown irises rolling alllll the way back.

just a few solid inches and he was already drunk from your cunt. a hand trails its way toward the center of your ass - tenderly caressing it from top to bottom as if it was heart shaped.

“ugh, s- so goooood.” he drags out his words, delving his cock more into you. you’re slow, making sure he feels every part. the music grows louder, but even still, it’s like it was just you and him in the room.

the saturated squelches rang and reverb through the thin walls of the vip room - flashing flashy lights creating a type of pearly flash against the rhinestones that stuck against your half-on outfit. nanami’s hands resume to roam and wander everywhere, not missing a single spot of your curves. he was a thorough man.

a very thorough man,

once he’s fully in though, you hear a raspy pant get snatched out of his throat. nanami was finished, you defeated him with ease as if your cunt was the opponent. the second your hips start to rock against him, he’s already groaning. it felt too good. your pussy .. the insides, the heat.

if you squint enough, you could see a bit of drool pouring out of his mouth. “you’re messy,” you tease, leaning in to kiss the side of his lip. he grunts from the simple touch, feeling you dig your knees into his thighs for support. “does it feel good, ‘ken?”

“y- yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a husky tone, eyes half open and a crooked pussy-drunken grin. again, his adam’s apple bobs and you shiver from a brief sensation of frigidness. the cold band of his pricey watch brushes up against your waist. you’re rutting your hips further into him, grinding slowly. nanami’s already feral - and for whatever reason, every time he addresses you as his ‘sweetheart’ it makes you pulsate. “so good, make me feel so mhm, good.”

“touch me more, ‘s okay,” you whisper, hearing his breathing pick up from your words. he was already sensitive and the sweet melodies of your voice was just enough to send him over.

nanami’s hesitant but you reassure him you want to feel his big hands slide down your luscious hips. you want him to guide your hips, you want nanami kento just as much as he wanted you.

maybe this was unprofessional and maybe, just maybe your boss would kill you, but you could honestly care less.

all you cared about was fact you were about to cream all down his thickset cock. your legs zealously rattle against his the more your body rocked. your hips fully matched the beats of the blaring song that played on the broken speakers. and god, you looked so pretty like this. hovering over him, a bill sticking out of your bedazzled bra.

nanami gruffly grunts, feeling his hefty base stick and smack against your ass. each thrust into you was so sloppy, so nasty, he was about to get milked. strands of cum stuck against your ass, occasionally departing as you lift yourself up and down, bounce after bounce.

he licks his lips at the thought, the thought of pumping his entire load into you raw.

“should have came here a l- long time ago,” he confessed, starting to come to the sheer realization that maybe satoru did him a favor. recommending him to one of the top strip clubs in the city. if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be here right now. he wouldn’t be inside, inside of you, stirring and churning up your insides like butter. “fuck, ‘m gonna c- cum, baby. think ‘m gonna cum.”

leaning up against his ear, you slowly lick a stripe near his neck. “it’s okay, you can shoot inside.”

your words made him hard - harder than he already was.

you felt the sporadic twitch of his cock inside of your goopy cunt the moment you whine your last pre-orgasm words. nanami’s panting heavily, two bare hands gripped onto your waist like velcro. the room started to get cooler and he sighs deeply. “r- really?” he huffs, taken aback. he leaned into your touch, feeling your ass continue to throw itself back forward into him.

each time, every single time,

it makes his ears ring, his teeth shatter, his mouth growing ajar.

nodding, you kiss near his chin, a few blond strands from his stubble gliding against your lips. “yeah, give it to me kento. don’t miss, ‘s okay, promise.”

“o- okay, ‘m not gonna miss, princess,” he swallows thickly. his thighs ached from underneath you. nanami literally couldn’t keep his hands off you. with the stumpy tips of his fingers gently digging into your waist, he groans.

it’s raspy, sloppy thrusts rut back onto him, ricocheting against his skin before within seconds, he came.

nanami’s brain short circuits as he’s emitting another thick load - this time, inside of you.

it’s gooey, sticky and hot, oozing into the very depths of your cunt, dribbling all from the inside. it shoots way up into your womb and you moan, gently biting into his neck. your teeth pierce into him skin softly and he grunts. “good girl, g-good,” he croaks, feeling your body weakly judder into him at full force. he’s short circuiting, feeling such amounts trickle into your sopping pussy. it’s so much that a few of it starts to pour near the sides of your thighs. plugged enough as you were, you suck against his neck in an attempt to suppress your whiney moans. “goddamn, ‘s much. saved so much for you.”

you were so close to him that you felt the numerous beats of his heart pulse against you.

his warmth, nanami wraps a beefy arm around you, pulling you close. still, he’s got his cock buried into your cunt as if it was a coffin, the stretchy clingy grip you’ve got on him has him in a chokehold. a single hand of nanami’s grabs the fat of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before spanking it.

“you’re getting handsy,” you tease him, peppering a few kisses near the bridge of his nose. if you screw your eyes close enough, you could make out a few tiny freckles scattered across his face. “i think we’re gonna close soon, though.”

“oh r- right,” he swallows, glancing down at his designer quartz watch. in a deep voice, he lets off a throaty chortle and a cheeky expression. “ah, it’s almost midnight,” and he knows he has to pay you. he’d never forget. the man reaches into his dress shirt, pulling out his wallet before letting off a shaky sigh. “how much are your usual dances, princess?”

with a sly expression, you stroke a thumb against his chin, taking in his naturally pretty features. nanami was so handsome, especially up close.

he keeps eye contact with you, still having you stuffed full of inches. “i usually charge around twenty.”

quickly, his voice softens. you gasp once he picks you up bridal style, and he pulls out three sets of hundred dollar bills. the most expensive thing though was his smile, because he was whipped out of his mind. you could tell he wanted more.

“how much to take you home with me then?” and you hear a shuffle, he brings his pants back up to his waistline with one hand before pressing a kiss near your forehead. “i can treat you right. besides, i wanna .. spoil you after tonight,” and his voice remained smooth. “i’ll even give you a nice massage,” and he sticks more money right between your bra, still a jittery shake in his tone.

you watch as nanami still has you in his arms, bringing a thumb toward your shimmery cum-filled cunt before swabbing a nice amount of it onto his finger. with hazed eyes, he licks his thumb right off, savoring the taste before speaking in a seemingly teasing tone, still panting. “i’ve always been pretty good with my hands, sweetheart.”

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bi-writes · 5 months

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thinking about being a new lieutenant working with laswell and getting to meet her a-team, tf141, and immediately clashing with your equivalent. that other lieutenant that wears a fucking costume and glares whenever he sees you, simon fucking riley. (kinda dark, 18+)

you hate him. you hate how good he does in the field. it sickens you when you see how every knife he throws hits its target with disgustingly perfect accuracy. you sneer when he aims his rifle, each bullet going exactly where he wants it to go because he's that fucking good, look at him, big man with a big fucking head and a big--

god, it's so frustrating to be out here for so long. on a cot, so far away from everything, reporting back to laswell and then spending time with a task force who is so intelligent on the field but shares one fucking brain cell off of it.

and it's so lonely. it's so lonely, and you feel so far away, and when you show up in front of ghost's room that evening, you don't even exchange words as he steps aside, letting you slink into the dark of it. you don't speak as he crowds you against the door, as he pushes you up against it, when he reveals the lower half of his face so he can kiss you and taste you in every way he's wanted to since he met you. you're so fucking annoying, you crawl under his skin, and when he tastes you, he sucks, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as he tugs his cargo pants just under his cock and hoists you up around his waist.

it's just stress relief, you tell yourself as he fucks you against the rattling door. i just need a little relief, is what you say to yourself as he mumbles against yours lips, gripping the fat of your hips in his big hands and putting his cock to good use. he's not gentle, but you don't want him to be. he's too good at what he does, you were hoping he would have fault in one fucking area of his life, but even like this, he shows you just how well he fucks and just how big he really is, everywhere.

please, please, please--! you beg. he snickers, and it's mean, and he's sucking a warm bruise into your neck when he mutters, "tha'sit, swee'eart. we both know who's really in charge, eh? yeah--yeah, good girl--y'r such a good girl--"

and you are. cum soaked thighs, your mouth still on his when he finally comes, grunting as he fills you so full, it's dripping onto your thighs, onto his, dampening the clothes neither of you bothered to take off. and when you leave, you tell yourself this will never happen again, that ghost will keep this a secret because he hates you just as much, that ghost is discreet and quiet and values his privacy, and if you don't speak of this again, neither will he. it suddenly comforts you how closed off he is.

so it does surprise you when the next morning comes, and you go to sit with your team to eat, that ghost snarls when you try and take a seat beside him. you expect this to be a rude gesture, but you squeak when he grips you around the waist and forces you into his lap. you stiffen, but his sergeants barely bat an eye. the braid of your hair is yanked backwards, and you gasp when you feel his breath against your ear, even through the mask.

"the casual shaggin' sort of deal? not m'thing, luvvie. now eat y'r breckie, swee'eart, 'm fuckin' hungry, and 'm not very patient."

he used to think having one of his sergeant's underneath him was the kind of power-play that got him right off.

wrong.

nothing like fucking a pretty little lieutenant good enough she can't fucking remember how to speak.

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misserabella · 2 months

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sick love pt2

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt1!!

summary;

after catching your best friend spencer in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the ‘friend’ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surface…

cw;

really perv!spencer, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (f & m receiving), dom spencer, p in v sex, double penetration, use of toys, unprotected sex, edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m & f), voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink (mentioned), blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

If Spencer was absolutely and sickly obsessed with you…, it sure wasn’t the worse it could get.

His mind was in haze since the first time he made you his. I had been before, but now? It was just fog all over his brain, a fog under your name.

He could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you… It was all you.

And now that you were his, his whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of his chest. He would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that he was as much yours as you were his.

But because he could not do that, he had made his personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no… Hanging hearts. So he had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders… He’ll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever he had a chance.

At first, he thought that you’d be scared by his possessiveness, but you surprised him yet once again when you’d just let him, loving his lips and marks on your skin as much as he did. He’d drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that he had pushed in between your own, his cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . “Looking so pretty today, baby.” he’d say, his breath against the wet of your skin making you shiver. “Fuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all hard on my pants.” you’d moan when his hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. “Love to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know you’re all mine...” his mouth was intoxicating, his tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. “Wear anything you want baby, anything you want.” he’d whisper, his fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall he had pinned you to. “I’ll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.” and then, he’d choke you to stay quiet as he’d eat you out on top of the teacher’s table, sneaking your wet panties in his back pocket for him to fuck his fist later.

His obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore —at least that much…—. He’d sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you. You’d end up crying on his bare chest as he would fuck you dumb, filling you up with his cum for hours on end and using you as he would use his toy. Then, he’d stay inside, keeping his cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. He’d even use the soft spot you had on him to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching films…, saying that he wouldn’t concentrate if you didn’t.

He was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone —taking the chance to stare at your clothed pussy—, braiding your hair for you —so he could get a sniff of your sweet shampoo—, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep —when he could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when he’d miss you— and softly taking it off for you when night time came… —sometimes he’d make you cry it out, fucking it out of you—. Anything he could do for you he would do, that and more.

He would often find himself in your room after telling you that he had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for his sweet collection and to touch himself buried in your sheets. He’d dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have him whimpering in his own bedroom, fucking his fleshlight while watching a bad porn in where the girl’s moans sounded like your own, groans falling from his broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. ‘Oh god, baby, so good… shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insane…’

His photo collection had grown… Really grown. His favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which he had captured your perfectly used cunt, —his cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheets— or the ones in which he could see his cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since his fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of his marks. ‘Yeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.’

He could not imagine himself nor his cock being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldn’t either. Not when he sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode him, his usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. ‘Fuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much… I’d do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuck…’

Something he loved to do every chance he could get was taste you after cheer practice —something you’ve decided try as of late, and Spencer was all for it—. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldn’t taste good, but he wasn’t having it. He had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove him crazy. And he had to say that the splits that you’d do every now and then really didn’t help the tent in between his thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, you’d find yourself holding for dear life to his hair as he kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on his shoulder as his tongue leaped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girls’ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that he found it a problem, he loved to carry you to his bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get him so hard that he couldn’t help himself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as he kissed your neck. He loved it when you would yell at him the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin —since he always seemed to push it too far those nights—, but he wouldn’t care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called his name over and over again. At the end of the day, he’d have you screaming his name in another type of scenario, and you wouldn’t be that pissed about love bites on your neck.

He also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having him rocking against your ass. Sometimes he’d even drop something under the diner’s table where you’d be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where he’d have you crying in the nook of his shoulder due to the amount of times he had already made you cum with his fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. ‘Is she okay?’ You’d hear one of your friends ask, and Spencer would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie y’all were watching that night.

The best sex came later, when you would follow him to the bathroom and he would fuck you so harsh your cheek would end up pressed against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught… Not that he’d care, just the thought of someone stepping in to him fucking you senseless had him filling your cunt in cum… Cum that he’d push inside with his fingers as he pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.

“Be a good girl and I’ll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?” and he actually would, making you come two more times with just his tongue, leaving you clean.

Something he had started to look into was a little bit more…, darker. He had feared himself when the thought of you bleeding with his initials carved on your skin almost made him faint. Just thinking about you completely to his mercy, all tied up and open for him unable to move, got him unable to sleep for almost a week. He could almost hear your pleads and cries as he fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.

But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. He just wished it never had to.

That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the pool with your group, your hair still wet since you had been begging him to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all wrinkled due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Spencer had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. “Woah! Careful babe.” he smiled when you had slipped against wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when his warm arms pressed you against his bare chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help falling for you, Reid.” he chuckled, your burning skin against his colder one making him slightly dizzy, his dick throbbing inside his blue short jeans when your nails scratched his chest, doe eyes looking up at him as you bit your bottom lip.

“That’s my line, baby.” he muttered, leaning in ‘till your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when his tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where his fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against his hardening cock.

The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, his fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when his mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. “Spencer…” you called out for him, hearing him hum against your skin as one of his legs pushed in between your thighs. “We need to shower.”

“I’ll clean you up baby.” your cheeks flushed when his tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. “You know I’m good at that.” and you knew what he meant, but you still wouldn’t give in, hearing him groan when you pulled him away from your neck by his hair. “Baby…” his lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.

“I need to go wash up.” his hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.

“I could wash up with you.” he suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what he whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for… 10 minutes.

“I’ll be back.” you promised, giving him a little peck on the lips, leaning on his ear so only he could listen to what you whispered. “Keep this warm for me, alright?” he whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to his hard dick, quickly leaving downstairs and scaping his hands.

Normally, Spencer was pretty patient. Hell, he had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that he got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had him all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. He’d always want more and more after each overdose. He couldn’t help it, you were all he had ever dreamed of. That’s why he found himself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to his room —which was connected to his private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at his house—. He had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of his clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years he had imagined this…

You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of his room and beside his desk, which’s last drawer was fully open and exposed. He felt his blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You weren’t supposed to see what was inside, weren’t supposed to be eyeing his little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the model’s. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets he has stolen from you…, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys he had bought in hopes to someday using in you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffs…Everything.

“Baby…” he stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadn’t been long since the last time he had masturbated to them. Maybe that’s why in a little slip he had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when you’d found his little dirty secret. “Shit.” You had even found his fucking diary, in which he described the dirty things he dreamed of you, that he’d love to do to you… Fucking hell.

He didn’t know what to say to not seem like the creep he was. He had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave him, you were going to probably call the police and get him in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, you weren’t supposed to see any of this, you weren’t supposed to…” he was trailing off as his feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. His eyes widened when he saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at him, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. “Look at me.” the low of his voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.

“Spencer…” you whined when his thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards him. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had his dick jumping in his jeans and blood rushing to his head.

“Look at me.” he repeated, this time taking his time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met his, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Spencer made you feel dizzy, the words on his diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure… His eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. “Look at you.” he chuckled, unable to believe any of this. You whimpered when his hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against his bare chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when his lips brushed against the conch of your ear. “Did my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?” you moaned when his leg pressed in between your thighs, he could feel the heat of your core against his bare thigh. “Aw of course you did, you love it, don’t you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed… Fuck you all up and pretty for me until you’re nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?” you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when he pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on him. His lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging him for more. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?”

“Fuck, Spencer, yessyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.” he groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to flow in his mouth. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave him more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on his air, his half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on his crimson stained lips.

“What is it baby? Want a taste?” he leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at his teasing, pushing him against you when his lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. He clicked his tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. “If you want something… You just need to ask.” your back arched when his free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at his harsh grip on one of them.

“Please Spencer, kiss me, kiss me…” you craved it so bad it hurt.

“Poor thing. Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you didn’t wait to follow his words, moaning when his tongue entered your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood making your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips stuttering as you dry humped his thigh. He kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, the taste of your blood on his mouth, his right hand on your neck and his left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces he quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when his fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when his name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against his hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. “Be good baby, you know that’s not my name, is it?” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry daddy…” a smirk tugged on his lips, and he rewarded you with his fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.

“Now swallow.” you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. “What a beautiful mouth you have…” you moaned when he thrusted his fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against his fingers and thigh. “Yet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.” you felt like crying when he took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of his touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. “You know your safe word, right?” you nodded as you heard the ruffling of his jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around his ankles, his soaked underwear came shortly after. “Good… If it’s too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?” You moaned affirmatively when the tip of his cock pressed against your cheek, precum staining the curve of your lips when he outlined them. “Open.” he didn’t have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive him in your mouth, which was watering at the thought of choking on his cock, of swallowing his cum. He cursed when you kitten licked his tip, the salty of the white beads on his slit making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push his hips closer, head leaning in to completely take him, just to whimper when he tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. “Such a fucking slut hungry for cock.” he chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have him in your mouth. “I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t that right? Want me to fuck that little and tight throat of yours, hm?” you nodded, a ‘yes, please daddy, want your cock so bad…’, leaving your lips, what made him click his tongue, tip pressing against your wet tongue when you pushed it out of your mouth. “Then fucking take it.” you were gagging when he thrusted inside your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against his dick so he could reach the back part of your throat, nose buried in his pubic hair as your nails dug on his thighs. “What is it, baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you whimpered when he pulled out just to ram back in, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of his big cock fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying due to the constant chocking and gagging, tears running down your cheeks as you took him in your mouth. “Aw, you crying?” the sight of your tears only made him buck his hips harder and faster against your face. “I couldn’t care less.” you moaned around his cock, feeling it twitching in your mouth every time you deep throated him. “Yeah, baby, fuck, take my cock, shit, just like that… What a dirty girl…” one of the hands that stood on his thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. “Are you touching yourself?“ you nod around his cock, a whimper leaving your lips when his tip hit the back of your throat after giving you a harsh slap. “Such a desperate little bitch… Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?” his dick came out of your mouth and you gasped for air, which didn’t actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as he kneeled with you.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry daddy!” you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.

“Yeah, you’ll be.” next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with his bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when his body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.

“Fuck!” you screamed when two of his fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as he sucked on your nipples, fully erect.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? I’m sure you do, you dirty whore…” you thighs trembled when he hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Spencer, on his pretty fingers fucking in and out of you, of his teeth on your tits, on his cock fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.

“Fuck Spencer, i-i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna…” and as your walls clenched, you cried out when he left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for him, but he pressed them against the duvet, finger digging in your wrists. “Please, Spencer, daddy, shit, I was so close…”

“I didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” oh, he was playing you. You knew this was his little vengeance for that day you had caught him touching himself. His eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank his hand gave to your soaked cunt. “Look at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for cock…” your back arched when his thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. He relished in the little pleads that left your lips. ‘Please daddy, ah let me cum, please? I’ll do— I’ll do anything, anything. Spencer, shit, please…’ “Anything?” you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to to even notice the subtle change in his gaze. “Okay, then don’t regret it later…”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone in his bed as he stood up, looking for something before he would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what he was holding in between his wet fingers: a dildo.

You moaned when his lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as he sucked on your bottom lip. “If you’re so desperate…, why don’t you show me how much you want it?” he said once he had pulled away, tongue outlining his swollen lips as his hand —the one that hold the toy— rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what he was doing; swapping places.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your cries being shut out when one of his hands cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against his own.

“Come on, you said you’d do anything.“ he was smirking when his thumbed pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it backwards and then sticking it in your mouth. “Good girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me… I’ll fuck your just how you need it, hm?” he clicked his tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around his finger. “Then go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.”

He leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as he handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length —there’s no need to say that Spencer’s cock was bigger in both ways, and much more beautiful…— with even veins on its sides.

His eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. “Yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself for me… That’s a good girl.” you moaned as you saw his fist hold his hard cock, sliding up and down, slowly, as he observed you. It only made you want him more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. He had fucked your throat for good. “Fuck, baby, just like that… So pretty.” his praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. “Look at you…” he chuckled when you started to pick up pace. “Needy, honey?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. “Don’t silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.” his hand matched your pace, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.

“Spencer, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Spencer, shit, right there, ah!”

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut…” he moaned, getting on top of your body once again, hand meeting yours at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. “You like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, don’t you?” you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. “You want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Spencer, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me please…” your hips were bucking against his hand, begging for more. You were burning up, craving him in ways you’ve never craved anyone before. Craving for him to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of his leaking cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as he continued to pound inside of you with the dildo. “Then take it, take my cock, baby.” your eyes widened when you felt him push against your hole, still filled up by the toy. You hands quickly tried and push on his chest, but you moaned when his tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt him start to push inside of you. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on his shoulder, making him moan against your neck. “Fuck. So tight. Shit.” you were sobbing by the time he was halfway in, where he stopped momentarily to let you breath. “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, you can do it.” he was hushing you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed the tears away. “You want me to stop? Just say the word baby, just say the word and I will…” his eyes were sweet —although lust glossed them— when he stared at you, promise on the hazel of his irises. You knew he would do it, that he would shut everything down and forget all about this. But you wanted it. Wanted it as badly as him. Craved it even. So you simply shook your head, giving him the green flag to continue. “Fuck, I love you.” he said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much…” you both moaned in each other’s mouth as his hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when he was completely in. “What a good girl…” you were crying on his hands as he praised you, trying to breath through your nose and get the slightest used to the filling of not just one, but two cocks inside of you. “So tight for me.” your back arched when he started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples —which he sucked and bit down onto—.

“Shit, Spencer…” he smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when he hit your g spot, legs surrounding his hips and fingers digging in his messy and silky hair. “Just like that, don’t stop, please…”

“Look at you… You love the feeling of two cocks inside you, don’t you? Filling you up so good you can’t even breath, hm? What a whore��” you moaned, exposing your neck to his lips. “Can’t get enough with just one so you must have two. So greedy…”

“Spencer!” you screamed when his thrust became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.

“Do you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?” he almost came in the spot when his eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. “Fuck, look at that. So full of me…” you didn’t mean to, but you were cumming all over his cock and the toy when his fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around him, making him groan. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in his arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. “Shit, that was so fucking hot…” his hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around him. “Don’t clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dry…” he chuckled just to curse moments after.

You were drooling on your shoulder as he thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good by having that goddamn dildo inside of you that he felt that tightening feeling of jealousy string around his heart. “Fuck this.” he wanted you all for himself. Wanted to fuck you all by himself ‘till you couldn’t even remember you own fucking name.

You whined when he pulled out of you the toy, your walls quickly molding to his size just how he liked it. Still so fucking tight. You felt loss at the little emptiness that the toy left behind, but it quickly got pushed outside of your mind when Spencer started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as he slightly sat up, bringing you down on his cock with each new thrust. “Spencer, ah, shit, so good…, fuck, daddy, more!” he moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down his dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.” he said, changing positions so one of his hands would be free to circle your clit.

“Shit, Spencer, fuck I’m coming!” you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.

Spencer continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough.

“Spencer, ‘s too— too much, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, fingers never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on his back, drawing blood as you gushed all over his cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. “S-Spencer, s-stop…” you were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at his constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Spencer couldn’t stop his hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of your pussy around him was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of his cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making him lose his mind. “I’m gonna cum, shit!” he moaned when he spilled inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering at the sticky and warm feeling. “Fuck, baby, so good…” he muttered against your neck as he fucked himself down his climax, hips stopping while he was still buried deep inside of you and arms failing to keep him up right, making him fall on top of you.

The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before his lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on his locks, pulling and playing with his hair as his teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, and…

You hissed when he pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as his lips trailed down your stomach.

“Hurts?” he questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. “Want me to kiss it better?” you let out a little gasp when he nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.

He took the tugging on his hair as a ‘yes’, positioning himself better and raising your legs up on his shoulders as he left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as he neared closed and closer… “Poor baby, fucked so good it’s all sore and swollen now.” You moaned when he finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of the two of you dripping out of your cunt. Your head felt backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into his lips, into his name and fingers.

Into his sick love. Into Spencer Reid.

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 5 months

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DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover

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loveindefinitely · 7 months

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༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting.

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile.

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't.

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence.

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.

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heavenbarnes · 5 months

Text

need our simon to come home from deployment IMMEDIATELY 🫶🏼 | p1 p2 p3 p4

your older bf!simon comes home from deployment at dinner time on a tuesday.

herb alpert on the kitchen radio, knife tearing through a bunch of parsley, garlic and onion simmering on the stove behind you.

simon can hear it- smell it through the mail flap.

smells like home.

your ears prick at the sound of the door swinging open, the hinges alerting you to a secondary presence. back tensing for just a moment before you hear steps you could pick out in a lineup.

he sees your fluffy slippers first, then your little shorts, then his t-shirt. finally, he’s met with wide eyes and the kitchen light hits the curve of your face so nicely.

simon could cry.

you already were.

“oh my god, si”

he doesn’t really want to touch you with his outside clothes, tactical gear smelling like the back of a cargo plane and you’re so soft and lovely he’s afraid he might mess it all up.

but there’s nothing stopping the way you leap at him across the kitchen and swing your entire self around him and he’s forgetting what he’s wearing and he’s wrapping his arms around you like he knows you won’t break.

his tongue is immediately in your mouth and he’s taking one gasping breath and filling his nose with the scent that’s overwhelming him.

simon realises right then that the house smells like dinner but you smell like home. you are home. he’s home.

when he finally lets you let him go you’re telling him to leave all his gear by the washer and you’ll sort it all out tomorrow but right now he needs to sit down so you can feed him.

he’s back in the kitchen with a sweatshirt and shorts on and he’s never found his own clothes so comfortable. maybe it’s because he can smell you on the fabric.

you’d only been cooking enough for one but at this point, you’re so happy to have him home that you’re plating up the whole thing for him as he sits at the dining table.

his chair scrapes back along the floor and he’s patting his thigh, simon eats his tea with you curled up in his lap telling him everything he’d missed.

apparently, old-mate next door broke up with his missus and it was quite the scene.

apparently, they finally finished the roadworks on the junction at the end of your street and there was no longer a blur of orange cones on the drive to work.

apparently, there was going to be a barbecue at the house down the street and the two of you were invited. you might make a salad to take with.

you could’ve been reading him the phonebook and simon would be a happy man. his hand was holding under your thigh and your face was in the crook of his neck.

he was home.

dishes done (together) and tea steaming on the coffee table in front of him, simon isn’t sure this couch has ever been this plush. he could melt into it, as long as it was just like this.

bare feet up on the ottoman and one arm wrapped around your side as your head lay against his chest. you could hear his heartbeat and he could hear the football you’d recorded for him whilst he was away.

deployment was fucking rough, seen and done things he didn’t even want to think about. but this is what he comes home to.

you.

you who curls up in his lap and idly twirls the drawstring of his shorts round your finger.

you who offered up all of your food to him to fill the pit that’d been growing in his stomach over the weeks.

you who couldn’t give less of a fuck about the football on tv but watches in quiet contentment for the sake of being closer to him.

you who doesn’t ask once about what happened while he was away but will always listen without judgement if he needs to get something off his chest.

ideally, simon would like to give you the world in return. then again, he doesn’t think even that’d be enough.

instead, he takes you up to your shared bed and, miraculously, he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his back touches the mattress.

he could, very easily, but instead he pulls you down on top of him and gets his lips back on yours. the kiss when he came through the door had been passionate but it’d been fleeting.

simon had kept it like that, knowing if he spent a second longer with your tongue on his then he’d have you over the kitchen bench and that wasn’t what he wanted.

really, he wanted this. the full weight of you on top of him and your hips rolling messily against his as his hands went up underneath your his shirt.

he wanted to run his fingertips along your bare back and feel skin so soft he almost couldn’t remember the things his hands had done just last week.

he wanted to map out every spot, every freckle, every ridge across your shoulders and commit it to memory so the next time he had to up and leave he could trace you like a constellation in the night sky.

truthfully, simon didn’t want to leave next time. he wanted to get the call from price and tell him that he was sorry but he couldn’t do it any longer. he now had something- someone to live for and he just couldn’t gamble odds like he used to.

he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still hold the sentiment on the other side of blowing a load so simon put those thoughts in the back of his head and decided he’d work them out on tomorrow morning’s run.

right now, simon felt the soft skin of the inside of your cheeks and your spit tastes like the nectar those gods harped on about and he’s pulling hard on your hips as he rolled something hard between them.

you were moaning, whimpering, whinging into his mouth while you ground yourself into the hard line of his cock. raging erection didn’t even cover it and his head was tipping back as a-

yawn, deep and all consuming broke from his throat.

simon was fucking knackered.

exactly what he didn’t want to happen was happening in front of him, you were sitting up and cooing at him so fucking sweetly.

“si, you’re exhausted- we’ll go to sleep”

strong grip around your waist was anchoring you to the spot so you couldn’t climb out of his lap like you were currently trying.

“sweet’art”

you could hear it in his voice, he couldn’t even lift his head off the pillow. you conceded, however, letting him rub soft little circles into your hips.

“jus’ gimme’ one and then we’ll sleep”

laying back down against his chest, you felt the air woosh out of him as you relaxed your body on his. face fitting into the crook of his neck like you were made for him (you were) with a hand running along his collarbone.

“we’ve got tomorrow”

you knew it was futile, he was already slipping your shorts to the side. head tilting just a little to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“and i need you tonight”

settled.

you felt one large hand lift you up as his other freed his cock out his shorts. just enough, just enough to get the job done because any extra effort was going to render him unconscious.

bringing a hand to his mouth, he spit in his palm quickly before rubbing it along the head of his cock. deep groan rumbled beneath you as you felt him pressing against your entrance.

“lift y’top up, sweet’art- wanna’ feel y’on me”

you did him one better, leaning up enough to slip the shirt over your head and onto the floor. forcing him to hold his arms up for just a second, you pulled his sweatshirt off and discarded it in the pile.

bare chest to chest, you could feel simon shudder beneath you. snaking one arm under his armpit and the other around his ribs, you snuggled in tight as you felt him slip right in.

that’s all he wanted.

weeks of photos, videos, imagination to go off of. this was all he ever wanted. you so close to him that it was entirely possible to imagine the two of you as one. that there was no version of reality without you together in it.

lazily rolling his hips up into you as you met him halfway, rolling yours back down to share half of the load. simon’s arms wrapped around your back, keeping you close and keeping you moving against him.

“sorry love, s’not gonna’ be a long one”

you could only respond with a whimper, gently nodding your head into his neck as your lips press soft little kisses into the skin. you didn’t need a long time, you just needed him.

unable to help yourself from noticing the couple new scratches he’d come home with, your fingers idly traced along them as he sucked in a breath at the feeling.

what you wouldn’t give to keep him home and keep him safe.

a thought for another day as you felt yourself constricting around his cock, grinding yourself into his lap as firm muscle rubbed against your front.

tiny little gasps flitted from your mouth and into his ear, you could feel his body tensing up beneath you. it wasn’t just with sheer tiredness, you knew this man like the back of your hand.

left hand coming out from under where you’d buried it behind his back, you ran the tips of your fingernails down simon’s chest. you stopped at his nipple, gently scraping along the peaked flesh until you heard him.

“need y’to cum right now f’me please”

slipping your other hand between the two of you, you let your fingers wander against yourself until you could feel the tide breaking in the pit of your stomach.

body clenching involuntarily, your mouth dropping open against his skin. no doubt drool pooling against his collarbone as you came with a pathetic whimper. hips bucking a little crazy in his lap as his hand ran the length of your back.

“god that’s it, sweet’art”

simon went rigid, gripping you tight like you might go somewhere as the dams broke and he filled you up. hot and sticky and dripping out of you and onto the waistband of his shorts.

he fell so still the only way you’d know he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. his arms were already starting to fall limp around you.

coming back from the bathroom, slipping off the rest of your clothes and adding them to the pile. simon wasn’t asleep, there were no snores, but he had been rendered totally immobile.

pulling the remainder of his clothes off for him and settling in beside, you pulled the sheets up over the both of you as his arm began drawing you in.

draped across him, you could feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

“m’gonna’ rock y’world in the morning”

you snorted a little laugh, nuzzling in closer as his breathing starts to even out. no use in replying, snorings about the only answer you’re going to get.

not that you’d mind.

he was home.

#im sorry i went for realism- we’re not getting crazy out of him the first night home #i just need him so carnally i would accept anything he had on offer #older bf!simon #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley blurb #ghost drabble #ghost blurb

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mostly-imagines · 4 months

Text

The Arkham Knight

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the arkham knight goes after the crevice in the red hoods armor

warnings: typical canon violence, threats to the reader including death & implied sa, nonconsensual touching for reader (not nsfw), reader gets cut with a knife, character death (not reader or jason), angst w comfort

**for the sake of this, we're going to pretend that the arkham knight isn't jason -- or that he's from an alternate universe or something if you prefer. in any case, red hood & the arkham knight co-exist in this fic

You wake up to a sensation that takes you a moment to place. Your eyes are still closed and the word conscious is barely even applicable to you, but still, you feel it.

There’s a hand wrapped around your neck.

Given that it's about one in the morning at this point and it’s not uncommon for your boyfriend to get very touchy after coming home from patrol, you didn’t dwell much on it.

His thumb strokes across your skin delicately, applying no real force with his grip.

You don’t feel his arm, though. Usually, you’d expect to feel the weight of at least his arm on you, as he laid next to you, hand resting on your neck. But you just feel his hand. No other weight on the bed at all, actually. Like he’s standing next to it.

That is something to dwell on, you think. You open your eyes and almost scream, before the hand on your neck swiftly clamps down over your mouth.

“Shhh.” he hushes.

You probably wouldn’t be too much less scared if it were some random burglar, but it’s not. You look at the helmet hovering above you and you recognize it instantly. That’s the Arkham Knight. Jason hadn’t said much about him but you know he’s been having altercations with him recently from the news.

Standard enough.

What’s not so standard is one of Red Hood’s enemies in your apartment, in your bedroom. That means he knows who Jason is. Not good. Not good at all.

The Knight uses his free hand to yank you up by your arm into a sitting position. Your thoughts are still going a mile a minute trying to process what the hell is happening when he hauls you over his shoulder.

You start to fight back, thrashing in his hold and hitting his back with as much force as you can muster, but you’re not surprised it doesn’t do much. This guy’s as big as Jason and it doesn’t take a vigilante to figure out that this is a fight you can’t win.

He jostles you on his shoulder a little bit, murmuring, “Easy, sweetheart. We’re just going on a little trip.”

You continue struggling against him and when you reach the apartment building hallway you start shouting, though you’re quickly shut up by him.

He plops you down on your feet, hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “Don’t make me hurt you.” He warns with venom.

If you’re going to get away it could only be now. But you saw the gun holstered to his thigh and based on the little that you know about him, he will shoot anyone that tries to help you without hesitation.

So you let him shove you outside and into the backseat of a black car without a fight, only starting to feel the consequences with the way he holds you incredibly close with a tight grip throughout the ride.

You end up at a warehouse at the edge of the city, filled with crates and storage containers that you’re assuming are stocked with weapons. Soldiers line the perimeters and block the exits, though you didn’t have much of a mind to try and run from the Arkham Knight anyways. The metallic glint off his gun from the lights warn you every time he moves.

He has you sat on a chair as he leans against a crate in front of you, not bothering to have tied your hands. He doesn’t seem to be in any rush to do anything with you, if anything, the way he idly lazes implies that he’s waiting for something. Waiting for Jason, you’d guess. A long fifteen or so minutes goes by—you know so because you counted the seconds in your head as an attempt to keep your mind away from the killer in front of you.

You’re dressed only in a loose t-shirt and sleep shorts, the Gotham night air bitter on your skin. It only gives you all the more reason to curl up into yourself, doing your best to cover your body.

He tilts your face to the side with the barrel of his gun. “You are a pretty thing, aren’t you? I can see why he keeps you.”

You snap your head away, eyes down and looking to the concrete floor. The sleeve of your shirt slips from your shoulder and you quickly yank it back up, much to the amusement of the Knight.

His shoulders shake lightly as he relaxes the gun to his side, “So, what? S’he your boyfriend or r’you just fucking each other?”

You try to keep your face neutral, keeping your eyes glued on the ground. “I just help patch him up sometimes. I don’t even know who he is.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just lied to me, but only because I already know the answer.” He pulls you in close and kisses the side of your head with his helmet before whispering in your ear, “Don’t lie to me again.”

You try not to let your shoulders shake as bad as they want to, though you’re sure he knows exactly how frightened you are anyways.

You huff quietly, attempting to show more courage than you have. “So what, all this for ransom? Just to piss him off?”

He tilts his head at you wryly, “No, I’m going to put a bullet in his head.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Ah. Yeah, if you were just fucking you wouldn’t have that look on your face right now.” He tuts, patting your cheek.

A series of gunshots outside the warehouse has you jumping in your seat.

The Knight claps his hands together, “Oh, here we go!”

He stands abruptly and pulls you up with him roughly, wrapping his arms around you to pin you against his chest, resting the chin of his helmet on your shoulder. The few men scattered around the room drop one by one, quickly, though the Arkham Knight pays them no regard.

“Back away from her.” The modulated voice of his helmet calls out roughly. You can’t quite tell where he is, but he sounds up high—maybe in the rafters or set up at one of the windows.

“Easy, Hood. Pays to be mindful of the stakes.” He pushes your chin up with the barrel of the gun.

You can’t see him but you have a feeling he’s got his gun trained on you, waiting for the Knight to give him a decent shot.

You can tell how incensed he is, even from the distance as he shouts, “Put the gun down. Now.”

The Knight tsks, “Don’t make me do something I’ll kind of regret. She’s got too pretty of a face to die so soon.” He squeezes your cheeks as you try to pull your head away from his hands, with no avail. “And so messy.”

His free hand travels down your neck and squeezes. You try not to look scared, both to spite the Knight and for the sake of Jason’s concentration.

He backs you up into a mess of crates, gun persistently pointed to your head, and he yanks you down with him to duck behind them. You’re both mostly obscured from view, though you think the tops of your heads might still be visible from the angle Jason’s at.

“I’m not asking twice.”

The Knight ignores his threat, continuing on, “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her for you, Hood. She won’t miss a thing.” His glove drifts down your side, squeezing your waist.

Jason fires again, hitting startlingly close to the Knight’s head.

You take the momentary distraction to knee him in the groin which only makes him tighten his grip on you. “Oh, you…” he grunts. “You are a fighter, aren’t you?”

You sneer at him, “Fuck—” he yanks your hair roughly, pulling you into a better angle for him to hold onto you. “You.”

He squeezes your arm very hard, calling out, “On second thought, Jace, I’m thinking about cutting her open and letting her bleed out right here.”

He puts his gun in the holster before one of his hands pulls the bottom of your shirt up, the other flipping out a blade that he presses flat against your stomach. The knife is cold against your skin and the sensation is what allows you to finally admit to yourself that you’re scared.

This is somehow a hell of a lot more terrifying than the gun and you can’t swallow the fact that you’re one unlucky move away from being gutted in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Gotham. Jason’s quiet and you can’t be sure that he’s not injured or stuck dealing with more soldiers. You visibly shake at the thought of really being on your own now.

The Knight clicks his tongue, tilting his head down at you as he watches you tremble. “Aw, I’m sorry. Am I scaring you?” He knicks your skin, purring, “It’s not personal, sweetheart.” He lets the blade drag a bit, widening the size of the cut. “Well, not for you.”

You grimace at the feeling of being sliced open, trying your hardest not to give him any reaction. Your body involuntarily slides down to the ground until you’re on your back with him crouched above you.

He pulls the knife back and you both take in the sight of your blood lining the side of it. Your eyes well with tears as he points the end of the knife down at your stomach, readying to pierce your skin in a far less superficial way.

A gunshot fires far closer than you were prepared for, making your entire body jump. The fear becomes visceral then, because your automatic reaction to the noise was to assume that you had just been shot by the Arkham Knight. But in actuality, the Knight himself gets knocked to the floor, the shot having hit the side of his helmet. A flash of red out of the corner of your eye has you flinching, though it darts right past you and onto the Knight.

Hood slams him fully onto the ground by the shoulders, trying to remove his helmet so he can fire a shot that's actually effective. The Knight fights against him, pushing him off of him and reaching to draw his own gun.

You’re dragging yourself backwards, crawling away to safety. You keep going until you can’t see them anymore; you’re too scared to see it play out, too scared to help, too scared to think.

The clamor of grunts and punches landing drowns your senses as you try to fold in on yourself into the smallest ball possible on pure instinct.

A shot fires, though the sounds of struggling persist. Another shot, followed by a curse that you can’t make out who it came from. You can see debris littering the air around one of the crates where one of the shots must have hit. A few seconds go by before a third shot echoes out and the scuffle slows to a halt.

It’s quiet for the longest few moments of your life and in the panic, you begin to lose all sense of what you’re waiting for. You forget to look up when you hear someone approaching you rapidly, only finding cessation to your concern when a pair of hands grabs your face, pulling your head up so he can see you.

You’re only barely able to process that it’s your boyfriend knelt in front of you, blood splattered on his armor. You know this is good, you’re grateful to see him, but you can’t feel anything but panic.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, taking in your emotional state. “Are you hurt?” His helmet scans over you frantically, hands trying their best to remain gentle on your face.

You try, but you can’t push the words out of your mouth.

Honestly, you just want to see him, see his face so you can start to feel safe again. But the sight of another inanimate helmet is doing nothing to calm you, in spite of you wholeheartedly trusting the person under it with your life.

His gaze finds the small pool of blood seeping through your shirt. He rushes to lift your shirt up, fussing over the laceration. It’s about two inches wide, but it’s shallow enough that it won’t need stitches. Once he determines that you don’t need immediate medical attention, he drops your shirt back down, leveling his face to yours.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers desperately, “Baby. Talk to me,” he brushes hair out of your face gently and the contact makes you jump on instinct, your adrenaline nowhere near lowering. If you were in any real state of mind right now you’d feel awful for flinching like that when he touched you, you know exactly how sensitive that is for him. But right now, you didn’t even completely register that it was him that touched you.

Your eyes stay fixed on the concrete and the only response you can manage is a strangled hum and a shake of your head, no I can’t talk right now not right now not now

“Okay. Okay,” he lifts you up off the ground from your knees and holds you close, like he’s trying to prevent you from disappearing again. You’re staring blankly at his glove holding up your thigh, trying to center your focus on that instead of all the bodies in your peripheral or the memory of the blade pressed against your abdomen.

You don’t notice it, but he’s looking down at you constantly, scanning your face for anything, any signs of change.

The entire ride back to your apartment you’ve got a death grip around his torso and he’s thankful for it because he can’t have his hands on you while he’s driving the bike.

He gently helps you inside, handling you like your bones are made of float glass. His helmet finally comes off once you’re back home, but you’re a bit too out of it to even notice.

The wave of lucid emotions don’t kick in until he sets you gently on the bed and you realize you’re back in the place where you woke up to his hand around your throat. You can feel the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, the blood slowly starting to dry.

The tears fall before you could even realize that your eyes started watering and Jason could swear on his life that he physically felt his heart break.

You feel like a little kid the way you cry, chin low and shoulders shaking. You don’t even know what you want, what could possibly help right now.

“Can I touch you?” He asks in a strangled whisper, desperate to try anything he can to make this better for you. He absolutely hates that you have to be in such distress because of something that he brought into your life, something that he should’ve been able to prevent. He’d rather relive all his worst days again and again than see you so pained ever again.

You give no response so he takes the chance and does it anyway because he can’t stand to see you hurting so badly and while he just sits here watching. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap and into his chest. Thankfully, you respond in kind and squeeze your arms around him tightly, sobbing harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He presses his mouth against your head, trying to keep it together as you shake in his hold.

He won’t tell you this, especially not right now, but he was absolutely terrified. He couldn’t have gotten home more than ten minutes after you’d left, being met with little things ever so slightly out of place. The bedroom door ajar, when you usually keep it closed. The lamp in the living room that you always leave on for him was off. The bolt on the door was broken, the turn locks unlocked.

He’s panicked plenty of times before in false alarms, thinking you were gone or dead when in reality you’d just been tired and skipped a few steps in your nightly routine. So he kept his thoughts at bay as he crept into the bedroom, opening the door to find the bed empty, sheets oddly messy. He booked it down the hall and checked the bathroom, checked the spare room. Nothing. He’d whipped his phone out immediately and could literally feel his stomach drop when he heard your phone ringing in the bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to piece together what had happened, who had taken you. He’d been having increasing altercations with the Arkham Knight lately and they were beginning to get very annoyed with each other. Occasional accidental run-ins had given way to full on ambushes and planned assaults, leading both of the men to lose their patience quickly.

A couple nights earlier, mid-shootout, The Knight had shouted out something that should’ve raised flags for Jason. “I’d hate to let this get personal,” he’d said.

But he was in the heat of the fight and barely even allowed himself to register the words, let alone sift through their implication. That’s no excuse though, is it? He’s supposed to keep you safe, that’s his job—that’s his only job. He should’ve seen the tail that was following him, he should’ve installed better security measures at your apartment, he should’ve checked on you, should’ve stayed with you, should’ve left you alone all together. But he was selfish and careless and now you’re bleeding and traumatized from being pulled from your bed in the middle of the night, having a gun pushed in your face, and being cut by a psychopath.

You sit on his lap, completely zeroed in on the feeling of his touch and how drastically different it resonates than the Knight’s burning hold on you. Jason’s hands on you don’t have that scorching fire sensation, but warm and comforting like an emergency blanket. You can feel his Red Hood armor pressing into you uncomfortably, but you want more of it. You need more. You can’t possibly get enough of it right now.

“Please hold me tighter,” you pipe up for the first time in several minutes, your words are hushed and exerted. It makes you sound like you’re hiding, trying not to be caught.

He nearly squeezes the breath out of your lungs and it’s still not tight enough. The tears run out soon after and you sit lax against him. You focus on the feeling of his breath against you, his exhale wavering your hair a little. His breath is steadier than yours and you try to match up with him, but you’ve found that even in normal times, his breathing is always a little slower than yours.

There’s a nearly imperceptible creak of a floorboard in your living room that has you jolting in Jason’s lap. His head snaps up, one of his hands immediately flying to your hair. His hold prevents you from turning your head, though you're not sure you even want to. You prepare yourself for the sound of gunshots, modulated voices, punches landing.

You’re confused when Jason remains stationary on the bed and he relaxes slightly. A few long seconds go by before he calls out lowly, “Go.”

His posture loosens again a moment later and though you don’t hear the intruder retreat, you’ll later realize that was your biggest clue as to who it was. But for right now, you bury your face as deep into his neck as you can, letting him run his finger through your hair in an attempt to cancel out the brief adrenaline jump you just got.

His next words come at a volume so low you nearly miss them all together. “Did he touch you?” He sounds like he’s biting back nausea at the thought.

“No. Not like that.” you mumble back, just as quiet. Your voice is more detached than his, and while the words themselves are a relief, your tone makes him hurt inside.

His head drops against your shoulder for a second before he glances up at the door again, letting out a tense exhale. “I…fuck. Can I…I need to go in the living room for a second. Just a second.”

The thought of being separated from him right now makes you literally want to throw up, but tonight has been nothing if not another reassurance that you trust him more than anything.

He pulls back from you and looks you in the eye, hand stroking along the side of your head as he checks for certainty. You do your best to let him find it and when he does he kisses your forehead softly. You slowly climb off of him and he makes sure to wrap you up nicely in the comforter before he goes.

He stands intentionally in the doorway, closing the door enough so that there’s only just enough room for him to stand.

“What happened?” you hear the gruff voice of the Batman, followed by Jason shushing him. You can’t quite make out what he mutters back, though you can tell the sentence is short.

You think you can hear Batman ask if you’re hurt and you see Jason hesitate and then shake his head. You let yourself fall into a reclined position on the bed, consumed by your cocoon of blankets. Jason was really onto something with this.

Batman sighs, “Alright. We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow.” Jason says shortly. His meaning is clear, he’s not leaving you again any time soon. Especially not to fill Batman in on something that’s done and over with. Something that he’s hoping to never have to talk about again. A few beats pass before Jason closes the door with a soft click and returns to you quickly.

He takes your hands in his as he sits, rubbing reassuring circles with his thumbs.

“I need to get you bandaged up.” He whispers reluctantly, knowing that’s not what you want to hear right now. You drop your head on his shoulder wordlessly and he takes in the sight of your blood on your hands. Now it’s his turn to feel sick. “We can—” he pauses, “Do you want to shower first?”

Oh. That would be good, yeah. You nod slowly and languidly unwrap yourself from your blankets.

He wants to ask but he refrains, so you just take his hand and guide him into the bathroom with you. He’s very thankful you do.

He gets the shower started for you, letting it get warm how he knows you like. You watch the steam begin to fog up the mirror as he pulls his shirt off next to you.

He gets down to his boxers when he turns to you and sees that you’ve made no progress in removing any of your clothes. You just stand still, watching the water run.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out gently. “You need help?” He tries to hide the concern in his voice, though not to much avail.

You blink vacantly, “No, I just…” you waver for a moment before climbing into the shower, clothes on.

He stutters between stopping you and letting you go, ultimately deciding on the latter. He follows in after you, sitting side by side with you under the stream of hot water. He has to fold in on himself to fit like this but he doesn’t think twice about being here with you, however you need him.

Your clothes darken quickly and adheres to your skin, and you find it difficult to tear your eyes away from that patch of your shirt that remains ever so slightly darker than the rest of the wetted fabric.

Jason picks your hand up from its resting place on your stomach and envelopes it in his. You close your eyes and let the water run over your face, sprinkling off your eyelashes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, sounding nearly in pain.

Your head falls to the side, coming to a rest on his shoulder. The water pounds against your ear, stray drops ricocheting against your cheek. You squeeze his hand and he returns the action, understanding the temporary sentiment. He kisses your head and keeps his lips there, eyes closed too.

You’ll stay like that in the shower until the heat runs out. He’ll help you out of your soaked clothes and leave them in the tub for now before lifting you up out of the shower and wrapping you in a towel. He’ll set you down on the bed and apply a bandage to your cut as delicately as he possibly can. Neither of you bother to get dressed again, simply enveloping yourselves in the covers and lying together like that until you’re ready to move.

He didn’t go out on patrol again for nearly two months.

💙 REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING 💙

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year

Text

First Kiss

Mostly fluffy stuff with the best boys. Probably PG-13 at worst.

LA Shanks X FemReader, LA Sanji X FemReader, LA Zoro X FemReader, LA Mihawk X FemReader.

First time doing the whole headcannon bullet format thing. I'm super open to suggestions for more!

Shanks

• He and his crew came into your tavern a few hours ago. They're a pretty rowdy bunch but they're respectful and they tip well, so you don't mind.

• He's a huge flirt the whole time. Crooked little grins, his hand brushing yours whenever you bring him abother drink.

• Calling you "princess" or "sweetheart" and asking when your shift ends.

• Leaning his chair back on two legs so he can get a good look at your ass while you're making your rounds.

• Sweet-talking you into joining him for a few drinks when your shift is over.

• Getting bolder when you decide to flirt back, light touches at your waist and hips, leaning in closer to speak in a more intimate tone.

• Pulls you down by the arm to sit on his lap when you get off work and come back to his table.

• His fingers in your hair and his palm cupping your cheek to pull your face down to his so your foreheads touch.

• Another one of his crooked little grins. "Glad I could talk you into it, princess."

• No hesitation, just rubs the tips of your noses together before his lips brush yours playfully.

• Brief, playful kisses, with soft bites and tugging at your bottom lip, his tongue flicking at your top lip and coxing you to open your mouth.

• Soft little purr or murmur when the kiss gets deeper, his tongue swirling around yours.

• Breaking away very briefly to praise you in a low, playful voice, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Mmm, good girl..."

• Lets you set the pace, but keeps control over everything else.

• No concern at all that you're in public, his hand exploring your body, slipping under your skirt to squeeze your ass and pull you closer, so your legs are straddling his.

• Pushing his hips up against yours, parting his lips from yours with a devilish grin. "We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight, sweetheart."

Sanji

• You asked him for cooking lessons as an excuse to get closer to him and he positively jumped at the opportunity.

• "I promise you're in good hands, my dear."

• Stands behind you to demonstrate cutting techniques, his voice low and intimate in your ear as he leans over you.

• Brushes your hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your neck.

• Pulls your hand up to brush his lips to it before helping you grip the knife properly.

• You didn't object to him kissing your hand, so now his lips brush your neck just below your ear.

• "You didn’t just want cooking lessons, did you?"

• Low and playful voice in your ear, pulling the knife away from your hand and lacing his fingers through yours.

• Touching your waist and pulling you gently back against him to close the distance between your bodies.

• Lifting his hand to curl it under your chin, his thumb brushing slow cirles at your cheek as he turns your head to gaze into your eyes.

• Flashes his most charming smile, his forehead touching yours.

• "All you had to do was ask, darling."

• Presses his lips gently to yours, taking the lead.

• Slow and romantic, like he's savoring every second of tasting you.

• Rubbing his hands up and down your waist slowly, breathing deeply and steadily and tugging you closer.

• Hands exploring your body, his touches and caresses gentle and loving, one hand cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing it lightly.

• Moaning quietly against your lips in response to your moan.

• Parting his lips away with a charming smile.

• "You, my love, have just made me the happiest man in the entirety of the East Blue."

• Spins you around by your hips, lifts you up and places you on the counter beside his cutting board, your thighs spread around him as his lips meet yours again in a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Zoro

• For a few weeks you've noticed him looking your way when he thinks you're not paying attention, but he hasn't said much of anything.

• You get tasked with waking him up from his nap at dinner time, which you don't really like doing because he can get pretty grumpy about it.

• When you reach the hammock, he cracks one eye open. You tell him that dinner is ready.

• Rubbing at his eyes. "Uh-huh...."

• Tucks a hand behind his neck, his eyes scanning over you for a moment.

• Suddenly wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you up into the hammock with him, on top of him, startling you immensely.

• Keeps a hand tucked behind his neck, his other moving to cup your chin and pull your head down.

• Smirking a little. "I think I'll just skip to dessert."

• Tilts his head a little to capture your lips.

• Leads you into a slow, lazy kiss, his hand trailing down your back...and then back up, pushing under your shirt to graze across your bare skin.

• His rough calloused fingers and palms break you out almost immediately into goosebumps.

• Not shy about cutting straight to the chase, tugging your shirt off and tossing it aside.

• Leaves your lips to trail kisses down the column of your throat, hands moving up your waist, his fingers curling around the cups of your bra.

• A knock the door breaks your lips apart—Luffy shouting at the other side that dinner's on.

• Rolls his eyes and shouts back, "I'll eat later!"

• Looks up at you, his expression lightening into an amused grin.

• "What about you, (y/n)? You gonna go now?"

• When you shake your head no, he chuckles, his grin growing broader.

• "Yeah, I didn't think so. Now..."

• Suddenly, and with ease, he grips your hip and your waist and flips you onto your back in the hammock, reversing your positions.

• Lays one of his hands flat over your stomach, the other trailing his fingers down the side of your neck, pulling your bra strap down your shoulder.

• "Where were we?"

• And his lips crush against yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

Mihawk

• It's been over a month since he took you under his wing, and the sexual tension between you is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

• But he won't make a damned move, just keeps teasing at it with subtle soft touches, low and intimate words, shared gazes of desire.

• Just today when you and him made port a few hours ago, he stopped you on the docks before you went your separate ways to resupply.

• Moved in close, his yellow eyes boring into yours with their usual intensity, lowered his head until his forehead touched yours.

• Curled a hand in your hair and murmured with his lips barely an inch away from yours:

• "Be careful, my little bird."

• Dropped his gaze briefly to your lips.

• Brushed his thumb gently over your bottom lip...and then parted from you, disappearing down the crowded street.

• He is driving you absolutely insane and you aren't going to be able to hold out much longer before you just throw yourself at him.

• After resupplying you make your way toward the tavern where you agreed to meet...but you're caught from behind by your arms, a pair of strong hands wrapped around them and pulling you down a dark, empty alley.

• You're shoved against a stone wall and turned around...to face Mihawk, his hands still wrapped around your arms.

• He bores his gaze into yours again.

• Doesn't loosen his grip on your arms.

• "You aren't being vigilant. Anyone could have grabbed you."

• Takes a step closer, your bodies nearly touching.

• Lowers his head, his lips so close they brush across yours as he speaks in a low, intimate tone.

• "I'd rather not lose you, little one."

• Holds your gaze with his own for what feels like hours.

• Trails his fingers down your arms slowly, sending a shiver through your whole body.

• Lets his hands linger at your hips.

• Tightens his grip suddenly, taking a swift step forward so your body is pinned between his and the wall completely.

• In the same motion, tilts his head and crushes his lips against yours in a bruising, passionate kiss.

• Finally.

• His kiss is firm and unyeilding, slow and intense, and he has you trembling against the wall in an instant.

• Parts your lips with his tongue, sighing slowly as you meet it with your own.

• Grabs your hands and pins them over your head in a show of pure dominance—your pleasure is completely at his whim.

• Drifts his lips across your cheek and your neck, his breath hot against your ear.

• "We will stay in town tonight. I want you in bed with me before sundown."

• Chuckles lightly when you can do nothing but nod fervently.

• "Such a good little bird."

• Kisses your neck, sucking at the tender skin and leaving behind a small bruise.

• He brushes his lips to the mark once more.

• "In case it wasn’t already clear that you belong to me."

#opla #dracule mihawk #shanks #roronoa zoro #sanji #sanji one piece #zoro one piece #mihawk one piece #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #headcannons #fluff #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons

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slashersidewhore · 1 year

Text

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

#slasher #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #michael myers #slasher x reader #jason voorhees #slashers x reader insert #slashers x gn reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #Jason Voorhees fanfic #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers fanfic #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic

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hayatoseyepatch · 12 days

Text

Description: You couldn't believe your misfortune. Once more, you found yourself tethered to Sylus, stuck in a closet with no choice but to stay hidden so you both wouldn't be discovered. But this time around, it seems Sylus has every intention of making sure you have a hard time remaining quiet enough not to be caught. Character: Sylus (Love & Deepspace) Word Count: 2.1k Contains: Sylus x Fem!Reader. SMUT. Forced proximity, penetrative sex, semi-public sex (kinda?), trying not to get caught, dirty talk, praise, degradation, Sylus being Sylus.

Authour's Note: So I just realized it's been almost an entire month since I've published an actual fic, 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕. Hi y'all thanks for sticking around and being patient with me! Between kinktober prepping and working on my matchup event (thanks for being patient I'm getting those out asap) I've been SWAMPED. This is based off the "Immobilized" memory, I couldn't stop thinking about this ever since I pulled it so here we are.. This is my first Love & Deepspace fic, so please be gentle with me, if there's anything I can improve please let me know! I just started playing and I'm already hooked (its so bad save me). Anyways I hope you enjoy!

The enclosed space in the closet is cramped, you and Sylus were chest to chest, both trying to remain quiet as to not be caught. You couldn’t believe you had been so foolish as to forget another one of your belongings in this room. The bond around your wrists still tethering you together, he smirked, a glint in his vermillion eyes as he leaned down. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you could feel his hot breath caress the sensitive skin as he speaks. “Careful, kitten, or I’m going to get the wrong idea and think you like being stuck in a cramped space with me.” He teases, that infuriating grin never leaving his lips. You reach your free hand over, shoving him harshly, which only serves to make him chuckle.

You peek through the slots in the closet door, the roommate you had for this event was just sitting down at the vanity in the room to get started on her hair and makeup. You exhaled, careful not to do so too loudly to alert her to the fact you were currently tethered to the leader of Onychinus. The mischievous glint in Sylus’ eye was impossible to ignore. He stood to full height, in two strides in the cramped space, he had your back pressed against the wall. His head ducking to the crook of your neck, his breaths fanning across your skin had your heart racing and breaths coming in unevenly. “What are you doing?” You whisper harshly to him, though your words are hardly threatening due to the way your voice shook from having him so close.

The only response you get is a soft ‘shh’ sound coming from his lips before his lips attach themselves to your neck. His mouth begins to leave open-mouthed kisses up the expanse of your neck, not stopping until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “Seems like we’ll be trapped here for a while, sweetie.” His whisper comes in between rasping breaths to your ear.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be while we ‘pass the time’, shall we?” His sentence was punctuated with a playful nip to the skin of your neck. His large hand grabbing the back of your thigh to wrap one leg around his hip. Any words you could attempt to formulate would be cut off by the following kiss he presses against your lips. The tension between you two over the last few weeks could be cut with a knife and Sylus couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed to have you. He was a man who seized opportunity, and he saw this as the perfect one to make you his.

You can’t help but melt into the kiss. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never wondered what kissing Sylus would be like, as frustrated as it made you, you couldn’t help but think of him often. The striking red of his eyes, his broad shoulders, that deep rasp that his voice held making every word he spoke go straight to your- Your trailing thoughts were interrupted by a gasp, feeling him roll his hips into yours, feeling just how much the kiss was effecting him against your center. He pulls from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips for a moment before it snaps. Looking up you meet those vermillion orbs, he lifts a sculpted eyebrow, smirk returning to his features.

“Someone seems distracted. Something on your mind, sweetie?” His words are hushed as to not draw attention to the third party just outside the closet door. Suddenly your current predicament comes rushing back, alarm bells ringing in your head. “We shouldn’t, what if we get caught?” You look up at him, eyes laced with panic, to which he only chuckles under his breath.

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won't you, kitten?” He cuts you off once more with his lips, his tongue slipping past your parted lips with ease. His hand slipping up the smooth skin of your thigh, well past the fabric of your skirt. He relishes the sweet whimper he receives when the pads of his fingers come into contact with the damp fabric of your panties. His next words coming murmured against your lips. “But of course we can always stop if that’s what you want.” He goes to pull from you, grinning when your lips chase his as he attempts to separate.

“Though if we’re going by the state of your panties, darling, I’d say you want this as much as I do.” He coos, pushing the fabric to the side. He tsks as he collects your wetness on the pads of his fingers, using it as aid to glide his fingers against the sensitive nub of your clit. “So wet, is this all for me, little bird?”

Your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater, so lost in the feeling of him you don’t notice the bind connecting your wrists had vanished. His fingers begin rubbing lazy circles against your sensitive spot, lips returning to your neck. “I couldn’t hear you, kitten, who made you this wet?” He grins as you grip him harder, nails pinching his skin through the fabric. Your words are unsteady and hushed, trying your best to remain concealed.

“Yes, Sylus, I’m this wet for you.” His grin is palpable, guiding his fingers to your entrance. Rewarding your compliance with a finger sliding past the velvety walls of your cunt. “That’s my girl.” Without hesitation, he slips a second finger inside you, groaning lowly at how your walls contracted around his fingers. Just feeling how tight you were has his eyes rolling back in his head. He works you over with his fingers, digits scissoring inside you to offer some preparation of what's to come. He works you over on his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight heat.

“I don’t know, baby, I think if anything’s gonna get us caught, I think it just might be this cute little cunt.” He chuckles softly as you slap his shoulder in protest. “It’s not my fault she’s being so vocal for me, do you hear her?”

His words have heat rising to your cheeks as he speaks. He curls his digits, pads of his fingers expertly hit the spongy spot within your walls that has your eyes seeing while. Bundling his shirt in your fists, lunging forward to sink your teeth into the skin of his neck to muffle your moans as you shake against him. Walls spasming around his fingers as you come undone on his fingers. He hisses upon the impact of your bite but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He barely allows you time to recuperate, maintaining eye contact as he slips his fingers from your cunt and past his lips, tasting you on his digits and groaning low in his throat.

“Absolutely delicious sweetie.” He purrs, lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist. Supporting your weight with one hand that grips the plush skin of your ass. In one swift movement, he has his pants unzipped, pulling his hardened member from his boxers. Hand holding the base to position himself at your entrance. “Need to hear you, kitten. Tell me how much you want me inside you.”

Your eyes look up into his own, holding onto him as you're pressed between him and the wall. Chewing on your bottom lip, whimpering as he uses your slick as leverage to tease your clit with the mushroom tip of his cock. Unable to take his teasing any longer, you comply, not recognizing your own voice from the need lacing your tone. “Please, Sylus, I need you. Need you to fill me up with your cock, want to feel you splitting me open, please.”

Your words send a shiver up his spine, wishing only that he could hear you whisper to him so sweetly on repeat. “Now how could I deny my little bird when she begs me so sweetly?” He grins slipping past the tight ring of your entrance, silencing your sounds with his mouth. Tongues and teeth clashing from the intensity of the kiss both of you being consumed by your need for one another. He spurs on, continuing to sink inch by inch before bottoming out. He lets out a shaky breath against your lips, pulling away just far enough to check that you were okay. The half-lidded expression you send him has his cock throbbing, your eyes begging him to move. The both of you catch the sound of the door shutting outside the closet door, the tell tale sign that you both no longer needed to be quiet. “Fuck, finally, need to hear you kitten. Don’t you dare fucking muffle a single sound, you hear me?” He groans into the skin of your neck.

His hips start to move, setting a brutal pace from the start. Every moan, whimper, and call of his name that slips past your lips goes straight to his cock. The sounds only spurred him to continue slamming his cock against your gummy walls. Leaning forward as he began rolling his hips against your own, pressing another desperate kiss against your lips. He pulls from you after a moment, using his thumb and finger to open your mouth and spitting directly between your now-parted lips. Watching with hunger as he watches your throat contract as you swallow.

“Gods kitten, so goddamn pretty.” He grunted out throwing his head back, his hands coming to the backs of your thighs, using them as anchors to pull you down on his cock. The feeling has a deep groan slipping past his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head from the intense pleasure. “Fuck sweetie, so fucking tight. Gonna have you molded to my shape by the time I’m done with you.”

His words have you shivering, eyes hazy with pleasured tears glassing over your vision. Feeling your end approaching, needing desperately for him to push you both over the ledge. “Please Sylus, fuck me harder. Fuck, please, Sy can't take it, please.” Your words ignite a fire in him, hand coming to the small of your back pushing you down just a bit further angling your hips for a better angle.

“Oh? is that really what you want kitten? Want me to breed this pretty little pussy? Have you walk out of here and back to base with my cum dripping down your thighs? Want me to fuck you harder, is that so?” he questions, a satisfied grin on his face, but unable to deny the effect your words had on him. “Well your wish is my command, sweetie, begging me so prettily. Oh so proud of you, that’s my girl.” He grips your hips, slamming them against your own the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room. “Fuck daddy, please, fuck please” You beg, hearing the pathetic need in your own voice. Your eyes roll back, hearing your own wetness now, coil inside tightening at a rapid rate aching to snap.

Sylus felt his own coil reaching its end. He knew that it was bound to break and crumble, much faster than it usually did from the sheer tightness of your gummy walls. Whimpers started falling from his mouth as he heard your calling to him begging for your own sweet release. His thrusts became sloppy, desperate, as he urged you both to tumble over the edge.

“Go on kitten, give it to me, you can let go.” He whispered in your ear, making sure that you released before he finished the chase for his own high. Reaching between your legs rubbing your clit in small tight circles, feeling you tighten around him as he shivered a bit. Your cries and begs were like music to his ears. Unable to help it, your hips rolling against the attention to your clit. Hand gripping him by the back of his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, moans spilling into his mouth. One last harsh thrust has your coil snapping, crying into his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock. Sylus groaned, biting down on your shoulder, sure he would leave a mark in his wake. Falling over the edge himself. A low groan and a cry of your name falling from his lips. His hips slowed as he allowed you both to come down from your highs, holding you close to him. Pressing his forehead against your own as he stilled his hips.

“So beautiful sweetie, did so fucking good for me. Let's get you home, kitten. Get you nice and cleaned up where you can rest.” Sylus never imagined this being the situation where you both would find yourselves in each other’s arms. But he would be the last to complain, so long as he was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t ask for more.

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @adornedwithlight. Writing & character banners by me. Special thanks to @staraxiaa & @ambiguouslady42 for beta reading for me you guys are the best! Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

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bi-writes · 5 months

Text

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

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koenigsbleachedshirt · 1 month

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How the CoD men would fuck you 🫵🏻

Including: König, Ghost, Keegan, Krueger, Nikto x reader (can be read as neutral)

Contains: dacryphilia, size kink, belly bulge, riding, bondage, sensory deprivation, impact play, face fucking, face-sitting, knife play, marking, blood play

(Nikto's is a bit on the extreme side, so be warned)

And don't call me out!!! I know my favorites show!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

König

is the type to make you ride him

guides you by your hips, slow and deep

if you're not riding him, he definitely loves taking you in missionary..... he loves seeing the bulge on your belly

loves leaving his handprints on your skin from gripping you so hard

definitely gets off on your height difference, loves manhandling the fuck out of you - expect to be thrown and bent without warning

Ghost

always so rough with you- he doesn't hide how much he wants you, he's unfiltered and unapologetic with what he does

will make you sit on his face, no matter how much you protest and whine about it... he WILL eat you out, no matter what - and he does it like a starved man

the type to fuck you in full nelson, or just crushing you under him mercilessly as he burrows his thick cock into you

definitely has a thing for pounding you senseless- has you drooling within MINUTES

will also definitely degrade the shit out of you- but in the "look at my cute little cocksleeve, takin' me so well." kinda way

Keegan

devil in disguise. This motherfucker will tie you up and have his way with you until you physically can't take it anymore

will tie your hands to the bed posts and go down on you until you beg for him to stop- he also definitely busted a load while you did

loves leaving hickeys on your thighs, tummy, and chest - only for him to admire

definitely praises the living daylights out of you to somewhat make up for the relentless teasing you suffer under him

ALSO,, he loves using toys on you. He will hold a vibrator on you or fuck it into you, watching your expressions as he does.... only to deny you your orgasm

Krueger

he's such a little shit..... he's the type to rough you up, get you naked, and then have you suck him off - he's not exactly the gentlest either, he WILL fuck your face, hands in your hair and all

he definitely gets off on seeing your tear-streaked face from when he shoved his cock down your throat a little too far and made you gag

other than that, he also loves to manhandle you around. His favorite positions are definitely doggy, reverse cowgirl, and missionary. He WILL leave his marks on you. Everywhere.

have i mentioned that he loves degrading you and making you cry? Because he will. And if it isn't from his cruel words, then it's definitely from his unforgiving, hard, deep thrusts. He doesn't go fast, no no no... he goes SO DAMN SLOW it's maddening.

also the type to make sure that when he cums, it's in his favorite, tight little hole ;)

Nikto

depending on his mood, he's either the sweetest or the meanest. No in-between. Either you'll cry because it's too much, or you'll cry because it's not enough.

the type to carve his initials into your skin, dip his fingers in your blood, and feed it to you, only to lean in and shove his greedy tongue into your mouth - eager to get a taste of you

he will fuck you either hard and fast, or deep and slow... and you won't get away. He will cage you in and make you take it.

the type to make you cum so many times you're a babbling, brainless mess- molded to the shape of him... or he will deny you so many times you cry and beg for it, but once he gives you what you want, don't expect him to stop until HE is satisfied

he WILL go down on you after he finished - wanting to taste what he made of you...

#cod x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #könig x reader #könig smut #cod konig #cod krueger #krueger smut #krueger x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost smut #nikto cod #nikto x reader #nikto smut #keegan cod #keegan smut #keegan x reader

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iamred-iamyellow · 22 days

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake.

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement.

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch.

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets.

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.”

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him. Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight.

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper.

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen.

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips.

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit.

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.”

“I said sit. down.”

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch.

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked.

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.”

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago.

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off.

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt.

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?”

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter.

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando.

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone.

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good.

#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz jr drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr fanfic #mafia au #mafia!f1 #mafia!carlos sainz #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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glossysoap · 8 months

Text

fresh ink ; simon riley

thigh riding with simon. courtesy to @vgilantee & i’s brain rot in this post <3

warnings/tags: voice kink, dirty talk, size kink (big hands, broad shoulders, etc), thigh riding, squirting, cum eating, afab reader (fem genitalia and “girly” pet names i guess, but no mention of she/her pronouns)

word count: almost 1.5k

He saw you eyeing the fresh ink, drinking in all of the details and enjoying how they contrasted against his skin. He saw the way your eyes gravitated towards his thigh, and he was so cocky about it.

He saw how antsy you were for it to heal, how your eyes were practically glued to it whenever his legs were exposed. Whenever he stepped out of the shower, or when he was climbing into your bed. Your eyes would almost instantly gravitate to the plastic wrapped flesh of his thigh, drinking in any details that decorated his skin.

You were too busy ogling his new ink to notice, but his lips would always stretch into a grin when he sees you staring at it.

He’s just as cocky when it finally heals. Even more so, maybe.

He would be wearing a smirk as he steps out of the bathroom, skin wet and hair damp from a fresh shower. Only wearing black skin tight briefs, which did nothing to hide how hard he was.

You would be sitting on the king size bed, all curled up and waiting for him as the television droned on in the background.

Your eyes brightened when you saw him, then they widened when you saw him almost completely exposed for you. You soaked up every inch of his exposed skin, every ripple of muscle and every bruise or scar that littered his body. It all made him who he was, your Simon.

Then your eyes landed on his thigh.

You drank in every line of intricate black ink that decorated his right thigh. The dark ink of every skull and knife was a harsh contrast against his pale skin, but it just made you want to trace every delicate detail even more.

You wanted to feel his warm skin under your fingers, muscles rippling beneath his flesh.

You ended up doing a lot more than just touching his skin when, moments after sitting down next to you, he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap.

You gasp as you’re yanked from your position on the bed, your hands moving to grab his broad shoulders to steady yourself. You grip his hard muscles, almost like an anchor.

“C’mon, doll. Bring that pussy down on my thigh.” He says, his voice thick and honeyed with lust. Brown eyes burning into you and making you struggle to maintain eye contact. “I know you want to. Been seein’ you stare at it all the damn time,” You simultaneously feel shivers run down your spine because of his voice, and you feel your face burn from embarrassment. You had been staring ever since he got the new tattoo, but you thought you were being at least a little bit inconspicuous.

Obviously not.

“Go on, then. Pull those panties to the side and grind that cunt down on my thigh. Can already feel you soakin’ through ‘em.” Your breath hitched with every vulgar word that fell from his lips. He wasn’t wrong. You could feel your heart race in your chest and your stomach grow warm and tight, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you had gotten wet too.

“Si,” You couldn’t help but whine as your thighs clenched around his tattooed thigh. You didn’t even know what you were begging for, it’s just like you needed to beg. You needed to whine.

It didn’t help that this entire time you could feel his hard cock brushing up against your kneecap, barely restrained by his briefs.

He grinned at both your whine and your thighs clenching around his.

“Am I right? You soakin’ through your panties?” He asked with an almost mocking lilt to his voice as he held your gaze. “Should I check? Should I see how wet your little cunt is?” He didn’t even give you an opportunity to respond before he continued, “Yeah, let’s see.”

Your dazed eyes follow his big hand as it trails down your stomach and dips underneath your panties. Your breath hitches when his cold fingers grazed your folds, trailing along your entrance and gathering your juices.

Just like he suspected, you were soaked.

He couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. Then he brought his glistening digits back up to his face.

“Look at that. All slick jus’ from the thought of riding my thigh.” He comments almost casually, lifting his thick, shiny fingers up for you to see.

Then he raised those fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean.

You swore you could feel your clit throbbing at the sight of his tongue dart out and lick at your juices that coated his fingers. Especially with how he never broke eye contact the entire time.

“Mmm, taste so fuckin’ good, doll. Always do.” He praises you, his honeyed eyes still burning into yours. “Love your juices. Love that sweet cunt. Go on, I want you to drench my thigh. Jus’ like I know you’ve been dreamin’ about.”

With that, he wasted no time in all but yanking your flimsy panties to the side — letting your pussy hit flush against his tattooed thigh.

Then his big hands went right back to their place on your hips, gripping you firmly yet gently. Your hips moved on their own accord as you started grinding on his thigh, biting your lip as the sensations started building in your stomach.

Your whines inadvertently became muffled as you bit your lip, and Simon didn’t like that.

“No, no, no. None o’ that. You’re gonna let out every whine and whimper and moan. Every pathetic little noise that falls from those pretty lips.” He orders gruffly, squeezing your hips to emphasize his point.

Then, to almost prove how serious he was, he started assisting you with your grinding by dragging your hips along his thigh. Pushing them back towards his knee, then pulling towards his hip. Rinse and repeat.

“Oh!” You gasp as your cunt rubs against his thigh, along the jagged scars and tattooed skin. The texture of his skin and the scratchy hair on his thigh only served to add to the stimulation.

“That feel good, love?”

You moan out with a nod, your hands holding onto his shoulders with almost bruising grip. You desperately ride his thigh, clawing towards your orgasm that you’d been so hungry for.

“Mmm, good pet.”

You whimper and moan unabashedly, loving how his hard muscular thigh felt against your cunt. With every grind, your clit rubbed deliciously against his skin and made you cry out in pleasure.

Tears prick at your eyes as pleasure builds in your stomach.

Soon, you had built a rhythm. Your juices from your cunt had coated his tattooed thigh, making wet noises echo through the room with every pass of your pussy along his thigh.

You had built a steady pace as you grind on his thigh, his big hands still helping you maintain that speed no matter how tired you might get.

Your orgasm approached quickly, after a few minutes of riding, and that knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter with each pass of your swollen clit along his thigh.

“Mm, fuck!” You moaned as you felt yourself growing dangerously close to your orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“Aw, you’re close? Do you think you can soak my thigh? Think you can drench it with that fuckin’ delicious slick?” He croons with a sickly sweet tone to his voice.

“Mm-hmm!” You moan out, eyes glossed over as your hips rut desperately against him. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Go on then, gush all over my thigh. Leave it all wet with your juices.” He encourages, his big hands still firmly guiding your hips along his thigh. “C’mon, you can do it. I know you can—,” He was cut off by you choking on a sharp cry of pleasure as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your hips stuttered as you squirted on his tattooed skin, gushing your juices on the fresh black ink. His hands kept moving your hips back and forth, though, to help you ride out your orgasm.

“There you go, doll.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

🏷️: @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @jumbojazzcats93 @ghastlybirdie @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @lilpothoscuttings @krakenbabe @lordlydragon @bunnyreaper @blackrose4242 @ansaturn @luvecarson @kenqki @luvmeijii @zittles3000 @theloneshadow24 @moonriseoverkyoto @loveyhoneydovey @vgilantee @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn

#modern warfare smut #modern warfare ghost #modern warefare 2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

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