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on-a-lucky-tide · 24 days ago

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cw: hair pulling, 141 sexcapade discussion.

"You know, I've never understood it," Gaz said, folding another hand as the cards Nik turned over on the table ruined his chance of a Full House. They'd had a few, so Gaz's brain was wading slowly towards its point when Soap folded too.

"Ye dinnae ken much, Garrick. Ye gonnae have tae narrow it doon."

Ghost raked in his winnings and then stood with a grunted, "need a slash."

Gaz scowled and flipped over one of the cards they'd been playing with before Nik could tidy it away. The set was raunchy, with depictions of busty girls in various states of undress and intimacy. The Ace of Spades had a brunette facing out of the card, her lover behind her with one hand in her hair. "Why do girls ask for this?"

"Why ask for doggy?" Soap asked, smirking around the top of his beer bottle.

"Nah, mate. The hair pulling. I've had at least two birds ask me for it. It can't be fuckin' good, can it?"

"Aye, well, I dunnae tend tae pull the freaky ones, so..."

"Alright, alright. Shut it. Nik, help me out here." Gaz looked over at their dealer, who was busy expertly shuffling the cards for the next round.

"There is a right way and a wrong way to pull hair, sergeant," Nik said.

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Da, observe." Nik placed the deck down carefully and turned towards Soap. "The wrong way is to grab a random tuft," he lifted a large palm and snagged a handful of Soap's mohawk, shaking him from side to side, "and just start pulling them about. It is wrong. Hurts, no?"

"Ah, Jesus fuck, Nik," Soap squawked, batting at Nik's forearm. "Aye. Feels like ye scalpin' me."

Ghost returned, chuckling low in his throat at Soap's bleats of protest. He rolled his bally up over his nose and took a swig of bourbon, observing the little scene he'd stumbled back in on with interest. "Li'le scrote finally run his mouth too much, Nikolai?"

"Naw, Nik's showin' Garrick how t' pull a lady's hair in bed." Soap growled, head still tilted at an odd angle where Nik had scruffed the strip of ferret fur he called a hairstyle.

"Oh yeah?" Ghost's eyes slid over to Nik, lingering on the hand that released Soap's mohawk. "G'won then, show us the proper way."

"Regrettably, the sergeants both favour the short back and sides, but yours is longer." Nik rose to his feet, matching Ghost in height and bulk. Ghost's hackles should go up, but with Nik, they hadn't in years. It had something to do with how Price was around him, Ghost reckoned. When your damn leader relaxed, you were relaxed. Like a good dog. Nik spread his hands. "May I, lieutenant? Your mask will remain on."

"C'mon, L.T. Lessee."

"I'll buy you a drink at the pub when we get home, sir."

Ghost swallowed, levelling Nik with a heavy stare. "Ya pull my hairline as far as yours and we'll 'ave a problem," he murmured, emptying his glass before placing it down on the table. When Nik stepped into space, he got a hit of expensive cologne and engine oil that sat pleasantly on the back of his tongue. Damn handsome bastard too, all things considered. Ghost tried not to scrutinise what having him so close did to his heart.

Nik's hand settled on Ghost's shoulder first and then slid around the back of his neck, careful to keep his thumb tucked to avoid Ghost's throat.

"You slide your hand up their neck through the roots at the back," he said softly, his hand moving as he spoke, fingertips sliding beneath Simon's bally to the softness of his blond hair. "And you pull upwards, keeping your fingers close to their scalp."

What was left of Ghost's soul left his body momentarily as Nik pulled. His belly did a little flip, his knees suddenly weak, shoulders rising as he sucked in a shocked gasp. The sensation that bristled over his scalp settled behind his eyes, and they rolled closed as it continued down his spine. The world screeched to a halt as Ghost zeroed in on the man before him, his instincts firing off like sparkplugs in an engine struggling to turn over. Frozen.

Nik was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side. "It should not cause pain, but it is a... mammalian response, like a cat scruffing its kitten. It should inspire a feeling of pleasure in submission."

Ghost couldn't breathe. His eyes flickered open and he zoned in on Nik's dark eyes, the fullness of his lips and the unshaven scruff of stubble around his jawline. In that breathless moment, Ghost's entire body tingled with heat and want. He could feel Nik's warmth, so close and yet not touching him at all but for the hand in his hair; a sturdy bulwark waiting to catch him. What Ghost would give to press his face into the open collar of his shirt and rub through the dark hair he could see there, while--

"'Ear that, L.T.? Ye like a big fuckin' kitten."

Soap's jibe broke the spell and Nik released Ghost's hair, stepping out of his space to return to his seat. His gaze lingered on Ghost's eyes before he turned, and for a tense second Ghost was fockin' worried he'd be outed for whatever the hell that was. But Nik sat down with a nonchalant shrug.

"Shut it, Johnny," Ghost grunted. "Don' see what all the fuss is about."

"Aye, ye tell 'em, sir. Missionary with the lights off fully clothed is the only way, eh?"

Ghost flipped Soap his middle finger and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Gonna hit the sack, long day tomorrow. Don' fuck around too late." He left the room at what he hoped was a reasonable pace, but his mind was already elsewhere, namely on the aching boner stretching down his right trouser leg. He was grateful no one could read minds; if he was thinking of Nik as he had a sad, furious and slightly drunk wank, then that was between him and god.

Nik watched Ghost's retreating back over the rim of his vodka glass, his head tilted to the side in thoughtful consideration. The embers he had watched flare to life in those somber brown eyes were unmistakable. He had seen similar in two twin baby blues only two mornings ago.

Khoroshego vam nastroyeniya i do vstrechi, Simon.

#cod nikolai #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #nikghost #cod #call of duty

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luvvrz · 5 months ago

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Blurred Lines [Logan / Reader, 18+]

AKA: You and your roommate have something unspoken going on, but the author is half-asleep writing and hoping to god my words make any sense at all because they did NAWT proofread

Additional tags: female reader, friends to lovers, oral stimulation, worship

OTHER WORKS

The way Logan ate was, well... as animalistic as expected.

In his defense, he was a goddamn animal - attempting to housetrain a man like that was like trying to teach a goldfish how to drive.

As he began to chow down, you moved across the kitchen. Your apartment wasn't very big, but it was more than enough for the two of you - though, it was pretty humurous seeing his bulking form squished into one of your tiny kitchen chairs.

He smells of outdoors, of blood and sweat. He could use a bath, no doubt, but there was something enticing about that earthy scent, masculine in nature - so overwhelmingly Logan.

Christ, the two of you were walking a bit of a blurred line, here.

You'd been roommates for God knows how long, now. Sure, there was a bit of flirting here and there, but you always maintained your distance. You get too close to the Wolverine, you get burnt.

As you flutter about like some kind of butterfly, hazel eyes track after you, watching how your pajamas cling to your curves, how your body shifts and stretches. It's almost a tease, the way you bend and move around. His body responds in kind, and he has to shift on the chair to adjust himself discreetly.

Logan takes another bite of his dinner to clear that thought, noticing how the taste of the meat and veggies doesn't do much to quench that heat. He'd give a kidney for some whiskey to take the edge off, but he's all out - though, unbeknownst to him, you know him like the back of your hand.

Even so, you fail notice the way he adjusts himself discreetly in his jeans, or the way his eyes drag over your form. You don't have superhuman senses like he, but you do know him. You know his drinking habits, and you know from the look on his face that his stash is all but dry. You don't even turn to face him as you gather two glasses from the cabinet, before reaching into the pantry.

Whiskey - a freshly bought bottle, from the looks of it.

You take your time, placing a few ice cubes in each cup, before filling them upwards. To the brim, just like he did. You lacked supernatural instincts, but you were observant enough.

"You look thirsty."

The irony of that sentence is lost on you.

You don't wait for a response before you're slipping into the seat across from him, pushing the amber filled glass across the wood. It's enough to render him speechless, a feat not often accomplished - yet, he finds himself almost choking on his dinner. What were you, a goddamn mind reader? Those eyes were wide, unbelieving as they flickered from the glass, to your almost smug face.

"Where'd ya' get this, Bub?"

His voice is barely a grunt as he leans forwards in his seat, calloused hand slipping around the cup. His gaze is back on the glass, tracing the condensation racing down the side for only a moment before he's taking a long swig. It burns going down, and he's grateful for the feeling - a temporary respite from the tension.

"And you? You don't drink whiskey."

This makes you huff a laugh, much to his amusement. There's something alluring about the way you swirl your own glass almost absentmindedly, the alcohol within like liquid gold as your eyes meet his over the rim. There's something intense in the air, electric and dangerous, enough to make him look away almost instantly. For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of ice clinking together in some kind of bizarre symphony, before you're speaking again.

"Ah, you didn't know me in college."

You didn't even nurse your drink. Logan's entranced as you bring it to those pink lips, draining the glass in one goddamn fell swoop. Your throat bobs as you swallow, and only once it's completely empty do you slam it back down on the table, a thumb coming up to dab the remnants off the corner of your mouth. It's a nice burn, a low buzz that makes your belly feel warm.

And fuck, it makes Logan feel warm all over, too.

You didn't even bat a goddamn eyelash. Your skin's reddening from the liquor, your lips are spread in that ever-present smirk, and you look like a goddamn angel sent from hell. His eyes don't leave your mouth, watching as that little tongue peaks out to lick at your lips.

Lord have Mercy.

Your lips are moving again, though, and he's broken from his trance.

"Friends drink together, yeah?"

The word makes bile threaten to rise in his throat. Friend, his ass. Friends don't look each other in the eye as they tongue fuck a glass of whiskey - which you'd thrown back like it was a glass of water. Logan's been with a lot of women, seen a lot of shit, yet nothing made his dick stand at attention quicker than watching you drink like a Sailor. You, petite and sweet you, so innocent and pretty and Christ, he wanted to defile. Tear it to shreds, give you something else to wrap those pretty lips around -

"Yeah... friends." He grumbles, bringing his own glass back to his lips.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

One drink turns to two, and two turns into four, and soon enough, the pair of you are six drinks in.

Between the two of you, you've probably drank enough to knock out a whole bar top full of grown men - yet there you sit, pretty as can be, holding the nearly empty bottle to your chest like it was nothing. Sure, your eyes are glossy, and your face is the color of a cherry, but you're holding up immaculately. Your speech isn't slurred, and you don't even look remotely close to hurling, like most in your position would be.

You take yet another sip, crossing one leg over the other - though, the way you're drinking is anything but ladylike.

"Do you even get drunk? I mean, I'd assume the whole regeneration shit would wipe it all right out of there."

Logan huffs softly, the closest thing to a laugh you'd ever get out of him.

"I heal. Ain't got shit to do with being drunk."

Another swig, though the drink is the furthest thing from his mind. How could it not be, he thinks, as his eyes rake across your crossed legs. Sitting so fuckin' pretty, like a living doll.

How can he focus on anything besides those creamy thighs, blemish free and just barely hidden beneath the silken fabric of those pajama shorts. He wants to touch, to grab, to *claim.* You're too good for him, he knows it. You don't deserve what he can provide - or the lack thereof. But he can't help it - sure, he doesn't need a human woman, but damn does he want this one.

And from the way you've been eyeing him like a piece of meat over the table, he's sure you want him too.

He doesn't notice that you're speaking again, nor does he notice that you've risen from your seat. Hell, he doesn't notice a damn thing besides the way that shirt clings to your perky little tits. Lord, are you not wearing a bra? He can see the shape of those pretty nipples just barely stretching the fabric. He'd have a mouth wrapped around one of those melons if you'd just -

Let him in.

He doesn't know where his self-control has gone. Out the window a long time ago, he reckons. Suddenly, a calloused hand is wrapped around your wrist. You're so close he can smell your shampoo, something flowery. He can smell everything. The scent of surprise as he grabs you up, and the scent of interest that follows right after.

He rises to his feet.

"We need ta' talk."

His voice is gruff, a mere rumble as he peers down at you. The contact has your cheeks reddening further, a spark shooting up your spine. He looks so domineering like this, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes, all long dark lashes and widened pupils. You've gone stiff. For a moment, you're floundering. Flustered, as your brain short circuits.

"I, uh..."

You sputter dumbly, wrist flexing weakly in his grip. Your eyes are everywhere but him. He wishes you would look at him - he needs you to look at him.

"I don't really want to talk."

The flush on those pretty cheeks makes his chest ache. He wants to bend you right over this fucking table, but he's just barely got some restraint left within him. He wants to allow his lips to meet that supple neck, to sink his teeth into that skin. To drag them down along your chest, to bury his dick so deep in your heat that -

He growls lowly, bowing his head to better meet your gaze.

"Tough."

He's drawing closer, pink lips just barely ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Don't avoid me, girl. I can smell your lies."

Your jaw goes lax in response, sending a sense of triumph spiking high in his chest. He's teasing you, and you know it. He can smell the excitement leaking into the air, and he loves playing with you like this. You're shuddering in his hands, breath catching in your throat, and he can't help but to swallow thickly. That look in your eyes, it's going straight to his cock.

"Oh, look at you."

And you fucking twitch. You're eating out of the palm of his hand, and it has something feral deep within him roaring with delight. The way your pupils are dilating, it's sending a fire across his skin, lighting his fucking soul ablaze. You look so needy, like he's hung the stars himself.

And then you whimper, and whatever restraint he previously retained snaps.

He groans, a gruff 'fuck' as his hands wrap around those dainty hips like you weigh nothing at all. He's lifting you upwards, setting you up on the counter, and he wastes no time slotting himself between those long legs. His hands are everywhere, one sliding up to cup a handful of those gorgeous tits, while the other moves up to grip your jaw. He's turning your head you meet his gaze, lips just a hairs-width away from your own.

"Say it. Tell me you want me, baby. Let me hear you."

The dominance dripping off his tone is enough to make you whine. His hands are massaging, squeezing, demanding your attention. It's hard to compile any coherent thoughts as those deft fingers close around a nipple, pinching just hard enough to make your back arch upwards against him.

You fucking love it. He can smell it on you as you bob your head dumbly.

"U-Uh-huh. Need you, Logan, I need you so bad."

Your fucking voice, so needy and desperate, it sends an inferno of heat crashing through his chest, and his lips meet yours passionately before you can even finish your sentence.

He's biting at your lip, searching for entrance. His hands are exploring, touching and squeezing and claiming whatever they can reach. They massage at your hips, before sliding downwards to cup your ass. Then he's yanking you forward, tucking his cock snugly within the cleft of your thigh. The feeling makes him shiver, and he has to reel himself in to keep from cumming in his pants like some virgin.

"You don't know what you fuckin' do to me. Been drivin' me crazy for fuckin' weeks, dreamin' about that slutty little mouth of yers'."

He's so hard against you that he's throbbing, and you're reacting like some post-orgasmic Madonna. Those pretty eyes are fluttering, fighting to stay open as you grip his shoulder blades like a lifeline. He's big, and for a moment, he wonders how its going to fit - then again, he really doesn't give a shit. He'll make it fit.

You're gasping into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting on whatever comes closest. Your lips are swollen, and there's drool running down your chin, but you clearly couldn't care less - not when you're sucking on his tongue so greedily it has him seeing stars, making his eyes go unfocused.

"Fuck me, baby, I can take it." You gasp, delicate fingers finding it's way to the hem of your shirt.

One hand snatches your own, pulling it away. He's growling, the sound reverberating his whole chest as he breaks the kiss. He's greedy as he moves to your neck, nosing gently at your pulse point.

You smell so goddamn good.

Then he's latching on, all teeth and tongue as his hands make quick work or your shirt, tearing the fabric like it's a piece of paper. It makes you squeal - he's sure you loved that shirt, but he doesn't give a damn. Not now.

"You're gonna take whatever I fuckin' give you, yeah?"

His head is hazy, and the way you're moaning like a wanton little bitch isn't helping him see any clearer. Your titties are bouncing, just barely held back by that flimsy bra, and his pants are so constricting that it hurts. He's got a vice grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he moves down your body, punctuation each movement with a kiss, or a nip. You whine the whole way down, making him grin into your skin.

From your chest, to your belly, to your waist line. Your hands have found purchase in his hair, knotting through the unkempt lock, and those nails are scratching at his scalp in just the right way that has him wanting to sing praises to the heavens. Those sharp teeth are catching in the waistline of your pants, and he's dragging them down with him.

You look divine like this, bare and trembling for him. His fucking mouth is watering, and you're getting off just on the way he's staring up at you from between your thighs. He looks predatory, eyes dark and narrowed as he licks a thin stripe at your inner thigh. Your hands are pushing down, so goddamn impatient. You're calling out for him like a mantra, and he hasn't even started yet.

If he was a lesser man, he would've fucked you there. But he didn't just want to fuck you, he wanted to worship you. Make you cum on his tongue and sing his name until it's the only word you remember.

He intends to do exactly that.

One hand is slipping beneath the wristbands of his sweats as he leans closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your pretty pussy. It makes you tense, and he chuckles softly as he uses his free hand to push your thighs further apart. Spread and bare, he feels like a parched man in the desert. Your pussy is so goddamn pretty, clit swollen and walls of velvet fluttering around fucking nothing. God, he could cum just from watching your squirm like this.

But this wasn't about him.

Without much more resistance, he's diving in. One slow stripe up your soaking slit has you keening, back arching as taut as a bow. He's sure you're squealing, but your thighs are squeezing his head so tightly that everything's muffled. He can't help but to groan at the heady taste of you, so fucking wet it's coating your thighs. He's like a man starved as he begins to worship your pussy like it's the only thing left on this fucking earth.

The fist around himself grips him tighter, and God, he feels like a fucking rock. He can't remember ever being this hard before. His balls are tight, and he's twitching angrily at each slick pass of his hand. The taste of you, mixed with the feeling of his calloused hand makes his eyes roll back.

You were so fucking sexy, the way you babbled as he tongue-fucked you like his life depended on it. In and out, your walls squeezing his tongue as if trying to beckon it deeper. He laughs at that, at your impatience, pulling back for a moment. You whine, clearly displeased by the lost of contact - until he spits on your your clit, thumb moving up to rub quick, tight circles on the bundle of nerves as he met your eyes once more.

"Talk to me, baby, tell me what you need."

It's pointless, really. You're gone, past the point of communication, but it's adorable the way that you try. You're babbling so sweetly, and the only words he can make out is 'please' and 'thank you.' His cock jumps at that, at his sweet girl begging so prettily.

His thumb is still doing figure-8s on your clit, tongue still lapping at your pussy like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He deserves a medal for multitasking, he thinks - not that it mattered. He could cum just like this, stroking his dick or not.

You're close, and he can tell. He didn't expect you to last long, not with how sensitive you were, but it was still a surprise to feel your walls start to constrict urgently around his tongue. He smirks, eyes darting up to watch your blushing face. You can't even meet his eyes anymore, too fucked out to do anything but sit there and take it.

So goddamn gorgeous.

It doesn't take long, not at all. He can sense it, in the way your muscles grow tense. You're getting wetter in his mouth, your hips canting upwards with purpose. Your grip in his hair is growing tighter, and your breathing is erratic. Only a little more, you told him. Then it became a mission.

Your words were true. All it took was him sucking your clit into his mouth, two fingers moving downwards to slip into you and curling upwards in a 'come here' motion, and then you were spasming like a woman possessed. He doesn't think he's ever heard you scream that loudly, and he doesn't think he's ever heard a sound so beautiful in his life. He isn't ashamed by the way he follows promptly after, either, spilling hot and fast into his pants with a breathy grunt.

The line wasn't blurred, not anymore.

#logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan #wolverine #wolverine x reader #drabble #short ficlet

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writers-potion · 8 months ago

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hi!! could we get a list of unique character traits? things like: sweet-tooth, really loves glittery/sparkly eyeshadow, etc. thank you!

List of Interesting Character Traits

Physical

Wearing thick, red eyeliner all the time

Paints each fingernail a different color

Wears an eye patch to look cool

Wears hoodies all the time

Has two identical tattoos, in different locations

Wears fake glasses of various colors

Has n number of same shirts, maybe in different colors

Loves to wear only green

Never goes out without wearing heels

Like to wear flowers/floral scent

Only yellow lamps in their room

Non-Physical

Feeling sleepy after drinking coffee because caffeine does nothing for you and you've just had something warm

Being addicted to childhoos snakes even as an adult and flexing them in bulk now that you don't have you mum to shout at you

Keeping Christmas lights up all year

Huge fan of horror movies because they're genuinely fun

Likes to go out barefoot

Uses empty wine bottles as flower vases

Unlit cigar in their mouth all the time

Chews on the neck of shirts

Listens to songs in languages they can't understand

Loves sweet stuff but will only drink zero coke to cur calories

Has a large gallery of cat/dog photos but doesn't own a pet

Doesn't sweat

Chews gum all the time

Puts water on ceral instead of milk

Types in all caps in chat rooms

Drives barefoot

Likes to eat everything frozen

Wierd Character Traits/Habits

*trigger warning : some of these are embarrassing/dirty, but hey, haven't we all done this at least once...? (please tell me I'm not the only one)

(for characters with long hair) Pulling out a strand of hair stuck between your buttcheeks after a shower

Playing with your breasts as you sit at your desk studying

Lacing your fingers through your toes

Letting that one, wierdly long hair on your toe grow - aka "Lucky Hair"

Smelling your floss string after using it

Scrunching your nose because your nose hairs aren't in the right position somehow(?)

Cutting their own hair with a pair of scissors...even pubic hair

+ I really hope this helps since I nearly died of embarassment writing the last bit haha

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram!

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2

💎For early access to my content, become a Writing Wizard

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thefandomsfervent · 1 month ago

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Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 17) - Prussian Blue

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik and wine, drunk Jayvik, it goes 18+ here (masturbation). Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. It's late, I was on a roll, and I didn't proofread this a whole lot, I'll edit it later.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It only took you thirty minutes to find your way back to the lab. Although, those first few minutes had you stressed and embarrassed. You and Mel had spent almost two hours walking and talking and you thought she had taken you all over the Academy, but she really had you both walking laps. You were closer to the dining hall than you thought, from there you were able to find your room, and then the lab. Just as you walk up to that heavy door it swings open.

“Zlato, please, use your feet.” It’s Viktor, doing his best to keep Jayce above the floor. You rush forward without thinking and get under Jayce’s other arm to prop him up. You have to drop your pouch and your sketchbook. It gets kicked behind you into the lab once you’re able to stand taller.

“What happened?” You’re asking as you shift Jayce between yourself and Viktor. He’s laughing to himself at the situation. “Oh my gods. He was drunk. Jayce Talis sensible golden boy was drunk.” You remember the wine that Mel had gifted them. But it had only been two hours. Three and half maybe?

“The wine was stronger than we thought.” When you look at Viktor you see his hair is tousled, his cheeks red from exertion or his own drinking you aren’t sure.

“Did he have the whole bottle?” You’re laughing and trying not to. The shaking of your shoulders makes it hard to keep Jayce up straight. “Hun you have to help us help you okay?”

“Mmm you’re both warm. ‘S nice.” You were not letting him live this down tomorrow, if he wasn’t suffering a raging hangover.

“He had four glasses, too close together I think.” Viktor is adjusting his cane straighter with one hand and moving his shoulders around to get a better grip on Jayce’s back with his other.

“And you?”

“I also had four, but I am much better with alcohol than he is.” He thinks back to the first time they had drank together. Some whiskey that was spiced heavily at a cocktail lounge many many months ago. Viktor had enjoyed it, nursing a glass for the first thirty minutes. But Jayce? He slammed it and immediately gagged. Coughing and sputtering. That one drink alone had almost knocked him clean on his ass ten minutes later. He’s laughing at the memory. Especially when he remembers that Jayce made the exact same mistake another ten minutes after drinking a seltzer and they had to sit on the curb outside nursing water. Since then Jayce had learned how to pace himself, learned that he preferred drinks that did not burn his throat and were easier to sip on. Wine was hit or miss. “The wine was sweet, so he was not as cautious as he should have been.”

“WE ARE CELEBRAATING!” The sudden input from Jayce surprised you both. Despite his jelly legs his arms are strong, squeezing the two of you closer. He wasn’t yelling, as much as he was whisper screaming.

“Oh! Congratulations, a new development?” You’re following Viktor’s lead as you take patient steps down the hall. Viktor looks down to Jayce, whose face is flush from all the wine, who has a smile so bright it could be seen in the dark, and who is actively starting to fall asleep in their arms. They needed to move him quickly before he was dead weight. At that point it would be impossible to move him even with your help. There was no time to explain what they were celebrating.

“Yes, a new development.” He can’t help the gentle grin growing on his face. It was so warm. This endearment blooming in his ribs, the wine finding its place throughout his body, feeling your arm against his as you help him haul Jayce down the hallway. He can see their rooms. His was closest and Jayce’s was a couple doors down. There were many reasons he was thankful for the proximity of their moved rooms, but now more than ever. His hand using his cane was starting to go numb from the pressure, a pain shooting up his arm into his shoulder. “Here, to the left. Can you get him to the wall?” Jayce is heavy but you manage to move him to the wall by yourself, needing a breather as you slump against it with him.

He looks sleepy. Eyes struggling to stay open, his mouth parted, his usually perfect combed back hair disheveled.. “Pretty boy indeed.” You’re brushing it out of his face when he leans into your hand. He’s smiling, white teeth and happiness blinding even in the dim light of the hall. “You alright?”

“Neveerr betterrr.” It’s a slurred breathy reply and he slots his head against your shoulder. Viktor is glancing at you while also fiddling with a ring of keys. The clinking sound of metal against metal echoing in the hallway. He finds the one for Jayce’s room and starts unlocking the door. He nods at you to try and get Jayce to his feet.

“Hey big guy, you ready to get up again?” Jayce just hums, pushing the back of his head against the wall now. “Don’t you want to lay down all cozy in bed?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay then I’m going to get up and I’ll need you to come with me. Can you do that?” Jayce gives another hum of agreement and Viktor watches how gentle you are with him. Helping him stand gingerly, holding onto his waist with one arm, and pulling Jayce’s arm over your shoulder again. Intertwining your fingers with his golden partner’s as you try your damndest to get him through the door. He watches as you give Jayce affirming words and praise for just moving forward with you. It pulls at his core, at all the things him and Jayce had discussed tonight. At all the moments that have been shared. “I’m a sappy drunk,” he thinks as he directs you to Jayce’s bedroom. Viktor pulls the covers back on the bed and lets you set the man down before he sits with him. Helping him take off his shoes.

“Thank you for your help. I am sure he will apologize tomorrow.” Jayce is leaning against Viktor, whispering something you can’t catch.

“I can’t say I won’t give him a hard time.” You laugh at the thought, then again when Jayce’s hand is slapped away from Viktor’s tie. It almost dies in your throat when you watch Viktor’s slender fingers work at Jayce’s. You know it’s to help Jayce get ready for bed, but after all that you’ve seen today it was an image you weren’t sure you were supposed to be burning into your memory like you are. “Goodluck. I’ll be in the hall if you need help.” Viktor just nods, trying to get Jayce to sit still as you leave.

You can hear Viktor talking to Jayce, instructing him as you close the bedroom door. Jayce’s apartment is neat but lived in. It smelled a little of oil? And baked spices. A jacket tossed over a couch, shoes neatly lined by the front door. A table with notes and blueprints that looked similar to how he kept his own room. Stacks of books filled with sticky notes. There are a few plants around. A guitar? So much information about a person in one space. It made you wonder about Viktor’s room. If it was neater than this knowing that he barely spent any time there. As you make your way into the hall you remember that Viktor had a key, on his own key ring, to Jayce’s place. So intimate, the care they had for each other. So sweet in its normalcy. A feeling brews in your chest as you wait by the door. Overwhelming and unknown, something akin to wanting.

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“You are drunk Jayce.” Viktor is trying his hardest to not laugh at the man in front of him, struggling to unbutton his own shirt.

“ ‘know that.” An irritated huff, an uncommon sound for his partner. “ ‘m trying.”

“I know you are, let me help.” It takes a few minutes to get Jayce set up for bed. Viktor leaves him in his undershirt, let’s Jayce take care of his pants despite the struggle. There’s a want brewing in him. He wants to stay here, to hold him til he sleeps, be there with water and maybe a pain reliever when he wakes up. But he doesn’t. He ignores the whine in Jayce’s throat when he goes to the kitchen to get his partner water. When he returns Jayce is out cold. Snoring softly under the covers. He leaves the water on the bedside table, watching the even breathing that moves Jayce’s chest. A hand moves to cup his cheek, rubbing a circle into the apple of it. Viktor’s heart swells when he feels the weight of Jayce push into it unconsciously.

He joins you in the hallway shortly after. You were staring at the wall in front of you, zoning out when the closing of the door snaps you out of it.

“Hey, he alright?” You’re leaning forward, hands by your side as you face him.

“He will be fine. Embarrassed, but fine.” Viktor was tired, the wine making him sleepy and warm. He starts walking towards his room and you follow.

“Didn’t think he’d be a lightweight. It’s kinda-” cute. You don’t finish the sentence but it seems like Viktor agrees with you, laughing softly as his cane taps against the floor.

“Unexpected. I did not know either when we first met. He will deny it though, if you ask it. Blames it on anything else.” He likes hearing you laugh. He likes knowing he caused it. He frowns when he realizes how short the walk is to his room. You would be leaving now. “Goodnight Ms. L/N. We shall see you in the lab tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes. Goodnight Viktor.” Your voice is so soft, so sweet. Viktor watches as you walk down the hall, flipping through all the keys he has before finding the one for his door. He hadn’t gone to bed this early in a long time. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and he was already in his room getting ready to shower. Discarding clothes, finding ones for tomorrow. Brushing his teeth as the shower heats up.

When he steps in it fogs up the window over his sink. The warm water soothing the aches of his body. He goes over today’s events as he lathers a shampoo through his hair. How Jayce’s teasing of you led to teasing him. And now they were… together. Officially. Finally declared as two parts of a whole, and that they both wanted you. He thinks about the wine. How it was sweet and rich and strong. How it was sweeter on Jayce when he kissed him again. How pliant Jayce was in his hands, the heat of those broad shoulders in his palms. The sounds of their kissing, teeth clacking, lips hungrier after every glass.

He should be rinsing the soap out of his hair, he should be washing his body. The routine of putting soap to a washcloth, rubbing it between his hands to form suds lingers in the back of his mind as he continues to think of those kisses. How he could taste fermented fruit and cinnamon and Jayce. A different familiar memory cuts through the haze, much stronger this time. Of release, of teasing touches from past lovers. His imagination taking over. When Jayce tried to bed him would he touch him the same way? The shower is getting hotter, the wine on his breath despite having brushed his teeth. When he tried to bed you, would you react like he did? Would you feel the same that he and Jayce did, would you want them together?

His hand was moving lower, lower, lower. He could feel it happening, the blood moving down, the water against it but he is surprised at how hard he is. When he moves his hand down, the tip moving past the opening of his fist he imagines your lips. How would they feel on him, would you be experienced enough to wet them before starting. The image of you on your knees alone has him moving faster but then his thoughts wander. Would you start slow or would you try to take him all at once? Could he fist both of his hands in your hair and hold you there so could he fuck your mouth. Or would you take the lead, bobbing your head up and down. He imagines your hands holding it or maybe braced on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Would Jayce talk you through it once he knew what worked for Viktor?

He can feel it building, all too quickly. It's been a while since he indulged himself like this. A raspy breath falling from his chapped lips. You were so soft. Sweet. Your voice. Quiet and gentle. Would it be honeyed with a returned lust or would it be strained? Dazed like that morning he woke you? "Viktor?" It’s your voice. It’s Jayce’s. The intensity almost knocks him off balance, free hand bracing on the tiled wall as he finishes. Shooting forward onto the handles of the shower. A long burst followed by several short ones as he slows his hand. Twitching when he lets himself go.

And then the only fog he's left with is the steam of the shower. He felt faint, the shower water was too hot and he hadn't been taking full breaths. He turns a handle to make the shower cold and his hand is sticky with his release. Shame. Regret. Oh. What did he just do? He wants to blame it on Jayce’s teasing today. On the glass of wine that warmed his chest. But he knows that's not it. That it's his own depravity.

Well, he could blame all of those things. Embarrassment burns his cheeks more than the water, more than the wine. He hadn’t indulged in that in so, so long. And the realization that there would be something with Jayce in the future settles in his chest. That Jayce wouldn’t be upset with him for this. He takes a deep breath.

More thoughts for later. Exhaustion is deep in his bones now, it had been a long day despite coming to his room early. He needs to sleep, to clean up. He lathers the rag on the hook and enjoys the rest of his shower. Tomorrow will be a new day. A good day.

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-------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 16-.-Part 18·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

#chat he jorked it #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane #viktor arcane #x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #jayvik #jayvikmel #jayce talis #mel medarda

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leviathanleva · 1 month ago

Text

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[5k words]

[Angst, Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 5 "Meringue Kisses"

Late that night, you’re skulking some distance from his door, hidden in the shadows and only occasionally the moon cruelly reveals your habitation.

A bottle of bourbon is nestled under your armpit, a peace offering after having left his heavy words hanging in the small infirmary room you’d been stationed in. Cruelty was something you’d been taught to bestow upon enemies but was forbidden towards comrades. Technically you were going against your orders by just walking away.

But wasn’t it also cruel to lie and let a dear one live an illusion?

He’d stayed by your bedside the entire time, you knew, you could smell him alongside the orchids he replaced every day. It could be viewed as either sweet or obsessive, but he’d been there for you and the least you could do was apologize for bailing on him.

But what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

“I’m sorry for ignoring your advances and walking out on you when you basically confessed your love?”

You weren’t trained for such a situation. You were a battering ram, not a love counselor. Yet out of everyone, Ghost sought you out for comfort, somehow found solace in your presence and the more he did the more that small guilty spark in your chest grew and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You trudge forward, abandoning your shadow-soaked post, and knock on his door before reason has a chance to pull you away.

Simon answers silently, you hear only his lazy heartbeat and then the lock click before he’s standing in front of you clad in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a tee far too tight for his bulk. Alcohol is pungent on his breath, it invades your nostrils even through his mask. Besides that, the bloodshot eyes that are barely open and the slumped shoulders tell you a sad story you doubt he wanted anyone to see.

A frown tries to form on your lips at the wreck he portrays, but you will it away. Instead, you blink up at him and thrust the bourbon bottle high in the air, practically in his face.

You’re facing away now, embarrassed by your stingy excuse for an apology, but you didn’t know what else to do. The Lieutenant didn’t have many hobbies you could add to. You couldn’t buy him a new book or a knitting set, a puzzle or…anything really.

He gingerly takes it from your hand, thick fingers wrapping around the base and making the one liter of poison and glass look like a small water bottle.

You take him in fully then – the callouses, one too many for a man of his age, the scars on his exposed arms, the little blond hairs that gleam in the moonlight because it’s so late that most lights at base are off, the bare feet and small strands of light brown that stick out from under his mask because he’d slipped it on in a hurry.

It was a cold night, colder than most, you noted the way his inked skin blossomed into goosebumps.

“I’m sorry.” You force the words out instead of contemplating them, take a step forward instead of turning away to leave.

That had been the initial plan, gift him the bourbon and leave. His mental instability wasn’t your duty to tend, plus you were technically under his command. He was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.

But he looked pathetic past the usual stoicism. You’d risked your life for him, it would be a shame to have pulled him out of death’s way only for him to drink himself to unconsciousness because of a stupid unrequited crush. You were doing him a favor, just making sure he was alright, nothing more. As a good soldier, you had to show sympathy towards comrades.

So when he leaves the door open and retreats back into his quarters, you follow him with a small sigh.

“Don’ need to be sorry for nothen’.” You hear him rasp somewhere in front of you in a voice like sandpaper.

The room is musty, the air is stale, and the only reason it’s tidy is because he has almost no belongings. In a way, it reminds you of your own room. It’s sad, maybe you should have gifted him a small plant to keep him company on the long nights he spends cooped up in here and unable to sleep.

Maybe you shouldn’t be here at all…

“To hell with it” You think bitterly. Enough hesitation, this was unlike you.

No lights are on, and shadows cluster around the bench press and the wardrobe, which you’re sure barely holds any clothes aside from tactical gear. You understand his dislike for the light. It would put his misery on display and might welcome unwanted visitors. He didn’t want any company or for his woes to be visible.

You can relate, in a way you do the same. The light is too blinding, holds none of your secrets.

You wait for him to set the bottle down next to the half-empty one on his coffee table, then you speak.

“I want to see your face.” The words flow past your tongue like silk, it surprises both of you, how soft your tone had become, as if you were afraid of waking up someone, maybe your sense of wrongness, because this was in fact wrong to be here with him and ask for such things. “Then I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were willing to make a deal if only to make him happy.

Since Simon refused to simply order you to sleep with him, you’d found another way to grant his wishes with hopefully minimum guilt on his end.

You’d do as he asked despite how unprofessional it was. Fraternizing was frowned upon, especially between two soldiers of the same squad. You swallowed your sense of loyalty to your superiors, gave a big “fuck you” to the rules and orders.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was something you’d hastily strung together while on your way here. You’d debated whether you’d even bring it up because it might add more salt to the wound, but it was too late now.

Seeing him like this was…uncomfortable. You wouldn’t stand for it.

Ghost was the only one who showed you kindness, who believed there was still something human living somewhere in the depths of your mind. He deserved you, deserved the world.

And you believe in him, had faith that if you still beheld emotions, he’d find a way to dig them out and you’d let him keep them for himself.

And if nothing came out of this, then you’d at least tried. You were fine with both options, but he wasn’t and as long as he wasn’t satisfied you’d bend over backwards to find an alternative.

Anything for him…

“Love me for a night.” He says, pleads and steps closer to you, so close your breaths mingle. There are no warnings that what resides behind the mask isn’t pretty, there’s no pushback against your part of the bargain. He’s already laid himself bare before you, the mask had been pulled off a while ago.

“You know I c – ” You begin, but he cuts you off shortly.

“ – Then lie.”

He’s already pulling his balaclava off when you nod in silent agreement. Despite your compliance for once, he still looks exhausted, utterly drained to the bone.

You’d expected more excitement on his part, but this would do just fine.

You see the rugged features and battle scars, the light stubble and slightly crooked nose briefly before he’s kneeling in front of you. He presses his forehead against your belly, wraps his meaty arms around your thighs and pulls you close enough to bury his nose in your top and inhale deeply.

“Jus’ lie t’ me, ye?”

You rest your hands on his scalp while he breathes you in thoroughly, comb your fingers through his short hair, and tug gently to ease the headache he’s no doubt nursing. You pity him in a way, even though the choice to love you was his and he knew the consequences. Yet can one really control who their heart desires?

You wouldn’t know, your heart was chemically altered long ago.

So you indulge the desperate soul as best you can. Willing and yielding, you’ll let him feast on your flesh and drink from your blood until he was sated, no matter how long it would take. You’d endure this for him, for what hound didn’t want to please their master?

Your body was made of stone and toxins, cold and strong and deadly, but you believed in his ability to find a softness hidden there…somewhere.

“I love you.” You feel him coil around you like a python the moment those three little words leave your lips. And you continue to gently pet him, coax him to let go and shatter between your fingers, for once let himself feel, you wouldn’t stop him.

There’s a silence that follows, a crippling weight along with it that you won’t break as long as he didn’t voice that he wanted you to. You could stay like this all night if he needed it, he only had to ask

“You lyin’?”

“Yes.” You nod to the darkness, staring down at his light brown tuft of hair, playing with it gently before your fingers slip down to his ears, massaging them briefly, then slithering to his chin.

You raise it so he can look at you, offer him your best smile and the most vulnerability you can muster.

There’s so much pain in those whiskey-colored eyes, it’s a heartwrenching sight. He’s so torn between letting you go and getting what he wants because finally you chose to succumb. A battle rages behind his heavy eyelids, one he doesn’t let slip past the battle-scarred features. But you know him too well, you’ve delved past his mental barriers many times, and there’s not much he can hide from you.

You coo down at him and it’s scarily human, unbelievably believable.

“I love you.”

He stutters for a moment, and spurts out something you couldn’t quite make out. Contemplation weighs heavy on his face, makes his forehead litter with wrinkles, and his brows lower until they shadow over his eyes.

“Keep lyin’.” He murmurs and is on his feet in a second, picks you up like you weigh nothing before slowly carrying you to his bed.

You’re stuffed among the thin sheets and pillow before he crawls on top of you and lets his weight sink you further into the mattress. He’s heavy and warm and you feel your body melt beneath him as he nestles comfortably on top of you.

The smell of tobacco and his cologne surround you along with that distinct aroma of sleep, it all makes you relax, taut muscles turning to jelly. You barely find the energy to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down. His stubble attacks your face, grazes cheeks and chin alike as his alcohol-dried lips press against yours in an uncertain kiss.

He hesitates still despite your willingness, almost acts shy in his gentle, feather-like pecks over your still mouth. You lock your lips together, try to encourage him as you nibble at his bottom lip.

Eagerness slowly burns away whatever doubts he has and he’s on you like a man starved, licking and sucking, dominating your mouth as the bitter flavor of bourbon stings your taste buds.

A rumble comes from deep in his throat as his eyes squeeze shut and his rough hands slip beneath your flimsy top to study the flesh beneath. You shudder under his touch and are quick to roll the both of you over, breaking the kiss in the process.

It’s not about you tonight, you can’t be slouching around and being pleased when your master was the one in dire need.

Good hounds always please.

You bunch up his tee until it’s gathered around his neck, toss it off as soon as he lifts his heavy head. It’s somewhere on the floor, discarded while you’re on a mission to tend to every inch of him you can reach. Lips latch onto his neck, sharp canines teasing the skin as your tongue runs laps over his pulse and pulls the most satisfying, meager grunts you’ve heard anyone emit.

Your eyes glint in the darkness, menacing, the orbs of a predator, and Simon has a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to run. You’ll eat him alive, you’re not human, for once he’s the prey. But he can’t will himself to move an inch, instead he lets his hands slot on your hips and pulls you closer as you lather his skin in lovebites.

He was willing to be just another meal for you if only he gets to touch you for as long as he’s conscious. Devour him if you so wish, he’ll go down a satisfied man.

“Thas’ it, pretty girl.” He manages to rasp out between pants. “Mark me all ova’.”

You don’t disappoint, moving from his neck down to his chest, your tongue never drying because you’re salivating at the mere sight of him bared and broken under your weight. You pepper his abdomen in kisses, nuzzle the tip of your nose against the fuzzy trail starting from his belly button and disappearing under his waistband. His stomach sinks with a shuddering breath as you glide your palm over his hardened cock, noting how it’s straining against his sweatpants already and wanting nothing more than to be set free.

Your eyes dart up to see a disheveled man biting back moans the more you massage him through the thick fabric.

“Can I?” You ask, but you’re already tugging his pants down to reveal a leaking tip begging for attention.

“Jesus fuck – ” Simon barely manages to gasp as your tongue greedily licks up the sticky precum running down his shaft. His hand is in your hair, blunt nails digging into your scalp and a purr blossoms inside your chest and transfers straight to his groin.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like, Lieu – ”

“ – Simon.” He manages to choke out before you finish, and for a moment you're frozen.

Your head rises, tilts slightly like that of a confused pup before you’re slowly and delicately crawling over him.

“Simon.” You hum softly and press a single, sugary kiss to his lips before you descend again. “My Simon.”

And he wants to cry because you’re hammering nails into his heart.

A good liar, liar, liar. Liar!

That’s all you are. A bloody good liar. He needs to remind himself, chant that sentence like a mantra as you tenderly trace your mouth over his cock before lathering it in saliva and letting it sink down to your throat.

His toes are curling as you suckle on him with scary precision, with a masqueraded need that feels so real he keeps forgetting you’re only doing this because he wanted you to.

He watches with batting lashes and lazy blinks as his girthy length disappears in your pretty mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around him, like you were made to be drooling over him.

And maybe you had been before the changes. Maybe you were his soulmate, but he’d been too late to find you.

He’s mesmerized by the twinkling canines that are so close to the pulsing veins on his shaft, yet you don’t let them cause any damage. You’re caring and careful and devoted to him completely. He likes the danger, the risk, your tenderness despite your nature. It makes him feel special in a way.

You chose him as a master, you’d rebelled for him, risked your life for him. It was slowly pumping through his blood, the fact that you were ready to do anything for him.

When you take him down to the hilt and cup his balls he nearly doubles over.

“Bloody h-hell, woman.”

You pause and look up at him with a spark of anxiety to your usually solemn features.

“Bad?”

He snorts at the question and pats your head reassuringly before picking at a stray strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. A tiny leash, even now, to guide his dog in the right direction.

“No.” He mouths and lets his head fall back against the pillow. “ ‘s good. Keep goin’.”

You’re spreading his thick, scarred thighs farther apart, nestling comfortably on your belly before you start to ease him back into your mouth, throat relaxed, taking all of him in.

“Good girl…” He breathes out and lets his eyes flutter closed.

Fuck everything. If he had only one night where you were willing, he’d fight off all his taunting thoughts until morning.

A small moan, so tiny he might have missed it if he wasn’t so enthralled by you, echoed in your throat and caused his whole body to shudder. His grunts stop, the praises also and the gentle head patting falters.

His eyes crack open and he glances down at you.

“Do tha’ again, luv.”

You moan again on command, louder, more prominent this time. It reverberates down his cock and he nearly cums on then and there.

A sweet symphony gifted only to him, honeyed noises that are meant for him alone to hear because you’ve been his from the very beginning. Precious little thing you are, all powdered sugar and poison ivy. He’d rather die to your venom than live a day without you by his side.

And the worst part is that you know all this, but you’re a good hound, you don’t take it for granted. You’re grateful for anything he gives you.

Just having him is enough for you.

Mewling sounds rain down on him, salving over every thought, every scar, he drowns in them, letting them linger in his ears as you work your tongue over his tip and swallow every drop of precum that oozes out. His free hand is clutching the sheets so tight the threads are straining not to rip under the pressure. His bottom lip is imprisoned between his teeth, bruised at how harshly he bites down on it to keep quiet.

Simon doesn’t realize he’s bucking his hips up in tune with your mouth and writhing beneath your steady hold until you release his cock from your bittersweet torture and settle on his thighs like a woman victorious.

“You’re ready.” You mumble more to yourself than him and he watches as you toss your top somewhere on the hardwood floor. Your sports bra follows after and you’re bare before him, breasts exposed and nipples hardening from the low temperature.

You’re quick to discard your bottom as well and are about to mount him before he grips your waist and still you, the tip of his shaft brushing against your entrance, pulsating with need and swollen red.

You give him a quizzical look and his brows furrow.

“But you ain’t.” Simon grunts. “This ain’t just about me, luv. Not gonna use you like tha’.”

You shake your head at him in disapproval and try to take him in your dry heat, but he won’t budge.

“I don’t need to be.” You protest.

His skin crawls at the thought and he’s quick to roll you onto your back and cage you between his large upper arms.

“Want you to enjoy this too.” He says with so much softness it makes you whimper and cling to him as if the mattress will swallow you whole. He brushes his nose against yours and steals a brief kiss. “You make me feel good. I make you feel good, ye? Want this to be mutual. As much as possible.”

When he tries to slide down to your core, you clutch at his hair and stutter out excuses. Panic twinkles in your eyes that aren’t the emotionless wholes that bore into his soul just a few hours ago. There’s more to them now, a kind of uncertainty he’s not seen before and to which he’ll cling like a drowning man to a straw.

“Trust me.” He soothes and continues down, kissing along your breasts and brushing his lips over your tummy. He spreads you open and comes to face your neglected sex, then glances up at you one last time. “If you don’ like it, I’ll stop.”

He’s not gentle in his mission to please you. It’s all greedy slurps and teeth and a relentless tongue that drags over your clit. Everything he does is a desperate attempt at awakening a spark in you and the more he pushes the faster a knot surfaces somewhere deep in your belly. His fingers slip past your folds and stretch your tightness, reminding you that you can still feel pleasure. He pumps them inside you lazily, first one, then two and once you’re dripping down his palm, he adds a third and has you wailing.

Your trembling thighs come to squeeze either side of his head to muffle his hearing because your moans aren’t imitations anymore. He’s starved for the noises spilling from your lips, languid sighs of his name and whispered pleas to keep going. Torn between feeling your strong thighs cutting the blood flow from his ears and humming along to your meager whines, beckoning you to produce more and feed his bottomless hunger.

“Let go f’ me, pretty girl.” He rumbles, words slurred by the evergrowing slickness he’s smearing over his stubble. “Tha’s it.”

You’re trying desperately to wiggle away from him, the heat in your cunt is unbearable, pulsing and aching and it’s been so long that you don’t remember what follows next.

But his grip on you is iron and you’ve not the strength to detach him from his pursuit.

You come undone beneath him, shatter in his hands, scratching at his back and shoulders viciously as his name flows past your lips in a chant, accompanied by a slew of moans and curses. There’s beads of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and threatening to spill.

He emerges to kiss them away, terrified that if he voiced their existence everything would be over, the spell would break. Instead, he coos down at you as you tremble in his arms and whimper incoherences up at him. He’s gentle now despite the ache between his legs, lowers himself down on you and squishes you to shush your pleas of confusion. He’ll be your safety blanked, a weighted, warm, rugged blanket that will always be there at your disposal, you only need seek it out.

He feels your cunt pulsing and drenched when he presses the tip of cock to it, grinds against it to coat himself in slickness.

Despite your spent state, you’re still willing to please, wrap your legs around his thick waist faithfully and push down on his lower back with the heels of your feet. He eases into you with care, gazing at you watchfully for any signs of discomfort even though he knows you’d rather die than sacrifice his pleasure for a bit of pain.

Your breaths come out shaky as you adjust your hips and spread your thighs wider, trying to accommodate to his bulk.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ…” Your name follows along with a handful of unsavory words as he patiently fills you, shallow thrusts and clenched teeth as he holds himself back. “So tight f’ me. Perfect f’ me, luv. Fuckin’ heavenly…”

He’d prepped you thoroughly, both with tongue and fingers, and it was still a snug fit. You wrapped around him like a sleeve, choked his cock with your hot, mushy walls that sucked him in greedily every time he tried to pull out a bit.

“Greedy li’le cunt you got.”

“Your cunt, Simon.” You manage to choke out in between heavy breaths and meek whimpers. But your patience runs thin, you want to be ravaged and he’s taking too long, so you thrust your hips up and take what part of him still wasn’t swallowed in sinful tightness. “Don’t spare me. I’m no virgin.”

His tip smushes against your squishy cervix and your eyes roll back as he snarls like a beast and becomes taut.

“Fuck!” He hisses and rolls his hips once, twice, bruising your soft insides with his girth as your wetness squirts out and covers his inner thighs, slicking the curly hairs there because there’s just no more fucking room inside you.

He goes for your neck and settles for a steady pace, barely managing to move his cock with how desperately your core sucks him back in. His teeth sink in your tender flesh, leaving marks and then soothing them with apologetic flicks of his tongue.

Your nails are drawing pictures of red on his back and you’re begging him to be rougher, to give you more, all of him. Then you stop because he’s scarred enough as is. You flatten your palms over his mass instead, trace his spine delicately, and move in toon with him, letting him bury himself to the hilt, until his pelvis presses against yours.

He’s panting in your hair, there’s already a thin sheen of sweat coating his body and making him glow in the moonlight like a battered, fallen angel.

You kiss along his shoulder, run your hands wherever you can reach, wandering over his body and memorizing everything in your path.

Loving promises slip past your kiss-bruised lips as his pace quickens and you’re being forced farther into the bed with every hurried thrust.

He’s groping you with bruising need, practically crushes you beneath him until only your feet are exposed to the cold. The room fills with the sound of your sloshy sex, your pleas and his grunts, sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and a creaking bed that’s barely supporting both of your weights. Your ears feel hot and your heart thrums with every breathless call of your name that escapes him in between bites.

Knots are coiling in your belly again and you’re calling out to him without a second thought. It feels natural, instinctual.

“Simon, please, love…”

His pace becomes brutal, he’s all fangs and guttural growls as he forces himself inside you, too lost in his pleasure to care anymore. Because your little pussy is heaven to him, wants him so desperately, pulls at him with need, takes him all in even though he’s too big for you.

“Good girl. So good…My good girl. Pretty girl. Fuck!”

Your back is already arching before his mindless praises start. You scream, vocal cords straining and he clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle your ecstasy as you convulse beneath him in pure bliss. You clutch at his arms so tightly there are bruises forming under your fingertips but neither of you cares.

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl…Don’ want anyone hearin’ those sounds but me, ye?”

You’re clamping down on him at that, a pool of slickness leaking from your core, down your ass, and pooling over the sheets. But your pleasure is short-lived when you feel him start to pull out, fully intending to finish himself off by hand.

You snarl up at him and your legs turn to stone around him, forcing him back inside. His head tilts up at you, desperation in his wide eyes because he can’t quite comprehend that you’re giving him such freedom.

“No.” You command and he would have protested but he’s so close that he whines at you instead. His movements become slopping, his fingers digging into your flesh and making it bulge. “Fill me, fill me, fill me…”

“Fuck..Fuck..Fuck!”

Lightning surges up his spine, makes him arch briefly before he’s curling over you, nearly suffocating you beneath his bulk. His grunts culminate in a raspy moan as his cock twitches inside you, coating your pretty pink insides with spurts of hot sticky cum. Your name zips past his teeth, lingers in the air until the next chant. His balls tighten against your ass as they empty themselves inside your waiting womb.

He fills you to the brim, trembles in your arms, collapses with a huff and his pants collide with the side of your neck as he struggles to catch his breath. Only slips his cock out when it softens and lets his cum ooze onto his bedsheets, uncaring for the mess.

“You okay?”

You glance up at him through heavy eyelids and nod before curling into him willingly. His breath hitches at your unexpected gesture.

He’d thought you’d simply get up, dress and leave, job done. Instead, you wrap a leg around his waist and snuggle up, selfishly stealing his warmth and letting your eyes close. Your arms are tucked between your bodies, fingers spaced out and pressed against his skin, nose buried into his collarbone and inhaling deeply.

Wordlessly, he tugs the covers over your bodies, gets comfortable and slips an arm under your head.

How long until the spell fades? When is the end of your lies?

He doesn’t want the answers, but for the sake of his sanity, he needs them, and too afraid to ask, he lies there silently, eyes wide open and staring at the top of your head as you drift off to sleep against him like this was your usual ritual, like you did this every night.

“I love you.”

It pierces the darkness, strikes right into his chest and he swallows a lump that threatens to choke him.

“Are you lyin’?”

He needs to know, needs to harden himself because it’ll be all over soon. If you were planning on prolonging your torture over him, he wanted it to end. He’d had his fill, this was enough, you were free. You could just leave.

Simon felt guilty enough as is, without you bestowing more on him, he didn’t deserve all this. He didn’t need more pity –

“ – No.”

<<< Chapter 4

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hemantgoel · 1 year ago

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pablitogavii · 2 years ago

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Testing Limits

Summary: You and Pablo are in the secret relationship so when you both are at the same club you do your best to test him limits ;))

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!

You were the one who wanted to keep this relationship a secret. You didn't want to deal with the hoards of obsessed girls who will point out every possible flaw that exists on your body but tonight, you were hating the fact that you couldn't just walk up and kiss your boyfriend..especially when he looked so delicious!

"Another one?" you best friend Becca said pointing at the empty cocktail glass in front of you and you sighed nodding your head.

You came to the club to have fun not knowing that this was the exact place Pablo would go to spend time with his friends. He just texted you about that 'bro night' but you never guessed he would show up here.

There were girls from all sides eyeing him up and down and it was getting on your last nerve! He is taken bitches! He is mine!

After drinking another cocktail, you got some of your confidence and mischievousness back walking towards him when you saw him leaving the bathroom (before a girl who waited to slip him her number arrived). You purposefully bumped into him seeing his prominent smirk grow as he apologized like a true gentleman.

You wanted to stop this stupid act now so you reached for his hand only to receive a quiet 'not here amor' which for some odd reason angered you. He was respecting your request but tonight you didn't want to be a secret and you wished you had the guts to tell him that.

Later in the night you tried desperately to catch Pablo's attention but it looked like he was purposefully always having his back to you, almost like he was trying to avoid your eyes.

You were tired of being ignored so you took another shot before pulling some annoying guy who spent the entire night staring at you with open mouth to the dance floor.

"Damn! She can dance!" Araujo pointed and when pablo turned he almost choked on his drink. There you were swaying your hips freely with some sleaze bag holding your waist making Pablo want to punch his stupid face.

He held his beer bottle so tightly that it snapped making all the guys look at him with raised eyebrows but he was quick to clean his hand (enveloping it with napkins) before walking straight towards you and pulling away from that guy.

"Look who finally decided to show me attention!?" you said sarcastically but then you noticed that all of his friends were watching you and that the napkin on his hand was bloody. You wondered what the hell happened.

"What are you doing!?" Pablo growled and the guy quickly ran away fearful to get in trouble. Pablo might be young but since his bulking months, he doesn't look like someone you wanna mess with when he's angry.

"I was dancing..and now I wanna go home!" you said about to walk away but Pablo's hold on your wrist was tight as he walked outside with you away from the crowd.

"You think you can dance with some other guy when you are mine!?" Pablo was growling now clearly upset but you were just as angry that for the whole night he didn't even look at you once.

"You turned your back to me all night!" you screamed back with raised hands and to that all Pablo did was chuckle which made you raging angry. Did he think this is funny!?

"You wanted a secret relationship! Not me! I just did what you asked! And you were practically grinding on that idiot!" Pablo was raging mad from jealousy and you were kind of turned on it by.

"I wanted to grind on you all night!" you came closer nuzzling your nose into his neck and he closed his eyes feeling turned on himself when he felt his jeans getting too tight.

"We are going home!" he said grabbing your hand once again rushing to his parked Maserati and you internally screamed excited to finally spend some quality time with your man.

During the car ride, Pablo was silent not even putting his hand on your thigh like always. This showed you that he was still mad about dancing which was far from grinding as he described, the guy barely touched you beyond once holding your hips as you turned.

When you arrived to your now shared apartment, Pablo still stayed quiet going to the living room without paying you any attention.

"So what now? You are just going to ignore me?" you stood in front of the TV with crossed arms and he looked form his phone screen clenching his jaw.

"Why don't you go get attention from that brainless idiot??" he said and you walked towards him taking his phone before sitting down on his lap leaning in to leave kisses from his lips down his neck.

"I don't want his attention..I want yours..God gavi! I only want your attention and your touches..and your besitos..and your love..I'm sorry mi amor..I was just tired of being a secret.." you spoke softly while your hand went underneath his shirt caressing his firm abs inching towards his jeans.

"Please.." you ended by cupping his bulge and he was smirking now making you hopeful that stroked his ego enough to make him less mad with you.

"Me gusta when you beg preciosa...you will do it all night long if you want me to forgive you hm? " Pablo was standing up with you in his arms quickly getting to the bedroom and placing you down on the bed before getting comfortable in between your thighs.

"Yes, papi..please forgive me" you said seeing his smirk only grow more while he started discarding your clothes to the bedroom floor in a rush.

"Seeing you dance with him...made me want to rip him to pieces and fuck you in the middle of that dance floor while everyone watched!" Pablo was growling into your neck while leaving bite marks all over your body sending you mind into overdrive from pleasure. Hearing those words leave him mouth made your core pulsate and your skin heat up while your hands held his hair tightly.

"You have to understand one thing princesa: Pablo Gavi doesn't share! I don't share what's mine!" he was already deep inside of you pounding without mercy while your back arched and you felt like you will lose your voice from screaming his name.

"I am gonna make sure everyone knows who is the only one fucking you this good at night and to whom your belong to..all of you!" he kept talking while fucking you like his life depended on it and you couldn't make yourself respond from how blank your thoughts were and how much pleasure you were feeling in that moment.

"Ah..Pablo..please..please..don't ever stop fucking me! Please!" you were a moaning mess while he edged you closer to your high making your thighs shake around his waist and he smirked moving even faster making you roll your eyes as you came all over his cock.

"Good girl..look at your legs shaking from how good I fuck you..joder! You're perfect princesa!" he said giving you a little break before starting to move again chasing his own orgasm and you kept moaning running your hands down his back scratching a little like you know he secretly liked.

"Are you close mi amor? F..fuck please...cum and make me yours mi rey!" you said and he growled pulling out and cumming all over your stomach while his face was red and sweaty.

"I love you so much princesa!" he said after catching his breath matching your smile before leaning down and capturing your lips into a heated kiss.

"I love you too Pablo.." you said into the kiss feeling completely exhausted.

After taking a shower and him helping you wash up since your legs were killing you, you came back to bed laying underneath the covers naked feeling too tired to dress up right now. (besides it was only the two of you).

"Spoon you?" Pablo asked and you nodded turning to the side feeling him moving behind you moaning a little when he slipped himself back inside of you.

"P..Pablo.." your voice was shaking from how good it felt even though you were overstimulated for one night.

"Shh I just want to be close to you nena...go to sleep" he smirked and you blushed hard holding his hand that was rested on your stomach feeling himself buried deep inside of you which brought him comfort.

Next morning during training

"So you snatched the hottie Gavi? Why did you hide her??" Araujo said while all the boys were changing for the training. Pablo didn't reply taking off his shirt to put on his training kit causing quite a reaction.

"It was her choice but now we want to go public. We are taking things slow.." was all Pablo said not aware of the marks on his back that stated the very opposite.

"Yeah, definitely slow..hermano you are a lucky cabrón!" Ansu tapped his shoulder and Pablo gave him a confused look before Pedri pointed to his back. Joder! The scratch marks!

"Fuck off! She is mine!" Pablo replied putting on his training shirt before running towards the pitch feeling proud of the marks on his back and that he could finally call you his in front of the world ;)

little bonus for y'all ;)

Ever since you and Pablo went public about your relationship, he makes sure everyone knows you are his even by always leaving 'interesting' comments on your posts that intrigue people hehe

y.n.bebe

Barcelona, Spain

hola a mundo :)

liked by 100K others

comments:

babygirl.lover: you are adorable babes <3

love.for.wags: she's so precious

pablogavi: let me kiss those lips princesa

y.n.bebe: <3

gaviobsessed: AAWWWW Pablo!!!!!!!!

pablogavi

Camp Nou, Barcelona

My biggest supporter <3 tagged @y.n.bebe

liked by 300K others

comments:

y.n.bebe: siempre <33

pablogavi: <33

pablitofanss: he's so proud of his girl!!

fcbarcelona: love to see it! liked by pablogavi, y.n.bebe

y.n.bebe

I love his free days <3 @pablogavi

liked by 200K

comments:

pablogavi: that bodyyyyyyyyy!!! toda mía <33

y.n.bebe: sí bebé <3

wagss: she is so grogeous!

barçabitch: most beautiful of all the wags!

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