#comes at the price of being really strange about sex but when you like your sex strange . you can use it to your advantage :]

[mars-ipan]

im back ok. sorry for the crappy art I did it in like ten minutes but I was still looking for it and STILL couldn't find it so I tried to get the idea across

THE FIRST ONE IS WHAT THE PIC LOOKED LIKE, BUT ALSO CONSIDER MY ADDITION WHICH I THINK MIGHT BE BETTER FOR THE THEME

ok goodnight

YESSSSS THAT SECOND ONE IS ALMOST EXACTLY THE IMAGE I HAVE IN MY HEAD THANK YOU FOR READING MY MIND

[hausofwoo]

handy | choi san

pairing: choi san x afab reader

word count: 5K

summary: you move into a shitty apartment with a long list of maintenance issues. your landlord puts off sending someone to fix them, only making your frustrations grow. that is, until the maintenance man finally arrives and you discover that he's hot... and you find yourself making excuses for him to keep coming back.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, maintenance man!san, tenant!reader, reader is kind of a perv lol, unprotected piv (wrap it up!), oral (f receiving), san is a tease, fingering, hair pulling (m receiving), cumplay, kitchen counter sex!!!, he kinda throws u around hehehe, choking, dacryphilia, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: umm.... hahaha um...... so this is lowkey based on a recent experience i had of my maintenance man coming to fix some shit in my apt and he strangely had SO much rizz and i was like wait a minute.... this could be a great fic idea LMAO thank u to @hausofmingi for being my beta-reader ily always ♡

when you signed your lease at your new apartment, you didn’t expect to sign up for a list of problems.

you desperately needed a new place to live, and with the measly budget you had for rent, all that was left available were slim pickings. so when you finally found a small 1 bedroom apartment that wasn’t double your desired price, you jumped at the opportunity. you applied for the place on the spot and were approved the same day. you didn’t really think anything of it, but when you finally got settled in and actually gave a good look at your newfound home… you were in for a fucking nightmare.

for starters, the window unit in the bedroom wouldn’t blow cool air. it’s right in the heat of the summer, so coming home after a long day only to sweat all night long was not cutting it for you. you put in a maintenance request through your tenant portal app the first day when you realized this.

another annoyance was the dishwasher. one of your biggest must-haves was to have an actual working one. maybe you were asking a bit much with your budget, but with the amount that you work, it was imperative. you were thrilled to see the dishwasher during the viewing, only to find a few days worth of dirty dishes later, that said dishwasher was rusty and moldy. literally unusable. so you put in another maintenance request.

last one, and maybe now you’re just getting picky because you’re pissed, but your shower water pressure sucked, and by the time you would finish a shower, the water would take forever to drain. another request sent.

all these maintenance requests and not a single one fixed. you started to wonder if the tenant portal app even worked, so you called your landlord, only to grapple with them on finding a time for them to fix it while you’re still home. you might want these things fixed asap, but you’re not willing to let a stranger in your space when you’re not there.

you started to fucking lose it. a few weeks with no cold air, shitty water pressure, and dishes piling up your sink, and not one thing being done about it. you call your landlord one more time, urging them to finally fix these issues, arguing that they should’ve been fixed before you even moved in. and with that last push, they finally caved and did their fucking job. they said they’re sending someone there first thing tomorrow.

so when you finally wake up and go about your day-off routine, you’re constantly watching the clock. when they said “first thing tomorrow,” did they mean “first thing tomorrow once the maintenance man feels like it”? because it’s already pushing noon and you’re getting impatient. it’s obnoxious; you’re not able to run any errands (let alone actually go out and enjoy your day off) and you’re just waiting around for some dude to actually do the job you’ve been asking for for weeks.

just as you find yourself dialing the landlord’s number, you hear a knock at your door. fucking FINALLY. you jump off your couch, mind spewing profanities out of frustration. you walk towards the door, ready to give this stupid maintenance man a piece of your mind. you swing open the door, and your heart drops.

the maintenance man stands before you, with a tight black tank that hugged his muscular build and dirty worn jeans. he has a tool belt strapped to his (surprisingly small?) waist and a heavy tool box gripped in his hand. he’s a little dirty, and his chest is shiny with sweat due to the humid outside air. his rugged exterior is a huge juxtaposition to his face, however, with sharp yet kind eyes and a sweet smile.

“you need some maintenance done?” he asks.

“oh, uh, yes,” you stumble, suddenly at a loss for words. “come on in.” you hold the door open, allowing him to walk through to your living room.

“so you’re having issues with your water pressure?” he says, looking around the apartment.

“yeah, that and a few other things,” you reply. “but the biggest thing is the window unit in my room. it doesn’t blow any cold air.”

“i can fix that,” he looks at you with a grin. “which one’s the bedroom?”

you walk him to your room, thanking god he can’t see the blush forming on your face. he walks in and places his tool box down, promptly inspecting the window unit.

“i’ll just let you do your thing,” you say, twiddling your thumbs. “i’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

he nods, and you go back to sit on your couch. you mindlessly scroll through your phone, all while spiraling in your head. did your landlord hire this guy from a fucking modeling agency? he has the build for handyman work, that is certain. however, his face is what’s really getting to you. he could be on the cover of vogue and you wouldn’t bat an eye. but there he is, working on a shitty a/c window unit in your room.

you suddenly become hyper aware of the appearance of your bedroom. what does he think about your decor? is he cringing at the plushies sat on your bed? what if you left a pair of underwear out? oh my god, did you leave your nightstand drawer open, with your vibrator out for the whole world to see?

“it looks like you’ll need a whole new window unit,” he says from your room, interrupting your swarming thoughts. “this one doesn’t even have heat, and you’ll need that for winter.”

“oh, yeah,” you say, getting up and standing in your bedroom doorway. “how long will it take to get a new one? this heat has been brutal.”

“i should be able to bring one tomorrow, if you’re available,” he says, turning back to look at you as he closes up the tool box.

“i’m available,” you say all too quick. dude. be cool. “i mean, yeah, i can try to get off work a little earlier, maybe at like 3?”

“works for me,” he smiles, standing up. “can i get your number?”

you can’t hide your blush this time, nodding at the insinuation, but knowing it was just to iron out arrangements. “here,” you say, opening your phone messages so he can send himself a text.

he types away and hands your phone back. “you need a new dishwasher too, right?”

“i do,” you confirm.

“i can try and get you one by tomorrow too,” he says. “i’m off duty by like 5, so hopefully i’ll have enough time. now the shower?”

you nod and lead him to your bathroom. he examines the shower head, and you watch your cat approach him from behind.

“oh my god,” he says, startled at your cat rubbing against his leg. “this little dude came out of nowhere!” he reaches down to pet him, all while he’s purring up a storm.

“wow, he really likes you,” you stand shocked. your cat is always so standoffish to strangers, usually hiding under your bed or couch. but he’s rubbing against your maintenance man’s legs like he’s best friends with him.

“cats tend to really like me, i don’t know why,” he chuckles, scratching at your cat’s head. “what’s his name?”

“leo,” you say.

“like the zodiac sign?” he looks up at you while still petting him.

“yeah, i wanted to name him after his own sign but he’s a cancer, soooo…” you trail off, awkwardly fiddling with your hands.

“i’m a cancer!” he lights up, looking back down at leo. “no wonder we get along.”

you smile, and then realize you’re staring again. “i’ll go back in here so you can work.”

after distracting yourself with your phone again for a bit, you look up and see the man starting to walk out the bathroom doorway, already with his things together.

“okay, it should be good now, but let me know tomorrow if there’s any issues,” he says. you nod to him and lead him to the front door. you open the door and he walks out, but turns to you before he leaves. “so, i’ll see you tomorrow?” he has a smile on his face, with a hint of something behind it that you can’t quite read.

“yeah, tomorrow,” you say.

after locking the door behind him, you slump onto the couch with a big sigh. that was somehow the most nerve-wracking thing you’ve ever experienced. you remember he texted himself on your phone, so you open your messages and see the unsaved number.

sent 12:28 pm this is san :)

you can feel heat rising to your cheeks. even a stupid smiley face in a text has got you kicking your feet. you text him back, telling him your name and a quick thank you.

dear lord. this man didn’t even do anything, but he will be the death of you.

you come home early the next day, even earlier than you mentioned. partly because you wanted to clean up your place a bit, but the other part to mentally prepare yourself for a hot man in your apartment again. you clean up your room, tidying up so it looks a tad better than it did the day prior. once you’re done, you find yourself fixing up your makeup, realizing you’re putting way too much effort into seeing a fucking handyman fix your a/c.

are you really doing this? intentionally getting dolled up for this?? haha never! right….?

you hear a knock at your door and jump up. you check yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing the gloss on your lips. you go to open the door to reveal san, standing in front of you again with a familiar sweet smile on his face. you smile back too eagerly.

“i got your window unit!” he says, nodding down to the large box in his hands.

“oh, come in, that must be heavy!” you say, ushering him into your living room.

“mind if i go in your room?” he asks.

“of course, please,” you say, opening your bedroom door and letting him set the box down. you attempt to subtly watch his arms flex as he drops it. oh my god he is so hot.

you retreat to the living room as usual, allowing him to work in peace. you work on some things on your laptop to pass the time, but the thought of this man working on your a/c, muscles protruding, sweat glistening… it’s all too much of a distraction. you decide to put your ear buds in, trying to drown out your own perverse thoughts. you finally are able to hone in on your work, catching up on the things you couldn’t finish during your shift today since you left early.

you don’t realize that san finished installing the window unit until you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

“oh!” you stammer, pulling an ear bud out. “sorry, what’s up?”

san has a smile creeping on his face. “my bad, i didn’t mean to scare you. i just wanted to let you know i finished putting in the unit.”

“that’s great, thank you so much,” you say, standing up. “did you get the dishwasher today too?”

“yeah i did,” he says, but then he checks his phone for the time. you realize it’s about to hit 5 pm, and he said he’s off by that time.

“you’re almost off, i forgot,” you say apologetically. “you can just come back another day?”

he checks his phone again, contemplating. “well… i mean i already have it in my truck, so i don’t mind working a little bit over my time.”

“you really don’t have to, san,” you plead.

“it’s okay,” he says. “i’ll be right back with it!”

he exits your apartment, giving you a moment to kick yourself. having a dishwasher that works would be so great right now, but you feel guilty for having him work past his time. another part of you wants him to go anyway, if it meant he would come back again.

you hear a loud noise outside your front door, so you open it to see san with the new dishwasher on a dolly. you hold the door open for him, allowing him to enter your apartment and bee-line to the kitchen. he props the dolly down to drop the box.

“i should be able to finish this in about an hour, is that okay?” he asks, already unboxing it.

“as long as you’re okay with working this late,” you shrug.

“i don’t mind at all,” he smiles, looking up at you.

“okay, i’ll just be in here,” you point behind you, gesturing to the living room.

“alright, dishwasher is done,” san says, walking into the living room with a broken down empty box in one hand and dolly in the other.

“thank you so much,” you smile.

“is there anything else you need then?” he inquires, quirking up an eyebrow.

a moment of silence washes over the room momentarily, with you wracking your brain trying to find a reason for him to stay longer. but you push that away, knowing he’s been working way too long past his scheduled time.

“no, i think that will do it,” you sigh, unintentionally sounding disappointed.

“well,” he mumbles, toying with the box in his hand. “well you have my number, so if you need anything, feel free to shoot me a text.”

you walk him to the door, thanking him. he stands out in the hallway, you looking at him out your front door.

“really though,” he insists. “if you need anything.” with one last sweet smile, he leaves.

so what does he mean by that? “anything.” maybe you’re delusional for thinking there’s a hidden meaning behind that statement. as in, you can text him if you want him to fuck your brains out, “anything?” definitely not, but your mind wanders at the thought of it; that he’d drop everything and book it back to your apartment, heaving and sweaty, ready to take what’s his. you’re actually fucking crazy.

and to make yourself even crazier, the next few days you find yourself itching to get another reason to have him come back. you check your kitchen sink’s water pressure, it’s fine. you test out the stove for the first time and it cooked your food perfectly, no gas smell. then you find something. one of your kitchen drawers won’t close completely. it’s something small, but enough to put in a maintenance request. for the first time since you moved in, you feel grateful you live in a shitty apartment.

you swing the door open, happy to see the cute grin san always gives you the moment he sees you.

“sooo… a drawer, huh?” he quips with a hint of a teasing tone.

“y-yeah, i tried to fix it but i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” you defend, rubbing the back of your neck.

“i can fix that,” he says, passing into the kitchen, tool box in hand. you’re ready to retreat to your living room as usual, but san stops you. “you know, you don’t have to wait around in your living room for me to finish. i like having company.”

“oh,” you mumble, turning around. “i thought you might want privacy while you work.”

“no, it’s okay,” he says, opening his tool box to grab a few items. “if you wanted, you can hang around. i like learning about the tenants i’m working for.”

“okay,” you murmur. you open a kitchen cabinet to grab two mugs. “do you want some tea?”

“i would love some tea,” he says.

you put the kettle on the stove, heating up some water. you chat with san about work, how many units he has to visit in a day, about the interesting tenants he meets, how long he’s been doing this. once the kettle starts whistling, san is already finished fixing the drawer, placing it back into it’s assigned slot. you can’t help but feel disappointed that your time with him is almost up. you put the tea bags in the mugs of hot water, offering one to san.

“i know you’re done, but if you still want it,” you say, and he accepts the drink with a grin. you both sit at your kitchen table, continuing to chat. your cat leo enters the kitchen, going to straight to san’s legs to rub against him.

“there’s my boy,” san coos, scratching leo’s head.

“i still can’t get over how much he likes you,” you laugh. “he’s never this friendly, he’s only like this with me.”

“he seems friendly to me,” san says. “maybe he just has good taste in people.”

you chuckle, wondering in the back of your mind if he meant that about you too.

san checks his phone, realizing the time. he sets down his tea and stands. “i should probably get out of here, there’s another tenant waiting for me.”

“i didn’t mean to keep you—”

“no no,” san interrupts. “it’s okay. i really liked this. not a lot of people are this welcoming.”

“of course,” you reply, standing up with him. “i—i really liked this too.”

san smiles, biting a bit at his lip. you look at each other for a moment, feeling an intriguing tension in the air. he finally shakes head, going to grab his things to go. you walk him to your front door. you say another thank you, about to close the door.

“like i said,” he repeats, leaning against the door frame. “anything.”

you hadn’t seen san in over a week. it was driving you mad. you became addicted to his energy, to his warm greeting at your front door, to the lingering gazes you shared. you didn’t have any reason to see him again, and you needed to find another. so you did something you’re not entirely proud of… something that an actual crazy person would do. you loosened a bolt on a pipe under your kitchen sink, allowing water to trickle the smallest amount in the lower cabinet.

listen. you know it’s bizarre at this point, but you had to see him again. it’s not like anything would happen; he’d probably just fix it up, have another nice chat with you, and be on his way. is it so bad that you meddled with your sink just to see him?

when san arrives, he has that all-knowing grin on his face the moment you open the door.

“the sink now, hm?” he asks.

“yeah,” you chuckle anxiously. “the sink.”

he goes to the kitchen and inspects the pipes under the sink. you lean against the counter, hoping to god he doesn’t notice that the pipe didn’t magically get loose.

“ah i see,” he laughs to himself. “it’s just a loose bolt. easy fix.” he tightens it with his tools, quickly finishing.

“oh, haha,” you say, nerves bubbling in your stomach. “i guess i could’ve done that.”

“you know, it’s so interesting…” he trails off, standing up to face you, running a hand through his hair.

“what?” you ask.

“i’ve never had to do so much maintenance work for one tenant before,” he says, sly grin across his face. fuck. do you think he knows?

“and i swear, that bolt kinda looked like it was loosened by a wrench…” he trails off again, stepping closer to you. HE KNOWS.

“n-no, i would never,” you defend, feeling backed against the counter.

your eyes are locked on san, wandering over his built frame, over his sharp features. he’s inching closer and closer, and you feel your breath hitch. he catches your trailing eyes as if to ask for permission, and leans in to kiss you.

finally, the thing you’ve been wanting so bad from him, to feel his lips against yours. he cups your cheek with one hand, letting you melt into his touch. your lips part to allow his tongue to slide in, deepening the kiss with fervor. his form pushes against yours, pressing you against the kitchen counter. his hands begin to wander, grazing from the side of your face down to your waist. he holds you in a tight grip, pulling your hips forward to meet his. you can feel him harden in his jeans as he lets out a groan against your lips.

“you did this on purpose, hm?” san says, separating from your lips. he lifts you up and places you to sit on the kitchen counter in one swift motion. he kneels to the floor, grabbing at the waist of your pants. “just to see me?”

you nod emphatically, watching as he pulls down your pants and underwear. the cold air hits your core and you try to close your legs, but san pushes them back open to admire you. putting your legs over his shoulders, he runs his fingers against your folds, eyes drinking in the sight of you. you shudder at the feeling, knowing all too well that he’s already got you soaked.

“you like seeing me like this?” he whispers, looking up at you. “i bet you imagined me like this, between your legs.” when his fingertips graze over your clit, your body lets out a shake, and he knows he found what he wanted.

he attaches his mouth to your core and places a firm hold on your outer thighs. licking stripes up to your clit, each stroke of his tongue feels like heaven. he dips down to your hole, dragging your slick upwards. he moans at the taste of you, devouring at you with more passion. your hands grasp at his hair, relishing the stimulation.

he tugs his head back, looking as pussy-drunk as ever. “i imagined you like this too,” he moans, lips still hovering over you. you unintentionally tug at his hair, yearning for his mouth back on you. “i wanted you so bad the moment i saw you.”

he releases a hand off your thigh and snakes it back between your legs, teasing at your hole as he goes back to circle his tongue around your clit. he looks up at you as he slides his middle finger in, watching you crumble at the feeling. once he can tell you’re comfortable, he slides in another, slowly starting to pump them into you. you whimper at the feeling, walls contracting around his fingers.

your moans are uncontrollable, and he matches them, letting the vibrations enhance the stimulation. he curls his fingers into you, hitting that perfect spot. he can feel your core clenching more erratically, causing him to pick up the pace, but maintaining a steady rhythm. his tongue flicks at your clit just right, making you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten the grip on his hair.

“s-san,” you let out. “i’m gonna cum.”

he detaches from you briefly, still finger fucking you. “cum for me, baby, i want to taste you.” he immediately latches back onto you, eating you like his life depends on it.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body, feeling like chills. you’re shaking now, unable to control the sheer amount of bliss your body is experiencing. you moan out to san, coming undone on his tongue. he continues to work at you, allowing you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm.

he finally disconnects from you, pulling out his fingers coated in your essence. he licks them clean, looking up at you with the same look of desire. he stands up, promptly placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. you can taste yourself on his fucked-out lips, and it makes it that much hotter. you can hear him fumbling with his belt, and your hands reach down to help. you place your palm over his bulge, it twitching at the contact.

san separates from you, letting out a heavy sigh. he pulls himself out from his underwear, rubbing the tip at your spent pussy. he looks down and lets a string of his spit hit his throbbing cock, spreading it around the expanse of it with his hand. he angles himself into you, and slowly starts pushing in. you gasp at the size, him stretching you out much more than his fingers initially did. he takes it slow, acknowledging the whimpers leaving your lips.

once he’s fully inside, he groans. “god, you’re so fucking tight.”

he watches himself enter you as he starts rolling his hips into you. he places a hand on the back of your neck, pushing you towards him for a messy kiss. he starts to pick up his pace, earning a sharp hiss on his lips in between kisses.

“you feel so good,” he murmurs to you. “i knew you would feel good.”

you moan in response, completely unable to form any words. all you know is that the stretch of his cock is deliciously painful, and the sweet kisses he’s peppering over your neck gives you goosebumps all over. you can’t even believe this is happening right now, that your fantasy of fucking your maintenance man is coming true, and it feels even better than you imagined.

“you wanted this so bad,” san teases, continuing to piston into you. “for me to fuck you like this. you probably imagined it, touching yourself the moment i left.”

and he’s right, you found yourself needy and horny after every visit he made. you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing your vibrator and pretending he was the one fucking you, not yourself. but the feeling of the real thing was much different, much more euphoric. to have his chest heaving in front of you, sweat beading on his temple, desperate energy emanating from his body, saying i want to have all of you.

suddenly, he lifts you from the kitchen counter, holding your thighs firmly with his cock still in you. something about the fact that he can completely hold you up, still bouncing you on him even… you feel like his little play toy that he’s throwing around. he takes you to the bedroom, dropping you down on your bed and landing on top of you.

he wastes no time in sliding back into you, desperate to continue feeling your tight walls around him. his body is hovering over yours, your legs tangled as he thrusts into you. he pecks around your neck, hand ghosting over your throat as if seeking permission. you place your hand over his, allowing him to choke you until you’re lost in a euphoric haze.

his thrusts become more intense and forceful, each stroke sending chills down your spine as his length reaches deeper inside you. you swear you’re shaking the whole bed, the headboard repeatedly slamming against the wall. you’re so clouded by pleasure that you barely even notice he’s fucking you so hard that he’s pushing a dent into the wall from your bed frame.

“i can fix that,” san whispers with a smile, not even bothering to stop.

you let out a chuckle, then press a soft kiss to his lips. his hips begin to slow, as though he’s really taking his time to melt into you, to feel every part of you. he then lifts up to hit a new angle inside you, gripping your waist and slamming your hips into his with powerful, deliberate motions. you move your hand to your clit, feeling your walls tighten around his throbbing cock. your vision blurs, tears starting to well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“you gonna cum for me?” san asks, sensing the irregular pulsing of your core. you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowed and lip caught between your teeth. “cum on my cock, baby, let me feel you.”

your orgasm builds to a peak and then cascades over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss. san is still fucking into you, extending your orgasm while still chasing his own. it’s not until his hips begin to falter that you feel him shoot ropes of his cum into you, filling you completely. his moans echo yours, his hips gradually slowing until he finally comes to a stop.

he pulls out of you, falling next to you on the bed. the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing as it gradually returns to a normal pace. you look at each other, smiling with a shared understanding of the unexpected moment you just experienced. he wraps his arm around you, drawing your head to his chest to where you can hear his heartbeat.

“sooo…” you chuckle softly, pointing at the dent in your wall. “you’re gonna fix that, right?”

san grins, pulling you closer. “i mean, i can, but then i’d have no reason to come back tomorrow.”

“now that i think of it,” you say, chuckling. “i think there’s probably a few more things that could be fixed…”

“anything you need,” he says. “anything.”

a/n: guys this was so fun to write, i hope u enjoyed it too!! something about san lately oml... plz leave feeback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

— : [ nsfw ] smut, pet names, unprotected sex, teasing (pov changes from 1st person to 3rd so just be prepared for that but it’s nothing too crazy)

— wc : 1.7k

your entire household was in a frenzy the minute the knews of ciel phantomhive’s arrival came. you didn’t understand what the fuss was about, having met the young earl just a few months ago at a charity fundraiser for the queen.

“hana would you please relax” you say dryly, “if you break another vase, father is going to fire you and this time i’m not going to speak up in your defence”

and it wasn’t like that was your first official meeting. you’re a writer and a journalist. it’s not as if your talents aren’t recognised by even the likes of the queen and you do find yourself in strange places more than you’d like to admit.

“but my lady” your maid sighs, “your father requested the place to be spotless and you know he checks twice”

“oh please” you roll your eyes, “father is just being ridiculous, prepare my bath, i’ll speak with the old man”

“yes my lady” she bows and hurries off in the direction of your private quarters just east of the house. you supposed your father wanted to make up for his absence with all the lavish gifts and the overly priced mansion. it would have to do, you weren’t really up for all the unnecessary bonding. you were far too old for that now.

“father..” you sigh, “is all this necessary?”

“of course it is!” your father frowns, “it’s very important to make a good first impression and then keep it that way”

you refrain from refrain your eyes.

“i’m surprised the earl didn’t ask to stay in a private hotel” you scoff, “is our home open to just anyone now?”

“y/n dear, go and get ready and stop being a pain in my ass” he shakes his head, “you’re more than welcome not to join us for the evening or tomorrow’s outing but remember, you’ll be disappointing me in the process”

“how very manipulative of you” you deadpan, “whatever, i’ll be down before dinner”

“that’s my girl” your father grins and this time you do roll your eyes.

if you take extra time getting ready, it’s not because you care about making an impression. you’ve met the young earl and his rather … interesting.. butler on multiple occasions. you’re an investigator yourself and often find yourself at the same scenes as them.

you do your best to avoid them as much as you can but you’re quite popular yourself. you have run ins more often than not, not that you’d share these things with your father.

“my lady” hana calls, knocking twice and waiting a moment before entering, “the guests have arrived”

“thank you hana” you sigh, “i’ll only be a moment”

“my lady would you like me to assist with your attire for this evening?” she asks, “your father thinks a dress would be lovely—”

“i’m wearing the pretty silver grey suit i bought last week at the boutique” you cut her off smiling, “the one you insisted i get 4 other colours to go”

hana smiles excitedly before collecting herself.

“well that’s a lovely choice” hana bows, ignoring the way you frown at her formality when it’s just the two of you so the other maids your father likes to order around must be just outside.

“ridiculous” you mutter before turning back to your vanity to finish off your makeup.

“she’s just get— ah, there she is!” your father says, “y/n dear, come down”

you keep the fake smile as you make your way down the stairs. you can feel eyes on you but you don’t give them any attention until you’re standing beside your father.

“miss y/n, how lovely to see you again” sebastian says

“ciel… sebastian” you say, “welcome to our home, father seems to have a thing for inviting guests to stay over like we’re a hotel so i do hope you enjoy your stay”

you can almost feel your fathers eye twitch but he doesn’t say anything.

“always a pleasure” sebastian chuckles

“dinner will be served in just a moment so please make yourself comfortable in the dining room” your father says and you know that’s his way of breaking the awkward tension or he’s just worried you’re going to embarrass him.

dinner is less awkward than you thought it would be. they discuss their business in town and why they’re here. you already know it’s because of the random elderly women in the area going missing.

your father works close with the mayor of your town as well as the police so it works in ciel’s favour.

bored?

you jump, almost dropping your fork. your father hardly notices but ciel looks over at sebastian.

“get out my head!” y/n glares at sebastian. the demon liked to mess with her any chance he could get because her reactions were always his favourite.

he smirks and makes a show of licking his lips when they make eye contact. she squeezes her thighs underneath the table but refuses to give him the satisfaction.


it didn’t matter how attracted she was to him. he was trouble.

the first brush of sebastian’s tongue against her own sent a shiver up her spine. as if they had minds of their own, her arms reached up and wound around his neck and his hands slip up her dress and squeezed her ass.

she moaned into his mouth and she could feel him smirking into the kiss. he was so cocky but it didn’t do anything but turn her on even more.

“i want to be inside you” he whispered, “right here”

they were between two abandoned buildings and she could still here people walking around and talking. they had been on a case and the police weren’t far from where they stood.

“let me” he kissed her softly, “i want to feel you”

“yes.. okay” she nodded, pressing up against him, “but we have to be quick”

“i’ve never been one to be quick darling” he chuckles, “but we have time”

“sebastian, please” she whined, “touch me”

“i am touching you” he grinned, slipping his hand inside her panties, “is this what you need?”

“you know what i need” she frowns, “unless you’re all bark and no bite?”


she smirks when she sees his eyes turn a darker red and he stops smirking.

“mark your fucking words sweetheart” he grips her neck, “i’ll make sure you never forget me”

and he wasn’t joking. it had taken weeks, if not months, to stop thinking about him and his stupidly long tongue or how big his—

“y/n, is everything alright dear?” her father asked

“yes” she lied, “i’m fine, please continue”

she could feel his eyes on her again only this time he was smirking. it’s like he knew exactly what she was thinking about and he was so good at getting under her skin even if they hadn’t seen each other for a while.

his long fingers slid inside of her as he watched her face carefully. he never took his eyes off her and as she moaned, biting her lip to keep her voice down, he knew he’d never get enough.

he needed to possess all of her. he wanted to hurt her so good that she’d never want anyone else but him. no human would ever compare to what he could give her.

she stands to excuse herself once the table has been cleared. she still had things to do and being around him would only distract her.

she wanted to get ahead of it so they’d leave sooner.

her body tenses when she felt someone following close behind her. from the dining hall, she could still hear her father talking and laughing and it was clear the elderly man was intoxicated. she would feel sorry for ciel but then again, he chose to stay.

“going to bed so soon?” sebastian asks, “you barely had any dessert”

“i’m not hungry” she says, not looking back but she knows he’s still following her up to her bedroom.

“that’s a shame” he sighs, “i quite liked the creamy texture”

“go have some more” she says dryly, finally facing him, “your rooms aren’t on this floor”

“i’m aware” he tilts his head sideways, “are you not happy with this arrangement?”

“.. it’s my fathers house” she tells him, ignoring the tiny little voice in her head telling her off for being so rude in the first place, “i have no say”

“i suppose” he shrugs

“do you.. want to come inside?” she asks once they’re outside her bedroom and she sees the maids hurry off somewhere else. it was going to be a long night, her father was a heavy drinker when he wanted to be and he could talk for hours.

“the pleasure is all mine miss y/n” he bows, hiding his grin, “thank you”

she expects it so she’s not surprised when he grabs her wrist and pins her against the wall beside her bedroom door.

“i’ve been thinking about all the ways i want to have you” he whispers, leaning closer to kiss her cheek but keeping his hands firmly on her waist.

“is that so?” she laughs softly, “that’s too bad, I barely thought about you”

“what a liar” he chuckles, “you can’t hide from me even if you tried to darling”

“you think too highly of yourself sebastian” she sighs, “it’s a shame really, the way you—”

she never gets to finish her sentence when he presses up against her body and grips her jaw. she’s a pretty thing, with her wide and curious eyes.

if he could, he would devour all of her but that would be boring and sebastian wasn’t a boring kind of demon.

certainly not when it came to his prey.

“tell me sweetheart, what is it that you really want?” he asks, “and don’t lie to me, i’ll know”

“if you already know so much, why ask” she whispers, “just do whatever you want with me”

“careful” he warns, “you might regret those words”

“then make sure i won’t be able to speak” she smirks and he would definitely enjoy wiping that grin off her face.


he just hoped ciel would keep the older man busy for the evening until he was done.

[bbystark]

Heyyy <3 I have this idea about Simon and reader not being officially in a relationship and they have a fight where Simon makes it clear to her that he’s not your boyfriend so then reader has a date with someone else and he is jealous and idkkkkk

♡ jealousy ♡

simon "ghost" riley x reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

⚠︎ suggestive content, ghost being emotionally constipated

a/n: i am deeply sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for requesting anon!!

You and Simon had known each other for years. An unlikely friendship that started in competition, both of you trying to one up each other on the course, in the field, hell, even stupid shit like who can come up with the best joke. It slowly bloomed into a sort strange relationship that was mostly filled with comfortable silences in each other's presence.

Then you're sent on a mission with the 141, and it just has to go so fucking well, and Price just has to invite you along to their celebratory trip to the pub.

He won't admit that he was overindulging in cheap draft beer because the raggedy band tee with the cut off neckline you were wearing had your shoulders exposed and he didn't understand why he was suddenly looking at you like that.

It's not like it wasn't ever a passing thought, but Ghost tried not to think about that aspect of life, more happy to pretend like he didn't need the human contact. The touch.

There was just simply something about it being the first time seeing you in civilian clothes, relaxed and tipsy and smiling a whole lot. He doesn't like that it stirs something in him.

When he goes out to have a smoke, you're trailing behind him. The alcohol has his limbs feeling looser, his mouth, too.

"Cute shirt. " He takes a drag while his eyes drift over your figure. You blush, from the alcohol, he reasons.

"Thanks," You look down at your feet, nervous for some reason. "It's crowded in there." You give him a knowing look. You liked Ghost. You didn't know everything about him, but he was funny in a sarcastic way and you admired his commitment and focus. You'd like to think you're slowly getting closer the the mysterious man.

"Mm." Is all he replies, taking another slow drag. You try not to look at his exposed lips, the stubble dotting his strong jaw. He glances at you, and mistakes your stare as a silent question. "'Ere."

He takes it between his forefinger and thumb, extending his hand towards you. You're hands are full, grasping your phone in one hand and your drink in the other. In your tipsy state, you dip your head a little, grasping the cig between your lips. Then you make the fatal mistake of looking up at him, with the cigarette between your lips.

He reacts before he can really think about it. Grabs the cigarette out of your mouth, ignoring the surprised little sound you make when he pushes you against the side of the building, and kisses you.

After that night, he honestly tries to keep his distance from you, and ultimately fails. Instead he placates himself by convincing himself the little kisses shared in corners and weekend hookups after the pub doesn't mean anything serious. Just two friends, satiating the human need for sex and affection. Who cares if you spend quiet mornings staring into each other's eyes? It's normal. Not romantic at all.

Soap would call him a fucking idiot. He is one. Especially now, where both of you stand almost chest to chest, glaring at each other. He should back down, tell you you're right, that he's just so fucking scared, that he's a coward. But he doesn't.

"Doesn't mean a damn thing y/n." He spits out at you. You step impossibly closer.

"The fact that you can look into my eyes and fucking lie to me is astounding, Ghost. You know that we've crossed the boundary of friendship and that sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about it."

Ghost is panicking, but he doesn't let it show. This whole argument started because after a long night of fucking like rabbits, you had lazily laid you head on his chest, and told him you cared about him.

It's not like he didn't already know, he felt the same way. A deep pit in his stomach that churned when he thought about anything happening to you, when he thought about this thing ending between you. But hearing it out loud made it real, and it's not something he could cope with, apparently.

So now he's here, pissed off at himself and you for looking so damn kissable while you're angry.

"Jesus Ghost, fucking say something!

"'M not saying shit about this. It wasn't ever serious. 'M not you're fucking boyfriend, and I never will be. Get that through your skull." His voice is dangerously low, and he hates how his throat tightens up when he sees a flicker of hurt flash through your eyes.

It's gone almost as soon as he sees it. Replaced by a different burning. You take a step back, a sad smile on your face. You don't say anything, just turn and walk out of his room. When the door slams, Ghost lets his head fall into his hands.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

It's been a week since Ghost has talked to you. Since he's heard about the dreams you had the night before, or heard you snort over his attempt at a joke. Since he's been able to hold you, kiss you, mark you.

He's going fucking crazy.

Then he catches wind of your upcoming date, and he has no one to blame but himself. He considers sabotage, even straight up murder. Doesn't want to see you with another man and yet can't bring himself to just go to you and talk it out.

Until he sees your dress.

He leans against a pillar, smoking while he watches you get out of the car from your trip in town with one of the friends you'd made on base. You don't see him, lost in your conversation with your friend. But he sees you, and when you pull the dress out of the bag and put it against your chest, playfully giving a twirl and giggling at your friend who pushes your shoulder playfully.

It brings a smile to his face, the small moment of girlhood he was getting to watch. Then his eyes land on the dress. A dark red that compliments your skin tone. It's long, and strapless, and Ghost is fucking enraged that he's not going to be the one to see you in it.

He bristles at the idea of anyone touching you the way he does. Not just the sex, but the pure intimacy you share. The way you can look at each other and know what each other needs. The smile you reserve only for him, full of longing and want. It felt unnatural, being anywhere other than by your side.

As the evening approaches, Ghost grows more and more wary of the predicament he's caused. Before he can really convince himself not to, he's throwing his door open and making his way down the hall to yours.

As fate would have it, you open your door a few seconds before Ghost makes it there. You do a double take, hand still grasping the handle. You evade his gaze, feeling overly dressed next to him, clad in sweatpants and a compression shirt. You focus on locking your door, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

"Y/n."

You hate how you go silent when you hear your name fall from his lips. You sigh. "Ghost."

While you find it hard to look at Ghost, Ghost finds it hard to look away. He knew it, the red makes you look divine in a way that if he didn't know any better, he'd think you were some sort of ethereal being. His heart squeezes.

"Y'look gorgeous."

"Thanks." You stay silent for a beat, "I have to go, nice seeing y-"

Ghost reaches out and grabs your shoulder, reveling in feeling your soft skin and being close enough to inhale your sweet perfume.

"Y/n-"

"Ghost I can't do this right now I-," you pause, shaking your head and trying to find the words. "I like you, and it fucking terrifies me. I can't do it." You let the unspoken words hang in the air, the words that say you're heading somewhere with him that there's no return from, that if he runs at the mere confession that you care about him, how could you let yourself fall deeper? It knocks the wind out of him.

He's scared too. But something pulls deep into his gut and tells him he can't bear the loss of what could grow from your unconventional little relationship. He grabs your wrist gently, his rough hands engulfing yours.

"We can talk. Talk our fuckin' hearts out, do a whole goddamn podcast if that's what you want. I'm sorry I was a arse before. Lemme make it up to you sweet girl." His other hand hold your cheek, thumb stroking in soothing motions. You're at a loss for words, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. He chuckles.

"Now you're the strong 'n silent type huh?"

You halfheartedly shove at his shoulder. "Taste of your own medicine." You give him a small smile, resolve breaking.

His hands make their way to either side of your face. "I deserve that." His eyes stare into yours, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "But I don't deserve you, I know that."

Your smile drops a little. "We don't have to be boyfriend and girlfriend Ghost. I just wanna know I'm not the only one who feels the way I do about us, that's all. Don't wanna get ahead of myself and hurt us both." You shyly hold his gaze. He inhales sharply.

"Don't go on that date love. Stay 'ere, lemme make it up to you. Lemme show you exactly how I feel." His thumb traces your bottom lip.

You don't go. You stay right there with Ghost, who whispers sweet nothings in your ear as he unzips your dress and shows you reverently exactly how he feels.

[duskier]

If you ever wrote the 141 getting bullied by Fem!ghost, the lesbianism in me would go wild I fear (so like…you should totally do it ist saying)

(I'm unsure if this was just for fem Ghost or full fem 141 forgive me fkdjsnd if it isn't good lmk and I'll do better for u <3)

cw cucking (??) cw exhibitionism!! this is just Ghost fucking reader to show the guys how its done

I won't lie I feel like I did good here

I'm so sorry but fem Ghost in a regular 141 sounds like dyke HELL imagine all of these bumbling idiots talking about women like they can take girls home and play them like a instrument when they can't spell clit let alone find it!!

And the second they catch wind that Ghost is a lesbian? They aren't homophobic by a long shot, but suddenly Ghost gets deeper into 'the boys club'. They wanna talk women with Ghost. It's weird, crude, and Ghost can't help but pity the women they all go home to. Soap always asks really invasive questions about how lesbian sex even works, a ton of porn-centric ideas that make Ghost roll her eyes. Gaz mainly wants to guess at Ghost's type in women, keeps showing her girls in his dating apps to see which one catches her eye. Price is obviously curious himself about Ghost's love life, but keeps the most quiet about it.

...Soap gets a ton of bravado when he's drunk. He likes to let loose when they go to bars close to base, usually it isn't too intolerable. But then he brags about how he's the best lay in his town, 'just ask any girl'. Gaz makes a joke about being internationally ranked, to which Price punches his shoulder. They all look when Ghost snorts incredulously.

"Aye? Think you'd do better with that plastic, Lt?" Soap points at her using his whiskey glass, a small drop spilling onto the table with his carelessness.

Ghost narrows her eyes at him. Part of her just wants to deck him, as much of a little brother as he was to her. "I know I would, Sergeant."

...It's your lucky night. Gaz spotted you first, lips missing his straw repeatedly as his eyes fixes on you leaning over the bar. Price sees you next, jostles Soap to get his attention.

But when you look over to their booth, the only person you're looking at is the woman in the balaclava. Black compression shirt not hiding an inch of her bulk, wide shoulders and stomach hanging just over her belt line. Carabiner on a belt loop, and you know you've got to at least try. You'd misread flags before thanks to the stupid military base being so close by, but the sight of Ghost... too tempting.

You can't see Ghost’s entire face, but you see her eyes crinkle when you shyly bring her a drink. Her friends across from her in the booth offer you a seat on their side, but before you can reply, Ghost is patting her thigh. It shouldn't make you so weak in the knees, but it does, so you quickly sit yourself on her thigh.

The men's eyes are wide, fixed on Ghost- how'd she get you under her spell so fast? You don't really notice their looks, too busy drinking in the smell of her cologne, a thrill shooting up your spine at the feel of her hand on your back.

...Ghost gets the idea first. None of the team protests, if anything their eyes grow hungrier. It doesn't take much convincing for you, either. It's a strange request, sure, for three men and one woman to want to take you back to a hotel for the night. But Ghost reassured you-

"None o'em will lay a hand on you, love, you'll just be mine. They just need t'see, learn how to do things right. You mind helping me show them?"

When you nod, mind already imagining what was to come, she cups your cheek with a gloved hand, thumb stroking your soft skin. "There's a good girl. You'll be perfect."

...Within an hour, Ghost's got you naked and compliant in a hotel room down the way. You'd forgotten about the men watching you entirely within only a few minutes of Ghost's bare hands pulling you onto your lap. With one hand she's spreading your ass apart while her other hand slips a finger or two in you. You're bracing yourself with your hands on her chest, gasping with your forehead pressed to hers as she finds every which way to make you feel good in that position.

You don't even have to tell her when you're close. Stars shining behind closed eyelids you can hear her whispering just for you, "Go on, let them see you, pretty thing. You deserve it, cum for me."

After your shocks have worn off, she's kissing you through her mask as she lays you down. Hands caressing and exploring, never in a rush. The only clothes she removes are her gloves and rolling up her balaclava. You're only passingly upset Ghost won't take her actual clothes off- you're sure it had something to do with the dynamic between her and her team- she looks damn good with her strap hooked over her jeans anyway.

You're salivating when she gets her knees on each side of your head. Thumb pressing down on her silicon cock, guiding it between your pretty lips. "Just gotta get it ready f'me pet, then I'll give you what you need."

Her quiet little words of encouragement are all you need, emboldening you to suck it like you're getting paid to, thighs clenching together at the sound of her grumbling praise.

The men aren't touching themselves, despite them straining in their pants and shifting every so often. Their eyes glued to you, your own eyes glued to Ghost as she pulls back, thumb wiping your spit-slick lips clean.

When she lines herself up with you, she doesn't immediately bully herself in. She grinds herself against you, focusing her mental energy on everywhere else. Licking your neck, biting your ear, whispering praises just for you while her fingers tug at your tits.

"Look like a fuckin' dream, love. So good for me, they don't even deserve to see you like this..."

It's when your chest is heaving, your face is flushed, and your nails are clawing her back that she rears her hips back, the plastic expertly catching and slipping into your needy cunt. "Just like that pet, just fuckin'- like that-"

She was so affected, sounded so hoarse, it sent butterflies through you as she started fucking into you. Ghost was like a damned machine, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm, your mewls and desperate cries filling the room. Her arms are so strong around you, she's tearing you apart and holding you together all the same. Like nothing you'd ever had before, and she knows it.

"Think of me, next time you're in bed- with any man like them, yeah? Remember what you could be having instead, call me when he's pumped and gone. I'll take care of you pet, like no man could."

The front of her jeans are soaked from you by the time you finally tap her arm, entire form shaking from exhaustion. Ghost immediately accepts it, pulling out and unhooking her strap as you giggle light-headed at the wet spot you left on her pants. She cleans you up, wet washcloth and all. You try to tell her you don't need it, but the lukewarm cloth soothes your tender parts like she said it would. Dresses you herself because frankly, you're still boneless.

Wraps you in her big warm coat that smells like her cigarettes, tells you kindly she's gonna get you home safe. To the men behind her, the men you couldn't care less about, the men all politely sitting with their hands folded in their laps, she barks, "Do what you will here, clean up when you're done. I'll see you back on base."

[gloomwitchwrites]

Punch Bowl

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship / situationship, sharing, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, vaginal fingering, sex on top of and over a desk, cum swallowing, praise, anal sex, double penetration, multiple positions, light dom/sub dynamics, F/M/M/M/M

Word Count: 3k

At a required work holiday party, Captain Price leads you away to his office for a bit of fun. But the rest of Task Force 141 is interested, and for now, Price is willing to share you.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Behind the drinks table, you stand with your arms crossed, watching the rest of the room. You’re on punch bowl duty because every fucking year someone manages to spike it. It’s never been on your watch, but over the years you’ve begun to suspect a few possible culprits.

But really you don’t give a shit, and you don’t want to be here anyway.

There is nothing you like less than being forced to attend a mandatory work holiday party. Your face always aches from smiling by the end of it, and you have no social battery. You’d much rather be at home with a glass of wine, greasy takeout, and a book.

Every time someone approaches the table, you snag a plastic cup, ladle in some of the bright red beverage, and hand it off only to do it all over again. The worst part are the extroverts who don’t know how to shut the fuck up and talk your ear off for fifteen minutes before they find another victim.

It is exhausting. And awful. And you’re about five minutes away from pretending to be sick so you can go home to that wine, takeout, and book.

A figure blocks the room out of the corner of your eye. You turn, and freeze, realizing who it is that’s stepped in front of you.

It’s Captain John Price.

When you make eye contact with him, he smiles, and it’s so sultry that you already know what he wants. That’s the thing about you and John. It’s a weird, friends with benefits situation that is quickly starting to fall into feelings. Which is absurd. The two of you shouldn’t get involved beyond what it already is, and yet every time the two of you come together, it’s more passionate than two people simply fucking.

“Captain Price,” you acknowledge, reaching for a plastic cup, pretending everything about this interaction is normal.

“I need to talk to you,” he replies.

I need to talk to you is just code for “I want to fuck you.”

You keep a straight face, even as Price’s mouth twitches with amusement. “What about?” you ask, ladling in some of the bright red punch into a plastic cup.

The upper half of Price’s body twists slightly, and then he’s reaching for a nearby recruit. Price grips their shoulder and spins them around.

“Cover the punch bowl.” There is a hint of a growl in his voice, and that surprises you.

“Yes, sir.” The recruit nearly stumbles around the side of the table, obviously flustered.

There is no negotiation with Price. Rarely do you ever push back when he wants to be inside you.

You simply step around the table and allow the nervous recruit to take your previous position. Price steps into your space and nods toward the exit. The two of you move casually, as if this is routine and not at all strange. You’ve done it plenty of times before, and so far, no one has said anything.

Even if they did, what would they say? You’re not even SAS, and he is not your superior. You’re stationed here for work, and you’ve had to interact with John on multiple occasions for your job. The two of you walking away to talk is normal. At least, on the surface.

You and Price move out into the connecting hallway. From there, the two of you head for his office. The moment he shuts the door behind you, Price pushes you up against it, trapping you with his body.

He plants one hand directly above your head while the other squeezes your hip. Price presses in, one knee slotting between your legs, forcing them to open to accommodate his muscled thigh.

“You want to talk?” you murmur as his lips move toward your mouth.

“We’re talking,” he replies, closing the distance.

Price’s tenderness is not a soft thing but a fiery heat that burns you from the inside out. His kisses are fierce, purposeful, and each one is a brand that you carry with you in the moments the two of you are separated. But there is a desperate, underlying movement to each of his touches and kisses. Price is wanton but never needy and rarely rushes.

Your hands go out to rest against his chest, but he’s bending down, sliding his hands over your ass and lifting you up.

“John,” you breathe, clinging to him as he deposits you on top of his desk.

“Fighting me on this?” he asks, sinking to his knees before you. Price lifts your bent knees, placing one over each of his shoulders.

Then his hands are sliding up your thighs to your hips. Once there, his fingers dig in and drag you to the very edge of the desk. The friction pushes on your skirt, forcing it to slide up to your hips where it bunches. At this angle, there is no way Price doesn’t see your red lacy underwear underneath.

“No,” you murmur as Price slides his index finger between the delicate fabric and your pussy. He lightly pulls, and then guides it to the side, revealing you to him.

Price lifts your hips one more time, guiding you a bit closer before his head dips to run his tongue along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. His tongue against your skin is divine, as if you’ve been apart for ages. Price licks, bites, and kisses until he leaves marks behind.

As he moves closer, the anticipation of Price tasting you begins to build. His warm breath is a caress against your skin, and it’s even more wanton when you feel it against your clit. Your fingers dig into the wood, and when you glance down between your legs, Price’s gaze moves upward, his mouth positioned at your opening.

You arch your back and flex your hips a bit to signal exactly what you want. But you know Price won’t deny you. He never does.

“Let your knees fall wider, love,” purrs Price. When you do, he licks your pussy from opening to clit.

It’s a deliberate, languid touch that lingers for a moment before Price does it again, this time swirling his tongue as he does so. Then, Price goes for it, flicking his tongue against your clit in quick, sharp bursts of movement that immediately make your toes curl.

Your orgasm blooms from nowhere, roaring forward as Price sucks your clit into his mouth. Falling back on your elbows, you moan loudly. One of your knees start to slip but Price is there to catch it, keeping your legs spread wide as he continues to lavish your clit.

You’re in absolute bliss as the orgasm hits in a series of waves that only dissipates once Price releases you.

“Do you want more?” he muses before teasing the opening of your vagina with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but Price’s hand presses down on your thigh, settling you back onto the table.

“Please,” you beg, voice a hoarse whisper.

“Only because you asked nicely,” he says, inserting two fingers inside you. Your body surrenders and you both groan with how nicely you take him. You almost collapse against the desk, your eyelids closing in pleasure at his touch.

Price bends his fingers to press upon that sensitive spot inside you and drags his fingers down and out, popping them into his mouth to suck them clean.

“Do any of you want a taste?” asks Price, his voice unusually loud for just the two of you. His fingers slip underneath the delicate lace as Price guides your underwear down your legs and past your heels.

Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up, the lazy haze of lust disappearing.

In front of you are Price, who kneels between your legs, and three other men. The door to the office is open, and a large man in a black balaclava shuts the door. It’s the rest of Task Force 141. John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Simon Riley all linger near the door just behind Price.

You have no idea what Simon is thinking behind the balaclava, but Soap and Gaz have smirks on their faces. It’s not that you haven’t entertained the idea, because you have. All of them are sweet on you, even Ghost who is fucking terrifying to nearly everyone except you.

“I do, Captain,” replies Gaz, already moving to take Price’s place.

Price stands and steps out of the way, only for Gaz to immediately put his mouth on you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and you feel Gaz’s gentle laugh against your skin.

Price saddles up to the side of the desk. His hand grabs the back of your head, twisting in your hair, and then he guides you toward him, your body slightly bent. With his other hand, he undoes the front of his jeans.

Instinctually, you reach for him, grasping his cock the moment it’s free of the zipper.

“Just like that,” groans Price as you take him into your mouth.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking him down again. With fist and mouth, you work Price until he’s murmuring your name. It’s growing more difficult to concentrate. Gaz is skilled, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he pumps them steadily in and out of you.

Soap and Ghost might be watching, waiting their turn, or both. But they’ll have their turn, and that excites you.

You choke around Price’s cock when it hits the back of your throat. Gaz swirls his tongue around your clit and that breaks you. The orgasm rises and you squeeze around Gaz’s fingers.

“That’s fucking beautiful,” says Gaz with a contented amusement that makes you feel gorgeous. It’s an appreciative comment, but you only have a moment to linger in it before Price’s hand on the back of your head keeps you in place.

“Can you swallow, love? For me?”

You nod, and then Price’s taste bursts on your tongue. He does not pull away, but makes you take all of it, and you are eager for every drop. Price draws away, his cock leaving your mouth in a wet pop. Some of your salvia sticks to the head of him, and he brushes it away along with whatever stays on your lips.

“Show me,” he says, and you open, revealing that you’ve swallowed every bit of him.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Gaz licks his lips, wiping off the bit of your release that still sits on his lips. He pushes up to standing, and then Ghost is right there, grabbing at you, dragging you off the desk. You nearly wobble when your feet hit the floor but he’s fast, making sure you don’t fall.

“I want you on your knees,” he says, and you immediately drop. “Eager. I like that,” purrs Ghost as he lightly traces the line of your jaw with his index finger.

When Ghost’s cock is free, you immediately wrap your fingers around the base, and you go for it. There is no teasing lick or kiss. You throat him, your lips hitting your hand as you do so.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “You take it nicely. Don’t you?”

You moan around Ghost’s cock, basking in the praise. He is larger than Price, and you take as much as your throat will allow. The head presses roughly against the back of your throat, nearly causing you to gag. Instead of resisting, you relax into him, breathing through your nose, and that helps tremendously.

Your reward is another vocalization of Ghost’s pleasure. That deep, guttural moan of his goes straight to your pussy, and all you want to do is suck him dry. Fuck—suck all of them dry. Hollowing out your cheeks, you slide and bob your mouth along his shaft until Ghost nearly becomes a puddle at your feet. You may be on your knees before him, but you have all the control. It is thrilling. Having this power makes you bolder.

But the control is a fallacy, because the moment you begin to make this skull-faced man into a whimpering mess, someone is grabbing your wrists, pulling them behind your back as someone else latches onto the back of your neck.

You are held in place, and then Ghost does what he wants, fucking your mouth like you’re his little toy. With Price, the two of you usually share the control, switching the power between the two of you. But Ghost? He is completely domineering, steering this entire thing until you’re the one who is the whimpering mess.

“Fuck,” bites out Ghost, and then he’s yanking you off of him.

But he does not spill into his hand or on your face. Instead, he lifts you up, lightly plopping you down onto the desk. Your back hits the wood, and then Ghost is forcing your legs open, his hard cock sliding over your pussy.

“Eyes on me,” comes a voice near your head.

It’s Soap.

His large hand goes to your throat, then he’s tipping you back, and you’re opening wide, taking him down as Ghost pushes your legs wider to sink in. Your pussy flutters around Ghost, but your body is needy, and it greedily takes as much as he’s willing to give.

Ghost rolls his hips, pausing between each to help you accommodate to his size. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, he begins to pound into you, every thrust bouncing you down Soap’s cock. Through the fabric of your oversized sweater, Soap palms your breasts, and this keeps you from sliding away from either of them.

You fall into a lust-filled haze. An orgasm roils up, passes through your body and out into your limbs. It sets every nerve alight, but neither of them stops. A second comes soon after, and it’s only then that you realize Ghost’s angle is the perfect alignment for him to rub on your clit as he thrusts into you.

Ghost’s thrusts become a stuttering thing that end with his own release. His hands go to your thighs. He guides them open, presses down on the insides, and Soap slips out of your mouth. He reaches over your body to also hold onto your thighs, keeping them open.

Everyone watches as Ghost fills you up, and when he slips out, he catches his release and presses it back inside. This is an act of ownership, but no one seems upset by it, which can only mean that they all plan to do this with you again. And that is something you’d never say no to.

All of you hang in the air for the moment, and then hands disappear only to be replaced by new ones. You’re flipped onto your stomach, and then dragged off until one foot is on the ground, one knee is on the top of the table, and you’re bent at the waist over the side of the desk.

Then Gaz is there, grasping your hips, taking Ghost’s place. He keeps you steady, thrusting upward in steady strokes that have you leaning back against him. Gaz’s head dips forward to rest against the side of your head, and the two of you is all there is until he comes, mixing himself inside you alongside Ghost.

But Soap does not take his place. Instead, Price steps up, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. He tugs gently, arching your neck and back so that you look into his face.

“How much more can you take, love?”

You lick your lips and consider. Already, you feel the soreness and ache slipping into your muscles, but it’s a good sensation, and you want more of it.

“Whatever you desire to give to me,” you answer softly, and Price’s expression is a pleased one.

With tenderness, Price eases your knee off the table, and releases his grip on your neck. “Go sit in Soap’s lap, love,” whisper’s Price, lightly smacking your ass as you wobble toward Soap.

Soap reclines in a chair in the corner. When you get close, he reaches out, grabbing you by the thighs, drawing you into his lap. You do not face him, but the room, your legs spread for everyone to see as Soap slides inside and starts bouncing you on his cock.

There is no embarrassment on your part. Your head falls back to lean against Soap’s shoulder as he takes control. Your eyes flutter, and you briefly glimpse Ghost kneeling between your legs. He pushes up his balaclava, and then your lids completely shut when his mouth comes down on your clit.

Ghost sucks it into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking against it at the same time. The contrast that is the two of them has you slipping into a whimpering mess. You cannot speak. There are only your fingers digging into someone’s flesh as the two of them bring you to yet another orgasm.

This orgasm has no end, and you don’t even realize Soap relinquishes control to Ghost until the large man is lifting you up, sliding his arms under your thighs to hold you aloft to fuck you while standing. The mix of them inside you begins to seep out around Ghost’s cock, and you can see everything happening between your bodies.

Your forehead rests against his shoulder, and then someone steps up behind you, pressing against your other entrance.

“Please?” It’s Price.

“Yes,” you groan as Ghost hits deep and it sends your back arching. It’s the only thing you manage to say, and it is a strangled sound.

Price is gentle as he eases in. The two of them take turns pumping in and out of you, until you’re a sweaty mess. Your sweater sticks to your skin, and you want it gone, but without the ability to form words, you simply deal with it, reveling in their shared taking

You surrender to them, allow them complete control. But you’re safe, protected, sandwiched between them. You slide one arm behind Price’s neck while the other rests on Ghost’s left shoulder. Removing your forehead from Ghost’s right shoulder, you lean back on Price and he turns his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“It could always be like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “Would you like that?”

You nod, and you feel his smile against the line of your throat.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie

[moody-alcoholic]

The soldier next door part 2?

+18 content MDNI

Summary: John Price x Reader, female, she/her. 2.5k words. Fridays are when I step out my comfort zone to write porn and challenge myself a little bit. I wanted to try writing something a little ‘rougher’ and longer. Thought why not just follow it up with the last Price x reader I did.

CW: +18 content MDNI It’s straight up smut, morning sex, blowjob, throat fucking, PIV sex, spanking (like once), breath play (kinda but not really), over stimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, bit of Mdom, sir kink, fluffy aftercare..

Masterlist - part 3

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

It felt strange waking up next to a man in your bed, it has been a while, almost 8 months. You didn't want to wake him, he looked so peaceful sleeping there. You quietly slip out of bed going to the kitchen to make some breakfast. 

You're frying eggs when John materialises from the bedroom. 

“Morning,” you say smiling at him. He steps over too you wrapping his arms round your stomach burying his head in your neck. 

“Last night was perfect,” he hums in your ears making you sink into his embrace as you try to focus on your eggs. You turn the heat off as John’s hands slip under the waistband of your PJ shorts pulling you up against him.

He continues to kiss your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot. Holy shit he wants to go again. You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your back. 

“Had an amazing dream about you,” he says turning you round so you’re facing him. You press your lips to his and he moans as he presses you up against the oven. You break away as he moves back to kissing your neck.

“What was the dream about?” You ask pressing your chest up against him. Your hand lazily making its way down to the bulge in his sweatpants. 

“I had you bent over the bed screaming my name until you were left as a writhing mess and still begging for more.” He says his voice low as he leans over whispering in your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“Holy shit,” you moan your legs squeezing shut. He pulls back studying your face as you stroke his cock over his sweatpants. His hand travels from your waist up your top brushing over your nipple making your legs shake. 

“What to make it a reality?” You say trying not to sound desperate as you feel your pussy throbbing at the thought of being fucked again. John smiles bending down to kiss you.

“There are condoms in the bathroom drawer.” You say pulling away and heading to the bedroom. You don't wait stripping naked and sitting on the end of the bed. He comes in chuckling you stand up stopping him before reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. Your hands run down his chest and his stomach. You get down on your knees pulling his pants down releasing his cock. Your mouth is already watering as you take it in your hands running your thumb over the red tip. You look up at him using both your hands to rub down his shaft. 

“Don't go easy on me, if you want to make me a writhing mess. I know my limits I'll tell you if it’s too much.” You say smiling at him. Before he can say anything you pull him in your mouth replacing your hands with your lips. He's big, so big he hits the back of your throat your eyes water as your mouth fills with saliva.

“Don't go easy huh,” he says between moans. You hum on his cock as he grabs the back of your head bunching your hair in his fist. The next time you thrust your mouth down his cock he holds your head there pushing his hips so he's deeper down your throat. You can't breathe as he holds you there moaning. You look up at him tears running down your face. He looks down at you moving his hips back so you can get some air. 

“Look at you tears streaming down your face. Crying already? You look so bloody perfect baby.” He lets you control the speed but keeps your hair in a tight grip. You keep your eyes on him moaning round him which he seems to like pushing your head deeper each time. 

“Fuck- can I fuck your throat baby? You're just so fucking sweet looking up at me like that.” You try to smile and nod. You move one of your hands to your clit grinding on you fingers while he forces your face down his throbbing member. He fucks your mouth hard while he moans and grunts. The lack of oxygen heightens the sensation as your fingers become soaked from your desperate cunt. You're going to cum if he keeps this up, you think he can tell as your moaning round him gets more frequent. He looks down and sees you touching yourself. His head tilts back as his breathing picks up his groans sounding more and more desperate.

“You going to cum? Couldn't wait till I was inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth, his eyes burning into yours as you blink away more tears.

“Uh-hm” you moan as you stop grinding and start rubbing your throbbing clit. He's thrusting so deep in your mouth you have to fight for each breath. You squeeze your eyes shut as you cum trying to stop yourself from biting down on his cock. He pulls out your mouth as you suck in air catching your breath. Holy shit that felt amazing. He bends down in front of you pushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Breathe baby, breathe. That’s it catch your breath.” You listen to his instructions taking in big gulps of air as he helps you up to your feet. He looks down at you using his thumb to rub your tears away. He bends down and kisses you, you kiss him back and let him lead you to the bed. He gently lays you back letting go of your lips, his fingers trace your face. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says. You smile reaching up to plant another kiss on his lips. He smiles looking round the room for the condom he grabbed earlier. You turn over before he asks you to remembering from his dream you were bent over the bed. His hand finds it’s way up your thigh, his fingers rubbing between your folds, coating them in your juices as he finishes rolling the condom on. You fell him grab your hips pulling him up to you, you feel his fingers replaced with his cock, the tip brushing against your swollen clit. 

“Please John fuck me.” You beg gripping the bedding as he squeezes your ass. He chuckles continuing to rub his tip between your folds. 

“You’re so needy.” He says in that low humming voice that makes you involuntarily twitch. He’s teasing you and it’s driving you crazy. 

“Yes I’m a so needy for your fat cock to fill me up.” You’re not even thinking about what your saying, it’s just word vomit, anything to get him inside you. You pant as you push yourself up against his stomach. 

“Easy baby, if you keep talking like that I’m not going to last.” He tabs his cock against your clit and it makes your legs shake. You hear him chuckle again as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes the tip in and you moan already clenching down, he holds your hips in place so you can’t press back on him and you let out a frustrated whine. He continues to tease you only letting you ride his tip, you start to whine, pressing up against his hands as much as he will let you. 

“You make such pretty noises when you’re desperate huh.” He says bending down purring in your ear. His voice deep, commanding, sending shivers up your spine. You can’t think, your body is almost shaking with desperation, you want to touch yourself but you’re holding your body up with your elbows 

“Ask me nicely say ‘please sir, fuck me.’” You can hear an edge of something in his voice, you don't know what it is but it sending vibrations through your body.

“Please sir, fuck me, please.” You nod, pleading as your voice shakes. He lets out a long breath in your ear before standing up and pushing himself inside you. You moan as you feel the air leaving your lungs, his thrusts deep as he digs his nails into your ass. You hear him grunt, almost growling as he pushes into you as deep as he can. You clench around him, calling his name as he bounces against your cervix. 

“So. Bloody. Perfect.” He says between thrusts spanking your ass. It’s not hard but its enough to make your clit tingle and crave touch.

“Perfect for you sir.” You reply desperate to feel his fingers on your clit, begging for any kind of praise. Your head and shoulders flopping on the bed, the new angle hitting such a sweet spot your moaning turns to panting as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. One of his hands wraps round your hip, his fingers brushing your clit.

“Yes, John, please don’t stop.” You beg, you’ve never begged before but right now all you want is to feel is his cock throbbing inside you as he cums, you wish he could just fill you up. Your head pressed into the covers as you grip the bedding, he’s driving you crazy, you feel so full, his fingers rubbing your clit. John, John, John. His name leaves your lips as you cum, clenching around him as he continues to thrust inside you. His cock throbbing, his fingers pressing hard on your clit making your legs twitch from over stimulation. You feel him bend over you panting, you can feel his chest on your back his heartbeat rapid. 

“Holy shit, you’re amazing.” You breathe, your eyes closed, body shaking. He chuckles again kissing your neck and pulling out, of you. You let your body flop to the side then turn over to your back to see him, he bends down picking up a towel to clean his fingers. 

“You got a thing for people calling you sir?” You say a playful smile on your face. He smiles back and shrugs. 

“I’m used to people calling me that at work.” He says catching his breath. 

“What are you like a big boss or something?” You ask. 

“Something like that.” He smiles, tying the condom off and throwing it in the trash, you made a mental note you needed to get on birth control if this was going to become a regular thing. You expect John to lay into bed next to you but instead he kneels down at the end of the bed pulling you so you’re on the edge and he is kneeled between your legs. You look at him confused.  

“I said I was going to keep going until you were a writhing mess.” He says kissing your thighs. Holy shit, he is amazing. You smile at him letting your head fall back on the bed as you spread your legs as far apart as you can for him. His beard tickles you but if anything it just adds to the sensation as he uses his tongue to spread your juices round your clit. You’ve already cum twice but his tongue licking tight circles has his name leaving your lips again. You can tell he likes that as he moves one of his hands up inserting a finger into you. You grip the bedding again, trying to keep your hips from squirming, you want to grind down on his face. 

“Still so needy.” He says pulling a way for a second and re-adjusting his body to a more comfortable position. He pushes another finger in and you’re so desperate to cum again you almost don’t realise it until he’s hitting that oh-so-perfect spot, curling his fingers up inside you in time with his vicious licks on your clit. Every-time he moans it sends vibrations all through your body, his fingers work faster as you feel yourself getting closer to an orgasm way quicker then you expected. 

“John- I’m going to cum.” You say, he pulls away making you whine in protest, the sudden absence of his tongue is so jarring you almost sob. 

“You’ve got to ask nicely to come, ‘please sir, can I come?’” He says, his fingers not slowing but you’re desperate to feel his mouth on you again.

“Please- Please can I come sir?” You manage through your panting, the words catching in your throat. 

“‘Cause you can baby, you’ve been such a good girl.” He says before locking his mouth back round your clit. It’s like fireworks through your body when you cum. Your hand thrusting down to grip his hair as your back arches and you scream his name, you feel him chuckle as he rides you through the orgasm until your legs are clenching around his head your clit overstimulated and pulsating. You have to push his head away as your body twitches. He pulls away wiping his fingers on your clit which makes you shiver. You’re too exhausted to move your chest feeling like there’s someone sat on it as you try to normalise your breathing. 

“You okay over there?” He asks picking up a towel and wiping between your legs. You open your mouth but nothing comes out instead you just swallow. You hear him chuckle. 

“Too much?” He asks. You manage to shake your head, your eyes watching him as he throws the towel to the side. He comes round the bed and you start to get up your body still shaking he wraps his arm round your shoulders puling up the bed. 

“I’ve got it,” you say, scooting yourself up to the top of the bed. He kisses you on the forehead. 

“You did so well for me baby let me take care of you.” He says his voice low almost a whisper as he brings the duvet over you. He lays your head on the pillow going back to the end of the bed to put on some boxers. You watch as he leaves the room your body feels heavy, your throat suddenly dry as you relax back on the pillows. A few seconds later John’s back with a glass of water which you eagerly accept and gulp down.

“Easy, baby,” He says as he brushes hair out your face, helping you hold the glass. 

“Thank you,” you say when you’re done. He puts the glass on the bedside table and gets up walking round the bed and climbing in behind you. He wraps his arms round you pulling you up against his chest, your heart still racing as he kisses your head. 

“That was amazing.” You say. 

“You were amazing.” He replies in your ear, you feel his breath on your cheek as you relax into him, as he supports you, you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. 

“Shit the eggs.” You say too sleepy to really care.

“It’s alright I put them in the fridge.” He replies kissing your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you say kissing his hand, drifting off to sleep.

[biscuitsngravie]

gangsta fairytale (shanks x reader)

cw/tw: mafia/gang setting, age gap (shanks 39, reader 22), fem reader, kidnapping (brief), not exactly a sugar daddy but he we love extravagant flauntings of wealth & financial security, smut lol, piv sex, size kink (he’s 6’6 like cmon LMAO), exhibitionism, we cum inside cause its fun inside, breeding kink, dacryphillia, nickname for reader is “buttercup, and pretty girl” unprotected sex, slightly public sex? Smol mention, belly bulge

part 2 -- part 3

At a club on a thursday night cause you wanted to go, but your friends aren’t free till the weekend and you couldn’t wait. But of course that means it’s mostly a sausage party even tho girls get in free before ten cause it’s still a thursday. And every sausage in the party wants your attention

You’re at the bar nursing a drink wondering why you even came and start debating to leave when a very not sleezy looking guy comes up to you and asks “you wanna know my favorite number?” right before leaning way too close to whisper in your ear “69” before you can even turn to scowl at him

Shanks who grabs the hand that’s about to grab your waist (unbeknownst to you) and leans down to ask the guy “you wanna know my favorite number?” his voice is so heavy you can feel the vibration in your own chest despite the blaring music. You turn around to see an absolute tree of a man and you don’t know if your fight or flight or fuck is kicking in

The guy scurries off cause like….its fucking shanks

Instead of being a bigger fish to outsleeze the guy he asks if you’re alright. You just kinda nod and give a half-assed “yeah” with your eyes mostly down and away from him. He just nods back and taps the bar as he gets ready to leave going “well be safe out here” and it’s that that has you asking him to stay. You insist you wanna buy him a drink and it’s not too hard to convince him to stay for free alcohol so he does.

He compliments your fit casually and is your face warm? No, it’s the alcohol silly. You start talking about all the annoying guys here and how “uncouth” they are (he raises his eyebrows at that one) as you just complain about how “there’s piss in the dating pool.” you wonder if you’ll just have to find the “least shitty” person and settle with them

He starts talking less as you enter your tirade. Eyeing you down and going “well if you don’t mind hanging out with this old fart, i can show you how we did dating back in the day.” you try to give him your snapchat but he doesn’t have it and can’t work it even when you get him to download it, so you just give him your number instead

He tells you to shoot him a text that you got home safe and you think it’s cheesy but you do it anyway

The date is super nice, he takes you to this really nice cafe you’ve been meaning to go to. It’s kinda strange cause the menu doesn’t have prices so it’s hard to choose (being a college student and all) but he assures you he’ll cover the bill and to eat your heart out. After that he takes you on a ferry ride and talks about history on every part of the waterfront. It’s then that you find out he’s in love with the sea and the taste of adventure, but he’s (mostly) settled down nowadays. You hope you can go on an adventure with him one day

You two spend a lot of time talking together (you mostly about your classes and professor drama, him mostly about his adventures in his youth, it’s then that he tells you he’s 39) and spend the waning hours of daylight shoreside, and as the sun sets he maps out the stars for you

“Not to be too forward, but i’d love to steal more of your time.”

So you guys go on another date. And another. And an—

Part of you wonders if/when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend, but you don’t wanna do the “what are we?” talk, so instead you do your best to enjoy whatever it is you do have. No matter how many times he grabs you by the chin to face him when you’re looking off into the distance asking “what’s up, buttercup?” you just give the same variation of nothing answers. He knows what you want, but he’s scared to give it to you cause of who he is. If only you knew.

You’re walking down the street one day and try to ignore the scurrying behind you. You knew you should’ve left the library earlier, as the days are getting shorter, but the project is due this friday and—

You can’t even scream properly since they cover your mouth first. Your keys are between your fingers, but they grabbed your wrists at the same time. You’re blindfolded and gagged, delicately (as possible) placed in the backseat of a car. They keep saying how perfect you are for their boss and a bag of rocks drops from your stomach to your ass 

They take you inside a building, up an elevator and blah blah blah, they take your blindfold off and “present” you to their…

“Shanks!”

“Watch your mouth!” one of them is about to smack you for the disrespect but shanks stops him with a raise of his hand and gives a sign to untie you. You run to him on his ridiculously fancy chair and hop in his arms crying about how these guys kidnapped you and were going to send you to some creep

He asks if you’re hurt, his frown lines pressed into his face as he realizes how bad you’re trembling. He holds you close when you look at him with tears in your eyes, wobbly lips, and a shaky voice saying you’re fine. 

If looks could kill, the pair would’ve been incinerated on the spot. But they can’t. So shanks sends them away for a more effective method. They’re never seen again.

It’s then that he says he tells you that he’s the boss. You don’t understand at first until he explains that he’s “inherited” the title since the passing of his father as the crowned prince of the organization

While you’re trying to process it, he explains that that’s why he never asked you to become official with him. That and he didn’t wanna “steal your youth” away from you. But after you beg to stay with him despite it all, he sighs and says he has to be a “real man and stop pussyfitting around.” you’re his girl, and he should’ve been man enough to admit it and take care of you like he should have

Yall are official now. :)

@honeeslust here ya go!

[lunarw0rks]

hi hiii, I hope ur having a good day<3 I'm rewatching 365 days rn and I was wondering if you could do 141 + graves and Alejandro watching it with us? nsfw would be amazing but it's completely up to you, this is really random im sorry 😭 i just thought of it out of nowhere, and no rush ofc<3

Have a nice day/night/afternoon<3

A/N: If you can't tell I hate this movie. I fell asleep not even halfway through when I watched it. BUT IT'S AN ENTERTAINING REQUEST, SO ENJOY<3

Summary: How they would react to watching 365 Days with you.

Warning(s): suggestive content/language (18+), established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

365 Days | 141 Headcanons (+ Ale/Graves)

Price

As much as he loved movie nights with you, sometimes he had to join late. Though you insisted that you would wait on him to start it, that you wanted to start from the beginning—he put his foot down. He can come back, halfway through the movie, guess what’s going on, and still enjoy it with you, right? At least, that was his logic.

Tonight was playing out like usual; dinner finished, and he had some paperwork that needed tending to first. So, you’re sat on the sofa, already several minutes through this… questionable movie. Why you had chosen it, you weren’t sure, but it was something to keep you entertained.

He strolled into the living room, a heavy groan when he was finally able to relax. ❝What are you watching, Sweetheart?❞ John’s arm found its way to the back of the couch, a not-so-subtle way to wrap his arm around you. ❝Oh, they’re on a boat. Is this some sort of adventure—❞

❝Oh.❞

As good as he was at keeping his composure, the sudden cut to the explicit boat scene, stunned him to near silence. It was quite humorous, the mortified look on his face as you sat there watching it nonchalantly. But the scene continued, cut-to-cut, at least two minutes of the smutty montage.

❝Are you trying to tell me something?❞ He asks with a stern look, dripping with playfulness, though he found the movie downright unrealistic and cringe-worthy; not at all how he views romance or sex. He’d kidnapped her, tried to make her infatuated, seduced her… he found it downright strange. It definitely didn’t get him in the mood, he spent most of it with a look of contempt on his face—unless he was staring at you.

Simon

He would always let you pick the movies, no matter what. There was no arguing, no bickering over action v. romance, he truly didn’t mind. Movie night often started with Simon silently handing you the remote, eyes glaring until you give up on being polite and just pick the damn film.

You clicked on the Netflix icon, scrolling through the array of films you two hadn’t watched yet. Finally, you hovered over an… interesting choice. One you had seen talked about across social media since its release. Surely, it’ll at least be amusing, right? Even if it's awful?

❝Looks stupid.❞ The intro to the film began to play, his broodiness ever-persistent. But you could take what he dished out because no matter how tough he acted, he cherished evenings like these—no matter what you picked to watch. Throughout the film, he maintained that same stillness he always did; legs spread with one hand in his lap, the other draped over the back of the couch, even during the most heated of scenes.

There were plenty of those, for sure. ❝Can’t believe I’m watchin’ this shit…❞ He grumbled, but was he going to shut it off? Nope. The longer it played, your flushed expression would amuse him—whether it was because you were embarrassed by all the explicit scenes, or because the movie was simply p^rn with little plot. Either way, he spent more time with his eyes on you than the screen. If he did feel himself start getting heated, he’s not going to outright ask, either. He’d rather suffer for an hour and a half, and tease you about the film choice, something might happen ;)

Soap

It wasn’t that you were hiding the fact that you picked this movie, but you didn’t exactly want it to be one you watched together. Your fingers were practically crossed under the blanket, hoping he would at least walk in during one of the semi-normal scenes.

His voice startled you because he had come in so suddenly, and of course during one of the many explicit scenes the movie was littered with. ❝Steamin’ Jesus, bonnie, if you wanted to watch p^rn I could’ve sent you some.❞ His arms crossed over his chest as he watched the screen, but his look was one of awe. Why the hell were you watching this? But most of all, why was he standing here doing the same? You had no doubts about what he said, either. He probably would if you were desperate enough, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how much of a dirty mind he had.

His weight settled on the couch next to you, in the typical cuddling position he put you in during movie night; forcing your head into his lap or against his heart. To this day you’re convinced he only does this so you’ll play with his hair if you were being honest. ❝Didn’t know you liked movies like this…❞ Soap was only trying to be casual, to act nonchalant about what was on screen. But, his mind did wander—doing what he always did when he watched things like that; imagining you in it.

(Let’s just say… he had to do that thing where guys readjust themselves, shifting their hips against the cushion…)

Gaz

Strangely enough, he probably saw the memes about it and decided to give it a try on movie night. So, he got all the favorite snacks, drinks, and most of all you—huddled next to him under layers of blankets. He was expecting something like Fifty Shades—how the both of you spent the entire time cracking jokes and giggling at the outlandish nature of it—or at least, he did. This movie made Fifty Shades look like nothing.

He flashed a side-eye, one to see your expression during such a movie. Explicit scenes; whatever. But this? It was… unsavory for him.

If you wanted to finish it, so be it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be there. Gaz just found sex scenes like this (overly aggressive/no plot-driving ones) obnoxious. “You sure you want to finish this, babe? I’d rather watch Gray Shades, or whatever the hell it was called, again.” He sounded uncomfortable as if he was watching the scene with his parents looking over his shoulder.

But then again, some of the acting was like a car wreck—so horrific you couldn’t tear your eyes from it. ❝I could beat his ass.❞ Gaz eventually resorted to fierce disdain for the male protagonist about halfway through the film, sizing him up through the screen. Partially to make you laugh, partially because he disliked the character so much, and the film itself. It was humorous for you to watch, to say the least.

Alejandro

Alejandro wouldn’t have chosen the movie. He prefers older movies, nostalgic films, and classic romance movies with plots, not… that. But you wanted to watch it, so he gave it a shot. All else fails, he’ll fall asleep beside you until it’s over, and then get to pick something better once the credits roll. 

That’s exactly what happened; him snoring beside you from sheer boredom. Unbeknownst to him, he’d fallen asleep before any of the action happened, so he was in for a literally rude awakening. An awakening you were itching for, to say the least. His head perked up, eyes adjusting to the light from the screen. As usual, he had to wake up from his power nap at the absolute worst moment.

❝They’ve been going this whole time, Mi Amor?❞ Alejandro groans, brows in their natural state—furrowed and focused.

Though it's unfortunate that he wasn’t wrong. The scenes were one after the other, and they barely held weight with the plot. You expected him to be more grumbly about it, hell, even judgmental towards the male character’s form or something. But he merely snickered, eyes turning to yours, ❝I’m nicer to you than that, que no?❞ He says while the female protagonist is being intimidated by her captor, unrealistically aroused while it’s happening. He was, managing to both satisfy you and keep you on your toes simultaneously.

Graves

Graves doesn’t watch movies with you often, both because of his workload, and because he doesn’t sit still long enough to do so. He spends most of his time standing behind the sofa, making snide comments towards something that’s inaccurate in the film, or what a character should’ve done. Tonight, he hadn’t been seen at all, despite knowing you were watching something.

You expected it when you read the description of the movie, it’s sexual nature. You knew he would stroll into the living room at the absolute worst moment. That’s exactly what happened, and it made your eyes roll the second you heard the small chuckle from behind your head. ❝Christ, Sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.❞ Indeed, he had his arms folded across his chest, lips formed into a slight smirk when you turned your head. His smugness was like a parasite—latched and hard to get rid of.

Graves was surprisingly quiet in the moments following, watching the movie in a nonchalant stance. By the shake of his head, you could tell he was going to begin his routine of constant commentary, constant knit-picking. ❝She supposed to be a captive, or somethin’? Should’ve gone that way instead. Now look at her.❞ A smug sneer returned when he sensed your embarrassment as he commented on the explicit scene playing out. It was entertaining for him, to say the least—and it wouldn't be the last you’d hear of it, surely.

[skbeaumont]

"I Remember Everything" | Joel x Reader

Part 2 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: I Remember Everything, Zach Bryan ft. Kacey Musgraves Summary: Ten years after outbreak day, you and Joel try to find a way to forget. In the process he finds things to remember, too Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, references to sex, alcohol and drugs, sex but not explicit, trauma, grief, just expect emotional damage basically Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This ended up being both very angsty and quite sweet. Once again it was written with lyrics from the song pulled into the prose, so do listen as you read. If you've got any song recommendations for this series, let me know!

You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose Strange words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking I wish I didn't, but I do Remember every moment on the nights with you You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

The bar is crowded when you enter. Heaving with writhing bodies, hot in a way that has your shirt sticking to your back within moments of entering, a hazy, sharp tang in the back of your nose, a mix of moonshine and sweat.

Ten years today since outbreak day, and it seems everyone in the QZ is in here to forget.

Technically, there aren’t supposed to be any bars in the QZ, but as you squeeze between the crowds you spot two women you know to be FEDRA officers. It’s amazing what they’ll turn a blind eye to when it benefits them. One of the women looks pretty far gone already, leaning against the other with a placid, washed out grin on her face. The moonshine here is cheap, strong, and a poor imitation of anything that would have been served in a bar ten years ago.

You order two double whiskeys, watch the skinny youth behind the bar pour it out into a chipped mug, take it from him and hand over a creased, dog-eared ration card. A small price to pay for an evening of forgetting. You down the first double at the bar, then turn and push yourself on tiptoes to find an empty table, or a quiet corner to hole up in where you won’t be disturbed.

Instead, you find your gaze passing over a familiar figure at the back of the room. Joel’s recognisable even from behind – broader than anyone else in the room, the sloping lines of his shoulders pressing against the frayed seams of the denim shirt he’s wearing. It’s been a few months since you last saw him. You’re not sure where he’s been, maybe off on his smuggling runs; the two of you have never really kept a consistent line of conversation, your meetings generally consisting of a quick catch up and then a long, slow evening using each other to try to forget the hell of life in the QZ and your respective pasts. Unhealthy, probably, but it works for a few hours.

Joel turns where he’s stood and the dim lights in the bar illuminate the side of his face, the strong line of his jaw. He’s wearing a lopsided half-smile, leaning against a shelving unit filled with bottles, talking to a woman with dark hair. He’s clearly drunk: he only smiles like that when he’s drunk. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much you know he drinks on any normal day.

You’re still watching him, sipping your own drink, when he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. You don’t look away. The buzz of the whiskey is starting to sink through you, warm and familiar, and Joel’s eyes are just as intoxicating.

It’s always the same. There’s something about him that has you gravitating to him. It’s attraction, certainly, but it’s deeper than that. There’s so much about Joel you don’t know, so many unanswered questions and unexplained mysteries. But you know he’s like you. You know he’s lost people. You know he’s broken, and lonely, and so fucking angry that it scares him sometimes.

Joel watches you down the rest of your whiskey, eyes flicking to your lips as you lick a stray drop. He’s drunk, far drunker than he should be considering he has to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning for sewer duty.

He only got back into the QZ early this morning, spent rest of the day trying as best he could to get some sleep without resorting to rotgut whiskey to ease his mind. A lost cause, of course. He hasn’t slept without some kind of pill or booze in ten years. Eight hours in and he’d given it up as a bad job, downed a few bottles of home-brewed cider and headed to this hot, loud bar, hoping to distract himself from the date and all that its memory brings.

He hadn’t expected you to be here, and something uncomfortably like gladness settles in his chest as he watches you make your way towards him. All day he’s been on edge, wound up so tight he’s felt like something in him is going to snap, but the sight of you has it retreating, loosening his shoulders more than the piss-poor whiskey has.

He wonders for a moment what this thing you have – this relationship that isn’t a relationship, this love story that definitely isn’t a love story, just a way to forget for a while – would be like if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Would he sing you love songs, buy you flowers, take you to the beach and let your sand-covered hair blow into his face on the drive home?

Ten years since outbreak day, and he’s mostly wondering if you’ll help him forget in a way that the booze and pills he’s been knocking back since this afternoon haven’t managed to yet. Two whiskeys in, and you’re wondering if he’ll ease your mind like the liquor’s eased your tight muscles.

It’s this that carries you both out into the alley behind the bar, has him pressing you into the rough brick wall, hands roaming your body like you’re a route he’s trying to memorise so he can sneak back when the curfew falls. His mouth is hot on yours, his breath tinged with booze and counterfeit cigarettes.

It’s easy where it shouldn’t be; easy to let him lead you through the back streets to his apartment, easy to let yourself fall inside, easy to ignore the empty cider bottles that litter the apartment, the pill bags and loose cigarettes.

The sex is unrushed – it could be called romantic, if you were both other people, if it you weren’t both doing it to forget. The memories of ten years ago retreat for a while as he undresses you; the pain eases as he lays you back, slots himself between your legs and presses himself into you.

The movement of it is calming, familiar. Joel’s strong back under your hands, his muscles shifting and tensing as he thrusts into you, the harshness of his breath at your ear. He’s quiet, usually, hardly lets himself make a sound when he’s inside you, and then leaves before you’ve had chance say goodbye. Tonight, though, he doesn’t. When you’ve finished he rolls himself off of you and pulls you to his chest, wraps a strong arm around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, and the words are so strange that you freeze beneath him, twist back so that you can look at him, see the truth of it on his face.

His eyes are dark in the half-light of the apartment, hazy with alcohol and something else, but they’re serious, his eyebrows furrowed, the creases that have started to deepen over the time you’ve known him lining his forehead.

Because the thing is, you make him forget. But when he’s with you he remembers, too. He remembers what happiness can feel like, the way that joy can take root in your chest and spread into something ethereal, something that Joel Miller doesn’t deserve to feel, hasn’t felt since the world ended ten years ago. He remembers every moment on the nights with you.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

[jawabear]

Phone operator 

Captain John Price x Reader 

Not my GIF

A/N: this man makes me feel things. i listen to too many audios and this came out of my brain because of it. But tell me you wouldn't want to do this to the big sexy bear of a captain that is John Price? Sorry for any mistakes.

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: AFAB!reader, porn without plot, guided masturbation (m.reciving), breeding kink, daddy kink, British spellings, mention of naked photo, slight sub!price, Captain but erotically, phone sex

Summary: John is stressed about an evening dinner being thrown for him as the rest of the 141. His girl back home has the perfect way of getting him relaxed.

“Hey John, you okay?” 

John’s heart swelled and his shoulders sunk a bit at her voice down the phone. He had missed it. It had only been two days and he had gone for much longer but he needed to hear her again. 

“No. I’m not okay. I don’t want to go to this fuckin’ dinner tonight” he sat on the bed in a slump at the thought of having to socialise with stuck up board members and high ranking officers. 

“You sound like a child. Besides the guys will be there with you. It’s not like you’re going in alone” 

“They’re going to be no help. Probably going to get shitfaced and embarrass the lot of us” 

“John. That doesn’t sound like you. What’s going on?” 

John let out a sigh and rubbed over his face “I’m sorry I just…I really miss you and I’m so fuckin’ frustrated about tonight. I just wish you were here to come with me” 

“I wish I was there too. But I wouldn’t have been much use. You know I hate social events like that” 

“At least then I could use that as an excuse not to go. Then I would get to spend the night with you” 

“Oh? And what would that night include, Captain?”

“I think you know” he let out a long sigh “fuck, wish you were here. I fuckin’ need you, love. Need to feel you. To fuck you” 

She hummed and giggled a little “I can tell you what I would do if I was there. If that would help” 

“Yes. Yes it would help a lot” he could feel himself getting hard just from the thought of her whispering dirty little things down the phone to him. 

“How about then, seeming as you’re so frustrated and pent up, I instruct you on how to make yourself feel good. Just like if I were there. How does that sound?” 

“Like…touching myself?” 

“Yes. If you want to. I just want to help you feel good, Captain” 

He huffed a little “okay. Go for it” 

She cleared her throat and let out a breath. “Okay. I need you to be completely naked and lay down on the bed for me. On your back” 

Luckily he was only wearing a towel from the shower. It didn’t take much for him to remove it, drop it to the floor and lay down on the bed. “I’m laying down” he told her. 

“Put me on speaker and put the phone by your head on the pillow. You’re going to need both hands” he did as she told him and was now laying flat with his hands by his side. Completely exposed to the room. It felt…hot. 

He felt incredibly sexy laying there with her telling him what to do. But he felt a little strange at the fact she couldn’t see him. 

“Now, slowly and slight stroke up and down your chest. Very very lightly. Barely even touching yourself” he swallowed thickly and let out a breath before trailing his touch fingertips over his chest. His chest hair was soft under the light touch and it made him feel tingly. He could imagine it being her. How her soft fingers roamed up and down his body. Making him shiver and making him harder with every touch. 

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes. Feels…really nice” he whispered. She hummed again. 

“Now move one hand to your inner thigh. I know how you like it when I touch your thighs. How it makes your cock throb” he groaned at her words and the soft tone of her voice. He hated though how muffled it sounded through the phone. He would have to get her to do this when he got back. 

John gently moved his hand down to his left inner thigh and gently stroked his skin. He let out an embarrassing whimper that made her laugh on the other end “good boy. Feels so good to touch yourself doesn’t it? Right where it feels good” 

“Yeah…” 

“Do you want to touch your cock for me? Is it hard? So hard that it hurts? I bet it’s the prettiest shade of red for me. The tip so swollen and desperate to be touched” 

“Yes. Yes it is, (Y/N). I’m so fuckin’ hard for you. Want to touch it” he panted, his head rolling back against the pillows as he inched his hand closer and closer to his cock. 

“Not just yet baby” she whispered, slight humour to her voice. She was enjoying his desperation clearly “just a little longer. Trust me. Good things come to those who wait, my love” he groaned again “switch hands. Touch your other thigh. And this time, play with those sensitive nipples for me. I know you love it when I touch them. That make you come so quickly and it makes you such a submissive ness for me” 

John’s cock twitch at the thought of her kissing his nipples. She was right, they were sensitive. Embarrassingly so. A sure fire way to get him coming quickly when she wanted him too. She knew his body too well. It drove him mad that she wasn’t there to fuck him. 

But he touch his nipples. His thighs shaking. “I love when you try to act all big and tough. Even though you know I’ll ruin you. My big strong Captain, nothing more than a needy submissive baby for me” 

“Oh fuck” he swore quietly. He felt like he was coming. His head was spinning and a burning hot pleasure coursed through his body. He had to look down to check he hadn’t come yet. He hadn’t, but his cock was angry red and twitching. Hard against his stomach. A trail of pre come connecting his cock to his abdomen. “Want to come. Wanna touch myself baby. Please” 

“Just a little more, Captain. Then I promise you can come as much as you like” her voice was low but sincere. He knew she wouldn’t be too cruel to him and deny him his pleasure. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t. “I just want you to lightly circle the tip. Get your fingers nice and wet with your come” 

John move his fingers from his thighs to his aching cock. His fingers trembling a little as he ghosted them over his leaking cock head. He grunted and moaned when he allowed himself a touch. His fingers collecting the wetness there and stimulate his cock. “Fuck feels so good. So fucking wet and hard for you” 

“I bet it is” she said “bet your balls are nice and heavy with come aren’t they?”

He moved his hand from his nipples and cupped his balls. They were heavy and tender. He almost shot his load when his hand made contact. “Yeah. So full…” 

“I bet it would feel good to let it all out wouldn’t it? To come all over yourself. Make a mess of that perfect fucking body of yourself” he bit down harshly on his bottom lip to try and suppress the pathetic moans and whimpers trying to get out. “Would feel so good if you came inside me. Shooting all that hot come inside me. Breeding my pussy. Making me a mummy. And you a daddy” 

“Oh fuck! Fuck! Stop talking like that! Gonna make me come before I’ve even touch myself properly!” She laughed again. Her voice was hot and full of teasing. She could keep him on the edge all day and would once even need to touch him with a voice like that. 

“But that’s what you want isn’t it? To fill my pussy with your come?” 

“Yes! Yeah I want it! Fuck want to make you a mummy! See you get all nice and round with my baby! Fuck your pregnant pussy! Fuck all my come into you!”

“Touch yourself. Come for me John” he wrapped his hand round his cock and pumped it like there was no tomorrow. He didn’t care about holding back his noises anymore. He just wanted to come. “Think of my pussy. Think of how good it would look dripping with you come. I wouldn’t be able to hold all of it in my pussy. You’d have to push some in my arse. Or my mouth. Use me as your personal cumdump. That sound good?”

“Fuck!” He bellowed “I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get back! You’re not gonna be able to walk when I’m done with you! You’ll take it all! All of it into every one of your perfect holes!”

“I’ll be waiting for it” she whispered. He could almost feel her breath on his ear. “You’ll be such a great daddy. You already are to me. My big strong Captain daddy. And all his delicious come..” she seemed to swoon of the other other of the phone. He wondered if she was also touching herself. But he didn’t have the capacity to for the words to ask. All he could do was moan, groan and grunt out her name.

“Come for me daddy” she whined “come for me. Breed me!”

He let out a loud swear as he came and came. Fuck he couldn’t stop coming. Shooting it out in thick ropes all over his chest. “Fuck. (Y/N)! I can’t-“ he panted and whined as his head fell to the bed “can’t stop”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, hunny. Keep coming ‘til you can’t anymore. Let it all go” he kept pumping his shaft, moaning and grunting as he did. His hips bucking up into his hand and his thighs shaking at the overstimulation. But it felt too good to stop. But soon he had milked himself dry and hand to pull his hand away before he passed out. 

“That’s it” she soothed him. Her voice just above a whisper. “Just like that. Relax, hunny. Relax and feel all the pleasure lingering” 

He couldn’t definitely feel it. That was for sure. He wouldn’t stop feeling it for a while. “You did so well. I told you good things come to those who wait” he could heard the smirk in her smug voice. An ‘I told you so’ look probably plastered all over her perfect face. 

John let out one final long breath before he could speak again “I love you. You’re so good to me. Thank you. I really needed that”

“My pleasure. Well actually it was yours but your pleasure is my pleasure” he laughed a little. “Do you really feel better? Or are you just saying that?”

That was one thing that always baffled him about her. How quickly she could go from threatening to ruin him, to panicking over if she did it right. Her confidence always faded all too quickly.

“I feel so much better than I have in a while. Probably still be feeling it when I go to this dinner. Maybe it will make it more bearable. Speaking of, I should probably be getting ready. Might need another shower though now”

“Why can’t you just walk around covered in your own come?” She teased “you make me walk around covered in your come…”

“Minx” he muttered “I’ll just give myself a wipe down then. Compromise” 

“Okay. But before you do, take a picture. I want to see the mess you made over your chest. So I can get off to it later. I’m already wet as it is” 

“Do you need me to make you come?”

“Yes I do. But you haven’t got long ‘til the dinner so I’ll make do with staring at your fucking perfect come covered chest tonight. Maybe tomorrow it can be my turn?”

“Anything you want beautiful. And when I get back, I am going to fuckin’ ruin you” he promised that. She could hear the finality in his voice and it made her feel all fuzzy. She had definitely soaked her panties now. 

“I’m counting on it. Until next time, Captain” 

2/1/23

[lostmyremembrall]

Hogwarts Legacy Accurate to Victorian Era Pt. 2

Thank you so so much for the lovely response to my first one! I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. This was just supposed to be a one-off, but here is part 2!

Read Pt. 1 !

Warning for brief mentions of: Dissection. Gore. Sex and lust. Antiquated ideas. Cannibalism. All the good stuff.

Simple Solution for an Injury

Complex injury? Amputate it!

No Anesthesia. No antibiotics.

Have fun going into shock from the pain.

Survived the surgery? Have fun with the post-surgery infection.

Ominis taking one glance at Sebastian's broken leg.

Ominis: "Lose the leg."

Sebastian: "Wait, no. Hold on, we can just use episkey-"

MC: *already raising an axe with a psychotic grin*

MC: "Sorry, Sebastian. Your lovely leg will be sorely missed!"

Cereal for Proper Gentlemen

Cereal is just becoming popularised, more so in America.

Most importantly, it's considered a proper thing to eat for gentlemen since, apparently, it has the effect of keeping your urges at bay.

Sebastian and Garreth always feel they need cereal to keep themselves in check. So they usually begin their day by eating two full bowls of cereal.

Ominis and Amit would eat cereal once in a while.

But strangely, when you sit next to them, you find them reaching for a box of cereal and burying their heads into the bowl, refusing to meet your eyes and their cheeks bright red.

We Party Like It's 1890

Victorians loved the macabre and the exoticism. The best parties were considered the dissection of Egyptian mummies.

Garreth Weasley, knows how to party.

And also happens to know a man who can get him an Egyptian mummy.

The whole school erupts into an excited buzz when they hear of a party being held by Weasley.

How he manages to afford an Egyptian mummy at such a great price, you ask?

If you ask Garreth, he'd say it's thanks to his winning charm.

If you ask Ominis, it's because he's being swindled with some "third-rate corpse dug somewhere from Whitechapel."

Having attended a few of those parties himself back home, Ominis apparently can tell the difference between a real mummy vs. a fabricated one.

----

Garreth Weasley rolls up his sleeves, and dramatically flourishes his wand to begin the demonstration.

But, contrary to his boasting, he is quite shit with anatomy and maintaining steady hands.

Amit Thakkar is driven mad to no end at these parties, though he always comes begrudgingly.

He chooses to come because Garreth will literally drag Amit to his party.

But also because Amit naively believes every time that he might be able to teach Garreth a thing or two about anatomy.

Garreth has not failed to disappoint Amit every time so far.

"Agh, Garreth! You've spliced the superior vena cava!"

"Patience now, Amit. A delicate artform such as this takes great skill and control of one's wand-"

Garreth's hand slips, proceeding to stab the heart with the tip of his wand.

"Ah. Shit... Well. That's that."

"No matter." As Garreth wipes his wand on a tablecloth. "Now who wants to try my newest butterbeer!?"

That is usually when the party comes to an abrupt end as everyone rushes to the door.

Cure for All: Egyptian Mummies

Victorians engaging in straight-up Cannibalism

Ground-up mummies from Egypt are sold as a cure for all.

Sebastian, unfortunately, hears this rumour.

The next day, he's selling it in the corridor as a "Miracle Powder: 100% High-Quality Egyptian Mummies - Straight from the Tomb of Pharaohs"

Anne is in on it.

The local population of Inferi have significantly dwindled ever since.

But soon enough, not even Inferi are enough for his demanding supply.

There have been recent headlines in the Daily Prophet of the alarming number of grave robberies. Wizards. Goblins. House-elves. No one is safe.

Ominis: "Really, Sebastian? Grave robbing?"

Sebastian: "It's called procuring the merchandise, Ominis. Clearly, something you don't understand as someone who hadn't had to work a day of his life."

Sebastian boasting about his knack for business.

One night, Sebastian shows up in front of you with two shovels on his shoulders.

MC: "Grave robbing?"

Sebastian: "Grave robbing."

MC: "Should we dig up Uncle Solomon?"

Sebastian, taking way too long to consider: "... Nah. Anne would kill me for it."

MC: "At least that would get us two bodies."

The Beginning of a Business Relation with Garreth

There was one time when Prof Weasley got suspicious of Garreth’s outlandish plans, leaving him unable to retrieve the entertainment for the party that he’d already planned.

"Come on, Sallow. My reputation is at stake."

"Word tells me you can fetch me a mummy, yes?"

Sebastian, being the savvy businessman that he is, strokes his chin.

"I can. But it will cost you."

The whole school will remember that horrendous night, when the mummy mysteriously came back to life, and began attacking the students, the whole room erupting into chaos.

"It's the Pharaoh's Curse!" Duncan Hobhouse wails. "I knew I should've never come!"

Ominis growls about Duncan always complaining, and being too much of a coward to do anything.

Ominis: "Perhaps we sacrifice Puffskein Dunkein to the mummy. We’d feign an accident off school grounds. Nobody needs to know."

"I have it all under control," Sebastian shouts to Garreth.

As he continues to blast Confringo non-stop at the inferi in mid-panic.

----

To support Sebastian's growing business, you are in charge of harvesting Inferi and bodies for Sebastian. But Garreth is in charge of the processing.

Ever since the fiasco at the party, Garreth forgave Sebastian and joined in to assist with the processing part.

Garreth says he’s forgiven Sebastian. But he now takes 55% of the cut.

These days, you can find the two in the Undercroft, testing out the newest solution.

The Mad Scientist and The Merchant of Death.

Round goggles. Rolled up sleeves.

A thick pungent smell of whatever solution Garreth came up to quicken the mummification process.

How lovely.

Ominis is not happy.

----

If MC is extremely progressive, they'd disapprove of mummy dissection parties and comment to Garreth about the colonial mindset behind parties like this.

For weeks, Garreth is depressed and remorseful.

From then on, the Egyptian Mummy is replaced with a fake from Sallows, Co.

Ugliness

Victorians believed that loveless marriage and sex led to their children being born ugly.

Sebastian loves taunting Leander Prewett along this line of thought.

"Hey Prewett, guess where I was last night?"

Leander rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. My mother's?"

"You're quick this morning, I see. Your mother told me she's never loved your father."

Leander grows bright red, glaring. "Don't you dare, Sallow."

Sebastian with a smirk: "Solved at least one mystery. The reason why you look like a leper."

Leander explodes, warranting Sebastian a number of hexes and detention for both of them.

Source:

-The Astonishingly Slow Progress Towards Surgical Anesthesia -What People Ate to Survive the Victorian Era -Mummy Parties -The Gruesome History of Eating Corpses as Medicine

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sanguine Storm - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

I wrote a follow up to Interview with the Vampire (which you can find here) Enjoy!

Words - 6,654

Warnings - Adult content and smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You’re used to travelling with your job, flying all over the world to interview musicians. The journey you have taken on this trip though is to conduct a meeting with somebody entirely different; the world authority, she coins herself. On all things vampire. 

It took time and many deep dive searches through the dark web, a place you were not altogether comfortable with visiting, before you found her. God, the sights you saw prior to finding Erzsébet Zrinski. Vampire’s might not be public knowledge, but they thrive openly within the darkest corner of the internet. Vampire porn? You got it, although it costs a fortune. Vampire sex worker services? Yep, you can find those, too, again the price steep.  

By comparison, Erzsébet’s knowledge comes at a very pocket-friendly sum. You just wish she accepted meetings via Zoom, but alas she will only impart her knowledge on a face-to-face basis, to protect herself in case she is ever secretly recorded. “The vampires, they would come for me, should they definitely know what I reveal about them.” 

Testament to this is the steep security she surrounds her modest home with, one located at the very end of a main drag of housing in the city of Szeged. Well, it’s steep if you’re a vampire, with the garlic plants growing all around in window boxes, and the window frames themselves fashioned from silver. 

“Ahh, (Y/N),” she speaks friendlily upon opening her door, eyes scanning the street with caution, pulling a silver coin from her pocket. “Your hand, before I welcome you into my home.” 

Holding it out, she presses it into your skin, waiting. Of course, if you were a vampire, your flesh would smoulder instantly. “You pass the test, but I must pat you down and check your bag for recording equipment before we proceed.” One quick pat down and bag check satisfy her, the elder middle-aged woman reassured even further when she sees you switch your phone off completely, thus earning her trust. 

Following her in, she steers you toward the table within her kitchen, the hearth crackling, a couple of cats and a long-haired terrier dog warming themselves in front of it. They appreciate the little scratches you offer to their heads before you sit down. Once furnished with tea, she joins you.  

“Now, dear. You are having difficulties with a vampire?”  

That’s putting it mildly. “I am, yes. Well, I think I am, but I’m not so sure.” Taking a breath, you begin your tale. “I met him a few months ago, and ever since then I keep thinking I see him. I’ll be walking along and suddenly be able to pick his face out amongst a group of people, but in the next second, he vanishes.” 

“They do indeed move quickly, dear,” she speaks. “Surely, you already knew that?”  

“Of course, but we live in different countries. Over a few thousand miles apart.” 

She sips her tea with a little wink. “A vampire can move a thousand miles in mere minutes. The older they are, the quicker they move and the stronger they are, too. Do you know his age?” 

“Five, in vampire years.” That’s about when you can pin him down to being turned, somewhere around the 2019 time, when Shining ceased playing festivals in the daytime and Niklas’s presence became a lot more reclusive, too. “It isn’t just that, though,” you continue, wringing your hands a few times. “He’s in my head. I hear his voice, I dream about him and it’s like he’s really there with me. He’s taunting me and I don’t know how to make him stop!” 

At seeing your anguish, Erzsébet reaches to pat your hand. “You drank some of his blood when you were with him, didn’t you?” 

A strange question to pose, you think. “I erm, I did, yes.”  

She hisses a wince, shaking her head as she closes her eyes. “Oh, darling girl. You shouldn’t have done that.” 

In truth, you needed to in order to keep up with him. Human flesh is much weaker than immortal, and being flung around a bedroom by a big, horny vampire? It takes its toll on the body, and their blood is healing when imbibed by a human. After the first two hours, you felt like you’d been sandblasted between your legs. “I erm, I needed to, because of what we were doing at the time and ..." 

Her nod is deep, humming knowingly. “I know all about that, dear.” She then whistles, low and lewd, her eyes narrowing a little. “Vigorous isn’t quite enough to describe, is it?” 

No. It would be fair to say that it isn’t. A hail of goose pimples pepper your skin at remembering it, being with him. It was like a thousand tiny lights shone to brilliance all over your body, heart thundering like a war drum, bitten, spanked, mauled, fucked in every position you could ever imagine – and some you never had before – his growls of desire in your ears, the feel of fangs grazing your skin, the taste of your own blood on his mouth. Him. He might have been dead, but while you were with him, you’d never felt more alive.  

While it was your body that called out to him, he now does the same to you, infiltrating your thoughts, haunting your dreams. Calling. Calling you endlessly.  

“Dear, you have a link with him now. His showing up like that? It's truly him, you are not losing your mind. He drank your blood, didn’t he?" Your nod confirms. The woman feels for you, she truly does. Because they’re so largely unbelieved and unknown to society, she doesn’t blame you an ounce for having no clue over how to deal with them. Especially when they become bothersome. “He’ll be able to find his way to you because of that, a bond that is fortified even deeper by his blood also being within you.” 

“For how long?” you sigh, hearing the desperation in your voice fully for the first time. 

“Six months, give or take.” Her mouth thins at your eye roll. “Expect this to last until then, when it’ll begin to weaken and he won’t be able to get inside your mind any longer, or know exactly where you are.” 

Shaking your head, you bite your lip, your insides sagging hard with dejection. “How does he even do it, though? How does it work?” 

“It’s the magic in them. Nobody is quite sure how, but it’s that little bit of magic there that makes them what they are. His blood being within your veins gives him a very direct link to you, meaning he can transmit thoughts and visions. They use it to manipulate people primarily, play with them on an emotional level.  

“If he’s proficient enough to do this as you sleep, then I draw the natural conclusion he was created by an ancient. Young vampires, they don’t have the skill, but if the one who made them is much older in years, then it is possible. That old blood makes them unbelievably powerful, even though in the grand scheme of things, he’s still just a baby at five.” 

Manipulation and emotional mind games. How very on brand for Niklas.  

Taking a sip of your tea, the warm liquid does little to comfort. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about him, Erzsébet. Which is exactly what he wants.” Closing your eyes, you see yourself there atop him, his fangs sunk deep into your neck, his arms clasping you to him as you howl in absolute ecstasy. “I try, but he’s too strong. Too alluring. Too damned charming and handsome for his own good.”  

“I don’t blame you, sweet girl,” she smiles, patting your hand again. “Deadly they may be, but god above, they are beautiful creatures. That allure, it’s near impossible to fight. Especially if he doesn’t want you to. Especially if you know what it is to lie with a vampire, and of course, you do. No mortal can compare to them.”  

Indeed not. The way he touched you, fucked you, it’s forever etched into your memory. No human man can ever hope to compare to Niklas. And yes, you do hate him a little for it, too. In fact, not even a little. A lot. You hate him because you still want him, because he’s worming his way in, for no other reason than the simple fact that he can.  

You remain there in the warmth of Erzsébet’s charming little house for a few more hours, leaning from her expertise, her wealth of knowledge. She feeds you a warming bowl of paprikash and gives you a little wine too, of which you are grateful, paying her for her time and leaving. You depart feeling more knowledgeable, but certainly no better about your predicament.  

The walk back to your hotel isn’t too long, the night warm enough still to enjoy the slow stroll, gazing upon the beauty that are the old buildings of the city. Stunning and looming, they offer a beautiful contrast to the newer, your eyes picking out the details of an architectural artform long abandoned for polished and shiny. Viewing one old building, you pause for a second, marvelling at the detail in each of the gargoyles. A wolf head, a man with his mouth open, the guttering overflow water leaking from it, a horse, Niklas, a dragon...  

Your head snaps back, blinking, seeing the spot he was sitting upon now empty, your hand delving into your pocket to clench tightly around the thick, silver chain you’ve taken to carrying with you everywhere. With your heart racing, you hurry through the streets, feeling a little safer when you pass a long row of bars and restaurants that lead down to the corner your hotel is located upon.  

There he is again in the crowd of people outside. In a blink, he disappears.  

Racing down to the hotel, you can feel him at your back, your shoulders tingling unpleasantly, the weight of his stare making you feel like your body is sinking beneath it, rushing for the door and heading inside. Truly, you’re no safer there really, with it being a public dwelling, meaning he can simply walk in after you. If it was your own home, he would need your permission before he could cross the threshold, so Erzsébet revealed. 

Why the fascination with you, you wonder? Surely, he must have a whole host of people he can do this to, ones located much nearer to home for him. Then again, travelling a few thousand miles, just like Erzsébet said, is truly not tasking for him at all. Still, though. Why you? Why not any of the regulars he likely feeds upon? According to her, vampires do develop a preferred blood source and become quite choosy thereafter.  

It’s all very secret society-esque, how they attain their life source. In every city and town across the world, there are select groups of people who know of their existence, and will allow the undead to feed on them. To know them, you have to look for the mark, a symbol of a small, two-headed bat. Some wear it upon jewellery, others have it tattooed, but willing donors always bear the slightly altered sigil synonymous with vampires somewhere upon their person. 

It still puzzles you, that you are not one of these people, and yet he revealed what he was to you. 

That reason, he keeps to himself, standing atop a tall building as he watches you walk through the foyer of the hotel. He knew it would begin to eat you alive, knowing what he is and not being able to broadcast it, to attain the kind of interview you’d truly like to, reveal what he is to the world with his permission to do so. Of which, he’d obviously never grant. Nothing irritates a journalist more than knowing they have to keep a secret, and that is precisely why he told you.  

Sitting down on the ledge, he closes his eyes, the dark void within him calling out to the blood that pumps through your heart, the body it came from causing it to flare as he smiles, imagining himself with you. He feels your heartbeat escalating as he beams that image into your head, his smirk growing. Meanwhile, you’re gripping onto the elevator rail, your breathing ragged, trying to block him out, his haunting, rumbling laughter filling your ears.  

Opening his eyes again, he looks at the hotel one last time before standing, stepping clean off the eighty foot building and landing neatly upon the ground below, vanishing once more into the night.  

You arrive home two days later, your flight landing at 11pm, an expensive Uber ride ferrying you across the city to your home. Once there, the need to simply fall into bed is overridden by your desire for a little organisation, to settle comfortably after pulling out your clothes and throwing them into the washing machine. Besides, you actually slept for a couple of hours during your flight.  

Once showered and comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt and comfy little shorts, you make yourself a sandwich, not overly hungry, cutting it up into smaller triangles and pouring yourself a glass of wine. It’s a 2018 Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; the very same one he bought for you, the one you’ve developed quite the taste for. You suppose too, it serves as a reminder of the night. Although admitting that doesn’t come easily. 

With every sip, you’re transported back to that private room within the bar, remembering the charm and wit of the man, the hilarity of his stories, how immovable his ‘couldn’t give a single fuck’ nature was. That and his intelligence, the breadth of his interests and knowledge, all of it wrapped up in something sinister and unnerving that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. 

If only you’d known then what you do now, that you were interviewing a vampire. 

“You know, you might succeed in getting him out of your head if you stopped fucking thinking about him,” you mutter, taking another bite of your food. “You’re only making it worse.” 

Not even pure loathing of him can truly besmirch the memory. There is something so deeply arousing about fucking living death and surviving it. He could have killed you in a heartbeat, but he didn’t.  

It isn’t like you’ve become lovestruck by him, absolutely not. Meeting an intelligent and fascinating musician isn’t uncommon for you, with the regularity it happens. Meeting a vampire, though, who soon afterwards took you to bed and gave you the best sex of your life? Entirely different. You still crave him beyond measure, and all the hate in the world will never dilute that longing. 

You are, however, incensed that he probably knows that only too well. 

Yes, the knowledge that you still desire him is likely what fuels his mind games. He has to have something to do for fun, you suppose, now that drugs are well and truly out of the equation for him. He could snort every single last gram of cocaine within Bolivia and not feel the effect, being that of course, he’s dead. You can’t help but smirk at that. Schadenfreude feels good when the subject is deserving.  

He certainly revels in the very same, after all. 

Once your sandwich is finished, you listlessly move to the sofa, switching on the TV and seeing there’s a new documentary on Netflix that takes your interest, pouring another glass of wine and settling in to watch. Tiredness has other plans, though.  

It must do, for you have to be asleep when you experience your top being lifted and a cold set of lips pressing a kiss to your navel. After all, Niklas cannot enter your home unless you invite him.  

Not again. For fuck’s sake, he’s relentless! 

“Get off.” Opening your eyes, you see him smirking up at you. God, he’s so smug! 

He places another kiss upon your abdomen, fingers clutching at your shorts. “We both know you don’t mean that, darling.” 

“I’m not your darling,” you mutter, pushing at him with your feet.  

He merely takes one, tickling your toes with his tongue. “You are when I’m balls deep in your pussy.” 

Sighing, you sit up, pushing him away with your hands, his long form settling to the couch as he shakes his head. “Niklas, get out of my head. I know this isn’t real. Fuck off.” 

“No, but it could be,” he speaks, kissing you slowly from your wrist down to your inner elbow, the seductive press of lips making your blood spark. “I’m outside of your home right now. Invite me in, and this becomes very real.”  

Your reply is immediate, resolute. “I don’t want it to be, though.” 

“Remember when I told you do not lie to me, because I will know?” Indeed, you do, becoming rapidly lost in the icy blue stare as he leans to you, nose touching yours. “I know that you lie. I feel that you lie. Blood never tells an untruth.”  

He’s right, and you hate that he is, has this power over you, understands how to play you perfectly, your body the instrument he knows exactly how to handle in order to elicit the desired musicality. Tipping your head back, his lips ghost the column of your throat, just enough to feel you yearn for it, chuckling with a deep rasp. “Wake up, and give in.” 

The press of his mouth evokes such a visceral jolt, you sit up on the sofa with a start, breathless, heart hammering, the tight pinch of arousal throbbing deep within. Flinging yourself to your feet, you still don’t know whether you’re going to invite him in and drag him to your bed by his neck, or scream at him for being so fucking insufferable when you get there. Suffice to say you’re stirred heavily in both directions as you yank the front door open, your eyes widening in surprise to be met by nothing.  

Nothing other than the sound of haunting laughter coming from behind you.  

Spinning around, you see him over on the small balcony that your lounge opens onto, waving with a sinisterly amused grin before his head tips back and he laughs more, riddled with mirth. The fucking bastard.  

“Oh, so after all your protests, you do want me?”  

The absolute nerve of him! 

Silver. You need silver, because oh good lord, big, scary vampire or not, you shan’t take this lying down a moment longer. Storming through your apartment, you rip the drawer of the hallway cabinet open, your hands scattering papers, old postcards and other assorted junk out of the way, your fingers grasping exactly what you require before marching to the sliding door and hurling it open. 

“Ooooh, she’s gonna get me!” he states mockingly, holding up his hands, eyes wide.  

Raising the sharp letter opener, you hold it beneath his chin, his flesh beginning to sizzle as he stiffens momentarily. “Leave me alone and I won’t take great pleasure in ramming this upwards, before I tear it down and slice your throat open, you vile sack of dead flesh!”  

He looks puzzled, cocking his head a little. “That’s a little rude, to say such things to the vampire who made you come, what was it, twenty times in three hours?”  

“I mean it!” you snarl, pushing the point harder, watching his smile grow. 

“Do it,” he encourages, leaning closer, his eyes flashing bright, revelling in it. 

“I will! I’ll fucking end you out here!” 

He curls his hands around your wrists, beginning to assist in that pushing. “Darling, did your little Hungarian friend not tell you? For silver to work effectively, it has to be solid, not plated. So no, you won’t end me.” Steering your hand upwards, the letter opener pierces him, Niklas laughing maniacally the further it tears through his flesh, his mouth filling with blood as the point of it exits to the side of his tongue.  

You can only stare on in horror as his cold blood trickles over your fingers, his laughter growing, booming, your nerves setting your body to quiver as he sticks his tongue out and lets the blood flow onto the floor. 

“Fuck, that got me hard,” he laughs, taking the letter opener and ripping from his jaw, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter as his wounds swiftly begin to heal. “And now here you are, with no weapon, and no safety of being inside your home. Just you and me.” He leans close, tongue tickling your earlobe with a faint groan. “So, now what are you going to do?”  

In truth, as your heart thunders so rapidly that you feel nauseous, you have no idea. He’s got you. You cannot return inside, because he’ll simply move rapidly enough to block your path, you can’t call out for help, because there’s nobody coming to save you here. You’re stuck, and the delight he experiences in knowing this plays all over his face.  

“I... I... I...” Floundering is all you have, the shame of it pinking your cheeks, fear cording every muscle tightly.  

“You... you... you...” he mocks, stroking a bloodied finger down your cheek. “This is too much fun! Aren’t you having fun?” Looming over you, he begins to walk, penning you against the wall bordering your balcony and the next, his finger sliding tantalisingly down to your neck. “I must be just as crazy as they say I am, because I’d still take you to bed and fuck you in a heartbeat, (Y/N). Even though you came out here to attack me, I would still show you a very, very good time.”  

You gulp, transfixed by the intensity of his eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as he leans even nearer to you, lips ghosting your neck before his tongue flickers against your pulse point. 

“Give up and invite me in.” 

“No.” 

“Oh, she found her voice,” he whispers, beginning to scatter kisses, his hands clutching your hips gently. “Tell me you want me.” 

“I don’t!” 

“You still lie to me, little human.” More kisses, his thumbs stroking, skimming the top of your shorts, heat beginning to crackle beneath your skin. “Tell me you want me.” 

And god, how you do. How you hate him for it, the juxtapose clashing angrily within you, his arms slipping around your waist as he presses his body into yours, melding himself with you, those kisses against your neck gaining in intensity. He wasn’t lying either, when he said he’d gotten hard.  

“Tell me you want me.”  

Again, that demand is spoken, followed by a faint, aroused groan, knowing he’s eroding away at your resolve. You can feel it happening, brick by brick, your will not to succumb to him crumbling like an ancient tower, your hands moving to smooth down his wide chest. Fuck, he feels good beneath your touch.  

You know you’re the instigator of your own downfall, but you can’t help it. “I want you.” 

His mouth lands upon yours, kissing you, a torrid blaze burning everything in its wake, knocked sideways by the force of him, the blinding allure. There it is, that feeling of a thousand tiny lights blinking into brilliance inside of you, your hands moving to his face, clutching, nails grazing his beard as your tongue rolls sensually with his. 

Pulling away from the kiss, he looks down at you, a grin widening his mouth. “Maybe next time.” 

He vanishes in a flash, leaving you there with your mouth agape, still trying to catch your breath as the fear and desire of it now mixes with sheer furious anger. It is not a particularly fitting alchemy. 

“I fucking hate that vampire!” 

Picking up the bloodied letter opener, you enter your apartment again, locking the door behind you and drawing he curtains, stirred by him so heavily you end up finishing that bottle of wine before you fall asleep, frowning into the darkness. Of course, he can feel your agitation, and it pleases him, which only means you fall asleep even angrier that night.  

In the days that follow, you don’t experience too much disturbance from him, only what your own mind conjures, rapidly shaking your head as if to physically throw the memory of him from your mind whenever it enters your head. Life continues as normal, work keeping you busy, a few visits to the office breaking the monotony of the fact that since lockdown, most of the editorial staff for the magazine now work remotely.  

You also have dinner plans with friends, very much looking forward to catching up with these loved ones, spending your Friday night enjoying their company over good wine and even better food, moving onto a bar afterwards. It’s late by the time you call it a night, trying to find an Uber but quickly realising you’d probably arrive home much sooner if you walked. It’s only thirty-five minutes on foot, give or take. 

The built-up area of the city breaks free from the jungle of concrete, heading through the lesser dense areas but for safety’s sake, keeping to as much of the main roads as you can. There is, however, a route you must take beneath a large bridge, an elevated section of road where it is much safer to pass beneath than upon it, the traffic crazy even at that time of night.  

“Hey, ‘scue me, sweetheart. Got any spare change?”  

Turning, you see a man approach through the quiet gloom, one who obviously isn’t homeless, merely drunk and probably all spent out. “No, I don’t.”  

Continuing to walk, you pick up the pace, knowing the man is staggering along after you. 

“Looks like you have, nicely dressed woman like you,” he speaks, advancing on you. “Oi, don’t fucking ignore me! Wait, talk t’me. You’re pretty. Wanna take me home?” 

“Fuck off.”  

He isn’t fond of hearing that, making a grab for your arm. “Don’t be rude, babe! C’mere!” 

“I said fuck off!” you shout, trying to pull yourself from his clutches, until with immediate effect you’re freed. Turning, you see the man pinned by his throat against the heavy bridge supports, Niklas growling low in his throat, that predatory rumble having its usual effect on you. 

“Never touch her again.” 

The man struggles, but cannot free himself of his grasp. “Who th’fuck are you and where d’ya come from?” 

“Neither matter. Apologise to her.” 

Again, he struggles, the grip around his neck tightening, Niklas lifting him from the floor one handed with staggering ease, the man’s eyes bulging wide. “Fuck off! Let me go!” 

He raises his eyebrows, nodding in your direction. “She told you the same, and yet you didn’t. Why should I, hmm?”  

“Because you’re a fucking psycho!” 

That rouses a wide grin. “Correct.” He then makes a beckoning motion with his hand in your direction. Walking over, you stop reasonably close to him, Niklas physically turning the man’s head in your direction. “Apologise, and I will let you go.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

Oh, he’s having too much fun, playing with him. At least it isn’t you for a change. “For grabbing you.” 

Niklas turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Happy?” 

“I suppose,” you nod, folding your arms.  

“See?” he grins at the man. “That’s all you had to do.” With one swift movement, the man is hurled through the air like a human javelin, coming to a thudded half against one of the other support pillars about ten feet away, grunting when he hits the ground. Niklas then turns to you, extending his hand.  

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You look between him and the hand a few times, your hesitation earning an eye roll. “I can be gentlemanly when I want to be, (Y/N). Let me walk you home.”  

“Fine,” you pout, “but I’m not holding your hand. I know your reasons for helping me weren’t borne of any benevolence.” 

A single eyebrow arches high. “Then tell me, what were they borne of?” 

“I desire to get between my legs, changing tactics since you know being a shit about it doesn’t sway me.” 

He hums a chuckle as you begin to walk, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “But it does, though. It worked last time, didn’t it?” He’s got you there. Bastard. “I can be quite a decent vampire when I set my mind to it. Women like you shouldn’t have to suffer nuisances like him.” 

“No,” you scoff, looking up at your undead companion, “I only have to suffer the nuisance currently at my side.” He laughs, and you walk together silently for a few seconds, before the question you’ve had burning away on the tip of your tongue finally flutters out. “Why me?” 

“Why not you?” 

Of course, he’s going to be difficult about it. “You must have a slew of other women you can call upon for sex. Why me? Why play the games?”  

“Not just women,” he corrects with a wink. No, you wouldn’t put that past him at all; to confirm he’d fuck anything with a pulse. “Because you are interesting. You’re also an amazing fuck, and my fucking dark lord below... that ass. I could chip a fang on that ass.” 

“You know, leading with that would have made you way less irritating to me than you have been,” you quip, crossing the road, noting the way he touches a protective hand to your lower back. This Niklas, he’s much more in line with how he was when you interviewed him, and you hate that you like it so much.  

“I could have, you’re right,” he begins, smirking. “Where would the fun be in that, though?”  

“It isn’t much fun for me.” 

“It isn’t supposed to be, but it is for me.” 

He’s so fucking insufferable! “Menace.” 

“Hmm, I've been called much worse. I’ll take that.” Looking down at you, he witnesses you trying desperately not to find the humour in that, giving you a soft dig with his elbow. “Come on, crack your face. You know you want to. Plus, you have a pretty smile.” 

Oh, fuck him. Fucking fuck him all the way to hell, the corners of your mouth turning up.  

“That’s a fucking grimace. You look constipated.” 

The snort of laughter his words pull from you cannot be contained, and yes, beneath it you’re furious with him for it. Yourself, too, for weakening your resolve. “See? Much better,” he speaks, turning his gaze from you up towards the sky. “There’s a storm on the way. The thunder is rumbling.” 

“I didn’t hear anything,” you speak. 

“Your ears wouldn’t have picked up on it. It’s a way off. Look at the clouds, it’ll be here soon.” Reaching for you, he lifts you into his arms. “Hold on tightly.”  

You do, experiencing the feeling of what it must be like to get shot out of a canon, a total of three seconds passing before he’s placing you back upon your feet at your front door.  

“There, your vampire delivery service has successfully deposited the cargo at its correct address,” he begins, reaching to run his fingers in a circle at the side of your neck. “I’ve behaved myself. Do I get to be invited in, so I can change that?” 

The wink he accompanies those words with makes your heart skip on a couple of beats, your resolve once again weakening. If only he wasn’t so fucking hot. If only he wasn’t the best sex of your life. If only he wasn’t a temperamental, head-fucking, yet staggeringly charismatic vampire. You might have stood a chance.  

When his mouth locks upon yours, that tentative resolve fractures to pieces.  

“Come in.” you speak between kisses, wondering if this will be a decision you’ll come to regret once you’re no longer blinded by feral desire. Or rather, once he reverts to the more nefarious side of his nature. You’re half herded, half dragging him along, discarded clothes forming a trail through your apartment, Niklas lifting you, fingers dug hard into your thighs. 

Your back hits the wall, his mouth devouring yours, practically eating your face with the hunger coursing through him. It knocks the breath from you, the feel of his icy skin pressed tight against your warmth a sensation you never thought you’d come to crave, yet experiencing it again makes you realise just how much you longed for it.  

The route to your bedroom is recommenced, Niklas kicking the door open, the entanglement of you and him hitting the mattress with a thud. It’s wildly carnivorous, kisses virtually ripped from your lips, his mouth descending, pressing against your throat like brandings searing hot, preceding the true burn, his fangs popping out.  

You cling tight to him as the bite locks onto you like a wolf devouring its kill, the thrill of it sending goose pimples charging across your skin like a herd of wild horses. The sensation of him feeding upon you feels like a thousand thunderstorms striking beneath your skin, blindingly erotic, more so than anyone could comprehend without experiencing it.  

His is a touch that casts silent, wordless spells upon your body, knowing it in a way you’re not even sure you do, mouth descending to settle at your apex, closing over your slit and sucking with a hungry grunt of satisfaction. Cool licks meet the heat of your petals, his fingers digging into the soft of your thighs hard, leaving red crescents upon your skin as your hips shudder against his mouth.  

It’s as if smouldering embers replace the vertebrae of your spine, glowing one by one as his tongue circles in slow firmness to begin with, speeding up, faster, faster... oh, fuck. The rapidity has you clutching the sides of his shaven head, his skin temporarily clawed red by the drag of your nails, your muscles tensing from the duality of it being too much, but somehow not enough.  

Your first orgasm hits you like the storm that’s beginning to swirl overhead, bolts of light cracking the sky as rain patters against the windowpanes, your body shivering, the mouth between your legs granting no clemency. He continues, devouring you like a man half starved, hands trawling your curves to settle upon your breasts, groaning against your folds as his tongue laves at you firmly.  

“Niklas, you need to stop,” you pant, watching him suck on you firmly, shaking his head. 

“I’m happy where I am.” 

“But you can’t fuck my mouth while you’re down there.”  

Oh, that caught his attention. His grin widens, deeply sinister but sexy as hell, a rumbling chuckle filling the room. “Dirty girl. I like it, but later. First, I will ruin you.”  

Standard with him, really, his mouth reconnecting once more.  

The wet drag of each lick languidly rolls through your slit, up to your clit again, circling, nudging, glimmers skittering through you when he aims his next suck right there. Your little bud is sucked plumper before being bathed in the fast beating of his tongue. Fast… faster… faster… oh… how is he real?   

Your body arches off the bed, toes curling, an orb of fire rolling through your groin before boom, it explodes, your legs wrapping around his head, feeling your clit throbbing against his tongue. He truly meant it when he stated that he’d ruin you, because once again, he doesn’t cease. With an aroused moan, he closes his mouth around you, hands continuing to stroke your curves, holding you still when your hips begin to purl against his face.  

There’s no other way to explain it, he has you lost in pleasure, unmoored, adrift on the wide, dark sea that is the vampire between your legs, your body quivering as the hum of your energy mingling with his flows unabatingly. He has you cresting a third time before moving to kneel before you, drawing your legs up over his shoulders, sinking every last inch of his thick cock into your heat, transfixing, a shudder of excitement ripping his tattooed form. 

The way vampires move, it’s so different to humans, something hypnotic that you truly can’t describe, but will never tire of seeing, experiencing as he roots himself in the plush of your cunt again and again.  

Otherworldly is perhaps the best way you could coin it, just like him, coupled with the noises he makes, that guttural growl that’s far from human, a beastly rumble that never fails to set your insides to blaze. You hiss at the ebullience of it, nails raking his chest, his cock snagging against the tight clutch of you.  

He’s heavy and wide within you, wracked by muscles cording, jumping under goose pimpled flesh. He speeds up, spearing you deeply, the flex of your heat around him making pleasure tumble through his deadness, sparking light through the dark of him. His body falls to yours, gripping your hips hard, another flash of lightning illuminating the room, his tongue running up your throat as he groans eerily, biting your earlobe.  

Grasping your jaw, he turns your head with a swift jerk, something seeming to soften in him for just a fraction of a second when he kisses you.  

“You...” he begins, hand moving to clutch your throat, “are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have been with in a long time.”  

High praise, coming from a vampire who likely has an entire harem on standby. That little display of tenderness goes just as quickly as it came, though, Niklas pulling you up so you’re sat astride him, one hand remaining in a tight clasp upon your throat, the other beginning to lay rapid, hard spanks to your bum.  

He fucks up into you with brutal force, your own hips rutting against his in a roll so deliciously serpentine, you have him feeling mindless at the way you fuck him back. The pleasure is biting and powerful, like a summer tempest winding tight, rolling over you both without pause in a ceaseless continuation, gaining the same heavy momentum as the storm that rages on outside.  

Except what you and Niklas share that night far outlasts the thunder storm, your body once again ravaged beyond comprehension, until you’re tired and sore, finally coming to rest at somewhere close to 2am. Unlike last time, though, he doesn’t leave right away. It’s almost alien to you, lying there atop his body, feeling his fingers stroke swirls up and down your spine as you recover.  

Turning you onto your side as your eyes grow heavy, he stares at you for a long moment, his fingertip stroking just above your eyebrow. You blink, and it’s in that moment he vanishes, something in you expecting he’d leave wordlessly just like the last time. It’s his nature not to hang around. 

In the days that follow, you wait for his mind games to resume, his presence to come crashing into your dreams, but to your surprise, it never happens. Three months pass and the link to him through your blood fades to nothing at all, life continuing like he never came into it.

Exiting your apartment one morning a further month along from then, you almost kick over the bottle that’s been placed outside your door, bending to pick it up. Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; 2018, with a note attached. 

‘It would be unfair for you to return to the bore of a human lover now you’ve had me. If you want me again, call the number below. If I can, I will be there before you’ve even hung up. If not, then you are plainly stupid and have no idea what is good for you.  

You aren’t stupid though, are you?  

N.’ 

No, you’re definitely not. Still, though, you make him wait a further month before calling.

[myers-meadow]

Gaunter O'Dimm x reader headcanons

Warnings: mention of sex. Sfw. Enjoy!!

he finds swearing/cursing rude and doesnt use cursewords lightly

if you're struggling with something, like opening a jar, he just stands and watches you. He only helps when you specifically ask for it.

I dont hc him as toxic in a relationship, but if he is, it's bc he keeps score too much. He won't let things go and doesn't forgive easily (or at all).

sometimes he'll be floating around in tailer's sit, just hanging out with you <3

there will be times when you miss him, as there isn't really a way to contact him.

you wake up with sweet little notes on your nightstand or on the kitchen table though! It feels as if he can tell when you miss him.

he knows no shame about sex at all, and wouldn't really understand if you get embarrassed. He's seen all of humanity's desires, and to him, there's nothing strange about any of it.

he judges people by their own cultural norms, most of the time. For example Marlene, who refused Gaunter disguised as a beggar food, while it was custom to give a beggar food when they came to your door. This is part of why he considers himself 'fair'.

his deep curiosity for humans and their inner workings, translate over to you too, at times growing from innocent fascination to obsession.

if you come home to him, he's always interested to hear about your day, even when you're tired, complaining or cynical. Once you got the day you had out of your system, he cheers you up in a way that's uniquely him: card games, an adventure or he spoils you in the bedroom.

there are rarely any arguments between the two of you, as he knows your intentions and communication is one of his strong suits.

he encourages you to tell him anything you desire or wish for - but says you shouldn't tell anyone else.

even within your relationship, he thinks nothing comes for free. The wishes he grants for you - if you even want him to grant you any - come for a price that isn't your soul.

what he doesn't tell you, though, is that you do so much for him already by just being you and being his sweetheart, that he gladly helps you out in subtle, barely perceptable ways. Just had a lucky day? Found some coin on the ground? You could've sworn you were out of apples, but there are two in the basket? That may be his doing, but he won't tell you.

all in all, you two make each other happy, even if the relationship is somewhat unconventional at times. The joy it is to have him in your life more than makes up for it <3.

[missmaywemeetagain]

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SNEAK PEEK:

March 14th, 1960

Graceland

Elvis can’t sleep. Even after his romp with the little ice skater currently wrapped in his arms, and the lingering exhaustion that never seems to truly go away, his mind and body just won’t relax.

He wants to, he really does. It was his hope that sex might do the trick, but instead he just finds himself staring aimlessly above him, uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the girl he is holding in her post-coital bliss. Honestly, all he wants right now is her out of here and back downstairs with all the rest of the Holiday on Ice company he’d invited over for a party. Maybe play in the surprise snowstorm a little.

Greta is a carryover from his time in Germany, a part of the Holiday on Ice troupe he had seen in Frankfurt. There, it was different. She’d been a welcome distraction, and he thought, since she happened to be one of the few from that company who’d come over stateside, that maybe she would prove the same here.

No such luck.

She was fine and all. The sex was fine, but something was…missing. And frankly he feels strange about her occupying your side of the bed, sullying it with her cloying perfume. He makes a note to tell someone to change the sheets before you come in.

And with that thought, he untangles himself despite the girl’s disappointed sigh of protest and starts redressing. “Best get back downstairs, darlin’. Can’t have folks sayin’ I’m a bad host,” he says disarmingly, tucking his dress shirt into the cummerbund he’s refastened around his waist, throwing her a wide, bright smile he knows from experience has a warm effect on women.

She nods, getting the hint and smiling back at him while she picks up her clothes from where they’d been so carelessly discarded on the floor not all that long ago. Once they are both decent, he opens the door to usher her out and nearly runs right into you as pass through the hallway.

It is silly the way his heart races, as though he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He watches you take stock of the situation, holding his breath for your reaction. It is certainly not the first time he’d been caught with one girl by another, and he can’t help feeling that he has betrayed you in some way. Perhaps it is because to everyone else in this house, you are his girlfriend, and any man in his right mind doesn’t want to be discovered fooling around with one girl when he is supposed to be with another...

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Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @ohjustpeachy1 @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj @claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[samuelroukin]

As a gift to you/your anons/proof I have no shame I guess, here's that GazPrice thing you were looking for:

It's strange, but Price's office has become one of Gaz's favorite places. There's a comfort to it, a familiarity, a feeling of belonging.

Price isn't like other officers, he cares about his men and what they can bring to the table, looks at him and talks to him like he matters, like he's not just a body in combat boots.

And Gaz loves it, treasures it, strives to deserve it. But he can't stop yawning, no matter how hard he tries to stifle it.

"Am I boring you, Garrick?" Price says, one lazy eyebrow raising as his hands move to light his cigar, clearly giving up on Gaz being able to manage a conversation. It's like being stared down by a lion, not knowing if he'll pounce or lay back.

"No, sir, I promise, it's just. I'm tired." It sounds weak to his own ears for all that it's true, because Gaz shares a wall with Soap and apparently he doesn't need to sleep and has enough lung capacity to both take Ghost's cock and yell at the top of his lungs about it, with filthy running commentary the whole time. Gaz never thought he'd resent the armed forces for drown proofing them.

"Is that right," Price says and it's not a question, and it turns over inside him, the bitterness of falling short. "It's just Soap-" and he can't stop even though he should he can't say these things, "he. Well, it's. Soap…"

"Is enthusiastic about his Lieutenant's attention?" Price says, nice and euphemistic with a smirk that is anything but, settling warm in Gaz's chest at the understanding.

"You don't know the half of it! They keep me up all night," Gaz says and it's a worse mistake.

Price's eyebrows dip in time with his moustache and he realizes with a lurch what that sounds like, what he's said, what he's accidentally implied.

"I mean, it's. Soap's loud, sir. Very loud. And… elaborate?" Gaz tries, digging himself deeper, feeling like a stupid schoolboy, blushing hard. He's military for fuck's sake, he should be able to talk about sex. Laugh it off. Even to Price.

"Is he now?" Price says, and Gaz can't help himself. He understands Soap a little better now, the way the tongue can run away on its own.

"It's all Yes, LT, right there and I'll be good, I promise, won't come until you say so long as you're inside me, I'll be a good boy for you and then-"

"He's anything but?" Price says, sounding even keeled again, laying back into his chair, nice and comfortable, relaxed enough his thighs splay. At least from what Gaz can see on his side of the desk.

"Yup," Gaz says, popping his lips out with it, trying to sound calm and cool and collected, not hot under the collar at the shit he's saying. Repeating.

"It would be funny, really, if it wasn't so filthy. He keeps using Ghost's rank, I think he likes it. Oh, sir," Gaz says and watches Price's eyes go dark, thumb and forefinger rolling his cigar. It's a joke, really, it has to be and he needs to stop, but Price is looking at him, steady and heady, and he keeps talking.

"Ghost isn't better, anyway," pauses, swallows, waits for Price's nod to finish, "Show me Johnny. Let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart. Just. Like. That." It's a shit imitation of the Manchester accent, but he pitches his voice right, getting it deep and rough enough.

It must sound enough like him, because Gaz watches the way Price sits back, sprawls even further. Gaz needs to breathe deep, feels the way it pulses in his throat and between his legs, grateful his hands are in his lap and the desk between them.

"He likes sweet words, Ghost. Wouldn't have thought it. But it's all love and darling, with him. Especially when Soap's mouth is… full, if you get my meaning," Gaz says, suddenly shy without knowing why, biting his lip while he does, gaze drifting down to how the cigar rests on Price's full, lower lip, brown on pink.

"I do," Price says, lazy and kingly, puffing out slow smoke. "And I bet he likes the sweetness, Soap does. Makes being naughty all the better, I'd say," he adds and Gaz can't help the shiver, the way it rolls down to his hips, making them want to buck up into the hands he's trying to keep steady instead of curling where they shouldn't.

"S'in the way he says sir, too. Wants to be put back in line, in his place," Gaz says, without meaning to do it, trying not to gasp at Price's wink.

At the fact that, for all that he's joking, should just be poking fun, he's calling Price, his superior, sir in it too. Right to his face. Getting things all mixed up

"It's just words though. They mean nothing by it. They're solid," Gaz says, looking down at his hands, at the tent they're hiding, wondering if he'll be able to get away to relieve himself soon or if he'll have to wait and squirm and pray.

Price sighs out more smoke, drifting over to him.

"I'm sure they are, Kyle. I'm sure they are."

YEAH they're solid alright 👀 thank you for blessing us, now i don't have to 🙏