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slater-baby · 6 months ago

Note

Snippet of Simon with his pregnant wife………..pls n thank you

Of course!! I hope you like the piece :D

Tags: pure fluff, established relationship, pregnancy cravings and mood swings, whipped!Simon

Word count: 5k

“C’mon, you fuckin’ muppets—pick up the goddamn pace or I’ll have you hit the deck for another twenty.”

“Yessir!!” The recruits scream, valiantly trying to pick up their feet—even if a good few of them looked like they were just about ready to vomit.

“Sergeant,” Simon shouts, arms crossed as he surveys the pack of jogging recruits.

“Sir,” Soap jogs to his side, back ramrod straight in acknowledgement of his rank.

“Who’s that wanker at the back there? The prick whose mustache is out of fuckin’ code,” he snarls, yelling the words loud enough to make sure the private gets an earful. When the lad perks up at the mention of his (truly horrid) mustache, Simon can’t help the pinpricks of amusement that run up his spine at the horrified look that he wears.

“Johnson, lieutenant,” Soap provides, actually addressing Simon by his proper rank, just to put on a show for the new recruits.

The Taskforce had preferred selection of candidates fresh entering into the SAS—a perk of their stellar reputation—and with every few months that passed, there was always another new grove of fresh-faced, twenty-somethings for them to pick through. While Simon dreaded having to deal with fresh meat in the field, he had to admit that watching them stumble and trip over their own two feet just to impress him was quite amusing, hence why he’d made a habit out of stopping by the training field to lighten his spirits when the paperwork got too dense.

Soap and Gaz were in charge of integrating the new recruits into their own companies, and after a few weeks of watching Simon look on with longing eyes, they’d eventually let him take the reigns for a few minutes each day—if only so that they could sit back and watch the fallout when the recruits saw the infamous Ghost stalking onto the field.

Today was another such occasion. The recruits were dressed out in full gear as punishment for a mishap in the barracks the night before. Packs, rifles, gas masks and all. Though, after a good few minutes of watching them struggle to breathe through the stifling air filters, Soap had taken enough pity on them to allow them to lift the masks for a short breather…one that was certainly long enough for Simon’s taste, especially when he’d seen the downright hilarious mustache one of the recruits had been sporting.

“Johnson!” He bellows, voice booming across the field, “Get your arse over here now!”

Johnson came awkwardly ambling over, barely standing under the weight of his full pack and kit. The minute he halts in front of Simon’s towering form, he looks about ready to keel over and beg for mercy. However, he manages to stand straight under Simon’s scrutiny, hands shaking imperceptibly by his side.

“Sir!” He greets.

“Tell me, Private, ‘cause I’d love to know,” he gets into the Private’s face, grimacing under the mask at the style of his facial hair, “Why did you pass selection?”

“Because I met the requirements, sir!” He shouts back.

“Did you?” Simon asks, “Because I don’t remember there being a bloody ten minute mile on the fucking enlistment papers! Pick up those fucking boots and get your pace back on a four minutes, or I swear to god I’ll keep the whole bloody company runnin’ ’til sun down!”

“Yes, lieutenant, sir!” Johnson yells, clumsily backing into his stride. Just for the fun of it, Simon jogs along, struggling not to laugh when he sees the way Johnson’s eyes widen at the sight of him.

“Let’s fuckin’ go, Private, pick it up,” he points towards the other recruits, who are several lengths ahead, “What the hell is this? My wife could run a faster klick than you can and she’s six months pregnant!”

“Congratulations, sir?!” Johnson yells back.

“Shut the fuck up and run faster—bloody fucking hell.”

Simon slows his jog, watching as Johnson plods forward. Before he can even turn to look back at the sergeant, he hears Johnny’s laughter emanating from behind him. A hand claps down on his shoulder.

“You haven’t lost your touch, LT,” Soap chuckles, watching the pack of recruits with a careful eye, “Should see the poor basterds huddle ‘round the table in the mess hall, swapping wives’ tales ‘bout ya like you’ve given ‘em PTSD or some shite.”

“If they leave here only having nightmares, I must be doin’ my job wrong,” Simon quips, hand itching to reach for the megaphone and address the entire company, “Fun to watch ‘em piss their pants every time they talk to me.”

“You’re stone cold, Simon.”

“Like you don’t do the same.”

Jokingly, Soap raises his hands in surrender, backing over towards the four-wheeler they’d driven out with medical supplies.

“You stickin’ around for few minutes?” Soap asks, swiping his half-eaten protein bar from the trunk, “M’good to hang back ’n let you take over. Wanted to check my email anyway.”

“Maybe just for a few,” he smirks, still watching the recruits, “Think they’re in for a couple round o’ suicides?”

At that, Soap’s smile widens.

“I mean…with all the shite that went down during room inspection last night,” he shrugs, “I wouldnae blame you. Give ‘em hell, LT.”

“Good man, Soap,” he chuckles, pointing towards the hitch of the four-wheeler, “Hand me that loudspeaker.”

Johnny does as he asks, tossing the loudspeaker into his arms with a mirthful smirk around his protein bar. With expert precision, Simon wraps the strap around his forearm, fingers poised on the speaker button. However, just when the perfect string of curses had popped into his head, his phone begins buzzing in his pocket. With a disappointed huff, he drops the loudspeaker, reaching into his pocket. He ambles over to Soap, reading the contact name.

“Here,” he hands back the loudspeaker, “Need to take this.”

“Who is it?” Soap asks, voice muffled around a mouthful of granola.

“The missus,” Simon answers easily, “Probably just wants to see what time I’ll be home.”

He lifts the phone to his masked ear, dutifully watching the jogging recruits. The past few months, you’d taken to calling him more often when he was on the clock. Back when you had just begun dating, you wouldn’t dare to call him when he was at work (let alone when he was on deployment) unless the house had caught fire. But now—with a ring on your finger and with his last name in your signature—you’d loosened up a bit. Though, once he got you pregnant, the calls had increased by tenfold. He suspects the hormones are to blame.

After all, having a military husband that could be called away at a moment’s notice wasn’t a job for the weak—especially when you had a baby on the way. At the thought of you at home, hand rubbing over your swollen belly, stuffing your mouth with whatever new craving you had, while you listened to each ring of the phone with undue intensity, Simon can’t help but smirk.

Pregnancy was hard on you. These days, your feet were so swollen you could barely stand in the kitchen long enough to make your own meals without Simon intervening. Speaking of meals, your eating patterns had taken quite a hit, and your cravings had only gotten markedly weirder as the months went on.

First, it was strawberries.

“I want a strawberry shake,” you grab onto his jacket when he pulls up to the drive through window, “With extra strawberry syrup—oh, and extra sprinkles, too.”

“Got it,” he mumbles, leaning over the car door to begin speaking.

“Wait!” You grab a harsh handful of his jacket, stopping him before he can say a word, “And—and can you ask them to put a cherry on top? I don’t want them to forget…”

“Sure, baby,” he tells you, brushing over your growing bump. With a small smile, he turns back to the window.

…only to jolt in his seat like he’d just been electrocuted when you slap a hand against his chest hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

“Wait!” You exclaim, practically leaning into his seat just to grab his attention, “Can you ask them if they can put a strawberry on top instead? Doesn’t that sound way better?”

Needless to say, half of the fridge had been taken over by towering boxes of fresh strawberries. Simon’s sad protein drinks had trembled in fear beneath their shadows. However, by month two, you’d taken a single look at strawberries and wrinkled your nose, tossing them all in the trash practically the next day.

When Simon came home from work one day to see you guzzling down Alfredo like it was going out of style, he’d seen the writing on the wall.

“How was work, Simon?” You gleefully meet him at the door, enveloping him in a tight hug. He groans at the blissful feeling, grinning underneath his mask when he feels the curve of your belly pressing into his stomach. It was just beginning to show, and every time he watched you get dressed in the morning, he couldn’t help but watch from the bed with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Too long, love,” he complains, unbuttoning his jacket, “You made dinner?”

“Yep, already plated it up for you,” you chime, padding back into the kitchen, “I tried something different, so I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Yeah?” He trails after, trying to hide the smile in his voice.

For the past three weeks, you’d made pasta Alfredo nearly every single night for dinner. At first, Simon had scraped his plate clean, practically licking each dish before he stuck them in the washer with how delicious it was. Eating MREs and Mess Hall food your entire life should be considered psychological warfare in his book, and no matter how many times he came home after work, he considered each homemade meal a blessing (especially when it was made with your love and care).

However, by night sixteen of pasta Alfredo, Simon was struggling to swallow, looking down at the mass of pasta like it had personally offended him. At the news of something “different,” Simon would be lying if he wasn’t about ready to jump with joy.

But when he enters the dining room to see yet another steaming plate of Alfredo, he balks.

“Isn’t it great?” You ask him, rubbing over his bicep with a look that’s so loving he can’t bring himself to speak, “I used a whole different blend of cheeses. I think you’ll really like it. I mean, I already tasted the sauce, and I had to stop myself from eating the whole pot before you got home.”

With a dazed nod, Simon slides into his seat, staring down at the pasta with unblinking eyes.

“You excited to try it?” You ask again, placing a cup of water in front of him.

“Well,” he shakes his head disbelievingly, preparing himself to shovel down this entire plate if it was the last thing he did, “I…can’t wait, baby.”

Simon had to refrain from crying with relief when you finally moved on. He was but a simple man, and his tastebuds could only handle so many Alfredo dinners before his mind imploded from the banality of it all. However, he’d never considered that if his tongue would be spared that his sleep schedule would be next on the chopping block.

Needless to say, by month four, he was begging for the Alfredo to make a comeback.

“Simon?”

He jolts awake with a flinch, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. He’d always been a light sleeper, especially after he’d joined the service, and when he woke up like this normally, it was usually to the sound of gunfire or an air raid siren. Now, however, it was to the whimpers of his tired bride, slinging an arm over his stomach to bury her face in between his shoulder blades.

“What, love?” He rasps, lazily intertwining your fingers with his own.

“I need…” you huff, eyes still half closed, “I need a three piece meal. With…with a large fry.”

Dazed, he rubs over his face.

“What?” He asks.

“You heard what I said,” you tell him—sounding no less tired and sweet than you did two seconds ago. Though, Simon knew better than to test you. One day, he’d had the poor thought of joking about it and expecting you to react just as sweet as you were acting…After you made him sleep on the couch three nights in the row, however, you woke up to a three piece meal and a handwritten apology at your bedside for breakfast.

You’d called him into the bedroom, munching on your fries with your legs still beneath the blankets, looking at him from head to toe—like his old drill sergeants used to when he entered Basic.

“So,” he’d begun tactfully, “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

You’d pursed your lips, thinking about it.

“Are you really sorry?” You’d asked him, completely serious.

“I…” he’d bitten his cheek, fingers twitching. It’d been days since you last let him touch you, and each and every advance had only been met with fiery rejection and angry tears. And that night, however, he’d been about ready to get down on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, love,” he’d told you softly, speaking with all the confidence of a terrified zookeeper walking towards a growling lion.

“Fine,” you’d huffed, reaching for your hot and sour sauce, “I’ll let you back in bed.”

Simon had smiled from ear to ear, wholly relieved.

“Can I give you a kiss before I leave for base?” He’d asked, taking a cautious step closer.

Your thoughtful pout had had his nerves blazing.

“On my cheek,” you’d edged, brows furrowed with anger. And as he’d stepped closer, he could feel the irritation radiating off of you in waves. He’d carefully planted a kiss against your cheek, but when he’d ducked his head to kiss your pregnant belly, however, you’d shoved him back with a mewl.

“Don’t touch the baby,” you’d growled, hugging your fries to your chest like they’d disappear before you could get your fill, “They’re mad at you right now…”

Simon’s brows had raised in disbelief.

“The baby…” he’d pointed towards your stomach, “The baby’s mad at me?”

“Yep,” you’d snapped, shoving another few fries in your mouth.

“Well—is there anything I can do to make ‘em feel better?”

“Nope,” you’d said without remorse, pointing towards the door, “Now go to work.”

In the scheme of his military career, Simon had learned a plethora of useful tactical knowledge. Flash before entry, watch your shots, switch to your sidearm instead of reloading—everything. Though, undoubtedly, the most useful thing he’d learned in all his years was this: know which fights you’d lose. And that one? Against his exhausted, pregnant wife and unborn child? Yeah, he’d sooner take on an entire squad of Konni than walk back into that bedroom.

He’d turned towards the door, ready to haul his ass his base—only to pause in his steps when your voice had called after him.

“But,” you’d begun, still happily munching away, “If you bring home pizza after work, I think the baby might forgive you…”

After that fiasco, he’d finally gotten to lay by your side again. And after a long movie night, his head in your lap while he pressed lazy kisses against your stomach, he’d learned something else: there was nothing on this planet earth that was worth missing out on moments like these. Your soft body in his grasp, and his child’s heartbeat just underneath his fingertips.

So when you clutch at his shirt, heavy belly pressed into his spine, he doesn’t think twice before he sits up in bed, pushing the covers down.

“You want hot and sour sauce?” He asks, pulling on his shoes in a daze.

“No, but can you get extra wings?”

He cocks his brow, sending you a scrutinizing look.

“You want extra wings?” He asks, brows raised.

You don’t even open your eyes. No, you just curl back against the pillow, a satisfied smile on your face.

“Simon Riley,” you begin, voice flowery and saccharine with sugar, “If try to starve this baby again, I’ll have you sleep in the barracks until your back is crying for help.”

“…I’ll get extra ranch, too.”

“You better.”

Now, six months in, Simon still had yet to recover. However, he was far from unhappy. No, if anything, he was more satisfied than he can ever remember being. When he was younger, he could scarcely imagine himself leading a life like this, with a beautiful woman at his side and a son that would be coming in the first month of autumn.

It was just as cloying as it was terrifying. But, at the very least, he knew that no matter what—no matter how hard the going got, or how many mistakes he made—you’d always be right there at his side, ready to walk with him no matter how long or arduous the path became.

He opens the line with a smile, looking down at the recruits.

“That you, love?” He greets, “What’s up?”

The line is quiet for a few seconds, an ambient shuffle on the other side. He hears you take in a low breath, but the next sound of out of your mouth, has his blood running cold.

A cry.

A loud, wheezing cry, one that’s so distraught he can hear it resounding around the room even over the phone. Instantly, his spine shocks straight, and any thoughts of army shenanigans fly to the back of his mind.

“Si—Simon,” you sob, static hitching around your voice.

He frantically pulls his hand out of his pocket, pushing the phone closer to his face.

“Love?” He asks, panic bleeding into his tone, “Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“Simon, I—I’m—” you try to speak, but your sobs are so violent you can barely manage to speak, waterlogged moans reverberating through the speakers like a siren. Instantly, his heart begins pounding in his chest, body rushing with adrenaline—one that was all too similar to how he felt in the field, bullets whizzing by, standing at death’s door.

“Love, just breathe,” he tells you, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Soap straighten up in the four-wheeler, “Tell me. Are you okay?”

“No, Simon,” you sob, barely breathing, “How—how could you say that?”

Instantly, his stomach drops, and with every noise that escapes your mouth, something cold and dark climbs up his spine, a dread that was so unfamiliar he’d almost forgotten he could feel it in the first place. Something sharp pierces straight through his body when you speak again, reality washing over him like a bucket of ice water.

“How—how could you do this to me?” You ask him, voice wobbling, “After everything that we’ve gone through, and—and when I’m carrying your son—”

“Woah, woah, love, what’s—what’s happened? What’s wrong?” He begs you to tell him, breathe picking up into a pace that’s so rapid its nearly suffocating, “Just calm down. Take a deep breath. You just have to talk to me, okay?”

Without even thinking he begins walking faster, sending Soap a harrowed look. Before he can even speak, Soap jumps off of the trailer, eyes wide with worry of his own.

“What’s wrong with the missus? She okay?” He whispers, pulling the keys out of his pocket without an ounce of hesitation.

“Start the car,” he commands, nearly hyperventilating, “Start the car. Now.”

Soap doesn’t think twice before he jumps into action, clambering into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over before Simon can even hop into the passenger’s seat. In the background, he can hear the recruits’ boots plodding through the mud, their shouts fading into distant whispers underneath the flood of thoughts that race through his mind. His ears are ringing, eyes blind, and nothing aside from the horrid sound of your sobs registers inside of his wretched mind.

“Love, just—take a deep breath and talk to me,” he tells you, practically begging for you to tell him what’s wrong.

And yet, when nothing aside from more empty cries fills your side of the conversation, his mind and heart immediately jump to the worst possible scenario.

Maybe you fell down the stairs and couldn’t stand up.

Maybe you’d slipped in the kitchen and broken a bone.

Maybe you were in the back of the ambulance, clinging onto life.

Or maybe someone had broken into the house. Maybe they’d snatched you out of your bed, walked you down the stairs with a gun to your head. Maybe they told you they’d shoot you unless you got him on the phone, that they’d kill you if they couldn’t get to your husband. Maybe—just like Tommy, Beth, and Joseph—his past had caught up with you, too, and you were helpless but to pay the price of his mistakes.

At the thought of it, bile climbs up his throat, panic running through his veins like a rushing river. But just when it threatens to consume himself, he closes his eyes, trying desperately to remember what his therapist had told him when he’d reenlisted.

“Not all of those things are probable, Simon,” she’d said one day, “They’re only things that happened to you. They’re not eventualities. The hard part is reminding yourself that they’re unreasonable in the first place.”

You’re okay, he tells himself, You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

But when the four-wheeler crests the hill with a mighty roar, Soap’s arms clenching around the steering wheel, not even the sound of the tires wrenching could erase the pain of your manic cries, voice cracking around his name.

And within a single second, the mantra ceases. Because even if Simon’s past couldn’t catch up with you, that didn’t mean something else hadn’t.

Instantly, his mind flashes with quite possibly the most distressing image of them all. You, hunched over the bathroom sink, red rivulets running down your precious legs, collecting in a dark pool at your feet. You, all alone, body shaking with pain and desperation, as the life inside of you died, all but helpless to watch your dreams disappear into a puddle of tears and blood.

Your baby—the most precious gift you ever could have given him—gone, just like that, in the blink of an eye.

At the thought, the nausea inside of his stomach is so viscious he nearly keels over. He clenches the dashboard of the four-wheeler in a white knuckled grip, instead.

“Love—” he begins, tears collecting in his eyes, “Just—stay right there, I’m coming home. I’ll be right there, okay? Just—just gotta hang on a little longer.”

“No,” you suddenly wail, “No—don’t come home. Don’t even think of it.”

“Love—” he scoffs, brows furrowing, “What?!”

He yells it over the sound of the four-wheeler, and Soap sends him a desperate look. One wrung with sympathy and fear just alike. Simon’s afraid he’s wearing the same exact look himself.

“Simon, this—” you take in a shaking breath, “This is—this is all your fault. I’m—I’m your wife, and you did this to me.”

At that, he can’t even think of something to say. He only blindly slaps his hand down on Johnny’s shoulder, fisting his shirt in a death grip.

“I’m your family,” you cry, “We—we’ve been together all these years. I waited for you after—after every deployment, and—and we have the same last name ’n everything. I—I loved you all these years, then you go and do this to me. Fuck, Simon, how could you—”

His panicked expression slowly drops, stomach settling. Slowly, his vision blurs, and the mess in his mind fizzles out into ashes within a single instance. Realization dawns over him slowly, and when it does, he taps Soap on the back with solemn resignation.

“Stop,” he tells the sergeant calmly, “Stop the car.”

“LT?” Soap asks, peeling the four-wheeler into an uneasy stop outside the front doors of the base.

“Fuck,” Simon keels over, resting his elbows on his knees. He buries his head in his hand, wiping over his eyes.

He knows what this is about.

“Love,” he begins, bracing for impact, “I swear that I—”

“You know what you did, you—you monster,” you sob, voice hitching around the insult.

At that, he can only breathe a deep, deep sigh of relief. He plants his hand against the dashboard, closing his eyes as he sends a quiet thank you to whatever powers may be.

You’re okay.

“Love,” he swallows, staring through the plastic windshield of the four-wheeler, “If I tell you I’m sorry, will you—”

“You’re not sorry,” you wail, no doubt burying your face in the couch cushions, “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it. But—but you knew how much it meant to me, and you did it anyway!”

He takes a long breath, not daring to meet the eye of the sergeant next to him, who’s looking at him like he just grew a second head. Simon, however, is much too preoccupied with relief to do anything more than submit to your will, practically melting in his seat.

“I—I didn’t remember, baby, I’m sorry,” he coos, wincing when he hears you take a deep breath, no doubt about to yell through the receiver.

“Simon, you knew that I was saving the last Kit-Kat for lunch. I—I put a note on it and everything and I was thinking about it all—all day. You read it, shrugged, and ate it anyway—because you don’t love me.”

“No, no, it’s not that, baby,” he leans back in his chair, stifling a chuckle—that would only make you angrier, “The note must have fallen off. I swear I didn’t know it was the last one. Hand to heart, love. You know that I love you, baby. I married you, didn’t I?”

“You’re—you’re a liar and a degenerate, Simon Riley,” you sniffle, voice waterlogged and so serious he can’t even bring himself to smile at the hilarity of the situation, “I’m—I’m carrying your son, and you won’t even read the post-it notes I leave you…”

“I read them, love. There was that one on the strawberries, remember? I didn’t eat those, did I?” He argues.

Next to him, he can see Soap’s brows furrowing, a look of utter confusion coming over his face. Simon watches it with a huff, covering the receiver to send Soap a stifled look of relief.

“I ate the last candy bar at home,” he explains, shaking his head, “Thought I wanted to leave her.”

He doesn’t even wait for Soap to respond before he brings the phone back to his ear, continuing the conversation without a second passing. Meanwhile, Soap slowly turns back to the wheel, looking on in amusement.

“Is this what pregnancy’s like?” He mutters under his breath while Simon continues to whisper sweet platitudes into the phone.

“Look, love, how can I make it up to you ’n the kid? Want me to buy you some more candy bars on the way home?”

“No,” you huff, still crying, “We’re—we’re mad at you.”

“Love,” he sighs, eyes closing, “Look, what if I brought home Shake Shack? Avocado burger, large fry, and a strawberry shake—and I’ll even stop at Tesco’s on the way home to get you some more candy bars. That sound good?”

Through the phone, he hears the blankets shuffling. A small, dull sound filters through the speakers—another tissue pulled out of the tissue box—followed by a small, miserable whimper. Without missing a beat, anger and sadness still simmering in your waterlogged voice, you speak.

“Extra, extra avocado on the burger,” you mewl, sounding small and helpless, “And the shake has to have syrup on the whipped cream. With a st-strawberry instead of a cherry on top. And when you go to Tesco’s, you—you better bring back a Hershey’s bar or I’ll take back all the clothes I just bought you.”

“Got it, baby,” he sighs, smiling, “Extra, extra avocado burger, strawberry shake with a strawberry on top, Kit-Kats, and a Hershey’s bar. Anything else?”

“And…” you sniffle, wiping your nose, “And hot ’n sour sauce, too.”

“Okay,” he tells you, pinching his nose bridge, “I’ll be back before seven, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

With that, the line goes dead—not even a single goodbye to be had—and he drops the phone into his lap with a deep breath inward. Mentally, he runs over a list of all the food you’d just listed off, memorizing their unique variations.

God, he shakes his head, All these strawberry shakes…his son’ll be ten pounds at least by the time he comes out.

Simon can’t even imagine what that day will be like. But, not a month ago, you’d spent an entire hour pouting on the couch, looking at him with all the viscousness of a newborn kitten. When he’d asked you what was wrong, you’d answered simply.

“Why do you have to be so damn big?” You’d asked him, struggling to maintain your scowl through your own tears, “I'm the one carrying your son! He’ll rip me in half!”

Simon takes a deep breath, unable to contain the small grin that overcomes his lips. When the two of you get to that argument, he’ll be more than happy to let you complain about it so long as his son is safe and sound inside of his mother’s arms, chubby from so many months of Kit-Kats and strawberry shakes.

“LT,” Soap shocks you out of his reverie, “Is she…she okay?”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, sitting back up, “She’s fine.”

“What about the baby?”

“The baby, too,” he answers, not even hiding his relief, “Just…pull around over there,” he points to the parking lot, “You heading back into the office?”

“Yeah, got an incident report to file from last night,” Soap answers.

“Good,” Simon stands from the four-wheeler, digging around in his pockets for the car keys, “Tell Price the wife needs me home early. Family emergency.”

With that, he turns on his heel, making a beeline for the truck. However, before he can tug open the door, Soap bellows a low whistle from the four-wheeler.

“I’ll see you at training tomorrow?” He yells.

“Probably,” Simon grimaces, “Might see me back tonight…save me a cot in the barracks.”

“Will do.”

Simon grunts, ambling up the steps of the front porch. The Shake Shack bag is precariously full inside of his arms, strawberry shake threatening to spill across the front of his shirt. But, with a deep breath in, he manages to make it up the final step with a slow balancing act, and he reaches for the door with uneasy hands.

However, it’s tugged open before he can even turn it. And standing right there, hands rubbing over your swollen belly, is the love of his life—eyes red and nose stuffy from so many tears. Without saying a word, you pluck the fast food bag out of his hands, plodding back into the house before he can even kiss you on the cheek.

Figures, he chuckles.

He shuts the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. But just before he drops his car keys in the bowl on the hallway table, a flash of pink crosses over his vision. With a quirked brow, he picks the post-it note off of the bottom of the bowl, squinting down at the scrawl of your writing across it.

I want pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, it reads, stained with tears.

At that, he can’t help but duck his head with an elated, loving scoff, tracing over the small pen marks.

Pancakes, huh?

Yeah, he could do pancakes tomorrow morning.

2K notes · View notes

krirebr · 2 months ago

Text

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown.

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with.

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard.

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.”

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?”

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey.

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.”

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is.

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks.

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills.

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly.

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.”

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice.

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new.

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you.

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts.

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says.

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?”

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking.

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood.

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything.

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything.

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous.

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.”

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?”

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.”

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this.

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work.

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in.

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.”

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.”

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly.

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath.

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.”

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table.

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't.

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either.

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous.

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again.

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis.

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist.

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why.

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored.

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money.

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.”

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore.

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little.

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.”

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt.

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout.

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him.

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you.

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him.

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps.

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

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willowed-wisp · 2 days ago

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GHOST AS A DAD ( part two ) [ simon riley ]

part one

- Definitely takes your eldest to base when she can walk small distances with him on occasion.

- He literally crouches down and holds her little hands. Her doe eyes wandering everywhere, a pinch of awe and a little bit of fear but when she looks at her dad she gains the courage to continue.

- Definitely calls her, ‘pumpkin’, ‘princess’, and other things that has uncle Soap like a puppy dog.

- Johnny is the only person he trusts with her on base- he is your kids’ god father, along with Simon’s brother, Tommy.

- When Simon notices her getting sluggish, “Come on, sweet pea,” holding her with caution as she has the nerve to bonk him on the nose when talking to his superiors, “what has mummy been teachin’ ya, huh?” Not mad at all, impressed even- she had an impressive right hook for such tiny hands.

- Her head shook, “Not mama, dada,” her finger pointed over to someone, “It was Soapy…” Simon had been on the verge of hysterical laughter but contained himself- remembering the encounter later that day. Even telling you over dinner.

- He has two personalities when your son is born, maybe it was because of his abusive childhood that drove him to leave home but he had a mental block after learning the baby was a boy.

- All of his worry melted away in the delivery room- Simon was the first to hold his baby boy. Something he’d missed with your daughter.

- He decided to be a better father figure to his son than his dad. The BEST father figure even if it fucking killed him.

- Simon’s mother was watching your little girl at home. It was the afternoon that you went into labour. 6 hours down the line it was over and you were hell bent on getting back home.

- Simon takes care of the nitty gritty for the first fortnight, while you get proper rest.

- He rarely sleeps while deployed so he’s used to taking the night shift on. Until your stubborn ass gets him to allow you to take it and that he doesn’t need to do that every night of the week.

- Simon gets his best sleep when your daughter crawls between you in the middle of the night.

- His heart breaks when he sees this little blonde haired figure swaddled in a fluffy blanket waddle through the door he leaves ajar for this exact reason. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

- She shuffles over to him, blanket falling at her feet as she jumps into his open arms, “Couldn’t sweep, dada,” Clung to him like a koala bear.

- He gives a gentle boop onto her nose, making her giggle, “Guess you’re gonna have to sleep ‘ere then…” Plopping her down in the middle and giving her one of his pillows.

- She’s such a deep sleeper- good when the baby cries but a nightmare trying to wake her up without getting kicked. She was her dad through and through. Down to the brown eyes, to the little mannerisms she has.

- When she starts nursery, Simon is on school duty. He loves making sure his little girl gets there safe and sound. Ditching the car parked near the packed nursery before walking hand in hand with his pumpkin.

- You wait in the car on the first day, with your boy in his car seat in the back of the Land Rover. In tears watching this 6’5” man crouching down to hold his four-year-old’s daughter’s hand.

- When he returned to the car, his hand at the back of your head dragging you into a breathtaking kiss. You were taken aback, “What was that for?” Said between laughs.

- Tears trapped in his gentle eyes, “You gave me the best kids,” your fingers brushed by his lips before he held them in his, “Thank you…”

- Definitely hangs whatever artwork your girl does on the fridge, praising her macaroni art pieces.

- Gets a call while on base, “Mr Riley?” He acknowledges it’s him. “Hiya, it’s the nursery… there’s been a situation. Y/D/N has gotten into a scuffle with one of the boys…”

- “Is she okay? She hurt?” He blurted out and did the maths on how quickly he could get to his daughter. Not caring how this looked to the other guys.

- “No, Y/D/N punched one of the boys in the face. They were picking on her, when’s the soonest you can pick her up?” He had to hold that laughter, reign it back in a cough.

- “I’ll be there in ten…” He hung up the phone, now giving a small chuckle.

- Price is the first to speak up, “What’s got you so happy, Riley?”

- “Y/D/N just punched a bully in the face…”

- Gaz raised a brow, “That’s a good thing?”

- “I’ve never so proud in my life…”

- He goes to the nursery, doing an act in front of the staff before they get to the car, “Don’t be mad at me, dada…” His heart crushed as she said that, as if he would ever be mad at her.

- “No more punchin’, okay? Call ‘em a prick instead, alright?” Then he turned to her fully. Fist outstretched to her, instead of bumping it she slapped his knuckles. He’d have to teach how to fist bump, “Don’t let people pick on ya… I’m always here…”

- The next day, you received a call. From the nursery… telling both you and Simon to come in.

- Simon carried your son, sound asleep on his dad’s arms. You could tell the staff were maybe a little intimidated by your husband. You were before you discovered he was such a kid under that tough exterior.

- His eyes softer than they had ever been looking at his children, “What’ve you done now, missy?” You studied her features, so much of you in her but that look was all Simon. Determined and a slight scowl, yeah that was Si alright.

- “Y/D/N called one of the other children, something beginning with ‘P’ and ending in ‘Rick’,” Something told you she had some influence from her father.

- He fist-bumped your daughter when you were walking back to the car. You’d have a word with Simon later that day but for that moment. To see him so at peace and her little smile… you wouldn’t spoil that for the world.

- When your son was four years old, you saw the difference with how Simon treated the pair. He instilled kindness in him, took him to football games with the members of 141.

- It affects Simon to be away from them during deployments but you’re the best mother to them. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.

- He lets the kids colour in his tattoos… a pink skull on his arm… green fire… they used sharpie/permanent markers. During deployment it breaks his heart to see the colours fade, he contemplates filling them back in but he says to himself, “Gotta get home so the kiddos can do it…”

————

taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #dad!ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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princessbrunette · 9 days ago

Text

… and now introducing, the 10K follower special… ᙏ̤̫ ✧༚

OBX - the nsfw alphabet guide ♡

dearest boobettes,

thank you for 10k followers, whewie how time flies! i am forever grateful for the majority support, kindness and above all patience you’ve exhibited especially during times where real life gets in the way and i needed to step away from writing. i hope you continue to chortle away with me in my asks & enjoy my silly little drabbles,

love from princess ^_^ ♡

A IS FOR… aftercare, ft. pope heyward ♡

it goes without saying, pope has done his research and has engaged in copious amounts of conversations on your boundaries. after sex, he overthinks — massively, always worried that he got caught up in the throes of passion and somehow became aggressive or forceful (…spoiler alert, he didn’t! not to a degree you didn’t thoroughly enjoy, anyway.) therefore, he needs to know what you need, pretty immediately too - almost too an annoying degree.

“hey, too far? tell me what you need baby.” he’s cradling you before you’ve even caught your breath.

“mmph—”

“lets use our words, yeah?” your eyes are shut, but you know that stressed crinkle is sitting right between his brows.

“just wanna lay.” you whine, and he knows that tone means to stop pressing you. if laying is what you want, it’s what you’ll get. he knows he won’t be able to help himself from jumping up to clean you up soon enough, but for now he’s happy to indulge in your sticky embrace, stroking your head and telling you just how good you were.

B IS FOR… body parts, ft. bunny!reader x rafe ♡

rafes favourite body part of bunny’s is undoubtably her lips. there’s just something about them, the shape of them, the colour of them — that makes her always get her way with him. whether she’s pouting them, batting her long lashes when she’s in trouble or painting them with a sparkly gloss, one he probably bought her that week that she’ll leave printed around his cock later on — he can never keep his eyes of them. her tits are pretty fantastic too though, he must say.

bunny’s favourite body part of rafe’s? but there’s just too many to pick one! she is particularly fond of his shoulders and chest and it shows, always stroking down his torso when she’s speaking to him — the muscle beneath his polo perfectly pudged from exercise without being too firm, also making the perfect board for her to scratch her manicured nails down while getting put through the mattress.

C IS FOR… cum, ft.kitty!reader x jj ♡

there is something spiritual about the way kitty interacts with jj’s cum— like she swears she can tell what he’s eaten, how many sips of water he’s had that day and what the weather was like just from the taste of it. she’d lift her head from his crotch, mascara dwelling beneath her eyes as she smacks her lips thoughtfully, waiting for the blonde to catch his breath.

his ringed hand is still planted atop her head, supporting her limp neck as he looks down at her through spent and lidded eyes. “how y’feeling bae?” he queries, noting the pensive look on her face.

“all caffeine.” she hums, brows furrowing. jj blinks.

“y—…uh, what?”

“you didn’t drink any water today? not even a little? what did i tell you? you can’t survive off redbull!” she squints all pissed off, even her nose balling up as jj watches her rise up from her position.

“aint no way.”

D IS FOR… dirty secret, ft. john b x puppy!reader ♡

well, it was his dirty secret. you guess you could say d is also for dad, because that’s what he likes being called the most in the bedroom. it fills some… sick hole in his heart, fuels this odd complex he has around pup. he likes that she relies so much on him, he’s always taken the leadership role in any group so when it’s just the two of them it only feels right. it started off as daddy of course, but he’ll always remember that one sweaty night, roughly 4AM and they’d been going at it for hours, her legs over his shoulders, thick cock hitting that abused spongy spot until the word transformed before his very ears.

“mm—mm—mm—daddy—daddy—dad… dad!” it was music to his ears. apparently enough to have him blow his load at the drop of a hat.

E IS FOR… experience, ft. mouse!reader x jj x pope ♡

until she met jj and pope, she’d never even kissed anyone. well — she tells people she had, one guy — but the one guy in question was her one and only boyfriend in fourth grade (who then dumped her the next day because he wanted to ‘focus on powerangers’. she hates powerangers to this day.) it’s not to feed into her whole innocent aesthetic, you know with the baby pinks and the ballet and the glittery blusher dusted on the apples of her cheeks, no. she was just painfully shy— too touch starved to even imagine herself being intimate.

it wasn’t until she was sat in the middle of jj and pope on her bed, asking them if they could kiss eachother first to ease her nerves before she could kiss them — that she realised how badly she’d been missing out.

F IS FOR… favourite position, ft. lord!rafe ♡

when sabrina carpenter says ‘have you ever tried this one?’ referring to an unnamed sex position on her hit song, juno — the chances are, with lord!rafe, you had. the man was creative, especially when he was high, wanting to see just how far you’d contort and push yourself to submit to him. to bend to his will. but at the end of the day, he was just a man — and he craved that deep intimacy that his favourite pledge could give him, and that was a mating press.

“you like this, hm? feeling all— all close like this huh?” he pants in your face, your knees squished to you in a way that made it hard to breathe, especially with the way he was brutalising your hole.

“mm, mhm. thank you lord.” your voice is spitty and pleading and he chuckles through his exhales.

“yeah. like this one the most. get to see the life leave your fuckin eyes when i pull out. you just want that seed so fuckin bad don’t you baby?” he basically growling so you know he’s close. your eyes struggle not to roll back at the feeling.

“yes. yes lord!” your voice breaks.

“well that’s too bad baby. that’s too fuckin’ bad.”

G IS FOR… goofy, ft. jj x deer!reader ♡

much like mouse!reader, deer is a tough one to crack due to her shyness. however, through hard work and determination — jj discovered that the best way to get her to ease up and let go, was to quite literally giggle her out her panties.

“these are pretty.” he compliments her, warm breath on her neck as they both look between their bodies at her frilly white panties, a red bow at the centre which he plucks at gently. when he feels her tense up, he raises an eyebrow with a playful expression — letting her know it’s still just him, still her silly jj. “can i borrow ‘em?”

she busts into a fit of giggles, and whilst distracted — jj grins, sliding the fabric down her thighs as she writhes elatedly. “what? don’t think they’d suit me?” he keeps her happy and the vibes up as he parts her thighs, her giggles turning into slow breaths. his grin melts into a smirk, prompting an answer. “hm?”

“w—well— i was j—just—”

“mmmhm. yeah, i know. it’s okay baby.” he cooes, lulling her into being just a little more limp for him.

H IS FOR… hair, ft.john b ♡

john b is super hairy down there, never seeming to have the time to groom himself. the hair on his head is thick and wavy, and that’s not exception to his downstairs either, enough to bury your face in whilst deep throating his girthy length, the hair even crawling up his happy trail to his belly button. the sight when he stretches, arms lifted over his head causing his shirt to rise up and expose it has trained your mouth to water.

equally, if anyone is gonna advocate for you having a bush — it’s him. he had access to a load of his dads porno magazines from the 70s that he thought he’d hidden, so since he was younger he’d always had an affection for a pretty lil tuft peeking out some pretty panties. hey, it’s your body your choice as he’d be adamant on telling you — but if you wanted to give up shaving for a little while, he’d have zero objections.

many nights would be spent with his hand just affectionately patting your mound through your panties in bed before casually slipping his hand inside, twirling his fingers around some of the wiry hair.

“john b.” you’d scold, a little hot in the face.

“what, babe? getting a pretty neat bouquet going on down here. love it.”

I IS FOR…intimacy, ft. starwars!au!pope ♡

each time captain pope fucks you, he never knows if it’s going to potentially be his last time before he gets shipped off to some far away planet where all communication with you is severed. hell, sometimes he’s not sure if he’s ever going to make it back from his mission at all.

because of this, when he sneaks away from the bunks to fly to your apartment and spend a night with you — he fucks you like it’s the last time. skin to skin, direct, watery eye contact, arms wrapped around you like he’s never going to let you go as he rolls his hips, sweat dripping down his back.

“stars, i love you. i love you i love you. fuck, i fucking love you.” he groans, eyes fighting to stay open because he doesn’t wanna miss a moment of you, needing to ingrain your image into his brain for those lonely nights away.

“i love you pope. my pope.” you’d cry out, like it was a promise — and it was. a promise to be together properly one day with nothing and no one standing in between.

J IS FOR jack off, ft. stepbro!rafe ♡

before your parents married and you moved into tanny hill, rafe thought he jacked off a normal amount for someone his age. it was like you hit this switch, left him fumbling for control of his own body. it was no wonder he was so angry all the time, you had his hormones going haywire like some kind of teenager.

he was certain he’d had to quickly beat one out in nearly every room of the house. he’d see you in the kitchen, reaching up to a shelf that was a little too high for you — your shirt rising up, tits pressed to the fabric, underwear peeking from the waistband of your shorts and he’d be zipping out the room to relieve himself in the bathroom. he sees you out by the pool, slathering greasy spf over your skin, oiling yourself up in your bikini making you look like some kind of pornstar, and he’s taking a risk — standing in the empty window downstairs, hoping no one enters the room as he tugs one out.

you can’t even do your laundry in peace, rafe worried about the wrong load when he walks in and is confronted directly by the sight of you bent over the washer, digging around for that one pesky sock. he could just take you. right here, right now— but instead he ends up blowing his cum into his own sock that never made it into the wash pile back in his room.

he’ll pass your bedroom, and you’ll be out — so he’ll take the liberty to blow a load into a pair of your used panties in the hamper. you didn’t do anything to trigger him this time, but he felt like you owed him that at least, for all the times you’d unknowingly teased him.

K IS FOR… kink, ft. receptionist!reader x fireman!john b x fireman!jj ♡

unsurprising to all, the sweet receptionist bunking in a tiny apartment with two beefy firemen definitely has a fantasy or two. she knows the realities of how scary these fires can be, so she always feels a little guilty in indulging in being a damsel in distress in her daydreams, her two boys coming to save her from a smoky building before taking her home, spreading her out on the bed and making her feel all better, the two of them still greasy, soot staining their clothes and the scent of smoke radiating from them.

sometimes they get home from their shift when she’s mid fantasy with her hand down her panties and suddenly has to dive out of bed to greet them, all disheveled with her pupils dilated to the moon and back.

“you uh… alright there sweetie?” jj plays into it, knowing something was a miss, smirking. she swallows thickly, nodding unconvincingly.

“mhm! you guys just caught me by surprise! i was uh, napping.” her voice still trembles.

“hold on, you do look a little flushed.” john b touches the back of her neck and her knees buckle. but luckily his fireman instincts kick in and he catches her with ease. god, this was just like her fantasies. “lets lay you down, okay?”

L IS FOR… location, ft. pizzadeliveryboy!pope ♡

when fitting pope into your seriously tight schedule — sometimes it was just the most convenient to fuck in a rather odd location. your car and the kitchen of your house were good enough to get the job done — but popes favourite location to have fucked you in had to be the bathroom of the pizza place he worked at.

now, usually — he was a stickler for rules. the violation of his work place would normally make him shudder, but it was just the way you’d marched in there, so publicly, leant over the counter and whispered “i need it now.”

safe to say you were not talking about extra pepperonis.

he took his break early, and hey — it was a slow day, so he wasn’t too worried about ushering you cautiously but quickly into a bathroom cubicle and fighting your shorts down your legs.

“seriously? while i’m working?” he hisses in a whisper and all you can do is giggle, leaning against your cubicle wall and sticking out your ass temptingly. you match his whisper at full volume, in the moment not caring who hears. it was the closest he could get to a public declaration of love and desire.

“dont complain. know you’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

he definitely had been, so he shuts up and gets to work.

M IS FOR… motivation, ft. shittysoundcloudrapper!jj ♡

what gets jj going, is your eagerness to help him, doing whatever it takes to push and promote his hopeless career in soundcloud rapping. needs a female voice to moan for the backing track again? you’re eagerly setting up the mic and spreading your legs for him. needs a video girl? you’re holding up mini skirts asking which one he thinks you should wear (he says whichever one is shorter.) stuck in a slump with writing lyrics? there’s not much you can do there but spell check them in his notepad with glittery pink pen and make suggestions. each assist made, you do it with the same wide eyed, pleading for approval expression that makes his dick throb.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he was enjoying playing with you too much to make you his certified girlfriend just yet. which makes him kind of a selfish asshole, yes. he just loved watching you melt when he’d come up behind his pretty best friend, grabbing your hips and rocking side to side with you, making you smile because you know he’s about to suck up to you and ask you for something.

“you wanna be my helpful girl?” he hums, and you shudder — instantly and pathetically becoming that wide eyed yes-woman he knows and loves.

“mhm…”

“wow that was eeeeasy mama. you’ll do anything for me, huh?”

“anything.”

N IS FOR… no, ft. daddy!john b x puppy!reader ♡

one thing john b really doesn’t like doing, is pushing pup past her limits — especially as sometimes she doesn’t quite know where they are. when having sex, during particularly intense sessions she gets dazed, unable to think and sometimes even talk for herself because she is just so overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

he’d have her face down ass up in the bed, strong arm wrapped around her hips to reach her cunt, rolling her pearl beneath rough fingers as his cock stretches her, collecting cream at the base from her abundance of releases. hes going at a relaxed pace, but pup is limp, unable to let anything out by strained noises.

“hows that sweetheart? we still feeling good?” john b croons, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure to focus on his own. “pup?” he calls when there’s no answer.

that’s a big enough of a red flag for john b to pull out, leaning over her to gently lift her head. her eyes are screwed shut with tears on her cheeks and she’s breathing quickly through her nose. it appears she’s worked herself up into a frenzy. the brunette knows not to panic, as these things happen, simply scooping her naked body into his arms and stroking her head. “how ‘bout a break. okay? did so good for me puppy. juuust need a break. little tiny break.” he punctuates the sentence with a kiss to her crown, doing everything in his power to reassure and soothe her.

O IS FOR…oral, ft. rafe x lamb!reader ♡

with someone as strict as lamb!reader, oral is the loophole rafe needed to get into her panties. in the early days, he weasels head from her — telling her it’s the only way she can properly apologise to him after mouthing off against him after he’d done so much for her. there’s the light threat that he’ll tell on her too if she doesn’t, unspoken and lingering behind their elongated gazes — and that’s enough for her to frantically scamper to her knees, demanding the satin scrunchie from her dresser.

rafe isn’t big on giving oral — but with lamb, he’d see it as a stepping stone into sex. because if he’s eaten her pussy, what’s the point in stopping there? they may aswell go all the way. it’s obscene the way he’d have her on her back on her bed, his knees in both of his hands, spread as far as they’d go revealing her wet, pulsing cunt causing the fabric of her thin white panties to be completely sheered.

“c—can’t, after the first time… i had to beg for forgiveness. if i do this rafe there’s, there’s no going back.” she’s trembling, the poor thing — but not from fear, from need, her clit twitching beneath his gaze just begging to be touched. it was true, religious girls ovulated too.

“yeah? you’d probably start crying if i stopped n’walked away now alright? you want this. no, you — you need this, i can see it with my own two eyes. okay? give in. jesus isn’t watching.” he’s irritable, but if rafe was anything— he wasn’t a total creep. he needed that green light. he needed a yes.

there’s a silence, filled with lambs shuddering and sniffles and he’s honestly about to give up himself before her voice sounds, meek and guilty.

“just… just a little bit. just kiss it a little bit. maybe… maybe touch.”

he huffs out a laugh. sure, just a little bit.

P IS FOR… pace, ft.apocalypse!pope ♡

in a world where everything was a mad dash for safety, sex was the one thing pope liked to take his time with. he saw it as a luxury, a blessing reminding him of his gratitude toward having shelter, safety, warmth, companionship. he was never a risk taker, only ever having one actual ‘quickie’ in an abandoned warehouse when you convince him to take you beyond the gates of kitty hawk. he was stressed the whole time, an eye constantly peeled and unable to fully enjoy you as he bounced you hastily on his cock.

“s’fine popey, no one’s here! nothin’s gonna — mmph— nothin’s gonna happen!”

“you don’t know that. fuck. you better cum. shit.”

back home at the base, he lights candles, lays you down on the blankets in his watch-tower, and gets to work. he rolls his hips languidly, relishing in every noise you make, falling love even deeper when you beg him to go harder, faster. but he never does. sex was one of the few enjoyable things there was left, and he wanted to make each time last. he never knew when it might be the last time, anyway.

Q IS FOR… quickie, ft. farmhand!jj ♡

farmhand!jj on the other hand, he gets off on the thrill of being caught. he doesn’t really want to— but there’s something so scandalous to him about the fact your father is a short walk up the hill, whilst you’re in the barn with him, grinding on his face, calling him daddy.

there’s a rarely a time either of you are able to get fully nude, relying on moving things out the way to put the ‘quick’ in ‘quickie’. he enjoys that element too, taking pleasure in pulling up that little gingham dress and moving your innocent looking panties aside to have his way with the farmers daughter.

he likes to tease you, it’s just apart of his cheeky personality — plucking some hay off your cheek as he fucks into you from the back, hay in your hair and dirt on your cheek on the floor blanket he laid down.

“what would ya’ daddy say, huh? if he saw you like this on his property? ain’t lookin’ too good for you, sweetie.” he teases, tightening his grip on your hips. you whine, which means ‘don’t say that’ in sex talk, barely glancing over your shoulder with hazy puppy dog eyes.

“you’re m’daddy.” you pout in the heat of the moment, pathetically and guiltily making him bark out a mischievous chuckle, biting his tongue.

“yeah? i’m your daddy. okay.” jj repeats with a grin, plucking his hat off his head and dropping it on yours.

R IS FOR… risk, ft. gooner!rafe ♡

look, he’s a rich, white guy in college. he doesn’t care about risks. before you, there wasn’t much risk in his porn obsessed habits, not outside of his search history being revealed anyway. but when he met you, someone who lets him do whatever he wants — it becomes more of a factor.

half way through fucking, he rolls off you, sliding the slippery condom off his cock and heading back to insert himself.

“rafey what are you doin’?” you mewl, shock and concern etched across your features. to be honest, the suggestion of fear in your tone made him throb.

“look, it’ll be fine, alright? i’ll— i’ll pull out, just need to feel that pussy. you gonna let me feel that pussy or no? hm?” he drawls, leaning over you on strong arms, the angle making it hard to disagree with him, infact — you felt your hand floating towards his shaft to guide him back inside, under his spell.

S IS FOR… stamina, ft. puppy!reader x jj ♡

what happens when you pair two of the most adhd, frantic beings in the obx in a bed together? it just keeps going, all night long. catch them when they’re amped up enough, and they’ll go like bunnies.

just when you think it’s over, the two of them catching their breath together in bed— they’ll turn to look at eachother with hazy smiles, before puppy rolls back on top of him.

“want more, jayj.” she’ll always beg, grinding her slick up and down his shaft as it twitches, blood rushing back to it.

“oh yeah? already? don’t need a snack? just… straight back in?” he teases, pretending to think about it until she pouts petulantly.

“dont need a snack want it right now!” she whines, frantically trying to stuff him back inside. he sits up, waving her hands away and cradling her.

“alright, alright no scooby snacks, got it. don’t worry, i’ll give y’what you want, mama.” he soothes, before flipping her on her back.

T IS FOR… toys, ft. toxicex!johnb ♡

let’s be real, whenever you and john b hook up — he wants to show you exactly what you’re missing, so when he feels the need to up his game, he’s definitely not above using toys to bend you to his will, guaranteeing a crazy orgasm you both know no one else can give you.

when you come grovelling at his door, he poses the vibrator he still keeps around as a punishment of some kind for leaving him. he’ll sit behind you on the bed with your legs spread open, holding the pink vibe to your clit as you fall apart.

“you know sweetheart i shouldn’t keep doing this… right?”

“mm—no—mmph john b, please!” you cry, willing to do anything for him to not turn the toy off just before you cum again.

“john b?” he repeats, voice dry and flat. “has it been that long?”

“daddy.” you mewl ashamed and feel him smile, satisfied with an exaggerated nod.

“ah. there it is. ‘guess i can make you feel good again. what’s one more time right?” his tone is sarcastic still as he rubs the vibe in circles, making your legs jerk obscenely, voice squealing involuntarily. “mm. but it’s not gonna be the last time, is it baby?”

U IS FOR… unfair, ft.spoiledexgf!reader x rafe ♡

we all know, when it comes to teasing — spoiledexgf!reader is straight up evil. she breaks less easily, never giving rafe what he wants unless it’s on her terms, using him for that delectable dick and money when she needs it. she knows he still belongs to her completely, and her attitude shows that.

she likes to call him at random times from another phone (because one of them always has the other one blocked on her phone.) just to check if she can still get what she wants. he’ll pick up the phone with “yeah, who’s this?”

“you know who.” she grins, kicking her feet and she hears him sigh, leaning back in his seat, probably pinching his nose bridge.

“what, okay — i’m working, what do you want?”

“i can’t just call to check up on my favourite businessman?” she coos, biting her glossed lip.

“no. you always want something. so what is it— or— or should i say how much? huh? how much you need?” he’s sarcastic, but she can literally him hear scuffling about for his wallet.

“just a humble 300. there are these pair of shoes and… well, i won’t bore you with the details. i’ll be sure to repay you.”

“yeah, you fuckin’ better, alright? not just a piggy bank. not doin’ that shit anymore okay i need something in return.” he demands, frustrated and dick already jumping at the thought of potentially getting to touch her again.

she taps her chin though he can’t see her, fluttering long lashes at the ceiling. “hmm. i’ll see what mood i’m in later. bye rafey.” just like that, she hangs up — waiting for the money to be transferred.

V IS FOR…volume, ft. pope ♡

if there was a contest for prettiest male moan— the trophy would go to pope. he’s not super loud, because you’re either doing it at his place or yours, and with your family situations it was rare you had the places to yourself.

however, you could listen to it forever — the sound of his soft groan in your ear as he’d roll his hips against yours, slipping in whispers of “oh my god.” and “fuck…” under his breath, which was absolutely music to your ears.

sometimes, when he’s super pent up — right before he cums he’ll whimper, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on getting to his peak of pleasure. that was pope at his most vulnerable, and you cherish every moment.

“fuckfuckfuck… you’re so beautiful…shit!”

W IS FOR… wildcard, ft. barry x bunny!reader ♡

you read that correctly — there is a universe out there where bunny and rafe break up, and barry is quick to get his hands on that. he lets her rant at his place, wiping her tears with his knuckle with a joint hanging from his mouth, he takes a huff before holding the roll to her glittery lips.

“he got you fucked up babygirl… know i wouldn’t do that shit right? i’on know, maybe you need a real man to get you right… s’all i’m sayin’.” he lets the smirk slide onto his face. her instinct is to deny him, but why? she’s single now right?

before she knows it she’s pierced on his cock with him guiding her hips, his mouth tasting of something unfamiliar mixed with weed.

“shit, keep that thing real tight don’t you mama? country club di’nt even know what to do with all that.”

X IS FOR… x-ray ♡

when i think of who is packing the most — two characters come to mind. pogue!rafe, who stands at 6ft5– he definitely has the dick to match his huge beefy stature, and dbf!johnb— just the idea of him having to train his friends daughter to take his thick cock is simply mouthwatering.

rafes stands at 9 and a half inches, and john b at 7.5, but way thicker.

Y IS FOR… yearning, ft. john b x reader x sarah ♡

this couple is potentially the biggest gooner duo of the princessverse. as previously discussed, the pair are constantly trying to integrate sex into your life by tricking your innocent mind into thinking it was your idea, so of course they are constantly yearning for you.

when you posted some scandalous bikini pics on instagram — you thought most people would give it a like, maybe a comment and then keep scrolling. what you don’t know, is that two of your closest friends are in bed together, touching themselves and eachother with your pictures pulled up — talking about all the yucky things they’re gonna do to you when they get their hands on you.

“can you picture it john b? her laying right here between us, letting me suck those perfect tits.” sarah sighs softly and john b’s jaw falls open with pleasure as she takes over from his hand gripping his cock, stroking up and down.

“holy shit. i’m gonna cum all over the screen.” he grits his teeth and she sucks on her plump bottom lip, clenching her tanned thighs together knowing it’ll be her turn soon.

“yeah… cum all over her.”

Z IS FOR… Zzz, ft. linecook!jj ♡

jj works long days, but he always ensures to reserve enough energy to lay it on you when he’s home from work. however, when he’s done — he’s done, so if you were planning on having any conversations with him, you have to make sure it’s before he gets his hands on you.

he rolls off you once he’s fucked you through two orgasms, finally getting his own, dropping face down with his pants pulled down.

you catch your breath before rolling over to kiss his bicep. “jayj, left some dinner for you in the microwave if you didn’t get to eat at work…” you blink, hazy eyed and still a bit disorientated. “jayjie?”

you’re met with a snore, low and deep — muffled by the pillow. you giggle, stroking his back affectionately and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. he’ll eat it for breakfast, you suppose.

#10k follower special ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

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milunalupin · 2 months ago

Text

— take a chance on me

james potter x reader ★ 761 words

James knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

He sees you every week at the same bakery, ordering the same drink and the same pastry. You were the one he'd befriend, subtly flirt with, and eventually ask on a date. He'd pick you up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, take you to dinner nearby. You two share a dessert, the kind James carefully spoons into your mouth with an adoring smile. Like the gentleman he is he'll walk you back home, brushing his hand against yours until he's brave enough to just take it.

After a few months of seeing each other he'd ask you to be his, officially. Probably with a box of pastries from your favorite bakery, and a cheesy card that makes his heart skip a beat when you laugh at it. You two would spend the evening eating takeout and watching your favorite movies, finishing off the night with him feeding you the last fruit tart in bed. He'll whisper sweet nothings until you fall into a beautiful slumber in his arms.

He'll tell you he loves you. Probably on the beach, because Sirius told him it's romantic and girls like that sort of thing. He'll most likely be in tears as he tells you how much you mean to him, and that there's no one else in the world who could make him feel this way. You'll laugh while wiping his tears as well as your own, only making him cry more when you tell him you love him too.

James wants you to meet his parents. Just a casual dinner at the Potter's, he'll tell you. He'll watch in adoration as you fret around your room figuring out what to wear, you don't want to give off a bad first impression. He'll tell you they'll love you, because he does so why wouldn't they? You'll laugh as he pepper your face with kisses and showers you with every compliment in the book.

The Potters are nothing if not kind. Once arriving at his childhood home, James will take your coat. Mr. Potter will give you a handshake, and wonder how you put up with his son. Mrs. Potter will laugh and usher you into the kitchen, where she'll have tea ready for you. You'll all have a good chat over home baked biscuits, and play a round of blackjack or two. By the end of your stay you'll already be called 'daughter-in-law', and have a tin of leftovers to take home.

James will be nervous to ask you to move in with him, but you'll jump into his arms and say yes. It'll take you two along with the help of Sirius and Remus to carry in all of your things, except the latter will sneak off with you to drink lemonade in the kitchen. Sirius will whine about how it's not fair that he's come out with chipped nail polish and frizzy hair while Remus was gossiping with you. Remus will remind him that he has chronic pain and the exercise will be good for his tattooed friend.

You'll come home one day to a box of chocolates and a letter laying by the front door. The letter will be filled with loving words and directions to a secret location. It'll lead you to a park, one where James had taken you several times on picnics. This time, there will be a rose-filled path leading you to a small platform where your boyfriend will be nervously standing. A small speaker will accompany him, your favorite love song playing softly.

Once you reach him he'll shakily get down on one knee, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket and pull out a small velvet box from his pocket. He'll open and close his mouth, unable to get any words out. You'll bend down to cradle his face, telling him he doesn't have to say anything, and kiss him.

The two of you will plan and have the most memorable time of your lives the day of your wedding, with much help from your loved ones. Your now husband will not be able to keep his emotions in check, not even when you're in the hotel bed at the end of the night. He'll tell you there's nothing else he could wish for, now that he has you for the rest of his life.

James knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

He only hopes that one day you'll look back at him.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #james fleamont potter

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buckets-and-trees · 11 months ago

Text

What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn��t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #babb2023 #vee's holly jolly challenge #aspen wrote somethinig #what you want

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willowsnook · 1 month ago

Note

hello can i can a scotch and coke in a tall class please??

oscar piastri x bsf!reader

just shut up and come here

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

Golden retriever and grumpy cat. That was how you would describe your friendship with Oscar. You saw the world through a golden tint, wearing your emotions on your sleeve and always making the best of things. Oscar on the other hand was different. A man of little words which you didn't mind much because you could talk for hours. He would just sit there nodding and to an outsider it would look like he wasn't paying attention but he often would bring things up that you had said weeks ago so you knew that wasn't the case.

The two of you had met in elementary school, becoming fast friends after you were the only one to beat him in a running race. For him, you made him feel better about things, always knew what to say, and loved him so unconditionally that he could never feel lonely. For you, he was your rock, always dependable and loyal, always ready to defend you against anyone.

Years of friendship had made it easy for you to tell what he was thinking even when others couldn't. The one thing you couldn't nail down though, was if he was interested in being more than friends with you. When you were 10 years old you told your mom that you were going to marry him and that feeling hadn't wavered one bit. But you really couldn't tell if he was planning on marrying you or not. The last girlfriend he had was in high school and you hadn't even seen him flirt with anyone. So you would stay delusional for now.

Right now you were watching him argue with his agent over the phone. You had been scheduled to fly to Miami 5 hours ago but due to weather, you kept getting delayed by his pilot. At this point, it was decided that you would just fly first class on a flight already scheduled to depart.

Oscar joined you back in the waiting area after he got off the phone and you stopped messing around on your phone.

"Everything okay?" You asked and he nodded.

"The hotel was overbooked but they are still giving us one room."

"We've shared a room before Osc, not a big deal," you said and he shot you look.

"King bed," he said simply and your eyes widened.

"Well as long as you don't spread eagle I think we'll be good," you said reassuringly. He nodded looking away. Well gee, don't act like this will kill you Oscar, you thought to yourself.

Boarding the flight, Oscar grabbed your bag from you and you admired the way his biceps bulged as he carried them in front of you. You were happy to see that you had a private cubicle-type thing with two seats that were basically recliners.

After eating the in-flight meal you started to feel the effects of the sleeping pill you had taken earlier. Because of the time zone difference, you needed to sleep the whole flight so that you would be kind of adjusted for Miami.

Oscar had already dozed off and you shifted around for what felt like hours trying to get comfortable. You opened your eyes when you heard Oscar let out a deep exhale and found him looking at you.

"What's wrong?" He asked groggily.

"I can't get comfortable."

He looked at you for a second before lifting the blanket and patting his lap.

"Come here," he said nonchalantly and your face flushed.

"No, that's weird," you whispered and he rolled his eyes.

"I can assure you that it will be way more comfortable," he said. "Your dog sleeps on me all the time."

"That's because he's a dog," you whisper shouted. "Plus the seat belt light is on."

"Just shut up and come here," he said sending you a glare and you sighed. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you climbed into his lap, curling up with your head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and he rested his head back, closing his eyes.

"More comfortable?"

"Shut up," you grumbled, drifting off.

You woke up before the plane started to descend and climbed back into your seat. Neither of you said anything about the situation and you decided that you never would.

Landing in Miami it was 8am. Oscar had a bunch of stuff to do with McLaren so you took your luggage to drop off at the hotel before you went sight-seeing. You planned on staying out the whole day in order to not be able to go to bed till later that night.

When you got back to the hotel at 7 you were dead on your feet. Oscar was sitting on the couch eating takeout and he offered you some. He very briefly told you about his day and then let you yap on for a while about yours.

You both got ready for bed and as you were changing a thought occurred to you.

"I think I'm not going to unpack because I'll just ask the front desk if another room is open tomorrow morning," you told Oscar who was already laying in bed. His face scrunched in confusion.

"Why? This is fine," he said.

"Yeah for tonight, but you might want to bring someone back this weekend," you said nonchalantly.

"Who would I bring back?"

"I don't know Oscar, a girl maybe?" You said exhaustedly. He didn't say anything just looked at you for a minute.

"When have you ever seen me bring back a girl?"

"I'm not with you all the time so I don't know," you flushed. "If you want to bring back a guy that's fine too I guess."

He looked at you for another second shocked and then snorted throwing his head back against the pillow.

"This is so fucking stupid," he said and you crossed your arms starting to get annoyed with him.

"Please enlighten me Oscar on why me wanting to get another room is so stupid."

"How many girlfriends have I had since high school?" He asked.

"None," you replied.

"Have you ever seen me flirt back with a girl that has come up to me when we're out?"

You shook your head.

"Have I ever talked about any girl that I would be interested in?"

You shook your head again.

"Why do you think that is?" He questioned. "I mean I'm an F1 driver for god's sake, you'd think I could get anyone I wanted right?"

You didn't say anything, confused at where this was going. He ran a hand through his hand letting out a frustrated groan.

"I have been in love with you since you beat me in that race when we were five years old," he said and your heart stopped. "So no, I'm not too keen on letting you get another room when I finally have you in my bed next to me."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in, disbelief and warmth swirling in your chest. "You... what?" you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

He chuckled softly, "I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Now will you please come to bed."

You slowly climbed into bed next to him, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed your lips to his—this time with no hesitation. His hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. It was soft at first, but then something more surged between you, and the kiss grew hungry, like years of longing finally spilling over.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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kookslastbutton · 5 months ago

Text

just one kiss ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You and your husband always seem to want each other at the most inconvenient times. Tonight, it happens to be right when you're about to sleep before your next work shift. You find it harder and harder to say no.

pairing: Taehyung x reader (f.)

genre/AU: PWP, fluff, smut, established relationship, married au, comfort

word count: 3.6k

warnings: softdom!taehyung, sub/minor switch!reader, swearing, kissing, asking for consent, f*inger*ng, ✨sensual✨ but also r*ough penetrative s*x (oc on the birth control), big d*ck, light neck b*ting/sucking, praise kink (both), body worshipping, pleading (tae just wants to please...), hint of possessiveness, hint of banter, m*ssionary/two ways, t*t sucking/f*ndling, impr*g kink (both), multiple org*sm, mentions of aftercare, Tae being a little whiny at first, he calls her baby/darling, mentions of vintage, rated R movie

now playing: Where I Belong by Bobby Bazini, Drops of Jupiter by Train

a/n: I have nothing to say other than I've been on a writing spree this week and this happened....heh 😅 Taehyung's Type 1 photos made me do it! Okay, bye! Hope you enjoy 🤍

Taehyung looked more than handsome when he came home tonight, the buttons of his dress shirt undone just enough to let your eyes greedily wander his smooth, tanned chest. The sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows too, displaying his rather muscular biceps.

He’s been working out with the guys more frequently the last few months and yes, you’ve been silently benefiting from it.

Of course, you loved the way he looked before too —he’s sexy either way.

Despite feeling very much teased by your husband (though it wasn’t his intent), your evening consisted of dinner and a movie instead. It's an old, vintage film he's been dying for you to see for ages—an underrated classic assigned by his college professor during his final semester. When you caught sight of the VHS tape in his hands earlier, you quickly connected the dots of what the evening would look like.

But while both of you initially immersed yourselves in the black-and-white film, things gradually changed about halfway through when a number of rather steamy scenes started playing.

"It's not exactly about the sex," your husband explains as matter-of-factly as he can. "It's passion between the two main leads who've been repressed for so long. Not only by society but also from their own set of social standards. They're finally breaking free."

"Gotcha," you nod, "I suppose it's a turning point for them then." You continue watching the movie until one of the leads begins climbing over the other, stripping the other of their clothes. "God Tae, they're really showing a lot here. I wasn't expecting this much action for a movie made in the 40s."

Tongue in cheek, he studies your somewhat taken aback facial expression. "You see why it's such an underrated film for its time?"

"Mhm," you reply, your throat suddenly feeling dry. "I'm, uhm, I'm beginning to see."

Once you're certain his attention is back on the TV screen, you sneak a quick look at him. He’s completely serious, appreciating the artistic direction of the film. Meanwhile, you on the other hand are suddenly getting very distracted by past images of your husband's naked body flashing through your mind (No thanks to the film he’s chosen).

Fuck __, get it together, you scold yourself.

You're never typically this affected by a cinematic sex scene for fuck sake.

"You okay?" His deep voice jolts you in surprise.

You smile, hoping you seem composed. "Uh, yes, fine. Just...enjoying the movie."

Taehyung hesitates for a moment, appearing somewhat suspicious, then responds with a simple, "Good. I'm glad."

Once the movie ends, you both climb into your shared bed, feeling mutually exhausted. You're rolled on your side now, him behind you with a hand secured around your waist. Taehyung's embrace feels so comforting with how close he holds you.

But then, you feel a subtle poke in your lower back and it tells you everything you need to know about where his next agenda is heading; he’s hard.

You’ve been pretty worked up since your head hit your pillow yourself, however, the movie took over three hours to finish. Your body is not nearly strong enough for any messing around tonight, plus you have work in less than eight hours. You simply do not have the time or energy.

Taehyung thinks otherwise.

“Baby?” his breath tickles your skin as he presses himself against your back. Long, gentle fingers find their way under the material of your shirt easily. The touch is cool against your warm skin, causing you to shiver ever so slightly. “Baby, are you awake?” he tries again, voice laced with the richest honey.

Fuck, you curse to yourself, he’s decided to use that voice; his seducing voice. Okay fine, who are you kidding— it’s his normal voice. After all, it doesn’t take much for him to turn you on with that naturally husky voice of his.

You can’t give in though. You seriously have work at the crack of dawn, and if you let him have his way now, you’ll be at it all night. Taehyung likes to take his time with you whenever you're intimate, per usual. Or, alternatively, the two of you end up abandoning all self-control, choosing to go round after round instead.

“Mm,” you let out a sleepy groan, “Not tonight, Tae. I have work in the morning.”

Subtly, you close a hand over his to stop his movements. Somehow, during all your thinking, they managed to travel dangerously close to your boobs.

“I haven’t even told you what I want yet,” he protests, a near pout.

You stifle an amused chuckle. “I'm no stranger to what you’re doing, Tae. We’ve been together far too long for me not to know. I can also feel you in my lower back,” you note, referring to how hard he’s gotten. “Tomorrow we can do whatever we want. Wait one more night.”

Your husband buries his face into the crook of your neck, attempting to snuggle into you. “Promise?” He presses a feather-like kiss to the delicate area and you can’t resist the faint moan that it elicits. Your neck has always been highly sensitive, which your husband knows all too well.

“I promise,” you barely manage to form a reply.

“Seal it with a kiss?” He asks as innocently as he can. Though, you have to question his antics. You really wanna turn your head around and kiss him like he wants, so badly. But what’s stopping you? The fact that his lips are always so soft and you know you’ll be after more.

Fuck, now you want him.

"We kissed plenty of times earlier, didn't we?" you struggle to keep yourself composed, voice cracking.

"Not nearly enough. Please, baby, I missed you the entire day. One kiss.”

God, you sigh inwardly, he’s too fucking hard to say no to.

“We’ll go to sleep right after,” you state as sternly as possible, twisting your neck until you're eye to eye with your husband. It’s dark in your bedroom, but you can tell by how lust-blown his eyes are that he’s just drinking you up.

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, catching you completely off guard. You blush instantly, cheeks flaring with warmth. You hope your husband won’t notice due to the pitch blackness of the room, but he does, given the cheeky smile that spreads across his face. “Oh god, I love you so much,” he says, then presses his lips firmly to yours in a passionate kiss.

Not another word slips out from either of you for the next half minute, your mouths instead moving against each other rhythmically. You both let out breathy moans as your tongues begin fighting for dominance (your husband wins easily). You didn’t mean for it to go this far, really you didn’t. Nonetheless, here you are in a heated make- out with your husband, one hand lifted above your head to thread through his silky hair.

Taehyung grunts the rougher you pull and slides his own hand to your inner thigh, gripping it tight and prying it open. Naturally, you roll on your back which he gladly takes as his opportunity to pull you towards himself.

With your bodies facing each other on your sides, his bare chest comes flat against yours, Taehyung lifts one of your legs until it comfortably snakes around his hip.

“Tae,” you struggle to catch your breath as he begins planting kisses up and down your neck, “We can’t…I...have to work.”

He doesn’t reply, choosing to suck along the delicate part of your neck instead. Your eyes roll up in response, every nerve in your body feeling like they’ve been set on fire.

“Tae, baby-” you start again, but he hushes you.

“Darling,” he coos, “we’re kissing right now. I’ll stop if you want me to, but don't you think work can wait for a while?” He then nips at your jaw before capturing your lips again. They’re going to be bruised if he keeps this up. “Do you really want me to stop? Say the word and I will.” He’s looking at you now, patiently waiting for your answer. You think he’s quite sneaky for leading you into his honeytrap, but who are you fooling…you want this.

“You’re right, screw work.” You then pull yourself over his body, forcing him to lay on his back as you sit up and straddle him. “I love you.” You then lift your top over your head, revealing your naked chest to him. He’s seen it a million times and each time he looks at you with such widened eyes, so full of awe.

“I-“ he starts, bringing his hands up to gently caress your sides. The pads of his thumbs circle over your skin soothingly and you hum in satisfaction. “I love you too,” he finally says. “You’re so fucking amazing. My best and worst dream wrapped into one giant tempt-“

“Okay Tae, shh," it's your turn to hush him now, sweet as you can as you roll your hips forward and into his. It's just enough to draw out a throaty moan. “I think it’s clear we both love each other quite a lot hm? Because I adore you too," you add.

He nods in understanding.

“Then,” you lean forward until your centimeters from his face, ass in the air. “Fuck me.”

A growl like you haven’t heard before instantly drops for his lips. Taehyung grabs your waist with sturdy hands and flips you both over, his body hovering over yours so closely as your back hits the mattress. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, fingers dancing along your sides. “May I?” You know exactly what he’s asking for so you nod.

“Please do.”

His palms move up to your breasts not a second later, thumbs rolling over the hardened peaks. Your back arches into hands at the friction, eliciting soft, drawn out moans from both of you.

“Shit,” he swears, hands tightening around you as he gropes your tits, “I want to suck them,” he deadpans and you nearly choke at the bluntness. Usually, he asks permission for a second time, but he doesn’t this time…not that you mind the subtle change.

“Go ahead,” you give him the green light and it’s all he needs before bringing his lips down to close around your boob. Your jaw clenches as his tongue sensually licks around a nipple, gently biting it now and then. It’s clear that the wetness between your thighs only increases with every movement. “Please, need more. It feels so good, but it’s not enough…fuck!”

You gasp when his tongue suddenly moves from your breast and latches itself to the ridge of your neck. You want to tell him not to leave marks where you can’t cover them up, however, he’s far too convincing that you don't.

“I know baby,” he hums, disgustingly seductive, “we’ll get there but let’s be patient, hm? Your body looks so perfect right now. Wanna savor it a little longer. Is that okay? Will you let me do that?”

The gentleness of his request, paired with his ridiculously deep voice, sends literal shivers up your spine. You want him to fuck you here and now, yet you feel yourself bending to his will. But no, that won’t work tonight. You hate to say it but you really are pressed for time.

“I-Taehyung if we don’t fuck soon, it’ll be dawn and before we know it I’ll have to leave and the last time we tried-“

“Alright, easy darling,” he relaxes you from your long winded argument with a small chuckle, “I concede. I’ll fuck you.”

You feel yourself clench in anticipation as you watch him get up to remove his pants, swallowing hard when his generous length meets your eyes.

You shouldn’t stare.

It’s not polite to stare.

You’re shameless, truly, because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Look at me, baby,” Taehyung calls you out of your daze, to which you quickly lift up your chin to meet his piercing gaze. “Tell me what you’re thinking in that pretty head of yours.”

“I…want to suck it,” you admit, no longer able to hold yourself back.

Your husband hums at your response and climbs back towards you on the bed, stopping near your legs.

“Suck what?”

“Uhm, well,” your voice wavers and you don’t know why, other than the fact that you are getting major distracted by the way his fingers smoothly guide your knees up, prying them apart.

“Yes? I’m still listening.”

Being that you’re wearing shorts, Taehyung moves his head between your spread legs and presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Say it,” he encourages, “we both know the answer anyway.” You can feel him practically smirking against your leg.

“Don’t be cocky,” you counter, not yet realizing the weight of your reply until Taehyung directs his gaze on you with an amused expression.

“I think we both concluded a long time ago that that’s pretty near impossible for me, don��t you think?” He replies, earning a brief chuckle from you. Not before a small, exaggerated eye roll of course.

“Alright, you win. I want your cock,” you say, “No more of this cat and mouse game, but I'm so riled up. I need you inside me. You’ll let me suck you off tomorrow though, right?”

“If that’s what you want, darling. I’ll do anything for you.” He grazes the band of your shorts before continuing. “For now, these are going to need to go.”

You nod and he slips the thin material, along with your underwear, off your body. “Fuck,” he swears, taking in your naked form. “I’ll never get over the fact that you look like this. So beautiful, and only mine to see. Fuck. I don’t deserve you.”

With a single finger, he begins tracing up your center, easily feeling the wetness that’s gathered between your thighs. You don’t have time to feel even a shrivel of embarrassment when he begins sinking into your velvety walls, all the way down to the knuckle.

“Oh god, n-no, you deserve it. You definitely deserve it,” you stutter, back arching into his touch as he curls his finger in you. He then slips a second finger next to the first, to which you involuntarily clamp down on. “Fuck, your hands feel so good, Tae.”

Your praise evidently encourages him as he moves his fingers faster in you, curling them against your sweet spot repeatedly until you’re sure your neighbor, the one who lives across the street from you, can hear you.

“I’m gonna come!” You suddenly shout, the first orgasm of the night washing over you in the seconds following. When Taehyung slips his fingers out of you, it’s no surprise that they’re completely covered in your come. Per usual, he cleans them off himself and your core clenches at the action.

“I need to feel you,” he says shortly, bringing his body over yours until he’s directly above you, eye to eye. “Please, I’m so hard right now.”

You nod eagerly, feeling similar. “I need you too. Please...please fuck me.” The tip of his cock drags along your entrance, sliding against your slit before finally pushing in. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together.

"Shit," he swears, bottoming out in you, "So wet, you're so wet, baby."

He starts a slow, steady pace at first, fucking into you deeper with each thrust of his hips. It's not rough, but rather sensual, as he loves nothing more than sinking himself into slowly, until you're letting out moan after moan, his name the only word on your lips.

"Let me hear you, darling," he coos, dragging his length all the way out before pushing back in, "I want to hear all your pretty moans tonight. Fuck, you feel amazing, do you know that? Such a perfect pussy."

His praises make you absolutely delirious as you toss your head back, eyes fluttering shut to bask in the pleasure.

"Am I making you feel good, too?" he continues. "Let me know if I am. I wanna make you feel nothing but mine; my darling, my wife."

"Yes, fucking yes. You're making me feel amazing Tae-" Your arms wrap up around his upper back, nails digging into his shoulder blades helplessly. Taehyung winces at the slight pain but doesn't stop his movements, preferring to bury his face into the small juncture between your neck and shoulder instead.

He then returns the favor by nipping at the area with his teeth, not enough to hurt, but enough that you give a short yelp. He licks over it after, soothing it gently.

"Oh g-god," you moan breathily, "I-I think I'm gonna come again." You find yourself clenching around him right then, and it takes your husband off guard as his balance slips, his body falling into you immediately. His elbows manage to re-stabilize himself and to your demise, allows him a new angle to fuck you from—one that's deeper, faster, and causes your legs to wrap around him tighter.

"Come for me," he nearly growls, gradually picking up his pace as he thrusts himself into you rougher, "I wanna feel you come on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Fuck, don't hold back."

"I'm c—" You have your release before the words have the chance to fully form, your husband covered in you for the second time of the night. "Please," you start a plead. "I want you to come too. Tell me how you want me. On my hands and knees, yes?"

With a soft hand, Taehyung lovingly caresses your face and presses a tender kiss to your lips. "I want you just like this, actually," he says, not an ounce of demand in his tone, "that way, I can see your beautiful eyes when I fuck into you. But I want your legs over my shoulders....if that sounds good to you."

As if you didn't just have your release, you feel your thighs threatening to clamp together at his request. "Yes," you agree hurriedly, "Anything sounds good, I just want you. And I want you to come too.”

With that, Taehyung straightens his back, throws your legs over his sturdy shoulders, and starts fucking into you mercilessly. He's fucked you sensually, worshipped your body from head to toe, praised you, and now? He's gonna finish in you.

"Holy shit," his grunts are labored as he chases his high, desperate to finally have his release. "Too m-much...so fucking good! I'm going to breed this pussy tonight, tell me how bad you want it, baby. Tell me...please."

It's inevitable that his desire to get you pregnant slips out, as it happens nearly every time you fuck. You share the same desire too, however, contrary to what just fell from his lips, he most certainly will not be getting you pregnant tonight—you're still on the pill. One of these days you might just let both your dreams come true, but for now you'll play into the fantasy.

"I do, I want it so bad," you moan, legs shaking as his cock plunges into you, his hands gripping around your hips. "Give me your babies, Tae, I want the—"

"Shit, I'm gonna come!" he suddenly announces, his thrusts growing messier as he twitches in you. He's dangerously close to finishing, and so are you; for the third time of the night.

"Come in me, baby," you struggle to say, "You deserve it so much, fuck, come in me Tae! Don’t stop, I wanna feel you cover me.

"Fuck!" He thrusts in you one last time before the cord within him finally snaps, ropes of his come filling you up instantly. He then lazily fucks you a few final times, attempting to ride out his high before setting your feet back on your mattress.

"I can't believe," he pants, now laying on his back beside you, "we nearly skipped all of this tonight."

"Yeah well, I was tired," you reply. "But I was also extremely wound up and that movie we watched might have had something to do with it."

Taehyung turns his face to you with a playful smile. "I know," he says simply. "I could tell from how hard you were trying to concentrate on the movie that you'd rather be jumping me."

"I-What? When did I give that impression?" You meet his eyes in shock. You thought for sure you were keeping yourself pretty well under wraps.

"Darling," he draws your face towards his to peck your lips, "you can only sneak glances at me so many times before I'm bound to notice. Not to mention the amount of times you excused yourself to get a glass of water when you had one sitting in front of you, on the coffee table, the entire time."

"Oh," is all you reply with, warmth spreading on your cheeks.

"For future reference, if you want to pause the movie and hm, do other things," he exaggerates his words, lifting a corner of his mouth into a faint smirk, "you only need to ask. I'll never say no to you."

"Evidently, same here," you chuckle lightly, "I'll consider it for next time. I'm actually really tired now."

"Me too, we should clean up and get to bed. I'll get you a towel," he rolls off the bed and heads straight for your joint bathroom.

"I love you!" you call out, though you're unsure that he heard you until he pokes his head out from the doorframe.

"I love you too, stay there okay? I'll be back in a second," he flashes a grin at you, then ducks back in.

Well fuck, you think, you're never giving him up—ever.

a/n: yeah, he's my dream 🫠 Now, I'm going to be good and go continue my series lol.

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

#taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts au #taehyung x reader #fic:justonekiss #kookslastbutton

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pickingupmymercedes · 9 months ago

Text

Lewis Hamilton - NSFW Alphabet

a/n: It's a NSFW Alphabet, you guys know the drill. Haven't really seen these around for a while, and that photo with the body hair got me in a mood.

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Clingy. He needs to feel your touch somewhere and needs to have his hands on you. He particularly likes when you run your fingers through his hair, soothing any bad thought away. He may put on a tough façade for the world but when he lowers his walls, he loves the reassurance of your skin on his.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He takes great pride in his arms and shoulders, they’re not the biggest because of f1, but they do a great part of his job. Also, they hold you and everyone he loves close.

On you he loves your collarbones, it’s the first place he goes in any given circumstance. It’s where he feels your perfume when you’re fresh out of the shower, your smell when he’s holding you close while thrusting up at your most intimate place, where he buries his face when he needs to hide from the world and where he leaves his mark for the same world to see.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Before being officially and seriously a couple, he would finish in the condom, the moment you were his though, marking you was a thought that drove him wild. Since that first time going raw there was no turning back, he needed to feel and fill you every time since.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You and him sneaked out, while still being “only friends”, during an end of year party in Brackley. You had had a bit too much to drink and so had him, you stumbled out to the third floor for a breather, after being surrounded by his perfume all night long, and he followed you like a lost puppy, too scared that if he let you out of his sight you’d run and never come back. It was messy and led to radio silence from both of you for weeks, but the sexual tension only grew after that.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He sure as hell knows what he’s doing. He likes when you’re curious about his experience too, and is always up to let you experience and try new things as a couple.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Cowgirl, he likes to pretend to be the one in charge but in the privacy of the bed he you’re the boss, plus he gets to watch you and the pleasure he gives you. He’ll flip you if you get too fucked out to ride him all the way, but you’re usually on top.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Depends on the mood. In the morning it’s usually lighthearted, lazy and sloppy, giggles thrown in the air left and right. Nights tend to be a bit more serious, locked stares, purposeful movements and overall, nastier.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Extremely well taken care of. Not all bare though, you both like a bit of something there, but groomed and tidy for sure.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s a thoughtful guy, and you can’t help but imagine even with the hock ups he was probably like that too.

But something changes for him when you two finally commit. From that moment, his favorite part wasn’t the sex but how close you felt to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be around him, how in those moments your world and his are nothing but each other.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’ll take matter into his own hands (literally) if needed, but he’ll much rather wait for you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise was one you found out pretty early on, but the main one was breeding, and God did it drive you two into the most unexpected situations.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Ideally somewhere you can both take your time, before, during and after. But he’s an adrenaline junkie, and adventurous locations would spark something and things would happen in a rooftop, driver’s room, secluded parking lot, desert beach.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, not much was needed to get him uncomfortable in his pants, a look you gave him from behind his computer and he was done with whatever work he had to get done. But what truly drove him wild was seeing you smirk at him as you did the most mundane of chores knowing he would get riddle up.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Cause pain if it’s not closely interlinked with pleasure.

Withholding your orgasm so you when you cum it’s a star-seeing, numbing-body one is a big yes. But using you so he gets his release after a frustrating situation but not getting you there in the end is a huge No for him.

He cares too much about your wellbeing to get his needs met if it does nothing for you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

His thing is going down on you, and he certainly has the skill to match his preferences, but you can’t resist his bulge and how the weight feels wrapped around your hands. He wasn’t too keen on having someone give him head just for the fun of it, but eventually you got him there, even if he won’t admit you can have him quite literally wrapped around your fingers.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and deep is his thing, each thrust sends a message and it’s intoxicating how easily he claims your body.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t care too much for them in a daily basis, and would much rather take your time, but racing weekends are busy and sometimes things have to be taken care of in less than 10 minutes, in a dark corridor somewhere.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s down to try anything you suggest and eventually suggests a few things latter in the relationship as well, when he feels you’re comfortable about his past experiences.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for as long as you want him to go and a bit more. His pace also helps him last longer, and although the same probably can’t be said for you, he likes to take it as a challenge to see how many times, for how long and with how much effort he can get you to cum.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t mind new friends, but they’re not frequent and he prides himself that your best times were only using his fingers, tongue and dick.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves it, but you’re impatient so it usually doesn’t last too long, just enough to get you riddled and panting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Lewis could never be loud, but jesus is he vocal. The dirty talking in your ears is through the roof. But your favorite are his grunts, he gets so tunnel focused with his thrusts his mouth always falls open and he lets out the most guttural ones, them alone kept you panting.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It was risky, so incredibly risky and stupid from both of you to be in that badly lit corridor, hands all over each other, breathless and rushed kisses all over your skins.

The season had started on a bad foot and for the past 2 races everyone had been working the extra night hours trying to get something out of the car. Lewis had just gotten out of a debrief while you were using his side of the garage as a backdrop for a meeting. He walked right in front of your laptop and stared at you for a while before walking out into the pitlane, taking a second lingering look, left eyebrow raised, tongue slightly brushing the corner of his lips.

You were looking for him as soon as you could get away with the excuse of poor internet, going about the pitlane and taking a moment to actually appreciate the warm Australian weather.

As you looked and tried to find something in the darkness you felt strong arms wrapping you from behind, and kisses in your shoulders that left you highly aware you were in public.

“Someone could see us Lew” you whispered, turning in his embrace to lace your fingers behind his neck. “You look so damn hot when you boss those guys around” he muttered into your collarbone, after unbuttoning the first couple buttons on your blouse, leaving kisses all over your chest.

“Let’s just find somewhere better hidden then” you offered, hands already under his shirt, feeling the heat and firmness of his muscles. “Already did” he said while easily picking a giggling version of you up and kissing your lips to shush you.

The dark alley-type corridor was but a dead space in between fia’s garage and where the safety cars were, no lights there and the only speck of glow coming from two garages away. He sat you down somewhere soft, never once leaving your neck while one hand groped your bra covered breasts and the other held you close by your waist.

Through the fabric in his briefs, you felt his bulge in your tummy when he positioned his body in between your spread legs. A low and husky “we can’t make a sound babe” in your ear before he bucked your hips upwards and pushed your pants down just beneath your knees, pooling his own underwear at his feet with his jeans.

You took his already rock-hard length in hand and used your thumb to get the precum from his tip to the rest of the sensitive head. His grunts filling the now muffed air and you couldn’t help but sneer a “shush there, big guy” while smirking at his pleasure-contorted face. You gave it a few pumps, trying your everything not to give in and show him who’s boss, you had no time to prolong any foreplay, your own desire well visible in your soaked cunt.

He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, biting on your lower lip, trying to distract you with the sharp pain in your month from the stretch his member was giving your core while he slowly thrusted into you, picking up speed as your walls adjusted to his girth, the sound of skin on skin joining the sounds you both tried to keep low.

The scene was truly obscene if anyone found you two. Your hair wild in a makeshift bun he had mustered, seated in a wobbly stack of tires as his hips thrusted forward and you held onto him by his biceps and his butt. He tried muffling his grunts in the soft skin of your exposed collarbone and the faster his movements got the more certain you were he was leaving a mark there.

You knew he was close when his thrusts got deeper, lowly growling “cum for me” in his ears and instantly feeling his hand in between your bodies until his fingers circled your clit. It only took a few seconds for the already present knot in your lower stomach to snap with the added stimulation, and the aftershocks in your inner walls squeezed his own orgasm, his last thrusts making sure his seed was deep inside you.

You embraced his neck and lied your head on his shoulders to catch your breath and stop the world from spinning, his hands caressing your tights and waist. You only moved when you felt him soften inside you, his features contorting at the sensitiveness of his member as he pulled out, his hands always finding your body, even while you both dressed back up.

As you both sneaked around the garages back to hospitality you heard two Williams crew members loudly talking to each other.

“Can you believe those new Fia interns? They can’t keep their hands off of each other, but getting it on in the garage is a new level of stupid, I’m pretty sure we weren’t the only ones to hear them”.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

We have all seen it through his pants that he is big. The first time you held it in your hand (and mouth) you questioned how on earth it would fit, but the moment you felt his girth in you it was game over for anyone else.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High. He keep things civil when other people are around, but the moment you’re alone it gets hot and heavy pretty quick. He’s intense in all matters of life, and with you it wouldn’t be any different.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It’s the one thing that for sure knocks him out, even when the stress is sky rocketing. As soon as you’re both comfortably tangled in each other and he feels you relax he’s out. He had a no sex on run night’s policy, but agreed it made no sense with how well he slept after with you in his arms.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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simpjaes · 9 months ago

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hi i just stalked the crap our of your page and HOLY CRAPTHIS IS MY NEW GUILTY PLEASURE

can i req seeing how enha hyung line would take care of you after railing you soooooo hard????

hyung line + aftercare after very intense sex

warning: uh....painful sex, fainting, dissociation, anal, implied squirting, degradation, idk just a lot of intense sex stuff ig

note: it's a lil messy, i've been running errands all day and am using this to push myself back into the writing brain :D

★ heeseung:

what i wanna say is that depending on the circumstances, he'd probably throw a towel at your head and walk away to shower alone but we all know heeseung is so much more than a careless fuck boy for the most part. in my opinion, if he's got you where he wants you and he's allowed to fuck you as hard as he can, rendering you faint, dizzy, and almost dissociated, he either has some sort of feelings for you, you're someone else's girlfriend and he wants you to like him more, or you're already in a committed relationship lmfao

and you know, you thought that after he managed to pull three orgasms out of you, fucked all three of your holes, and managed to get you all twisted up for him to cum in places he definitely isn't supposed to, you really thought he was done.

but then he chuckles, taking one look at you once his own mind clears from his orgasm and it's like...how could he not just continue to fuck you? you look so pretty already fucked open, lying there with tears in your eyes and shaking?

you'd hear something akin to "you're gonna take a bit more, open those eyes back up for me," and "i can tell you can take it, just keep your eyes on me."

it's kind of pathetic, actually, how you really do just lay there and take it until he says you're finished.

so, yeah, when you're with someone like heeseung, there's always a thought in your head about if he'll even take care of you at all after the fact. at least, the thought is there before he breaks your brain. even if every time before this where he's needed to bring you back, he has without question and with a voice from him that is always so rare to hear.

just kinda hard to imagine someone who fucks you near to the brink of passing out, sometimes actually passing out, finding it within themselves to take care of you as deeply as they fuck you, yknow?

but, time and time again he has to remind you that he's not only capable but willing to make sure you're well taken care of. after all, you do your part in taking it, so he'll do his part in giving you what you need too. only after scooping half the mess with his fingers and feeding it to you, of course.

after that though? he's very much hauling you off for a warm shower and tenderly washing you. very very gentle with his hands, knowing how sensitive your holes are. he'd compliment you, he'd praise you for letting him absolutely destroy that ass, and ultimately, lay you to sleep next to him regardless of what the relationship status is, making sure you're well aware that he's not just using you for pleasure. he's very much appreciative of what you bring to his bedroom, and there's no reason to pretend he isn't.

☆ jay:

i like to think that jay would have you in fucking pain and barely able to stand on your own two feet by the time he allows you to close your legs with deep groans as you try to catch your breath.

honestly, the stamina this man has and actively spends on you could render anyone immobile for at least a week with the way he snaps his hips and holds you down from wiggling away in sensitivity. and man, the things he'd fucking say to you through it. so degrading, so controlling and dismissive, entirely fucking insulting. you're shocked time and time again that even while knowing it's just sex talk, it still hurts your feelings every single time.

then again, he's aware of that. but you're so goddamn pretty when you're crying and moaning, it drives him insane to know you endure it for his pleasure.

you're soaked by the time it's over and done with, he's soaked, and honestly the swollen marks against your ass still burn intensely when he rolls you over on your belly to get a good look at his work.

always with a breathy "aw, baby, i really fucked you up this time, huh?" or a little "took it so well, you still can't even focus your eyes on me, can you?" before rubbing any and every pained mark he left on you.

after his own brain clears of the sex-fog, he'd wrap you up, really warm and tightly in his arms as if his hug would wipe away any of the spit and cum drying between your bodies, as if it could mask all of those insults he flung at you. still, he'd be fluttering hundreds of kisses against your neck and ears, whispering little compliments about how pretty you are when you're barely able to keep your eyes open, about how much he adores you, and how often he wishes you'd believe these words over the silly orgasm-fueled insults.

still whispering, throughout the entire session of his care after the fact. always loving that you let him harm you as long as he's healing you just as good. and he does, truly, with the back rubs and the showers, tons upon tons of sweet kisses. constant praise. he'd put your lotion on you and rub it in thoughtfully, occasionally some medicated cream if his fingernails dug in a little too deep.

always always always holds you against his chest when you drift off to sleep, making sure any pain in your body feels more like love than anything else, and promising time and time again that he'll make sure you always fall asleep knowing he loves you, and that he doesn't at all think you're a fuck-doll, that he wouldn't let his friends have their turn way you.

(i am madly in love with him, pls look away and stop thinking of him now thank u)

★sunghoon:

ah, sunghoon. yeah. sunghoon. this man would leave you a fucking mess of tears and drool, edging you for hours. hell, he edges you for fucking days just because he can. not at all because you've been bad, or a brat, or have managed to make him jealous.

this is one of those days. you could tell he came home with that look in his eye, grabbing your face and practically forcing you to lift on your toes just so he could whisper the planned torture against your tongue.

so, after the second day with you whining, fucking begging to be released from your prison of sensitivity and lust, maybe he gives it to you. maybe he wakes you up from a deep and much needed sleep with fingers harshly pinching your clit.

ah, the pain. that alone was enough to make you cum, and you did. unfortunately, he didn't like that very much so your new torture was to get off as many times as he expected you to.

after about, what, the seventh orgasm? you stopped counting, it was closer to eleven in the afternoon and he'd been giving it to you for hours, all over that little mishap.

an eight orgasm knocked your ass out, exhausted, spread out, fucked senseless. you could barely hold your head up, but he does it for you. first by your hair, but noting the look in your eye indicating that he really needs to stop by this point.

and sunghoon is the type that would stop at that point. something in his brain clicking and forcing him back into that perfect boyfriend persona, where the only thing in the world he wants to do is make you happy.

and he knows it's not that you're not happy right now, it's mostly just the fact that he thinks he broke you're brain and you forgot how to feel anything other than his cock ramming inside of you.

so, he'd remind you time and time again. how his hands can do so much more than choke you, and how his lips can be sweet and less bruising against your temple when you really need it. you'd feel entirely loved when he's taking care of the mess he caused. both physically and mentally for you. needing to bring you back to reality with soft touches and tight holds.

it worked every time, because by the next morning, you'd just be moaning and groaning about how if he hadn't of make you breakfast in bed, you may have very well slashed his tires for the amount of suffering he put you through.

☆ jake:

bro is taking care of you not only after sex, but the entire time during sex. there's not a single moment where he's intentionally trying to hurt you, or forcing you to take more than you can handle.

it just....kind of happens on nights like these. where his hands are clinging, and his throat is begging, and your body can't say no. with his pretty puppy dog eyes asking if he can try anal, with his fingers slamming too deep, with his grip on you so tight you know it'll bruise, with his ability to knock the breath out of you and not give it back until you're nearly blue in the face.

yeah, most of the intense shit is accidental, but god is he taking care of you. always apologizing but continuing, always promising to make it up to you, always feeding into your ego more than his own, reminding you that the pain his body lends only comes from the immense amount of need he has to practically crawl inside of you and live there forever.

it's kind of amazing actually, that someone who starts so gentle can also end with blood in his mouth from bitten lips and swelling bruises all over your body.

he tends to you hand and foot. carrying you where ever you need to go even if just to your closet three feet from the bed, dresses you, undresses you, fixes your hair, does your skin care, all while kissing the bruises and ignoring the fact that he knows he'll never have enough of you, and you're probably always gonna be in pain when he loses his control like that.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #jake smut #jay smut #sunghoon smut #jaeyun smut #jongseong smut #hardthots

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tofuxtea · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊 + “𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑” 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 | 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 + 𝙘𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dracule mihawk x fem!reader x shanks

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, threesome, cuckholding, fingering, praise (shanks), teasing + edging (mihawk), reader is shanks’ lover, shanks has both arms for the sake of the plot, porn with plot, “mama” and “sweetheart” are used by shanks, “darling” and “naughty girl” are used by mihawk, p in v sex, shanks watches mihawk fuck his girl and gets off to it!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 2.7k words. got this idea from the ending scene where mihawk brings shanks luffy’s wanted poster. they gave such divorced husbands energy and i fucking loved it so much. also what i wouldn’t kill to be in between these two anyways ??! [kinktober m.list]

“bring out the reserve booze, boys.”

your captain had loudly cheered upon discovering the bounty that had been set on an old apprentice of his. that was nearly four hours ago, a rowdy party slowly beginning to wind down.

a majority of your fellow crew-mates had passed out by now, strewn out around in the sand and drunkenly muttering incoherencies in their sleep. the rest were sharing stories by the fire they were lighting, seeing as the sun was giving its final fiery orange hue from the horizon. night would come not long after.

you were still among the living, slowly working on your third cup of the night while swinging in shanks’ hammock. the man himself was busy with the remnants of his crew while they started the nightly bonfire, laughing and celebrating with them.

you smiled towards the man before you broke out into a yawn, realizing you had partied pretty hard that night. it was starting to wind down anyways, who was going to miss you for the rest of it?

so you stumbled out of the hammock with your drink in your hand and started to where the red force had been docked for the week, pausing when you heard a familiar voice calling for you.

“where’re you off to, sweetheart?” shanks asked, playfully swatting at beckman and roux as they not-so-quietly shot suggestive jokes at their captain.

you only smiled back. “off to the ship. you can come join me in a few if you’d like.” you remarked before strutting off, shaking your head as you walked when you heard the boys’ whoops and shouts at the wink you’d given him.

you trekked through the sand for a while before you were aboard the red force, heading straight for yours and shanks sleeping quarters. yet once you ducked inside the dinette, you were stopped short with a shout.

mihawk, shanks’ old rival and the one who had informed them of one monkey d. luffy’s bounty, sat at the dining bench, yellow eyes piercing right through you the second you walked in. “good god, mihawk.” you clutched your chest. “what’re you doin’ in here?” you asked him, laughing lightly.

“the party’s out there, you know.” he replied lazily, swirling the glass he had definitely taken from the ship’s cupboard before taking a sip.

“i should be telling you that.” you squinted warily at his cup. “that better not be shanks’ stashed booze.”

oh, it most definitely was. you could tell by the color alone. how he’d even found it was a mystery, though. he never told anybody where he hid his special liquor. but you only rolled your eyes and took a seat beside him, slumping back with a sigh. “party’s almost over.” you replied softly. “i’m surprised you stayed for so long. figured you’d have a lotta marine work to tend to.”

“i don’t work for them.” mihawk quickly shot you a narrow glance. then he paused and his eyes lowered to his cup. “i’m surprised he asked me to stay.”

“ah.” you nodded understandingly as you took a sip of your own drink. “i was, too. it’s been a while since we’ve last seen you, you know.”

mihawk seemed to pick up on the little underlying suggestiveness in your voice and you noticed his eyebrows pinch together. but it wasn’t hardly the reaction you wanted.

truth was, you’d known him since he was shanks’ rival. the two engaged in battles constantly when they were younger, but over the years they grew farther and farther apart until they just stopped.

the two seemed to form a strange alliance a couple of years ago, which had unintentionally blossomed into something much more not long after that. with you being a key member of shanks’ crew and his lover, you often joined the two for drinks whenever they were together.

sometimes you guys would have too many. the first time it ever happened, it was completely unexpected. it was most definitely the alcohol that had you straddling mihawk’s lap, bucking into the hand between your legs while shanks watched the both of you, painfully hard in his pants.

the second time, however, was not the alcohol anymore. nor were the handful of times after that.

it went on for months. you were shared between the two men more times than you could count on your two hands. it had gotten to the point where you believed mihawk only wanted to pop up for drinks for that reason alone, seeing as the man would vanish not long after you and shanks would knock out. then, as his and shanks’ battles had been, he stopped coming by as often. and then he stopped completely.

the two of you tried to keep regular tabs on the man — not necessarily out of concern for his safety seeing as he had been deemed one of the seven warlords of the sea, but out of sheer curiosity — but eventually it became a second thought. while shanks was well aware that mihawk would never get off of his tail for any reason, you doubted that. at first you believed he was bored of the two of you. maybe he was looking for something new, which didn’t tie you into knots. maybe it was partly out of shame.

shame from having drunkenly fucked his old rival’s lover right in front of him. shame from having done it over and over for months. shame from having enjoyed it a little bit too much.

no matter the reason he once had, he was back now. he’d traveled from wherever he had once been to give shanks a piece of paper. a piece of paper that the crew would have stumbled onto regardless — seeing as the bounty that they were celebrating was the highest in all of the east blue. the kid would’ve become a ship-hold name in no time. and as you stared at the side of mihawk’s motionless face, you knew that he knew that, too.

“you’ve missed me, darling?” you knew he was baiting you the second that name left his mouth, and fortunately for him it was working. your lips slowly curled upwards into an impish smirk and you breathed out a weak laugh.

“you could say that.” you replied with a shrug. you weren’t planning on losing to his games so quickly. he’d made you wait so damn long, after all. “didn’t you?” feigning cluelessness, you leaned into him and slid your palm over his clothed leg.

mihawk didn’t flinch, glancing first at the hand that slowly started moving upwards and then into your eyes. for the first time that night, he stared at you. his eyes were squinted slightly like he was questioning your actions, even though he was well aware of what you were doing.

part of you had not an inkling of knowledge of what he was thinking about. he’d left his cup onto the table in front of him, letting you know you had his attention, but his expression was unreadable, as was his body. but all it took was one look into his yellow eyes that washed away all of your doubt. those never lied to you. you looked down at his lips, running your tongue over your own as you found yourself craving him. his touch, his lips, him.

he brought his hand up to your face, gently pinching your jaw between his fingers as he tilted your head back just a little bit. “i did.” he finally admitted after a long and tense silence. he spoke quietly now, like if he was even slightly too loud, the moment would end.

yet it still did. a noise coming from the entrance made both of your heads turn, and shanks froze as he shut the door behind him, eyeing the scene before him. then he broke out into a wide grin. “i see you got to her before i could.” he took his bottom lip between his teeth as he strode up to the table, eyeing you like a piece of meat. “how ‘bout we take this to bed before the others come lookin’ f’me, hm?”

you could smell the booze on his breath as he pulled you to your feet. you followed him to the room you shared with him, mihawk at your side with his hand pressed into the small of your back. you swore you could see a gentle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he walked, but you’d forgotten all about it once the door shut behind you and shanks pounced on you.

his lips crashed onto yours, wasting no time to push his tongue into your mouth. you moaned, all of the fight leaving your body as he guided you towards the bed. he had a tight grip on your wrist, his other hand squeezing your exposed hip with lust-fueled fervor. you could feel mihawk’s gaze on the both of you and soon you heard his coat hit the ground. your top was next, shanks releasing you only to peel the tight shirt from your torso and toss it aside.

both pairs of eyes shamelessly raked down your naked body, shanks wasting no time to get rid of your shorts next.

“don’t just stare now, mihawk.” you spoke with a devilish smile as you sat yourself on the edge of the bed. the man got the message and followed you, slotting himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. you gently squeezed his hips with your thighs with a giggle before pulling him down into a heated kiss, grasping the brim of his hat and throwing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. mihawk groaned against your lips and he bucked into your clothed heat, drawing a whine from you.

your fingers raked through his hair, pulling at his dark ruffled curls each time he would rock his hips into yours. “mihawk,” you purred his name into his ear the moment he pulled away, enjoying the way his breath slightly hitched at the sound of your voice. your hand dove between your bodies and you desperately tugged at the waistband of his pants. “please. need you so badly.” you mindlessly babbled on.

“i’ve never seen her this desperate,” shanks whispered as he crept up behind you on the bed. “c’mon, mama, use your words. tell him where you want him.” the red-haired man looped his arms underneath your armpits, pulling you flush against his chest. he spoke tauntingly, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he looked down at you.

you whined, eyes squeezing shut with what felt like agonizing pain. “need you inside me, please.” you writhed in shanks’ hold, trying to rut up into mihawk’s clothed erection.

“you’ve already made her wait this long.” shanks now stared at mihawk with a lazy grin, waiting to see what he’d do next.

he shot shanks a narrow glance before turning back to you, eyeing the tears that were welling in your waterline because of him. “i suppose i have.” your eyes lit up at his confession and you waited for him to fulfill your wishes.

instead, he lifted himself off of you, completely deaf to your garbled protests, and lowered himself onto his knees beside the bed. you jumped when he pressed the pad of his finger against the damp spot on your panties, his eyes finding yours. “already so wet and i haven’t even touched you yet. naughty girl.” he spoke lowly as he hooked his slender fingers into the waistband of your panties and peeled them down your legs.

mihawk hooked your legs over his shoulders as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. you very poorly bit back a cry and let your head fall back onto shanks’ shoulder. he laughed softly.

“so noisy already, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

mihawk’s lips drew closer and closer to where you needed him most, drinking up every single noise you made because of him. his hand left your thigh and he started circling your clit with his thumb, watching your face morph with pleasure. you writhed around, wanting so desperately to squeeze your legs shut or card your fingers through his hair, but shanks had your arms restrained behind your back.

you bit your lip to keep your cries from spilling out each time mihawk brushed over your sensitive clit. the sensation was already winding up the coil in your gut and you could feel your orgasm building up fast.

“c’mon, sweetheart, let us hear those pretty noises. for us, hm?” shanks cooed into your ear, one of his arms releasing its hold on you to grasp your jaw, his thumb pushing past your lips and onto the flat of your tongue.

you gasped at the intrusion, and mihawk took your moment of weakness to slide his middle and ring fingers into your cunt. you choked against an obscene moan, and your walls clenched around his digits.

“there we go.” shanks mumbled, satisfied as more and more moans spilled from your mouth with each thrust of mihawk’s fingers. “ya sound so pretty for us, mama.”

mihawk was unrelenting, thrusting his fingers inside of you to the knuckle and keeping the pace he knew melted you every time. he could sense your orgasm nearing as your cries grew higher and your thighs started to tremble in his grasp.

he kept going until you were just about to come crashing down, your eyes squeezed shut with anticipation when he suddenly pulled his fingers out.

a sob tore from your throat. “no, nonono, mihawk!” you tried to chase after him as he lifted himself to his feet, but shanks held you securely in place.

it was pitiful, really.

“no need to cry, darling, you’ll get what you want.” mihawk towered over you, gently wiping the fat tear that had rolled down your temple. it was then that you became aware of the distance shanks had put between you and himself. your arms were freed from his grasp, but it wasn’t like you had the strength or mind to use them.

mihawk’s other hand swiftly nudged his pants down his hips, just enough to free his hard cock, before swooping down to catch you in a deep kiss. you moaned into his mouth, drinking in the taste of booze that still lingered on his tongue.

the man pushed himself inside of you, groaning softly into your ear as your velvety walls sucked him in. you cried out and grasped his arms to try to keep yourself grounded. “mihawk!” you moaned when he started thrusting, his pace already unrelenting.

you could hear shanks just beside you, groaning lowly at the sight before him while he jerked his aching cock in his fist. he stared at your face, which was twisted up with utter pleasure, through hooded lids.

a cry slipped from your lips with each of mihawk’s slow, deep thrusts. it was a feeling so familiar yet so foreign after so long of not having him. you’d almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you up, how he was able to hit every single blissful spot inside of you.

you clung to him, your nails gently digging into his skin while he planted sloppy kisses to your neck. you knew they would blossom into bruises that you wouldn’t be able to explain to the rest of the crew the next day.

it didn’t take much longer before you were close, barely able to warn mihawk of your quickly approaching orgasm. but he already knew. he could tell by the way your eyes squeezed shut and how your whines had gotten much higher than before.

“that’s it, darling. just let go.” his palm soothingly slid up and down the side of your waist while he fucked you through your orgasm. your knuckles went white with how tightly you held his biceps and your head lulled back as a string of incoherent curses and moans flew from your swollen lips.

shanks’ breath hitched at the unfolding scene. “fuck, you look so pretty when you come, sweetheart. just for us.” he spoke against gritted teeth as his own orgasm washed over him, thick ropes of cum painting his own hand.

mihawk pulled out moments later, his seed landing on your lower stomach with a groan. his hooded eyes lingered on your cunt, messy with your own cum as it started to drip out of you. the sight nearly made him hard again within seconds.

you laid still, taking a minute to catch your breath when a low laugh from shanks made you pick your head back up.

“don’t fall asleep on us now, mama, we ain’t done yet.”

something about shanks and the word “mama” has done something irreversible and irreparable to my brain chemistry.

#kinktober #one piece kinktober #one piece shanks #shanks #shanks op #shanks smut #shanks one piece smut #one piece smut #shanks op smut #op smut #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk smut #mihawk smut #shanks x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk op smut #mihawk x shanks x reader #mihawk x shanks

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

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Cinnamon - (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing.

♡ One Shot Inspo: Cinnamon invokes lust and is considered an aphrodisiac. It can be used in love spells as well as for sex magic. Burn cinnamon to stimulate your spiritual powers and increase your psychic ability and awareness.

♡ Summary: Carmy hasn't had pussy in 2 weeks....he nearly died (he's a drama queen, but you love it) So, being the loving amazing GF you are you Mountain Dewed it up down left right (oh!!) switched it up like Nintendo - and did it so well you put his ass to sleep. (I listened to Espresso the whole time writing this its literally all I could think about hahahah)

♡ W/C: 4,140

♡ Posted Date: 05/12/2024

♡ A/N: HEYYYY!!! Okay okay so MORE STAGEFRIGHT because the amazing wonderful talented goddess level writer @l4long-winded sent in ♡THIS♡ big brain beautiful ask, and let me tell you I had some THOUGHTS!!! I have such a worship kink so .... yeah this was v fun to write. I hope you love reading as much as I loved writing. My dear please send in a request whenever you want!! Requests are open per usual :D

♡ Warnings for BTC: Kinda Sub!Carmy, Smut, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, No use of physical descriptors, Black!Fem!Reader friendly (i'm pretty sure pls tell me if smth needs editing!), Kinda Virgin!Carmy, Not edited (we die like men)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been quite literally a fortnight since Carmy had been able to fuck you. It was all he’d thought about, well - when his brain wasn’t busy going a million miles an hour about the restaurant, which is exactly what had taken up so much of his time lately. He’d usually be grateful for this kind of work, the kind of work that he’s going in at 3:15 and not getting home until 11:30 pm or midnight when you were already fast asleep.

He was exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually - but sexually?! He wasn’t sure he had ever been so wound up before. His nightly sessions of jerking his cock in the shower, biting his hand to keep as quiet as he could while he thought of the view of you when he came in that night. One leg hoisted up, nightgown ridden up over your ass. The one you knew he loved, and some of his favorite panties.

You called them your lazy girl panties because you told him you only wore them when you weren’t expecting anyone else to see them, but that very fact meant drooled over them. The slight discoloration from being so old, the little threads hanging off the leg holes and waistband. The tiny hole right in the waistband that he loved to thumb with while cuddling in bed.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

That had been how long he had gone without being inside of you. He didn’t know his dick could get depressed, but his dick was fucking depressed. Getting off felt like a chore. When he’d jack off, he took an extra 15 minutes yanking on the thing because he could barely cum anymore, even though his balls were aching like he needed to.

Every time he got home, he’d stand in the doorway, just watching you. You would be peacefully asleep, chest lightly rising and falling, your beautiful body covered by some loose sleep thing. A loose sleep thing that he fantasized about ripping off into shreds.

Tonight though - he could cry. You were up - you were fucking awake. Through his own selfish desires he didn’t even realize it was abnormal, the only thing he could think about was the blood rushing to his cock at the mere idea you could possibly potentially be in the mood. “Baby?!” He nearly tripped over his own two feet rushing to your shared bedroom.

You were sat up on the bed, book on your thighs - a loose nightgown that accentuated your curves and hugged your peaked nipples uncovered by any bra. He could bust in his pants and all you were doing was reading. Reading what? He could care less honestly because his cock was starting to hurt.

You sat up, putting your legs over the side of the bed to get up and greet him “Bear! How was work love? I wanted to stay up so that we could - what’re you…” you trail off confused as he slinks to his knees before you, between your thighs and lifting up your leg, putting the top of your foot to his lips.

“In…22 minutes” he starts between kissing up your bare ankle and calf “it..will have been..15..days..” he stopped at your thighs, his cheek smushed against the flesh, he looked like he could both cry and that he was coming home. “Since I touched you. Please. Please baby - can I make you feel good? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin. “Please princess? I’m dyin’ here. I’m fuckin- I literally cut my hand t’day thinkin’ bout you. I fuckin need you” he kissed over each little tiny inch of your flesh. He was…worshiping you.

The idea sent waves of warmth flooding your core. “Yeah baby?” You took his hand, seeing a bandage over his knuckle and kissing it gently.

The feeling of your lips to his skin made him whimper “please- please please please” he begged, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you through his bangs, pushing his hair back quickly before his hand found your calf once again, rubbing little strokes into it “please?” He asked softly, his big blue eyes blown wide with lust.

You gently cup his cheek “and who’s fault is it?” You were teasing now. But you knew the bastard loved a challenge, and you also had been horny and your fingers were nothing compared to Carmys.

“Mine. It’s mine. My stupid fuckin job angel I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, how can I make it up? What can I do pretty? Mm? I’ll do whatever you want” he begged you and kissed over your knees and calves, pressing short little pecks to the skin. You grabbed his greasy curls at the root, raking through a few of the knots gently before pulling him to look at you and he moaned gently at the sudden firmness

“Do you know I’ve been fingering myself to fall asleep. All alone - for all those days you said. My poor hand” you held it up and he brought it to his lips on instinct, kissing the pads of your fingers before opening his mouth expectantly. “Good Bear” you purr and his eyes flutter shut as you stuck in your middle and ring fingers, slipping them over his tongue. He moaned at the contact, not holding back.

You smiled a bit, tugging his jaw open and he looks up at you, cheeks flushed and drool beginning to drip down his chin. “You’re pretty” you said softly and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sucking on them gently, not breaking your gaze. Your stomach flips with excitement, your panties becoming uncomfortably wet but you weren’t going to let that show. He deserved to beg.

“Do you deserve to be sucking on my fingers though?” You pull them away suddenly and he gasps a bit a the unexpected emptiness of his mouth, a pathetic little pout appearing on his lips.

“No” he said softly and you grab his cheeks, smushing them gently “but I can make you feel soooo good - you deserve it” he told you and you pat his cheek gently with your hand, your wet fingers leaving a glistening streak on his cheek.

“I know I do. Are you gonna eat me out? Like a good boy?” You laid back on your elbows, spreading your thigh and resting one of your feet on the edge of the bed, showing your panties that had grown a large wet spot during your conversation. He watches every move you make, his eyes focusing on the wet spot you sighed softly, deciding to take pity on him. “You can sniff my panties, you little freak” you giggle and he looked up at you like a kid on Christmas

He wasted no time shoving his nose right in the wetness, inhaling your sweet yummy scent and groaning “thank you” he mumbled into the curve of your ass, his hot breath against the skin causing your clit to twitch and goosebumps to appear on your skin. You feel him taking another deep breath and nuzzling his nose back and forth to get deeper like a dog and you couldn’t help but giggle, raking through the knots in his curls as he stuck out his tongue and caught the fabric of your panties with his teeth, sucking the juices out of the fabric and moaning hotly.

His hands were everywhere, rubbing over your calves, your thighs, your stomach, pushing your nightgown over your tits and rolling a peaked nipple between his fingers. You bit your lip, head falling back slightly and grinding your hips into his face, using his nose to get yourself off. “Go ahead Bear take off your jeans, you’ve been good t’night and I know you’re probably hurting” you told him

He sighed into you gratefully “y’too nice t’me” he kissed over your clothed pussy a few times as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, the anticipation was killing him.

“No me being nice would be telling you that you could touch yourself. And no dripping on my carpet” you told him as he pushed his boxers and jeans enough to let his cock free that was indeed dripping already. His boxers were creamy and wet with pre, he had been pathetically grinding against the boxspring as he sucked your panties like it was his life source.

“Shit-“ he said, wrapping a fist around his weeping tip as he continued tonguing and nosing at the fabric between your legs. “Can I- c-can I please?” He begged pathetically, that softness to his voice you loved so much. A sweet whiney grunt leaves his lips as you pull his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“What have we talked about? Use your words.” You said firmly.

“Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing.

“I wanna cum twice before you even think about touching yourself. Also take your shirt off you’re way overdressed for my taste.” You dropped his hair and he nods obediently, standing and shoving off his jeans and tugging his shirt off by the neck in that stupid jockish way that had you wanting to shove him down back first on the mattress and ride him until his balls were empty.

Instead you kept your cool, crossing your arms over and slipping your nightgown over your head before taking off your panties, flicking them at him playfully to which he balled them up and pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. This caused you to laugh as you adjusted your pillow to lay back, spreading your thighs and gathering some of your wetness from your hole, dragging it up to your clit and rubbing little circles into it.

“Mmm are you gonna keep sniffing those like a pervy-puppy or are you gonna come make good on your promise. I’m surprised this poor hand hasn’t fallen off” you teased and he dropped the panties where he was standing, coming and crawling on the bed, laying in front of you and hoisting your thighs over each of his shoulders

“Mmm” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut and leaning in, resting his cheek on your thigh and inhaling. “Smell so fuckin’ good” he mumbled “mouth is literally watering” he kissed your inner thighs sweetly, ravishing the skin in gentle affection. “God I missed this fuckin missed this s’much. Every morning this pretty fuckin pussy is just beggin me” he kissed your mound gently, dipping his tongue out and moaning at the taste of sweat and lotion on your skin, lapping it up like a life source.

“Yeah? I think you’re the beggar” you mused, jaw falling slack as he licks a stripe up your heat, moaning pathetically at your taste. His eyes rolled back slightly before fluttering shut in pure bliss “mmm so pretty baby” you coo and he smiled slightly, his cheeks a blushy pink that matched the tops of his ears. He nuzzled into you, nose rubbing over your clit in the way that made you gasp, your toes curling lightly “good boy” you praised, voice breathy and light

“Taste so good” he mumbled into your cunt, squeezing your thighs gently with his tattooed fingers. He moaned into you, watching you with wide lustful eyes.

“Those pretty eyes” you said softly, gently brushing his warm cheekbone with your knuckle and he hums into you gently. He sucked your folds between his lips, pulling away slightly and rubbing your thighs up and down with his calloused palms, squeezing gently. You moaned hotly and couldn’t contain the cry that followed when he finally stuck his middle finger in your dripping hole, hips bucking to try and get more of him.

“So soft, so so soft” he mumbled into your clit before kissing it gently and taking the now swollen throbbing bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly. His fingers twist and curl as he pumps them in and out at a languid pace. You felt that familiar jolt of pleasure as the pad of his finger brushed your g spot.

“Augh- ah- yes bear” you mewled, “right there- there” you grab his wrist and squeeze it and in response he curled his fingers the same way and you dug your feet into his shoulder blades in pure extacy, causing him to grunt into you and curl and uncurl his fingers in a rhythm that had your eyes screwing shut and loud strings of curses and moans tearing from your chest as you came undone over his fingers, dripping down his wrist already. But with how long it had been since you had him this way, that was to be expected.

“Good - good bear good bear” you mumble praise as your orgasm washes over you he works you through it, resuming pumping his fingers - your dripping arousal being able to be put to use as lube. The schlick,schlick,schlick sound of his fingers is what you come back to, your mind fuzzy and swimming through a warm sea of pleasure, sweet jumbled moans and whimpers coming from your lips.

“God you sound so fuckin’ pretty baby I love you so fuckin much m’so sorry m’so sorry I haven’t been around as much” he mumbled into you and you shake your head

“S’okay shhh- shh just keep doin’ what you’re doin’” you push his head back down, watching as his eyes flutter up to look at you and he sweetly offers his other hand for you to hold, your heart melting at the gesture. “Such a sweet boy” you coo, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He smiled a bit in response nuzzling his nose against your clit, his lips making cute little smacking noises against your cunt.

“You’re so messy” you giggle a bit, seeing as the tip and bridge of his nose were wet with your slick, as was his chin and entire mouth area. “Your face is so wet baby” you told him and he looked up at you

“Mmm m’neck is wet too” he paused to say before resuming and you gently caress his cheek, the only sounds filling the room being the wet drill of his fingers and the smacking of his lips, like he was trying to devour a popsicle before it melted.

You felt your second orgasm quickly approaching, your walls fluttering around his fingers, he curled up into that spot and that was your undoing once more, your hips pushing back into the mattress and spine arching off the bed towards the ceiling slightly as your orgasm crashed over you with no mercy to be had.

“Jesus- fuck!” You cried out and he held your thighs open for you so you wouldn’t crush him by mistake, your hands shaking as you went to wipe the tears that had gathered in your eyes that were screwed shut from the intensity and Carmy stops you, carefully wiping your cheeks with his dry hand and removing his other carefully, wiping it dry on the sheets he always changed for you afterwards and cupping your face while you came down.

“You did so good baby, so so good” he kissed your forehead gently, rubbing your hair and caressing your back with loving strokes. When you were finally coherent enough once again, although you were exhausted - you realized Carmy was still rock hard, pitching a full tent in his boxers that were wet with pre as he coaxed you through your orgasm.

“That’s gotta hurt” you told pull the fabric, causing his cock to come down with it and when you release it it springs back up to full standing causing you to giggle a bit

“Mm does but m’back. I can’t go t’night babe. I was gonna go take care of it in the shower don’worry” he yawned, rubbing over his face you furrowed your brow, slightly offended.

“What? Is my pussy not good enough?” You teased

He looked at you quickly “wha- no - I mean- I mean yes? No- no your pussy is good your pussy is- is perfect I fuckin’ love y’pussy but I can’t go tonight baby my back fuckin’ hurts” he explained

“I can ride you you know” you said and his big blue eyes widened a bit. You’d been together for 6- no 7 months, and it was true you’d never ridden him, not yet anyway.

Carmen was a missionary man, not in the boring way, in the way that he’d get home from work and fuck your brains out while going on and on about his frustrations from the day.

People wouldn’t usually call it dirty talk, but something it turned you on more then anything that between calling you perfect and beautiful and made for him that he was just casually going on about his shitty day like his balls weren’t essentially spanking your ass with how hard he needed it.

“Uh- oh-o-okay. Yeah. Sure- I. Mmhmm” he said and fixed his pillow, adjusting his hips for you “hop on I guess” he said shyly and you laughed at his sudden switch in attitude.

“Have you never been ridden you poor thing?” You asked and his cheeks went cherry red as well as the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose as you straddled him easily, resting your hands on his abs for leverage.

“No.” He muttered. “I- I just…I dunno it never..came up” he swallowed thickly, averting your gaze nervously.

“Hey.” You said “eyes” you told him and his eyes met yours immediately, “I’m honored to be the first person, yeah? I’ve told you a billion times bear - I love you. I love being able to show you new ways to feel good, it makes me so excited” you held his hips gently and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, needing to be touching you somehow.

“It just…it doesn’t make me seem like…like a bitch does it?” He mumbled shyly, insecurity lacing his voice. You tucked your hands under his warm back, laying yourself over him fully, embracing him and resting your forehead on his.

“You know how I feel about that word, and no it doesn’t make you seem less manly baby. If anything, it’s super sexy and it’s so sweet that you felt brave enough to tell me. Thank you for telling me. I’ve heard for the guy it feels really good cause all you gotta do is lay there, you wanna try sweetheart?” You ask softly, kissing the bridge of his nose gently and a small smile forming on your lips when you tasted yourself on your lips upon pulling away.

“Yes please” he said softly, eyes fluttered shut as you cover his face in little butterfly kisses.

“That’s my brave bear” you place a kiss to the base of his throat and he smiles a bit, cheeks going redder by the second. It was adorable how shy he got when you showed him affection like this, you knew he adored it more then anything - but he’d never be brave enough to ask for it - at least not yet.

You sit up, “can I touch you baby?” You confirm, rubbing your hands down his stomach and his abs tighten at the contact. In response he nods, swallowing thickly and goosebumps rising over his skin. His cock twitches as you grab the waistband of his boxers “so sweet and responsive” you said softly, tugging them down easily as he lifted his hips for you slightly.

“Jesus” you mutter at the sight of it, the tip weeping and pink crying to be touched. “Poor thing, you’ve been neglected- has Carmy been abusing you in the shower huh?” You said in the direction of his cock with a playful voice of concern.

“Jesus fuckin Christ-“ he chuckled, covering his face with his arm a big goofy smile on his face. “You are gonna kill me”

You smiled big, leaning down and licking a stripe up his length and he whimpers softly, abs and stomach clenching at the contact, a large bead of pre gushing from his slit that you catch with your tongue. He shivers adorably, groaning at the feeling of you licking over his sensitive tip. “If y’keep fuckin doin’ that ‘m gonna cum” he breathes, the vein in his neck present seeing as he was holding himself back, his balls drawing up and releasing in a rhythm.

“Jesus baby i dunno if you’ll last that long we’ll have to do this again so you can get the full experience mm?” You grab his shaft, lining you two up and slipping it through your soaked folds, he let out a breathy moan, back arching slightly and you let out a sweet ‘mmm’ when his tip bumps your clit.

“Please please please can I be inside you please” he begged pathetically, voice whiny and shaking - he was going to be coming undone very soon you could tell, which is why he was desperate to be inside of you before he was too soft to do so.

“I dunno can I see those pretty eyes?” You asked, he was still hiding behind his arm, likely still feeling embarrassed this was his first time but you weren’t going to allow that. He shyly removed his arm, looking up at you and swallowing nervously.

“H-hey” he said softly and you smile softly

“There’s my bear” you leaned in, kissing him lovingly as you sink down on him fully, his jaw goes slack so you settle for kissing his chin and cheeks and nose “Feel good?” You giggle into his skin and he lets out a pathetic little ‘uh-huh’

“H-holy oh god” he groaned when you simply roll your hips, getting yourself off with the friction of the curly patch of brunette curls at the base of his cock. You sat up, using his chest as leverage to find a good rhythm bouncing on him and he nearly growls, a sound you’d never heard him make.

“Ooo am I releasing the bear?” You teased and he chuckled a bit

“Shut up- fuck Jesus oh god” his head falls back on the pillow “i-i-shit” he rambled and you giggle a bit, causing him to whine at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you continued to ride his cock with all the tricks you could remember.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked you so quiet before” you tease, sure your hips and thighs were burning from how quick you’d built up to moving, but his eyes were practically rolling back and the whimpers you were drawing out of him were nothing short of heavenly. He was shaking for Christ sakes. “Are you gonna cum? Mm? Y’gonna fill me up baby?” You asked him, rubbing his chest gently

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with those big blue eyes, blown out fully with lust, pants falling from his lips and his dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Mm-mmhmm” he moaned out, grabbing your hips to have something to hold and the action making him realize he could help you move. His jaw dropped slightly at the realization and he looked up at you for approval.

You smiled and nod a bit “you can help honey- that’s really nice of you” you said and he helped push and pull you off his cock, he looked down, mesmerized by the view of his cock burying inside of you, he pushed you down with more force and you moaned, “just like that baby, you want it harder huh?” You ask and he nods quickly so you rolled your hips a bit harder.

He bit his lip, nose scrunching up cutely. He was holding back. “Bear- I know it feels good but you can cum, you need to sleep” you cup his cheek gently and he looked up at you like a sad puppy

“It feels s’good baby” he whined and you nod, stroking his cheek gently.

“I know honey. We can do it again t’morrow night yeah?” You kiss his forehead and with that he releases into you with something resembling a cry covered with a grunt, of course he had to cover it. He pulled you into a deep messy kiss, wrapping his arms around your back, rubbing gently and reaching down to squeeze your ass, feeling cum dripping out of you down over his balls. He smiled a bit, pulling away to ask “Mmm can we sleep like this?”

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