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rememberwren · 8 months ago

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Complicated Pleasures

OR: Home Videos. You (fem!reader) and Ghost have been married for years when your prodigal friend Johnny finds out that you make and post porn together. Feelings happen. 13k

About this: m/m, f/m, oral f and m receiving, anal sex, PIV, kink, pornography, sir kink, slight objectification, objectionable writing, soft!simon, very soft fic altogether, cum sharing.

((A video begins.

A bed in a tidy room. Identifying features have been hidden: pictures placed face down on the nightstands, blinds drawn tight until the room is cast in a cool glow. A woman sits amongst the nondescript bedspread and sheets, her legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her thighs, naked except for the mask that does little to truly obscure her face.

Once she knows the video has begun, it is like she blooms, arms and legs falling away to reveal the soft petals of her nakedness: the plains of her body, the angles and curves. She’s near perfect, Soap thinks, already fisting his hard cock.

She looks almost exactly like you.

Then a man walks around from the other side of the camera, and Soap’s heart leaves his body.))

“Johnny!” you say brightly, throwing open the front door. In streams the cold air and bright sunshine reflecting off the snow, and in steps Johnny with snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, gifts wrapped in bright shades of gold and silver tucked beneath one of his arms.

He stomps his feet, boots shedding packed snow on the doormat, and leans in to deposit the gifts a safe distance away so that he can open his arms and gather you up in them. Your fingers tangle in his jacket, holding him close. He is warm even after coming in from the snow, his scent like Christmas itself: woodsy pine and crackling fires. You feel Simon’s presence appear in the living room doorway and begin to pull away, trying not to hog his friend, even if you desperately want to.

“Lookit you, bonnie as ever,” Johnny says against your ear. He lets you go, bending down to unlace his boots and call a greeting to Simon: “I see you brooding over there, LT. Happy Christmas to yeh.”

“No titles at Christmas, Johnny.”

“Yessir.”

“You didn’t need to bring gifts,” you scold him.

“Of course I did—it’s fucking Christmas,” says Johnny with a grin as he straightens. He passes you the gifts, a small package and a larger one, each wrapped by a practiced hand that you sense must not have been Johnny’s own. You wonder if there isn’t a girl in his life now—except you and Simon had extended the invitation to one, if so. Why he wouldn’t have brought her, you couldn’t understand.

Maybe his mum wrapped the gifts.

Simon and Johnny clasp hands which turns into a hug. Watching them together makes the dust settle in some riotous part of your heart. The two of them—their friendship—just makes perfect sense in its improbability.

Simon mutters something under his breath and Johnny nods, burying his face deeper into Simon’s broad shoulder. You have the perfect vantage point of Johnny’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, long lashes resting on his cheeks.

A timer in the kitchen goes off—the roast you’ve been cooking since the early morning hours. Excusing yourself, you disappear into the kitchen, pausing just beyond the doorway to press your chilly hands to your flushed cheeks.

Wine. You needed wine.

“So,” you begin once the three of you have sat down for dinner. “Fill us in, Johnny. What have you been up to?”

The unsaid words linger between you all, What have you been up to during the three years you left? Johnny gives a wane smile, and you think that maybe the time spent apart didn’t serve him nearly as well as he’d hoped it would—however he’d hoped it would. Simon sits at the head of the table, his ankle tangled against your own beneath the oak. It’s a comforting reminder of his presence, considering he lets you and Johnny do most of the talking for now.

“Whole lot o’ nothing,” Johnny says, sipping at the wine in his glass between sentences. “Traveled abroad fer a while. Spent some time in America, some time in South Korea.”

“Sounds like a nice place to meet people,” you say, aiming for subtlety the way a sledgehammer might. “I notice you didn’t take us up on our invitation and bring a lass with you.”

“No lass to bring, hen,” he says smoothly.

Simon’s ankle stirs against your own, some silent attempt at communication. When you glance over toward him, his eyes are on his plate, face stoic, revealing nothing.

“Any lads?” you guess.

Simon’s fork squeaks against his plate. Johnny stops eating. For a moment they both stare at you in shocked silence. Then a grin spreads over Johnny’s handsome face, blooming straight into laughter. He shakes his head, like you have said something very silly.

“No, no lads,” he says.

Simon’s ankle shifts again.

You reach for your glass of wine, face hot—

—and you don’t stop drinking.

Afternoon turns into evening, and by the time night falls, the three of you have drunk your way through three bottles of wine and successfully caught each other up on your lives to date. Simon and Johnny have slipped out onto the porch twice to smoke, bringing back in the scent of tobacco and snow, one you don’t mind at all. The fire in the fireplace burns low, crackling and spitting as the log splits. The room is strewn with torn gift wrapping. Simon has already unboxed the knife Johnny had made for him, testing its weight in his palm, testing the sharpness of the blade against the pad of his thumb. (Add that to the list of things which shouldn’t arouse you about Simon but do.)

It reminds you of the idyllic Christmases that you had reached for all your life and only ever skimmed with your fingers. You should have known that the missing piece was Johnny all along.

Wine drunk, you have kicked your feet up on Johnny’s lap at one end of the couch and curled your upper half on Simon’s lap at the other end. It is easy to fall asleep to the warm lull of their voices, swapping stories from their time in the military together.

But all at once, the subject matter changes, and it drags you from the threshold of sleep into some misty gray area in between a dream and wakefulness. Eyes still closed, you listen.

“I found you both, you know.” Johnny’s voice is barely more than a whisper, difficult to hear over the crackling fire.

“Don’t know what you mean, Johnny. We’re right here.”

“I found your videos.”

Your hands tighten into fists where you are clutching Simon’s shirt, eyes cracking open as you put the pieces together in your mind. But he’s smoother than you are, always able to keep a cool head. He sounds a little bored, a little confused as he asks: “What videos?”

“Never known you to play dumb LT. You know the ones I mean. The porn.”

A lengthy silence as Simon weighs his options and likely decides that there’s no use in lying. “You did, did you?”

“Aye.”

A pause.

“So that’s why you finally came back. Three fucking years she begs you to at least come for Christmas—who knew all it would take was a little pornography to put a fire under your arse.”

“That’s not—didn’t even find it until a few days ago, after I’d already said yes—“ Johnny says, voice rising in his defense.

“Careful. We don’t want to wake her up, do we?” Simon’s hand pets against your hair, softer than a kiss from the wind. Though he must know you’re awake, you’re grateful that he lets you pretend, lets you hide away while he handles this. “If she knew that you’d seen those videos, she’d be embarrassed. That would make me upset. You understand?”

“Aye,” he says, lowering his voice a little. He rests his hand against your ankle in his lap and then decides it’s not appropriate, shifts his hand back to his own thigh. You miss his touch. You’ve always missed Johnny’s touch more than you should miss the touch of your husband’s best friend. “But if you didn’t want people to see them, I don’t understand what you were thinkin’ posting them online.”

“Three guesses. No, go on. Never known you to be shy. Guess.”

Johnny wets his lips. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized.”

“There’s one.”

“You…you like it.”

“There’s two. Give us a third.”

“She likes it.”

You groan a little in embarrassment, turning your face away from where Johnny can see its profile, burying it in Simon’s lap. He’s hard, a fact you only realize when his jean-clad cock rubs against your cheek. You go still, eyes widening as this knowledge goes straight to the warmth that’s been stoked between your legs more often than the fireplace has tonight.

Simon’s hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, keeping you still and quiet. It reminds you of your last video, when he had taken you from behind and put his hand on the nape of your neck to urge your face into the bed, his hips snapping against your ass. Where had the camera been, then? You couldn’t remember. That was Simon’s one rule, besides the masks and never saying each other’s names: don’t look into the camera.

“So what do you plan to do with this knowledge, Johnny?” Simon asks. You hold your breath, still feigning sleep. “Who do you plan to tell? You know I don’t have anyone left who would give a fuck, but I’m sure you could find someone for her—someone who could shame her and make her feel bad for trying to feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no. I’d not tell a soul,” says Johnny fiercely. His hand comes to rest on your ankle again. This time he leaves it, thumb brushing the bone. “I swear it.”

“Then why bring it up at all?”

“I…I don’t know,” Johnny admits, head ducking. “I just had to. Spending time with yeh both, knowing what I knew—it felt dishonest.”

Simon hums. “You know what I’d like to know?”

“What’s that?”

“What our single friend was doing looking at couples porn.”

The night ends quickly after that. Simon carries you to bed—the bed where you film so much of the porn that Johnny has apparently seen—and helps you begin undressing while Johnny gets his boots on in the other room.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you breathe, quiet so that Johnny could not overhear if he happened to be standing right outside the door. Your head is spinning, and only partly from all the wine. Your face burns. Your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Johnny has seen the videos, the ones you and Simon cheekily dub ‘home movies’! God, how you will ever face him again is beyond you.

“Give me the word and I’ll throw him out,” says Simon. “We’ll never see him again.”

That makes a sick feeling rise up in the back of your throat. You look up at Simon and take in the somber, angry-adjacent expression on his face, and you know that he is serious. Simon never says a word that he doesn’t mean. But you can hear what he didn’t say, the words unspoken: it would kill him to do it. All their years spent watching each other’s backs, it would be hard to stab Johnny’s and leave him in the cold. Especially after the bliss of just getting him back.

You don’t want that. Not for Simon, not for Johnny. Not even for you.

“I like Johnny,” you affirm. “I just don’t know how I’ll face him.”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the pervert looking in through our window.”

“We’re the perverts fucking with the blinds wide open,” you remind him.

“I’ll see him out. Finish getting undressed,” he says, disappearing through the doorway. You hear the warm timber of his voice matched by Johnny’s and the sound of the front door opening. Two sets of boots crunch through snow, and now the voices are so far away that you can’t even make out their tone, much less their words.

Stripping the last of your clothes off, you roll onto your belly and bury your face in your pillow. Tonight had been going so well. It was hard to believe how far off course things had become. What was Johnny doing looking for couples porn anyhow?

You roll back over, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. The answer was simple: because it would get him off. It didn’t matter if it was tentacles to titjobs. He’d more than likely been looking up porn while he jerked off.

Had he realized right away that it was you and Simon and turned the video off in disgust? Or had it taken a moment for it to sink in? Had he cared at all?

Or had he jerked off instead? You realize you are rubbing your thighs together belatedly and force yourself into stillness.

The front door opens, Simon stomping inside and taking off his boots. When he joins you in bed, his cheeks are still cold, mouth minty from hastily brushing his teeth of tobacco and wine. You lean in and kiss him, looking for comfort. He kisses back, sweeping his tongue through your mouth, sucking on your lower lip.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you whisper when you both part, not necessarily out of truthfulness, but because you feel like you shouldn’t be in the mood.

“Wasn’t expecting anything.”

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Your embarrassment is a little lessened now, abated by the calm that Simon exudes from his pores. It’s hard to believe that anything in the world could go wrong that Simon couldn’t handle with a twist of his hand or a few choice words. After a while, you glance up to find him still awake, staring into the darkness of the room. He meets your eyes and gives you one of his rare, wane smiles.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

After a moment of silence, he says: “Our next video.”

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WAKING UP MY WIFE WITH MORNING SEX. Soap knows that he shouldn’t click on the link. The first time was an honest mistake, but anything afterwards is intentional—and unforgivable. If Ghost were to find out…Soap doesn’t even want to think about it.

Except why would it be wrong for Soap to do it but right for a bunch of strangers?

He doesn’t need to look down to know his cock is hard. Against his better judgement—or any judgement at all, really—he clicks the link. The video starts with Ghost in the frame, completely naked. He’s seen LT naked often enough (it’s unavoidable in such close quarters as they have shared) but he’s never looked, not like this.

Time has barely changed him. He is still fitter than any man has the right to be, thick with muscles that are for functionality and not just for show—though the show is still impressive.

While he’d always known that Ghost would be a sight to behold, seeing it in this context cements a fact in his brain, one that had sent him running years prior: he’s attracted to his closest friend. All the bad flirting disguised as taking the piss back when they were in the 141—it wasn’t just taking the piss. Not for Soap, at least.

In the video, Ghost exits the frame and crosses to the other side of the bed. He’s not wearing a mask this time but the upper half of his face remains solidly out of frame until it is offscreen again. You are positioned closest to the camera, laying on your side facing the audience. Your face isn’t visible, but your breasts are once Ghost draws the blankets down, down, and then down far enough to reveal your closed thighs.

Fuck, Soap wants to see your cunt. He grips his cock tightly and squeezes, watching raptly as Ghost loops an arm over you and begins to softly tease your nipples. Soap slips a hand up his shirt and thumbs at a nipple of his own, wishing it was the other man’s touch. His cock leaks where it lies thickly against his belly as he watches his former lieutenant tease you, trace figures over your naked body, and at last slip a hand between your thighs, working one of your legs over back of his own. Now Soap can see just a trace of your slit, so soft. It makes his jaws ache, makes him want Ghost to hold your thighs apart so that he can lick and suck you into a frenzy.

He can tell the exact moment you wake. Your body stiffens, mouth falling open as Ghost sinks two of his fingers inside you. One of your hands reaches down to grip at your husband’s forearm as you scramble into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Ghost says.))

The doorbell sounds, telling Simon that Johnny has arrived, but he lets his Sergeant wait out in the cold while the kettle finishes filling. A not-small part of him is still holding a grudge against Johnny for making you so embarrassed. It had taken time for you to come into your own. Courage. The videos had been your idea, whispered in the heat of the moment beneath the cover of darkness—but with time you’d been bold enough to talk about them over dinner. To read the comments with him and laugh. To watch the videos and end up in bed all over again.

Now he could see the hesitation in your eyes whenever he pulled out his phone.

Johnny’s expression is its typical one, open, friendly, when Simon opens the door. When he sees Simon, those blue eyes grow wide before he can curb the reaction. Johnny swallows, throat bobbing.

“Hey LT. Lookit you. Laswell really has yeh behind a desk now doesn’t she?” Johnny’s hand reached out like he’s going to touch the tie that still dangles from around Simon’s neck, but he thinks better of it.

Just another hunch of Simon’s proven right.

“What part of no field work confused you?” Simon asks, stepping aside to let Johnny in.

“No confusion. Just didn’t expect yeh to look so…” He trails off, eyes flittering over Simon from his combed hair to his dress shirt stretched tight across his chest to the dress slacks that cling to his thighs. “…fancy.”

“I don’t wear the tie for Laswell’s benefit. But you already knew that.”

Johnny flushes, as good an admission as any. Wisely, he says nothing, following Simon into the kitchen and taking an offered seat at the kitchen island. His eyes flicker around the room, similar to how they had on Christmas. Then, Simon had mistaken it for Johnny taking in the way things had changed—the wallpaper is new, as is the backsplash behind the oven and stove, there are new pictures on the refrigerator—but now Simon suspects that Johnny is remembering. Piecing together backdrops he has seen in their videos.

“The missus home?” Johnny asks, drumming his fingers on the granite.

“No. Work.”

Simon pours tea for two, even though Johnny hates tea, and slides it across the countertop to him. To his benefit, Johnny accepts it without complaint, warming his hands around the mug.

“I told her.”

Johnny doesn’t need to ask what or who—they’ve both been thinking about it since the moment he walked in. Simon watches as his face twists with naked regret. It tells Simon that Johnny really didn’t know that you were only feigning sleep on Christmas.

“Is she angry with me?”

“Embarrassed.”

Johnny looks outraged on your behalf. “She has no reason t’ be!”

Simon shrugs as if to say, This is what your curiosity bought her, Johnny. This is the price she’s paying. Johnny’s shoulders sag under the weight of his own guilt, elbows bracing themselves on the countertop so that he can put his face in his hands.

“Maybe,” says Simon, “it would make more of a difference if she heard it from you.”

Johnny looks up, brow furrowed. “Heard what from me? That I’ve seen her—like that?”

Simon’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “No. That she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Johnny turns the idea over in his head. He’s clever, but too blinded by his own desire to see the manipulation for what it is. What does it matter if it’s Simon’s idea or his own? Johnny is dying to talk to you.

“You’d give me her number?”

Simon shrugs.

“Alright,” says Johnny at length, drawing the word out. “I can do that. If you think it will help.”

Simon says nothing, sipping at his tea to hide any smugness behind his cup.

((The video begins in a kitchen, one Johnny has been in many times. You are there, back mostly to the camera, pressed against the granite island countertop. Simon is on the other side of you, consuming all your attention. Steaming Jesus, he’s huge compared to you, huge compared to everyone. He’s dressed in his work attire: dress clothes, dark tie in place. The effect is jarring in contrast with the mask.

Simon reaches up and works his tie loose and off over his head. You tilt your head down a little and on it goes, easy as anything. When Simon turns you to face the camera, the tie dangles between your bare breasts. One hand on the nape of your neck, Simon bends you forward towards the granite and Soap can tell the exact moment his cock slips inside you based on the way your mouth falls open, your eyes squeezing shut behind your own mask.

Soap isn’t sure who he’s jealous of more—you or Simon.))

Simon told me that he told you what I found. I just wanted to message you myself and say how sorry I am if I embarrassed you.

You sigh reading over the text message. Flexing your fingers, you give a quick glance toward where Simon lays dozing with his head against the back of the couch, feet up on the coffee table (the knife he got for Christmas rests on his chest; he’d been toying with it absently for the last half hour) and answer: There’s no reason to apologize. It’s not your fault I’m embarrassed.

It is though, isn’t it? You don’t care that other people see. You just care that I did.

You pause and bite at your nails, thinking over his words and how to respond. He’s mostly right. There had been an aspect of embarrassment at first when you and Simon began posting the videos (and that embarrassment had gotten you off to a certain extent, though it didn’t usually). But eventually that heated shame had melted away into eagerness for the camera. You’d read the comments on the videos, countless human beings talking about the various ways they masturbate to your sex with Simon, talking about the things they wish they could do to you, with you, with Simon.

So why was it so much more embarrassing knowing that Johnny had seen? Because he knew you. Because he’d seen the parts of you that you had purposefully covered up for the camera. No one was meant to see both sides—no one was meant to have all of you. Except for Simon.

But if somebody was going to do it, a small part of you is glad it was Johnny.

You’re Simon’s friend, you message back, curious. Didn’t it feel strange to see us like that?

Honestly? He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Not as strange as I might have thought.

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WIFE PRACTICES HER BLOWJOB SKILLS, the video is aptly titled. You are on your knees, hands tied neatly at the base of your spine. Simon sits at the edge of the bed, camera positioned perpendicular to you both, with a downward angle.

You lean forward and let his hard, flushed cock disappear past your lips deeper, deeper, until you reach the limits of what you can take without preparation or practice. His hand comes down to rest softly against the back of your head as you make yourself gag and choke around the thickest part of his cock. There’s no need to hold you down; Simon doesn’t even bother.

Soap’s jaw aches, desperate for a chance to be on his knees for Ghost like that. He could take more than you—he knows he could. Not that it had to be a competition, not when you both could share a cock that size and barely notice the other was there. He strips his own cock thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he lets the background noise of the video—Simon’s gentle praises, your whines and chokes, the wet gurgles of a throat being fucked—carry him over the edge.))

New Year’s Eve.

The house is full of bodies and laughter. You feel near-delirious with your own joy, never made happier than by the happiness of the people around you. Alejandro and Rodolfo had flown in and were staying in the guest house through the New Year, arriving only yesterday with enough luggage for four between the two of them; Kyle and his girlfriend; John and his wife; Kate and her partner; even Farah and her brother had made a pit stop to spend the evening with you on their way back to Urzikstan from the Americas.

The party had been BYOB, and everyone had taken to the sentiment and more. Farrah is mixing drinks in the kitchen, strong concoctions that even John struggles to keep down. Gaz and Alejandro keep insisting on shots (which you politely decline just as often as you agree. Simon drinks nothing, his tumultuous past putting him off of hard alcohol for good).

People are well and truly drunk by the time Johnny arrives. The whoops and hollers that fill the house have you thinking that midnight has come early. A swarm of bodies surround him, and he is forced to make the rounds hugging each person and being taken to task by them for being gone for so goddamn long.

He arrives at you before Simon, and his face softens, smile going a little unsure around the edges as he opens his arms for you, the first time he’s seen you in person since Christmas. You could rebuff him, but you also can’t. It’s Johnny. Nearly tripping to toss yourself into his arms, he lifts you a few inches off the floor, nose buried in your hair.

“Bonnie as always,” he whispers into your ear after putting you back down. His hand tugs teasingly on the short hem of your dress, like he is trying to lengthen it, knuckles brushing your thighs. You swat his hand away, face flushing with warmth. It wasn’t that short.

“Johnny,” Simon calls. The two men embrace, hug lasting longer than any other. In the distance, you see Gaz elbow Price, jerking his head toward the two men.

You put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, anxious suddenly. Simon draws back, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. He orders: “Get yourself a drink.”

“Yessir.”

“None of that.”

“Games? I was told there would be games,” Gaz says, situating himself between you and Simon. He’s dressed smartly in a dress-shirt with the collar undone. Someone has put a party hat on him, cone-shaped, to celebrate the New Year. You had managed to wrestle Simon into one for thirty seconds before the first of the company arrived; the memory makes you smile.

“I have Cards Against Humanity,” you offer.

“Oh, I love that game,” Kyle’s girlfriend says to your delight.

“No—no—we aren’t in middle school here,” Johnny says. “And if we are, then I want to play truth or dare so my chances of getting kissed tonight rises exponentially.”

“Come over here and they will,” Gaz offers.

“Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep, Garrick,” Johnny warns, grinning.

“Sounds like something a coward would say, all due respect—”

Then Johnny has a fistful of Kyle’s shirt, hauling him in for a bold though chaste kiss on the mouth. You are suddenly hyper aware of Simon beside you, standing tall and very still while everyone laughs and cheers at the men’s antics. You can’t deny it’s a pleasing sight, but a part of you feels irritated with the whole display.

“Jesus Christ,” John sighs, tipping his hat back on his head. “Soap’s right—if you’ve got a normal deck of cards, love, I know plenty of games for adults to play.”

“Not sure I want to play those kinds of games with you, John,” Kate says somberly to the laughs of everyone around her.

“We’ve got cards,” Simon mutters.

Farah calls to you from the kitchen, asking you to try her latest conglomeration of alcohol. Eager to be anywhere but there, you escape to the kitchen. You lift yourself up onto one of the stools at the island, taking the red plastic cup from her hand and sniffing it. Just the smell burns the hairs of your nose.

“Jesus, Farah, this could kill me,” you laugh.

“Pathetic,” she says with a grin to lighten her words. “I think I saw some apple juice in the refrigerator, would you like that instead?”

“Alright.”

“A warm glass of milk, perhaps?”

“You’ve made your point,” you say, eyes narrowing in good humor. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves (and stomach), you take a generous swig of the cup. Fuck, it burns going down and it burns in your belly, like swallowing a lit flame. You cough a little, trying not to gag, and hold up your thumb to her. “It’s great—so good—“

Simon comes to sit beside you at the island. He takes the cup, smells it, and raises both brows.

“Can I tempt you, Lieutenant?” Farah asks.

“No.”

“Then I won’t try. Where’s John, he’s never afraid of a challenge.”

Unseen to her beneath the island, fingertips brush your stocking-covered thighs. Your knees clamp together on instinct as you fight not to look over at Simon. What is he doing?

He strikes up a conversation with Farah about her time spent in the Americas. When his hand doesn’t move, your thighs relax a little. He was just being intimate; often he liked to have a hand on your back or his foot resting against your own beneath the table. It wasn’t his fault you were on edge. Your head spins a little, thanks to the shots and Farah’s drink. Planting one elbow on the countertop, you try to focus on her stories when Simon’s hand moves again, slipping further between your legs. The hem of your dress has ridden up so high in your seated position that it doesn’t take much for his fingertips to graze against the heated seam between your legs.

You clamp your knees shut again. He pinches your thigh softly, just enough to get the message through to you. Staring at Farah, hearing nothing, you spread your shaking knees again and let him cup you between your legs. Fuck. You tilt your hips, making as if to adjust your position on the chair. It only serves to bring you in closer contact with Simon’s hand. A groan is born and dies in the back of your throat.

He keeps you there, holding your cunt, having a fluent conversation with Farah while your brain melts out your ears. At length, he stands. Leaning down, he says in your ear: “Outside, two minutes. Go out the back.”

Then he disappears amongst the sea of people

Three minutes later you are shivering out in the snow. Your coat only helps so much with your legs bare save for your stockings. You hadn’t even had time to lace up your boots. Shifting from one foot to the other in the spotlight of the floodlights to keep warm, you cast glances left and right wondering from which direction Simon will come, wondering what he wants that couldn’t have taken place in doors.

At last he appears, looking far warmer than you in his olive green jacket and jeans, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You smile at the sight of him. He doesn’t smile back.

“Put your hands against the wall.”

“Simon?”

He sighs, running a hand over the curve of your waist, testing its fit in his palm. “Now I’ll have to edit that part out. Let’s try again. Put your hands on the wall.”

You see then the phone placed just-so in the breast pocket of his coat. The glossy camera lens stares back at you, no flashing red light, nothing nearly so 1999. But you knew it was filming. What was it seeing now? The house in the background, the cool blue siding and brick. You, face surprised, lips chapped from the cold weather lately, your sexy little golden dress nearly obscured beneath your coat.

“The time to back out is now,” Simon prods you.

But there’s no way you’re backing out, not after the kitchen. Not after the hazy arousal you’ve been walking around in all night just at the thought of seeing Johnny again. Turning around, you reach out with shaking hands and place them against the freezing cold siding. You can see your breath like a smoky plume with each of your frantic exhales as Simon’s hands grip your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and finding your stockings to tug them down around your knees.

“Got to keep quiet for me,” he says. “Can you do that?”

“Yessir,” you whisper, wishing you were close enough to the house to rest your heated cheek against it.

Simon gives a heavy exhale at your words and you grin, unseen.

Your panties join your stockings stuck around your knees. It doesn’t give you much space to spread your legs, but Simon is so lengthy that he doesn’t need the extra room. He doesn’t press against your back, ever-conscious of the camera and its angles, but you hear the sound of his belt being undone and like a Pavlovian response, it has you drooling between the legs. His cock is burning warm when it brushes against your ass, and you find yourself arching your back, seeking to put that heat inside you.

He hums, hands spreading you wide as he can for the benefit of the camera, even if the lighting isn’t the best to see your entrance.

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters. The position can’t be comfortable for him, but he’s never seemed to care about that. He reaches down to grip the base of his cock and guides the head inside you. It is a tight fit without any preparation, but he keeps the penetration shallow, rocking you back and forth on just the head, sometimes letting his cock slip free to brush against your aching clit. Your teeth clamp together, desperate to keep your sounds in—usually during home videos, Simon encouraged you to be noisy (“for the audience”). Now you found yourself struggling not to give in to the old habit.

All of the sudden, his hand is in your hair, turning your head, guiding it to change directions until you are looking at your footsteps in the snow leading back the way you came—

Until you are looking squarely at Johnny, standing nearly frozen in the snow at the edge of the house. He’s wearing his coat and boots, hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The darkness makes it hard to make out the subtlety of his features, but you can tell that his mouth is dropped open in an expression of near comical disbelief.

You barely manage to keep from choking out Simon’s name, your entire body going stiff—your cunt rippling around his cock. He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that has you squeezing your eyes shut. A whine slips free from your throat and the wind must carry it straight to Johnny, because you hear his quiet, Steamin’ Jesus.

“He’s been waiting for this all night, I bet,” Simon mutters, his hips snapping against yours. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the siding, slip down a little to grip the bricks which offer you more resistance. “Watching you flit back and forth in this dress, knowing what you look like underneath it. He wishes it was him fucking you right now.”

“No,” you gasp, scandalized.

Simon just laughs again. The sound doesn’t embarrass you, just ratchets your own dizzying arousal higher. You can’t take your eyes off of Johnny, who has stumbled two or three steps closer in the snow and now has his hand against the house very similarly to you. His other hand is in a fist at his side. Closer like this, there’s no mistaking the heated expression in his eyes. Nor the bulge in his pants.

“Oh God,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning away.

“Look at him—look at him. He wants to touch himself,” Simon says, borderline conversational as his dick makes the most heinous squelching noises inside your body. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

One of your hands comes off the bricks and reaches down between your thighs—but Simon grabs it at the last moment and pins it back in its place, sending you nearly to tears.

“Cum on my cock or don’t cum at all,” he says, feeling cruel.

The both of you know that that likely means you won’t cum at all, not like this, and the knowledge threatens to undo you. He’s going to get you three-fourths of the way there and then leave you like this, edge you in front of all of your closest friends and not satisfy you until the very last one has left. Tears well in your eyes, beading up at the corners.

Behind you, his thrusts grow sloppy. You dare another glance towards Johnny and see his turned back, both his hands in his mohawk gripping at his hair like he is fighting with himself. Your eyes fall shut; you’re fighting a battle of your own, you can’t be concerned about his. Simon groans lowly, filling you with his seed. He pulls out in a wet rush of fluids, reaching down to stave off his dripping seed and save your leggings from destruction.

Gently, he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers. He wipes it across your swollen folds and in the soaked crotch of your panties before pulling them back up to rest safely on your hips. Bending down, he wipes his hands clean in the snow and then on his jacket before helping you pull your stockings up into place. The tears in your eyes have overflowed by now, dripping down your cheeks and off your chin. When you glance over, Johnny is gone.

“Okay?” Simon murmurs, fiddling with his phone. He stops the video.

“Yeah,” you sigh shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Moments to midnight and you are searching for Simon. His figure should be easy to spot, but his head isn’t visible above the sea of people, nor is his baritone voice audible amongst the cacophony of others.

Someone else is notably missing as well. An itch in the back of your brain swells, one you have to follow to scratch.

Countdowns begin. You peek out the window nearest to you but see no sign of either man outside in the snow smoking. Watching couples pair off, you pad on bare feet (having kicked off your heels ages ago) toward the master bedroom, slipping into the dim hallway that forks off to the bedroom, the guest bath, and the office. That hallway is where you find them, standing in the dark toe to toe. Simon has Johnny up against the wall, clutching fistfuls of Johnny’s shirt, nearly tearing it. In the dim lighting, you can barely make out their features.

For a moment, you think they are about to come to blows. You are ready to step between them, to take either of them by the ear like an old school matriarch and remind them that they are friends and they love each other and this is no way to act amongst family—but then the others cry out for midnight and they kiss.

Oh God, do they kiss. Johnny’s shirt strains in Simon’s hands as he lifts the other man the last few inches needed to slot their mouths together comfortably. There is no chaste peck, no soft exploration of tongues, it is a frenzied open-mouthed devouring of each other, jaws flexing as if to open up and swallow the other whole.

Claps and cheers ring out in the living room, jolting Simon and Johnny apart. Before you can even string together a sentence, Johnny has brushed by you, one hand pressing at his mouth. He grabs his coat and leaves out the front door without so much as a goodbye to anyone.

The party is over. The sun is rising. Alejandro and Rodolfo have retired out to the guest house leaving you and Simon behind to clean up the mess in more ways than one. Eyes tired but brain buzzing, you come into the living room with a half-filled trash bag in your arms to find Simon sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, his head in his hands.

You drop the trash bag and go to him, climbing into his lap. He sighs and lets his head rest against your breasts, breaths slow and deep, not betraying any of the turmoil that might be going on in his mind.

“He’ll be back,” you promise, stroking your fingers through his cropped hair. “He’ll come back, baby.”

You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Have you two done that before?” you ask.

Simon shifts. He turns until his ear presses against your sternum, like he is listening to your heart for the answer. He says: “No. Once—almost, I think. But you know what he’s like. So fucking persistent. And bright. Like he’s got the bloody sun inside him.”

“You never told me.”

“Wasn’t anything to tell.” He looks up at you with dark eyes, decidedly grim despite his words: “We doing this?”

“Seems so,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails just to watch how his eyes get heavy. Simon so often denies himself simple pleasures, but he deserves them. The simple ones and the complicated ones.

“He belongs to me,” Simon says at length, slow, like he is working it out for himself. “Just like you do.”

“No baby,” you remind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. “He belongs to us.”

((It becomes a degenerate ritual.

Soap gets home from work and showers. As soon as the steam hits the bathroom mirror, he’s hard, but he doesn’t touch himself; refuses to. He showers and cleans himself perfunctorily, cock aching. It is just as familiar with this ritual as he is, just as hungry for it. It knows what is coming.

After he is clean and dry, he’ll go naked into his room and bring out his laptop. He always sits at his desk—hates having the laptop on his lap, wants it somewhere stable and safe so he can have both hands free to touch himself—and then he brings up your porn page with Simon. There are more than fifty videos he can choose from. Some he has only seen once, especially those early videos when you both were still getting a feel for the process and working out your nerves. There are others that are old favorites, ones that he knows every word to, one where he could mimic your every sigh and whine if he wanted to.

And sometimes, like on nights such as this, there’s a new video. His heart jumps to his throat.

AMATEUR COUPLE: ARGUMENT TURNS INTO SEX (NO AUDIO). Fuck, just the title has mind whirling. It was just for show, surely—he couldn’t imagine you both filming one of your actual arguments for the sake of good pornography—but he was intrigued nonetheless. Some of his favorite videos featured Ghost getting a little rougher with you, and you giving back as good as you got.

He clicks the link. The video begins in the bedroom, recognizable to him now as your own. The camera is in the corner facing the bed at an angle giving a wide vantage point, like a voyeur standing at attention. Like Soap himself has snuck in and is watching. Just the thought has him gripping the base of his cock, a soft groan passing his lips.

You’re sitting on the bed, mask in place. Your arms are crossed, mouth downturned into a frown as Simon enters the screen. The first minute or so truly looks like an argument, the occasional jerky hand gesture from you coupled with Simon’s clipped responses. Soap tries to read your lips, but he’s never been very good at it; he can’t make out a single word of what the two of you might be saying. Then the aura changes, the tense energy from the argument turning into something slicker, something sexual as Simon comes around the bed and puts his hand on the center of your naked chest, pressing you back, back until you are laying down.

You fight against him, batting his hand out of the way. He pins you down easily, so much larger and stronger than you. Soap grips his cock at the thought of being in your place, being pinned to the bed with Ghost’s massive figure over him. Ghost wouldn’t need to be gentle with him either, not the way he was with you. Soap wouldn’t mind. Soap would like it, the same way he liked it in the hallway at your house when Simon gripped him by the shirt and nearly jerked him right out of his boots.

Your head comes off the bed, mouth chasing Ghost’s—but he draws away. Soap can almost hear the laugh he clearly gives, the rumbling chuckle that would be tangible in his chest. You grit your teeth together, jaw tight. Now when Simon bends down to kiss you, you turn your head away, a childish game of cat and mouse. He grips your chin and turns it back toward him, heavy on the eye contact. When you two finally kiss, it is rough, two hungry people searching for dirty secrets behind each other's teeth.

Ghost kisses his way down your body, sucking bruises wherever he can. By the time he’s in between your legs, you are writhing, hands gripping his hair and trying to guide his mouth to the place that needs it most. He tugs your thighs over his shoulders, pins you to the bed with one massive forearm, and eats you out like a starving man. The angle for the camera isn’t the best here, but Soap can’t take his eyes off of you anyway: your body tight as a bowstring, breasts pressed together from the position of your arms, tendons of your neck straining as your head tilts backwards.

Soap begins to work his cock over faster, watching your pleasure. When Ghost stops, he leaves you on the edge if your tortured expression is anything to go by, but you let him maneuver you into the position he wants—hands and knees, an old favorite for LT it seems—but this time is special, because this time you are forced to face the camera dead on.

It’s like you’re looking Soap in the eye. The brief flash of guilt this gives him only serves to ratchet his desire higher, his cock dripping precum over his knuckles as he fists it. Ghost slips his cock inside you and sets a brutal pace that you are eager to meet, your hands twisting in the bedspread as you press yourself further back against his cock.

Ghost leans down and mutters something in your ear. More than ever, Soap misses the audio. Whatever he says has your eyes flashing to meet the camera lens, and you do so with near girlish shyness, like you are seeing it for the first time, like you have only just noticed it’s been there all these months. Your eyes can’t catch on it at first, flittering away every chance you get. Ghost’s thrusts slow to deep grinds. He wraps a hand around your throat and says more, lips moving against the nape of your neck. Fuck, what Johnny wouldn’t give to be able to read lips.

This time you look back at the camera and keep your eyes there. Ghost resumes his thrusts, each one making your breasts bounce softly, but your eyes never leave the lens, always quick to return even when they briefly fall shut.

Your pleasure waxes when you slip a hand between your thighs, and you begin murmuring something repeatedly, just a discrete little movement of your lips. But at Ghost’s prodding, you begin to cry it out louder and louder until Soap is damn near sure that you are screaming, your lips forming the same syllables over and over again if only Soap were able to make them out. Your eyes roll back as you cum, arms growing weak until you dip and rest your upper body against the bed giving the camera an excellent view of Simon fucking into you from behind, the arch of your body, the curve of your waist to the width of your hips.

Soap cums when Ghost does, Ghost’s head lolling to the side as his thrusts grow sloppy and forceful, making a mess of you no doubt.

It isn’t until later when he’s in bed that he recognizes the word you were chanting for what it is.

How it took him so long to recognize his own name he’ll never know.))

He comes back.

Simon has just returned from taking Alejandro and Rodolfo to the airport. Ever since New Year’s Eve, there has been a quietness about him which breaks prior records. Neither of you say it, but if Johnny leaves this time, it will take more out of him than it had before. It will take something out of you, too. You spend the days trying to keep busy, checking your phone too often for texts that don’t come.

You’ve just taken the kettle off the stove when the doorbell rings, and both of you know. Your eyes meet across the kitchen. Simon nods his head toward the door, and you rush to answer it, feeling your heart in your throat. Johnny stands there on the step looking sheepish and cold, his boots and the bottom quarter of his jeans wet, like he has walked here from a great distance.

“May I come in?” he asks.

Simon appears behind you. Johnny gives him a wavering smile. Without a word, you hold the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Simon says coolly.

“Didn’t think I’d be back either,” Johnny admits. He wets his lips. “I…I need to come clean. It’s eatin’ me up inside. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fucking think without it being about the two of you. I don’t know what to do with myself except put myself at your feet and ask fer your forgiveness.”

“Johnny, that’s not—”

“No,” says Simon, stilling the words on your tongue. “I think that’s a good place to start. Get on your knees, Johnny.”

Johnny blinks once, face the picture of innocent ignorance—but then he is dropping to his knees hard enough for you to hear them crack against the hardwood underneath. He obeys without thinking, because that is something that has always been easy for him to do: obey Simon. Think later.

Simon’s hand reaches out, slow enough to give Johnny a chance to flinch away, but he doesn’t. Instead Simon threads his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, the sides which are growing out just a little too long. Johnny’s eyes fall shut at the touch, and the whole thing goes straight to your belly, arousal making your head light.

“You liked watching so much,” Simon says, voice low and quiet. “I think it’s time we put you to good use.”

“We have rules. Don’t look at the camera, don’t say each other’s names, and do as I say. Can you handle that?” Simon asks.

“Rules of engagement. Yessir.”

Simon snorts softly at Johnny’s eagerness. “Glad to see you still know to follow directions. But let’s see how well. Strip. Everything off. You won’t need it.”

Johnny’s hands find the neckline of his shirt and tug it off over his head, revealing a body that is all smooth muscle and tan skin. The dark hair on his chest thickens just below his navel, trailing down into his jeans which he unbuttons without ceremony, feet working to step out of his shoes at the same time. He keeps his balance well, already slipping into a focused, strangely familiar headspace. You make yourself as small as possible on the bed, arms looped around your legs, eyes watching him hungrily. It’s been so long that you’ve wanted to see Johnny like this; now that it’s on the verge of becoming true, you feel shy and unsure.

Johnny keeps his eyes on yours while he pushes his pants down his thighs and steps out of them. He smiles at you, soft and understanding, and only then do you let your eyes flicker down to take in his cock: he is hard, uncut, thick as Simon even if he can’t have him beaten in length. His dexterous fingers wrap around the shaft, stroking himself, the flushed head disappearing and reappearing in his fist.

“What do you think?” Simon asks you, voice a low rumble at your side. His eyes are watching you, concerned with you first and foremost. “Is he pretty enough?”

Johnny makes an offended sound.

“I’d say so,” you answer, aiming for unaffected and landing somewhere amongst breathless. Already you can feel the tension between your legs, a deep seated ache as your pussy drools onto the sheets below you.

“You want to suck his cock,” says Simon. It’s not a question, but your head bobs anyway. “Go on, then. Crawl to him.”

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawl to him, focusing on the mechanics of it instead of trying to feign sexiness. At the edge of the bed, you slip off and down to the floor amongst the pile of his clothes, laying your hands on his thighs and looking up at him from beneath his cock.

He lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”

You nod.

Johnny looks to Simon with a helpless expression as if to ask, What do I do? When you glance back over your shoulder, you see that Simon is giving him nothing to work with, face a blank slate except for his raised brows. Phone in hand, aimed at the two of you. The sight of it seems to steel Johnny’s nerves. He’s never been one to be shy.

“Go at yer own pace, lass,” he says.

Leaning in, you trace your lips against the side of his shaft, feeling the velvety softness against your mouth. He smells like he showered before he came over, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t. Johnny always smells good—even on those days before he went away when he and Simon would go running together, pushing each other to their limits, returning sweaty and exhausted. Now after all this time you get to see if he tastes as good as he smells. You part your lips and leave open mouthed kisses along his length, looking up at him through your lashes when you feel his fingers sink into your hair. His mouth is parted as he watches you raptly, pupils blown wide.

Confidence mounting, you take the head past your lips and suckle, treating him just as soft and sweetly as you know Simon won’t. Above you, he groans, hips jerking until you take another inch or two past your lips. You let him, rising up on your knees to adjust the angle, sinking your way down until his head brushes the softness at the back of your throat. Taking a calming inhale, you swallow and press forward, letting him sink into your throat until your gag reflex can take no more and forces him out.

Johnny moans like he’s dying, his hands shaking as he fights not to thrust into your throat. Words stream from his mouth, filthy Scottish-tinted praises that have you wriggling in your place, desperate for a hand between your thighs.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon asks.

“Never seen no one like her,” Johnny gasps, one hand letting go of your hair so that he can wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. He gives a weak laugh. “And I—fuuck, fuck—I’ve looked.”

“She’ll suck you off until you tell her to stop. Doesn’t matter how long you leave her at it,” Simon says. Fabric rustles behind you, and you ache to be able to turn and see what he is doing. But you are more determined to prove your goodness to Johnny. “Sometimes when I work from home she keeps my cock warm at my desk.”

“Dunno how you get a goddamn thing done with her mouth around yeh.”

“Discipline.”

“I left mine in my other pants—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you one of those dirty girls that swallows?” he asks.

You nod. Simon is there suddenly, a warm presence at your shoulder as he passes Johnny the camera. Nearly wrecked, Johnny’s hands shake as he aims it down at you, looking at you through the lens. His balls draw up, cock lengthening that last little bit as he spills into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Simon says at the last moment. You whine but obey. Simon pulls you up and nearly makes you dizzy with the way he kisses you, licks into your open mouth lapping Johnny’s seed from your tongue.

“Jesus, Mary, ‘n Joseph,” Johnny breathes, belatedly remembering to turn the camera onto you both. This will likely be the messiest video you’ve ever made transition wise, but you have a feeling that it will be your favorite.

When the kiss ends, you swallow and pull off to open your mouth, showing Johnny—and the audience—what they want: that you’ve swallowed your portion like a good girl.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have cum,” Johnny laughs weakly. “We’ve barely started. I don’t want this to be over.”

“You’ll cum again,” Simon says. “But it’s time to give someone else a turn. Sitrep?”

Johnny is all grins. “All good here, sir.”

It makes you shiver to hear Johnny call him that. You’ve heard it countless times before, but never like this. The context turns the word into something foreign, something sexy. Not to mention, you know exactly what it does to Simon. Not for the first time, you wonder if his wires didn’t get a little crossed during his time enlisted, if he didn’t learn that particular kink from hearing Johnny chirp it at him every day.

“Good boy,” says Simon softly, reaching out to ruffle Johnny’s mohawk. Johnny bats his hand away, but it’s impossible to miss the way he flushes from the cheeks down his chest at those words. Simon sets the phone on the tripod in the corner, making minor adjustments, and then turns his eyes to you. “C’mere.”

He sets you up against the headboard, your back against his chest. He parts your thighs, reaching down to use his thumbs to spread your sex open for Johnny’s hungry gaze, for the camera’s lens. You hide your masked-face behind your hands, hips rising toward his touch, desperate for the stimulation.

“Pent up?” Simon asks, voice rough.

A sound slips past your lips, low and needy..

“This what you want?” His calloused fingers ghost over your swollen clit.

“Yes,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands.

“Be a good girl and you’ll get it. You know how to be a good girl?”

“How?”

“Stay relaxed. Keep your thighs open. And don’t lie to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. Yes. Easy things. You fight to relax your body, loosening your muscles. Your hands fall to rest against Simon’s thighs, eyes cracking open to watch Johnny who has seated himself at the end of the bed out of the way of the camera’s view. When he sees you looking, he smiles, reassuring and warm. His cock, which had been soft moments ago, already looks noticeably more interested in the events taking place.

Simon drags his fingers over your clit. You tense all over, sucking in a breath before you remember his first rule and relax, going loose and soft again. He waits, patient. The next time he strokes you, you stay malleable, and he hums deep in his chest, pleased with the progress. His hand cups your whole sex, palm huge compared to you.

“When was the first time you ever wanted to fuck our boy over here?” Simon asks.

You know that he can’t use Johnny’s name, not on film, but neither you nor Johnny had expected the flashbang of this term of endearment. Johnny seems to melt, his eyes going heavy-lidded at the thought of being ‘your boy’. You can’t help but feel the incredible rightness of his words. They resonate deep in your chest like the ringing of a bell, tangible down to your fingertips and toes. Johnny is yours, and he is Simon’s.

“How long?” Simon asks again, more firmly.

“Since—since you brought him home.”

Simon slips two fingers past your entrance as a reward for your honesty. Their thickness has you gasping, fingers scrambling for purchase against his thighs. He hums something in your ear—probably a reminder about trying to relax—and you do try, but it is hard when you ache as badly as you do. You find yourself digging your heels into the bedspread, lifting your hips to try and work his fingers deeper inside of you. He feeds them to your cunt all the way to the last knuckle.

“How’s she feel, sir?” Johnny asks.

“Like the only heaven the likes of us will ever know.”

“I believe it,” Johnny sighs. “Give us a taste.”

Simon extends his fingers and Johnny takes them onto his tongue, licking and sucking the digits clean. You’re close enough to Simon to feel his inhale, to feel the way his cock jumps where it’s pressed against your lower back. He plays at being unaffected, but Simon isn’t immune to the powers of finger-sucking. He isn’t immune to Johnny.

Then he says: “Put that mouth to work, Johnny.”

Johnny drops to his belly between your thighs, breath fanning across your folds. Simon has to pin your legs apart, humming when your nails dig into the skin of his forearms. They are teaming up on you, against you, and you feel so small pinned between them.

“Dreamed of this,” Johnny sighs into your pussy. He nuzzles against you, nose brushing your slit before licking a thick stripe up your folds. He laps at the honey leaking from your entrance, broad strokes of his tongue as Simon’s fingers keep you spread open for his hungry mouth.

Sometimes Johnny’s tongue laps over Simon’s fingers, and when it does, you feel his cock twitch against your back. It only serves to remind you how empty you feel. Your hands grip Johnny’s hair, guiding his soft mouth to your clit where he sucks and laps contentedly, and you beg for his fingers.

He moans against you, voice vibrating through your pussy. His hips have started a slow grind against the bedspread, desperate for friction as his blue eyes find Simon’s dark ones, silently asking for permission.

Simon nods. Johnny slips his middle-most two fingers into you, hooking them softly, searching for that spongy, textured place just inside you. It’s everything you needed, the pleasure in your belly rising to a near painful crest. Your hand scrambles to find one of Simon’s, lacing your fingers together as you burst against Johnny’s tongue, squeezing his fingers, barely remembering to keep from calling his name.

Johnny lays his head against your inner thigh, panting. His eyes are foggy, pussy-drunk as he struggles to focus on you both, his fingers still tucked softly inside you.

“Break,” Simon whispers, kissing your neck. He shifts out from behind you, the only one of you still fully dressed. Going to the tripod in the corner, he pauses the camera and then leaves the room.

“Great abrupt bastard, isn’t he?” Johnny asks, slipping his fingers out from inside you. He goes to lick them clean, but you stop him, bringing his hand to your own mouth and cleaning your slick from his fingers, tongue searching for your taste all the way to the webbing between his knuckles. His laugh is breathy. “You like that? Like the taste of pussy?”

You nod, slipping your mask off briefly.

“Need a pretty girl to play with then, not the likes of me.”

Your hand latches around his wrist as he goes to pull away, lips turning down into a frown. “That’s not what we want. We don’t play with people. People aren’t toys to us. And we’ve never had sex with anyone else like this. You should know that from the videos.”

“Aye,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to offend yeh, lass. I was only teasing.”

“Johnny…”

“Yes?”

“Why’d you go away?” you ask. You know it might ruin the moment, but the curiosity is too much, an old wound with the scab picked clean off until it aches all over again. “Things seemed so good when Simon and I first got together. You were coming around all the time. Then you just…left.”

Johnny can’t meet your eyes as he thinks back, as he remembers those days in the year after Simon first met you. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I told yeh earlier. Couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you. Didn’t feel right to feel that way ‘bout my best mate and his best girl. And when he told me that he was gonna propose to yeh—I had two choices. Stay and watch, or run away. Maybe Simon’s right. Maybe I am a coward.”

“He told me that the two of you almost kissed once. Back during your SAS days.”

A ghost of a smile appears on Johnny’s mouth. “Outside the Barranquilla, Columbia safehouse. I remember. I thought he would break my teeth if I tried, but Jesus, how I wanted to.”

“I think your odds were 50/50,” you say, scooting back until you are seated in Simon’s old spot, reclining against the headboard. “It started back then for you, didn’t it?”

“Aye. I was a goner.”

“You love him.”

Johnny gives you a secretive smile. He presses his finger to his lips. Shh.

Simon enters the room with three water bottles and pauses, eyes flickering between you both. “The fuck were you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Is that water? I’m so thirsty, thank you baby.”

“Her subtlety could use some work, LT,” Johnny says, watching as Simon goes and turns the camera back on. You hastily put your mask back in place.

“Not her forte,” Simon admits dryly. He cracks open one of the bottles of water after tossing the last one to Johnny and drinks half of it in just a few gulps, despite having done very little so far in the scheme of things. You figured that was about to change, watching him shrug out of his shirt.

Simon didn’t undress the way Johnny did. There wasn’t any fanfare or confidence; it was simple and efficient. You knew that Simon’s relationship with his body was a complex one. It had served him well, and he did his best to keep it healthy, but contemplating the aesthetics of it was too offensive to his palate. The scars were intense: thick punctures along his sides, the depressed, pale pucker of bullet wounds, the hard clean lines of a knife here and there. You had never minded, and judging by the way Johnny’s throat clicks when he swallows, Johnny didn’t mind either.

“I want to fuck you,” he says.

“Yes,” you agree. Fingers had been excellent, but nothing could compare to Simon’s cock.

He shakes his head. “Not you. Him.”

You turn your gaze on Johnny whose eyes are avidly watching Simon unfasten his jeans. He pushes them down over his thick thighs and reveals he’s not wearing any underwear beneath, his cock half-hard and rosy. He wraps his fist around it, jerking himself to full stiffness with a perfunctory touch, not at all interested in the show he is putting on for you both.

“Can you take him, Johnny?” you tease.

“I’ll die trying, thanks very much.”

“I hope not,” is all Simon says, going to the bench at the end of the bed and retrieving the lube. He asks: “Condom?”

“Not necessary,” Johnny says, breaths coming faster now. You put your hand on his ankle, remembering the way he had touched you there on Christmas, stroking the bone softly. He glances to you and grins, and you see that what you mistook for nerves is actually excitement. He puts his hand over your own, squeezing. “Are you going to feel left out, lass?”

“Terribly.”

“If you last the whole time,” says Simon, holding the lube up to the light to see how empty it is. “I’ll let you fuck her when I’m finished with you.”

“Jesus,” Johnny laughs weakly. “Can’t argue with that. Throw me that and I’ll get myself ready.”

“I can do it,” says Simon, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Johnny shifts into a better position, feet flat on the bed, knees toward the ceiling. For a long time, Simon just looks at him: his silly hair, the odd scar here and there, his half hard cock. Deftly, he opens the cap on the lube and slicks two fingers while you come to kneel on the other side of Johnny, eager for a show.

“Camera, love,” Simon reminds you, fingers searching between Johnny’s legs. Judging by the way Johnny’s jaw goes tight, he’s found what he’s looking for. You shift, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you are out of the camera’s point of view. Reaching down, you trail your fingertips gently over Johnny’s cock. Simon says: “Been a while?”

“You could say that,” Johnny says, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Simon works him open. You’ve been on the receiving end of Simon’s ministrations; you know his patience can be near painful. Johnny learns it the hard way when Simon pauses twice to lube his fingers, until even the soft thrusts he gives into Johnny’s ass fill the room with the sound of sex.

You play with his cock absently, enjoying being the tormentor instead of the tormented for once. Johnny’s silent breaths turn to heavy pants and then needy groans, foreskin pulling back to reveal the sensitive head as he grows in your palm thanks to Simon’s fingers playing inside him. His heels slip against the bedspread as he searches for the angles that suit him best, and he chokes when he finds them.

“Please, I’m ready,” Johnny says, fingers wrapping around Simon’s wrist. Simon lets him pull his fingers free and reaches for the lube again, this time to slick his cock.

“Any preference for how I take you?” he asks mildly, like one might ask, How do you take your tea? One sugar please and thank you.

“None, so long as your cock’s inside me,” Johnny grits out.

“This’ll do,” says Simon, bullying his way between Johnny’s spread thighs. It takes a few pillows beneath his hips before he’s at the right height for Simon’s cock to notch against his entrance, and then you watch with rapt attention as Johnny’s body seems to blossom to welcome in Simon’s cock, a surplus of lubricant easing the way.

Johnny flinches.

“Easy,” says Simon, stilling. “Relax.”

You curl up at Johnny’s side, slipping beneath one of his arms and cuddling against him. Your nervous fingers find one of his nipples and toy with it softly, kissing at his shoulder while you murmur words of encouragement to him.

Johnny laughs weakly. “Don’t need all that, lass, but thank yeh.”

“Wish I had someone cheering me on the first time I took Simon’s cock,” you admit.

Simon frowns. “I was cheering you on.”

“Less talking please, more fucking,” Johnny says, lips upturned. His body relaxes and Simon sinks the rest of the way inside him, all the way to the fucking hilt, deeper than you can ever take him in your cunt. It thrills you and makes you envious all at once. You pinch Johnny’s nipple, forcing a quiet gasp out of his throat.

Simon looks good—strong. Unaffected. But you know him better. His brow is lower than ever, eyes closed as he centers himself. His breaths come so evenly that you know he must be counting them—four seconds in, four seconds out. His fingertips have sunk into the meat of Johnny’s thighs, gripping him tightly, as if to keep him from squirming away, or to keep him from squirming at all.

“You solid?” Simon asks him.

“Affirm,” Johnny breathes. “Go slow.”

Famous last words—Simon withdraws with painstaking care, until just his head lingers inside Johnny’s body. He sinks back in at the most leisurely pace you’ve ever seen, thrusts smooth and deep as his thighs brush against Johnny’s ass. It takes no time at all for Johnny to regret those words, one of his hands laced with yours and the other twisting in the bedsheets as he begs Simon to move faster.

And Simon can only take so much teasing himself, really. He’s human too.

His hips snap into the open cradle of Johnny’s thighs. Johnny cries out, cock jerking where it lays hard and leaking against his belly. You lean up onto one elbow so that you can watch his pretty face contort: brow furrowing, mouth falling open.

“Not going to cum, right?” you ask him slyly.

He shakes his head.

You glance down at his cock doubtfully. Simon, overhearing your words, takes that as a personal challenge, drilling into Johnny with a single-mindedness that is admirable to see and terrible to be on the receiving end of all in one.

Suddenly tears overflow from Johnny’s eyes, dripping down toward his temples. You sit up in alarm as he lifts his hands but he just palms at his eyes, laughing. Simon slows, stops. He reaches down to pry Johnny’s hands away and then kisses him, something soft and sweet. Johnny’s hands shake as he reaches up to thread his fingers through Simon’s hair, tugging him closer.

Your heart feels liable to burst. You remember Johnny’s finger pressed to his lips, that universal sign. Shh.

“He’s alright,” Simon says, not unkindly. “Aren’t you?”

Johnny croaks an affirmative.

After that, it is less fucking and more making love; there’s nothing else to call in. Simon pins Johnny’s wrists to the bed just to feel like he’s still in control, but his thrusts are syrupy slow, not fully withdrawing, seeking to remain as close to Johnny as he can for as long as possible. You stroke one of Johnny’s palms and Simon lets it free so that you can hold it, your fingers lacing together in a way that is foreign yes, but comfortable.

“You’ve been a good boy for me, Johnny,” Simon says.

“Don’t say that,” Johnny groans, turning his head away, flushed pink.

“It’s true. Know how to be an even better boy?”

Johnny is intrigued. Being a good boy is suddenly beneath him; now he wants to be the best boy. Looking at Simon through his lashes, he asks: “How’s that?”

“Cum on my cock.”

“Don’t do it Johnny,” you whine. “It’s a trap.”

Simon laughs. He kneels back onto his haunches, dragging Johnny’s body along with him, and reaches for the other man’s cock, working it over in his fist. Johnny nearly howls, kept on the edge so long that to see the bottom of the cliffside is to know the promise of pain. He doesn’t know whether to grind his hips deeper against Simon’s cock or to chase the heat of his hand.

“Close,” he groans.

“Go on. Pretty abs like this—make a mess on ‘em.”

Johnny does, pearlescent seed dripping from between Simon’s fingers as he milks Johnny for every last drop. Only then does he begin thrusting again, fast and hard, searching for his own end. Not a handful of thrusts later and he goes sloppy, breath punched from his lungs as he spills inside Johnny.

“You promised me a cock to ride,” you say.

“Couldn’t be helped, lass,” Johnny says with a dopey, lovesick smile. You hum.

“We’ll just have to get you hard again, won’t we?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock.

That night, the bed is full. Johnny and you are entwined, legs and arms wrapped around each other creating an endless feedback of heat that Simon was careful not to be swept away in, too focused on his mission to allow for any mistakes. He makes no sound as he slips out of bed. He stops by the tripod in the corner and takes his phone out into the living room, turning the sound down so low that he has to hold the speaker close to his ear to hear it, lest he wake Johnny.

He listens to you and Johnny talk while he was gone, when you believed the camera to be off. He plays it again, watching just the video. By the time he’s returned in the video, Simon’s chest feels full of pressure, like something is inside him trying to crawl its way out. Love. What does Simon Riley know about love?

Well, he knows one thing.

Except maybe now he knows two.

He deletes the video and goes back to bed.

#ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #complicated pleasures #simon riley x reader

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missriddle03 · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Even in sickness

Parings: daryl dixon x fem! reader (mentions of y/n)

Small synopsis: daryl is ill and you look after him, turns out he cares about you more than you realise

Time to read: just over 14mins

Word count: 3,022

Warnings: none but formatting may be off as it took me half an hour to fix it 😭

(GIF isn't mine, found on pinterest)

The cold air blew past you and Daryl as you both were trying to hunt some deer; or anything to eat. Daryl had been in the woods for a few months with you by his side trying to find any hints about Rick’s whereabouts.

A few years had passed without anything new but neither of you wanted to give up. Daryl had his crossbow swung on his shoulder whilst dog was running getting his exercise. “How are you feeling?” you asked him. Your eyes darted to Daryl seeing he was already looking at you.

A slight smile formed on your face. He was wearing a green poncho and you were wearing a shirt and jeans. “Yeh, I’m good. You?”

“Mhm, I’m okay”

In fact, you were okay even though it wasn’t what you had planned for the day you were still happy to be in his company and he was happy you were with him. “You know I could have done this by myself,” he stated.

Daryl was a capable man who knew what to do in any situation thrown his way. You knew he would be fine by himself but you didn’t want to leave him alone.

“Of course you could have done this by yourself but then you’d be bored without me”

Standing near him you grabbed a little knife seeing the dog bark continuously. You both began running over to him and saw a little snake going through the grass.

Daryl got his crossbow and shot it before picking it up and wrapping it around his neck. “Dinner is served,” you whispered more to yourself than to him because he still heard it.

“If I see anything else we’ll eat that,” Daryl said. You and Daryl were close as ever and your friendship blossomed more once you reunited in Alexandria shortly after the fall of negan. Seeing him gone broke your heart and you wanted to be there for him and he felt the same. A relationship was never in the cards for Daryl but it seemed like an option once you came into his life.

Daryl noticed your little mannerisms so when he saw you run your hand through your hair he let a little frown out. “What’s on your mind?”

You looked at Daryl whilst trying not to trip over the knotted grass below. “Nothing..why?”

“Somethings wrong I can tell”

You both passed through some trees(still following the dog) slowly heading back to camp. “I just think about the time we’ve wasted and the fact that we don’t even see anyone anymore. I mean when was the last time we saw Carol?”

He started counting on his fingers the amount of months it had been but he suddenly lost track. “We’ve all been so busy with our lives but I just feel that every single one of us have lost touch”

Since you and Daryl had been cooped up in the woods your hair has grown longer and you have gotten stronger. Daryl became more tough and his hair had gotten longer too.

“That maybe true, but we jus’ gotta focus on ourselves”

“Yeah..I get that still feel bad though”

Daryl nodded in agreement before paying full attention to his dog who had seemed to be way ahead of both of you. “Dog! Come here boy,”

Both of you began running to catch up to him but suddenly you couldn’t see him anymore. “Daryl, what are you-”

“I’m over here,” he called out. Daryl was nowhere to be seen standing up but then you looked to your left and saw him in a lake doused with water.

You let out a laugh before seeing Dog running into the lake and splashing about giving Daryl licks. “Atleast dog came back”

Daryl threw his crossbow onto the dry path before walking through the water. You went over to him grabbing his hand and lifting him up. “How did you manage to fall in a massive lake?”

Dog leaped out of the lake and shook the water from his fur all over Daryl and you. “I was running and didn’t see the dip which I fell into and then the lake appeared”

You still had the crossbow slung onto your shoulders, “the crossbow suits you,” he said. “Thanks,”

Daryl was drenched head to toe in water and the temperatures were dropping as the night went on. “Still got the snake?” you asked him and he nodded his head.

Darkness surrounded the sky and worry filled your head. “Hey..I think it’s gonna rain,”

You both were not far from where you were staying so you were hoping that it wouldn’t rain until you got shelter. “Heads up,” Daryl stated pointing to the walker that was coming your way.

A knife and a crossbow was what you had on you and you weren't 100% sure about using the crossbow so you walked over and used the knife stabbing the walking in its head. Dog was staying between you both, not leaving your sides. “Once we get back you might wanna get into a fresh pair of clothes so you don’t catch a cold”

“I’ll be fine,”

You tutted at him. “Just because you’re a big tough guy you can still catch a cold,”

He shrugged his shoulders and was ringing out the water from his poncho. Almost simultaneously the clouds began getting dark and little drops of rain were falling from the sky.

You liked the rain, the smell of the rain was a comforting scent and it was the perfect mood to light a candle and read a book..but this was the apocalypse so you hardly had time to do the things you used to do. “Maybe it will just be a little shower,” he said.

Then it started lashing it down.

“Okay..maybe not,”

All three of you started running faster trying to get to your accommodation but it felt like it was taking forever. Once dog began barking you could tell you were itching nearer to where you needed to be.

You opened the tent and let him in as you shortly followed after. “Take your clothes off,” you instructed him as his eyes widened. “You know what I meant”

Turning around, you grabbed the clothes you needed from the pile you had put on a box you found. You changed your clothes and once he did you took them and rung them out from excess water.

“Have to do for now until the rain stops,”

Daryl took the snake and put it on the side clearly fed up with the weather. Dog ran inside and jumped on Daryl wanting attention. “You’re a good boy..aint ya, yes you are” Daryl spoke.

He turned to look at you, seeing your face in a smile. “What?”

“Nothing..just I like seeing this side of you”

Daryl slightly smiled and looked outside to see if the rain had stopped… it hadn’t.

You had woken up a few hours before Daryl and you were already sharpening some knives you had that had gone blunt. The dog was awake so it was just you and him but you could hear him whimpering.

“Is your daddy not awake yet?”

Giving him attention you dropped your items on the floor deciding to check on him. It had been a few days since you both got caught in the rain but Daryl had been looking different a bit each day.

The first night after he looked a bit more red in the face, the second night he felt cold, the third night he was snivilling and you weren’t sure what he’d be today. You heard a small cough coming from inside, you saw Daryl sat but was trying to stop himself from coughing further. “Hey, you okay?” you asked him.

“M’alright. No need to worry”

He started coughing again, “Daryl I am worried about you, I think you’re getting ill”

His cheeks looked flushed but as you went over to him you placed your hand on his forehead and he felt cold. “You might have the flu,” you said.

Daryl shook his head not giving you an answer; instead he took his crossbow and walked out. You trailed after him taking the crossbow off him. “Hey!”

You crossed your arms whilst the crossbow was still in your hand. “You are ill Daryl. I’m not letting you go out till you get better”

“But I-”

“No, I need you to get better. How about I go to Alexandria and get some medication from Siiddiq?” Daryl hesitated to say anything but he placed his hand in his pockets until he sneezed. You still stayed looking at him awaiting an answer.

“I’m okay I’ll just deal with it”

He looked around but stopped once the sun glared at him in his eyes. “You can’t even look near the sun! I’m getting those medication for you”

Daryl widened his eyes not realising that you were being serious. You put your hair in a ponytail and attached your belt with what you need incase you encounter a walker. “Wait here till I get back,”

You handed him his crossbow back and started walking away. “Y/n,”

“Yeah?” you called out. “Be safe”

Smiling, you left and started heading to Alexandria. You hadn’t been there for a while but you knew you needed to bite back your thoughts and continued on your journey.

A few days passed but you finally reached your destination.

“Who is it?” someone asked. It was a guard.

“Y/n..friend of Michonne’s” the guard looked down and pointed to you before walking down the steps.

Truth be told you were a friend of Michonne’s but you hadn’t actually seen her for a good while. The gate opened and some familiar faces stood behind it. First to welcome you was Rosita.

She pulled you into a hug exchanging quick hello’s but shortly some other people came out to greet you. A young girl with a cowboy hat had a big smile on her face, “Hey Judith, how have you been?” you said. “I’m good, is uncle Daryl here?”

You shook your head. “He isn’t very well, I was wondering if I could see Michonne?” It was Judith’s turn to nod her head as she went to get Michonne. Once she came into view you gave her a hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed being here,”

“We’ve missed you, Judith informed me that Daryl isn’t well?”

Everyone was really busy with jobs keeping themselves occupied and earning their keep. You knew how hard it was for Michonne to get to where she was today. “Yes he caught the flu, I was wondering could I borrow some medication from your infirmary?”

You knew how blunt it was to ask but Michonne knew that you wouldn’t come here if he was just a bit ill. “Of course you can, any chance you can stay a bit longer?”

Michonne asked Siddiq to grab some medication whilst you pondered your thoughts. “I..look sorry but I’m on a tight schedule today” you saw her eyes dart down. “..but I can try and see if I can come another day this week and maybe I can bring Daryl”

Judith suddenly had a bigger smile on her face, “I miss uncle Daryl,” she stated.

“We would love to have you both here whenever you can” Michonne replied. You hugged them both and saw siddiq arrive with the medication.

“Here it is, take two of these twice a day and there should be enough for atleast a weeks worth. I hope he gets better”

You thanked siddiq and gave him a hug before placing it into your satchel. “So..are you and Daryl a thing?” a voice said.

You turned your head to see Eugene standing next to Rosita who was now smiling and almost laughing. “What do you mean?”

“Well..you are of the female anatomy and he is of the male anatomy so theory indicates the longer you spend with a person the more the physical attraction begins and corresponding with that is a relationship” Eugene explained.

Your eyes widened as he talked. “Okay first off, that could have been a much shorter explanation and secondly no we aren’t in a relationship,”

Rosita put her hair in a bobble and chuckled. “Really? So you’re saying you and Daryl who have been alone together haven’t even kissed?”

You shook your head at her question. “Have you slept-”

“No! Stop asking”

You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit you like him but he never showed any interest romantically or maybe he did in his own way. “Look I don’t know okay, we just never decided to date and it isn’t exactly the right time”

“Yes but when is the right time?” Rosita asked. Your silence filled the air and you began tapping the strap of your satchel. “Okay but don’t blame me if he doesn’t feel the same”

At this point you were itching to get back and hoping Daryl didn’t get worse. “Wait, so you do like him?”

“No-just…forget it I need to get back. I promise I’ll come visit again soon” Rosita slowly nodded her head and you all gave each of them a hug before parting ways and continued on with your journey to get back to Daryl. They had given you a bicycle to use so you would get back a bit quicker and it gave you a break from walking; you also was given a tin of soup.

It had been a few hours since you set off and finally you were back where you needed to be. Placing your bike down, you walked through the trees to see Dog sitting in front of the tent. “Is Daryl okay?” almost in response a whine left his mouth. You opened your satchel to take out the medication and opened the tent. Daryl was wide awake just staring at the roof of the tent. “Hey..” you said. His eyes looked at you and a smile was present on his face. Your heart warmed at the sight of him, you took a few steps to him and handed him the medication.

“Siddq gave these to me for you, gotta take two a day” you handed him a bottle of water. Daryl took it and grabbed one pill and swallowed it. “Thank you”

You both looked at each other the silence taking over, neither one of you looked away. Daryl grabbed a blanket and pulled it closer to him still looking at you but he mumbeled something that you couldn’t quite catch. “You hungry?” you said.

Daryl nodded his head at you, “Yeah but, don’t go out ya way to hunt somethin”

You bit your lip slightly thinking what to do, suddenly you had an idea. You remembered the can of soup in your bag. The only thing you needed to do was heat it up. Emptying the can, you poured it into a mug. Some sticks were laying around so you picked them up and started a fire to put the soup on to heat up.

Once it was ready you picked it up and gave it to Daryl. “Are you not havin’ anythin’?” he asked you. “No, I’m alright”

Truth be told you couldn’t care about food you just wanted to make sure he was okay and besides if you were really hungry you would go hunting. Daryl began eating the soup and eventually he finished it. Smiling, you took the mug and checked his temperature. “You’re still a bit hot but hopefully the fever settles, need anything else let me know”

Daryl started frowning which took you aback. “Ya don’t need to look after me, I’m fine”

“Daryl, you have a fever..you’re coughing and you can barely get up without your head hurting”

He only looked down avoiding your eyes. “Still I don’t want you to force yourself to look after me m’fine”

Now it was your turn to frown. You walked over to him sitting down besides him taking in his appearance from his brown curls, all the way down to the faint mud stains on his fingers. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him like this, “I’m looking after you because I want to, not because I’m forced to. Daryl I’ve known you since this damned world ended but I’ve never been forced into making sure you’re okay”

He stayed silent not knowing whether to talk or let you continue on. “I care for you Daryl and probably a lot more than you realise”

Daryl’s eyes stayed between yours, you guided your hand to put it on his cheek. “Don’t ever think that I’m only looking after you cause I have to..I want to and-”

“Can I kiss ya?” he interrupted.

You swallowed hard forgetting the rest of your sentence, your eyes never left his and he never left yours. It felt like you had butterflies in your stomach and an ache in your chest. “I-um, sure if you want to,”

Daryl put his hand on top of yours and kissed you. It was as if the world stopped for a moment..like the life left stayed silent and disappeared just so you could have your moment. You pulled away resting your head against his, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,”

You didn’t care if you were to get ill now you just wanted to appreciate and savour the moment. “Why did you want to kiss me?” you asked him.

He looked at you again (his hand still in yours) “Because I’ve been wantin’ to for a while, why did you let me?”

“Because as it turns out I’ve been wanting to for a while as well,” You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, “..and once you’re better I promised Judith we would go see her, I know you miss her”

“I would like that”

Eventually you both ended up falling asleep in his arms with dog sitting in between. After all, things have a way of working out if not in the way nature intended.

Thank you for reading..the ending wasn't what i exactly planned so i hope u like it.

Also check out my young!daryl fic which is apart of my two hearts au pre apocolpyse. Here is masterlist

tags for this fic: @ang3l0fthursday @ihyperfixateoncharacters @baldeagle21

#tags #masterlist #x reader #fanfic #fluff #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #chloè writes

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lawchwan · 8 months ago

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do you believe me? (sanji)

summary: you love sanji, and sure, sanji loves you too, but does he love you the way you do? you're not too sure about his actions... requested: @mooncallerautumn reader: fem!reader disclaimer: reader is possessive and has trust issues, sanji lacks self-awareness, misunderstandings, reader kinda compares herself to nami and robin (but they're all girl girls so dw there's no beef), reader is implied to be a smoker, dom!sanji, sub!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, piv, talks of exhibitionism, kitchen sex, praise kink going brr, Sanji kinda dirty talks, unprotected sex (lets pretend contraceptive exists in the op universe and reader's taking it... also put a condom, you nasties), creampies, honestly Sanji's lowkey off character but idc i want him genre: angst with a fluff (smut) ending a/n: this piece is exactly 3.6k,,, this mayhaps the longest i've written on this account but yeh hope its good regardless :)

crossposted on ao3

Laughter, banter, and cordial interactions are all actions anyone can implement in any dealings with any individual. Those interactions result in hopefully deeper and more meaningful relationships, no matter way of showcasing them.

That's how Sanji caught your attention, parting ways for you to roam around freely in a room, cooking your special meals, and buying you things that reminded him of you just to name a few. His acts of worship and treating you like a Greek goddess walking amongst humans fluttered your heart like a butterfly setting free of its cage...

But there was more than one Greek goddess, and each goddess could represent her powers, and you saw yourself as one of many with the Sanji acts.

Chivalry is an eloquent quality he pertains within him, an admirable feature that makes you feel safe, protected, and loved...

But you were loved solely by Sanji? He thought he did, but to you, you were just like any other woman he interacted with. You were on the same level as Nami when she requested a tangerine-based dessert and Sanji dropped everything and got it for her, you were on the same level as Robin when she came down the stairs and Sanji kneels down and held her hand gently like she was glass as she gave him a warm smile, you were in the same level as the woman at the market who struggled to get the canned soup at a high shelf only for her to flutter her lashes as a thank you and Sanji got weak instantly. The way he treats them is not any different from the way he treats you.

And that ached your heart that was filled with him and the desire to have him solely.

You felt bad for feeling this way, but god dammit you were selfish. Selfish you were and you didn't give a damn. You wanted Sanji for yourself, but you can't have him because he was unknowingly hurting you with the way he's showcasing his affection towards these beautiful women.

You wanted to hate him but you loved him dammit... you'd hate yourself before you hate him.

Sanji took notice of your distance, the cool breeze that radiated off of you as you walked by him caused the hairs on his neck to stand up straight with a sense of vibration in his spine. He could've sworn the room's temperature dropped when you walk in, but it was only he who could feel it.

He wasn't sure where all that came from, the moment he laid his eyes on you, he saw you like you were a star walking amongst man. He was taken aback by the way you showcase and present yourself in front of him and how beautiful you were.

He thought he did everything that you loved, especially after hearing—rather eavesdropping—the conversation you'd have with the female crew and how much you gush over him to the two female crew. Neither Nami nor Robin could see what you see in him, but they both remain giving you support and valid pieces of advice.

So why would you switch up on him like that?

He also noticed that he'd get a disgruntled response from Nami whenever he served her anything she liked in contrast to her elated reaction, catching him off guard with the negative reaction.

"What the hell is going on?" He once thought to himself, looking down at the kitchen counter in confusion after wiping it, thinking he was alone.

"I never would have thought that you would have a lack of self-awareness, Sanji."

Sanji jumped in his place before turning around to see the source of the voice, only to see Robin standing by the door frame with her arms crossed and a disapproving facial expression plastered onto her sharp-featured face.

However, Sanji being Sanji overlooked that and began his antics before Robin used her devil fruit power to stop him from getting closer to her. He was put back into place as she simply shook her head before walking into the kitchen.

"What was that all about, Robin? That really hurts" Sanji rubbed his shoulders to soothe the restraints Robin gave.

"You're one to talk about being hurt..." Robin scoffed as she walked up the cupboard as if she was looking for something, her usually quiet demeanor was present but it contained an uneasy presence that even Sanji sensed as he eyed her figure walking around. Sanji cocked his head to the side in a baffled manner as he looked away for a little bit.

"What? What are you talking about?" He asked.

"I suggest you go talk to (y/n). She'll probably tell you why everyone's cold towards you... if you so much loved her as you claim to do." Robin calmly griped before walking away, leaving Sanji alone to try to discern Robin's cryptic wording. Sanji sat with himself for minutes, pondering the words Robin had told him. Her words echoed in his head as he deciphered the words.

Until it clicked...

Robin's disapproving confrontations, Nami's cold and irritated responses, and more evidently, your avoidance of him; It was all connecting now. Although he still doesn't understand what he did wrong, he'll have to confront one of you, you being the top priority as he sensed that you were the one who's hurt the most...

—

The night rolled around and the ruckus of Luffy, Ussop, and Chopper's antics died down, the sounds of the calm sea soared higher underneath the Thousand Sunny, peacefully rocking the ship. Despite the serenity of the boat, it caused everyone to sleep except for Sanji, with his thoughts blasting through his head in contrast to the sounds of light breathing and snores from the crew.

After staring at the ceiling long enough, Sanji left the cabin to grab a smoke to ease himself off. As he came out to the balcony, he spotted you in the distance, your upper body leaning towards the railing, allowing the wind to brush your hair back slightly. Although you gave him your back, he still admired you from afar. The allure you've given your off was a sight to behold, Sanji just couldn't help to admire you a tad bit more than others—or so he thought.

Sanji walked up to you, you knew there was a non-threatening presence eyeing you, but you didn't know nor care to turn around to see who was it, until he spoke.

"Beautiful night, am I right?" Sanji softly said as he stood next to you mimicking your stance. You turned to him wide-eyed with an open mouth, before you went back, not answering him back. Although you were upset with him, you oddly felt comforted by his presence... Could've been worse but you wished he wasn't next to you right now.

Sanji began lighting a cigarette, smoking a few puffs before looking back at you, noticing the somber gaze you had in your eyes. He offered you the lit cigarette in his hand—a norm between the two of you that you shared a cigarette stick—but you once again ignored him, a silence rejection that pained the blonde figure.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sanji blurted, throwing his cigarette away with his eyes narrowed towards you.

Your brows knitted at the confrontation, "What?"

"For the longest time, you've been avoiding me, giving me the cold shoulder, not hanging out with me... What's up?" Sanji expressed as he crossed his arms while facing you fully. You simply scoffed at him with an eye roll and a headshake, which pissed Sanji off.

"Don't give me that eye-roll, I deserve to know what's going on and what I did to deserve this." Sanji chastised. It was unnatural for Sanji to get this upset, but when the person he had been admiring for so long was being cold around him, he couldn't help but feel frustrated.

"Oh, so now you wanna know what's going on?" You sneered at him as you eyed his disapproving face. He wavered his angered expression to a frustrating confusion with his brows wrinkling to a scowl.

"What are you on about? I just wanted to know—"

"Just forget it, Sanji, like you would get it—" You shook your head as you almost walked away until Sanji grabbed your arms and held you closer in place.

"I won't let you go until you tell me what's wrong..." Sanji whispered as he looked at your sunken eyes. You wanted to physically fight him to let you go, but the way he was holding you almost put you in a semi-tranced state, and you just couldn't. You began shaking your head as you began tearing up, hoping that he could just let you go right there when it did way worse than what you wanted.

"Hey, hey, (y/n), my love, what's wrong—"

"Don't call me that!" You sobbed as you sunk your head further and gripped onto his arms, fingernails digging into his skin in hopes of letting you go, but in fact, it was futile. No matter what you did, Sanji kept to his promise; he won't let you go until you tell him... If only he kept himself in other ways.

Sanji just looked at you even more confused, "why not?"

You shook your head once again, hushing out your confession, "I'm not your love... You don't love me..."

"What do you mean? Of course, I love you."

"No, Sanji! You don't love me the way I do!" You shot at him, making eye contact with him.

As soon as those words hit and he had a look at your tear-stricken eyes, that was when Sanji's brain found its final puzzle piece on why the way you were. He replayed back how he would treat the women surrounding him and how it might have impacted him. He thought it was just his usual chivalry act, and you must've taken it the wrong way.

"Yes, yes, I do, (y/n), I've loved you the moment I've met you," Sanji confessed, and you once again shook his head.

"You probably said that to Nami, or Robin, or any girl you meet..."

"That's not true, (y/n), you're nothing like them," Sanji held your face with one hand, stroking your tear-stained face with his thumb, "you're way more special to me than any woman I've encountered.

"You sure have a way of showcasing it—" you scoffed until your words were cut by a warm pair of lips placed onto yours. Your eyes widened as your body stiffened at the contact, you almost gave in until Sanji pulled himself away from you, almost sensing that you were surprised by his action.

"I know I haven't been the best at treating you the way you deserve, and I am so sorry for hurting you and not telling you how much you mean to me, my love," Sanji's eyes and words were genuine and filled with real adoration, his traditional heart eyes were replaced with a glowing halo that meant something way deeper than those hearts he would showcase any women. He held both your hands as he kissed your knuckles, with your lips slightly parted, words were trying to spill but failed.

"You might not believe me now, but give me a chance to show you how much I love—no, I adore you... I'll give you something no woman has ever taken from, I promise you..."

His words may border into desperation, but you couldn't help but be convinced by his wordings and sweet talks as you gave him a small smile and hushed an approval before Sanji dragged you and took you into the kitchen.

—

It was some time passed since Sanji's confession. You weren't sure how long it had been since you last talked to him, but you simply didn't care as your clothes and Sanji's blouse were discarded somewhere in the kitchen, with him placing himself in between your legs, his hot tongue spreading around your wet folds as you lay across the dining table, moaning out in pleasure. His hair was disheveled with the way you gripped his hair, pushing his face further as if that motion could make his tongue get in deeper.

Sanji moans at the way you are gripping his hair as well as how tasty you are to him. The nectar seeping out of your flower was so ravishing, that he felt like he could turn himself into a bee hoping for more honey.

"Gosh, darling, you taste so divine," Sanji spoke through his licks, looking up at you like you were a goddess. He soon inserts his slender fingers into you while his tongue tackles your clit, resulting in you whimpering out for him. His fingers scissor your walls as he stretches you out with his fingers like he's preparing you for more.

"Mmm~ Sanji..." You mewled.

"Shh, shh, you don't want them to wake up now, do you?" Sanji cooed with a smirk, while his fingers were still pumping in and out of you, "unless you want them to walk in and see you with your legs spread out for me, huh?"

You moaned lightly at the thought of any of the crew walking in and seeing you like this, legs spread out for the cook, eating you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, something only he can have. Sanji took note at the excitement you were having, which caused him to smile as he got up from his knees.

"C'mere" Sanji exhaled before he fervently placed his lips back into yours, his tongue caressing into yours, making you taste yourself in the process. The hand that was on your thigh to keep you from closing around him ascended up to your neck, wrapping around it lightly.

"Have you tasted yourself?" He rhetorically inquired through the kiss, licking your bottom lips while you continued spilling your pleasured noises.

"Mhm, I know you like it," Sanji amorously giggled, "You tasted so fucking good."

Your eyes were still screwed shut as you felt yourself getting closer to the peak with Sanji's talented fingers. Just like in cooking, he truly knew how to use his fingers to hit the spot, and Sanji knew when it was ready to serve, which was certainly not now. Sanji releases his fingers out of your tight hole, making you whine out which made Sanji purr.

"I know, my love, I know," Sanji pouted as he held your face and squished your cheeks, "but baby deserves more than what she got, and I'm about give it right now."

As Sanji was speaking, he began lowering his already-unbuttoned pants, along with his boxers, releasing his ravenous cock with precum leaking out its dark pink head. You took a peek down at his cock, and your mouth started to drool at the sight, which Sanji smirked at your ogling.

"You want this, don't you?" Sanji smiled sweetly as he placed a strand behind your ear and you began to hold and lightly stroke it, He hissed at the contact while you were entranced by Sanji's parts. Sanji held your wrist and halted motions.

"As much as I want this, lemme take care of you..."

His actions may be fervid and lusting, but the words he let out were filled with fondness and adoration. He laid you down while he teased your leaking pussy, the head just eager to insert it.

"Sanji, please, just put it in~" You begged, and with that, you got an immediate response with Sanji stretching you out, making you mewl out as you threw your head back with a back arch. Sanji ran his lithe fingertips from your collarbone down to your breasts and began massaging the squish plush of your chest as you adjusted to his length.

You two were having a surreal moment, a moment that neither of you, especially you, could have expected to happen. A moment in which you have thought of before going to bed, touching yourself after hours at the thought of Sanji in that similar position that you're in. All the harsh and intrusive thoughts that you felt towards him with the way he treated women melted away as Sanji began moving at a slow pace.

The thrusts left you moaning out as Sanji hushes out strings of praises that left you wetter and wetter.

"Gosh, (y/n), you feel so good..."

"Such a good girl, such a good fucking girl..."

Sanji's thrusts began to become feverish as time goes, the sounds of skin slapping and blissed moans coming from both your and Sanji's lips bounce off the kitchen walls as the wooden table creates slight creaking sounds underneath your bodies, following his rhythm,

"I'm so close—fuck~ you're not that far off either, huh, my love?" Sanji's voice begins to crack as he feels himself about to implode and his thrusts begin to slop away. You were panting and whining mess underneath, struggling to form words in response so you simply just nod.

"Come with me, my love, c'mon," Sanji whimpered softly as he began to hold your hand and his lips attached itself into your neck, giving you the love you ever so deserve.

The volcano in your stomach is about to erupt due to the sheer force of Sanji's hips aided in his cock reaching over to your cervix, giving it multiple kisses at a time. But no amount of thrusts and penetration could have ever given that blissful end until Sanji whimpered out the sweetest sounds with him saying,

"Let me see you come for me..."

And there he has pushed you into that euphoric state as you rolled your eyes back, making you see white. Sanji groaned out as he spilled his all inside of you, leaving the two of you breathless in the process. Sanji landed on top of you, his head on your shoulder as he catches his breath, while you began stroking the back of his head.

Once you gathered your breathes, Sanji lifted himself slightly and pulled himself away to look at the aftermath of what you two had done. Your opening began to ooze out Sanji's load and drip down to the table underneath. You lifted yourself by the elbow and looked down.

"Shit... we eat here, Sanji..." You giggled breathlessly as you lightly scolded him. Typically, Sanji would be upset over a small dust landing on any crevice of the kitchen, but when he sees you with his cum dripping out of you, christening the table, he honestly couldn't care any less.

He leans in once again and attaches his lips to yours, this time in a chaste way. The kiss was pure in contrast to the previous activity you two had, it was a kiss, however, of what's akin to an overdue longing, a longing that was desperate to be released and given by someone specific, and you two were the main target for each other.

He pulled away, his head was placed onto yours as he smiled at you breathlessly.

"Now do you believe me? Now do you believe that I'm madly in love with you?" Sanji whispered, eyes filled with adoration.

Your eyes softened and gleamed as it matches up and mirrored his exact emotions.

"I do... I absolutely do..."

—

Bonus ending:

It was the next day, and Sanji was seen rushed to the kitchen to cook up something for the crew. He woke up slightly later than usual, which Robin and Nami took notice of as they had woken up before the rest of the crew, sitting on the sunbeds by the deck. Sanji greeted them hastily—uncharacteristic of him—with a quick smile and wave as he walked into the kitchen and instantly got into cooking, meanwhile, you showed up moments later...

They took notice of your odd walking, there was a slight wobble to it, seeming as though you were attempting to hide it. Robin and Nami just smirked at each other before looking back at you as you walked up to them.

"Hey, girls!" you beamed as you sat on the empty sunbed next to Robin.

"You seem to be in a lively mood," Robin acknowledged as she looked at the book she was reading, meanwhile Nami lightly chuckled, "Yeah, it's been a minute since I've seen you this cheery," she added.

You simply shrugged and opened your mouth to respond, only for Sanji to come in with drinks at hand.

"While breakfast is getting prepared, I've got you beautiful ladies your drinks," Sanji announced with the tray, beginning to distribute the drinks, and when he got to you, leaned down as he whispered to you "and I made this extra special just for you." He winked as he handed you the drink his hand grazed yours longingly, making you chuckle in timidness.

As Sanji was about to walk away, Nami and Robin respectively began commenting at earshot of his, pretending to be chatting with you.

"I see you and Sanji have made up..."

"Yeah, could've fooled me with that afterglow."

It was like it was purposeful, with Sanji stumbling on his steps and you choking on your drinks, making you cough and Sanji turn red as he ran to the kitchen.

"Robin! How could you?! You made poor (y/n) choke!" Nami feigned offense with a laugh and a slight nudge toward Robin as the dark-haired girl just simply chuckled.

You simply just shook your head as you rolled your eyes with a smile, "I hate you two..."

Your response made the two girls laugh.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

#one piece headcanons #one piece smut #one piece x reader #sanji fic #sanji fanfic #sanji smut #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #blackleg sanji x reader #blackleg sanji smut #blackleg sanji x you #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction

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killmeprettypleasee · 1 year ago

Note

Price x Ftm!lieutenant!Reader general dating hcs pls and tyy

Dating headcanons W/ John Price.

Warning: SFW AND NSFW mentioned, clingy price, mentions of killing someone, slightly possessive Price, switch Price and switch reader.

SFW

Before you and Price started dating, the two of you are already close friends, you two joined the military together and trained together back then before you guys are in your current ranks.

He is very sweet to you and supports you being a trans person.

He found out you were trans waaaayyyy back then, and the way he reacts was kinda random..

"Wait.. so your one of those transformers robots????" He looked at you dumbfounded as he scanned the surgery scars on your chest.

He was very confused.. but still supports you!

When someone was being toxic to you he WILL and not hesitate to unalive them.

He loves you too much see😭

He'll give them the coldest death stared making their bones quiver in fear.

He will cuddle you, and be hella clingy.

Imagine.

You both at the halls of the base and he's just hugging you, not caring if anyone is watching.

He would call you to his office to just hold you and have you sit on his lap.

Hell, every once i a while he'll make you skip training just to have you there with him..

He will never let you out of his sight.

NEVER.

You're his sunshine afterall, his Marshmellow to the hot cocoa, his sauce to the spaghetti, his peach to the eggplant (okay thats just weird..)

When you're both at home, he wouldn't let you go out to buy groceries and insisted that he should be the one buying.

He's just scared because he overthinks that someone will kidnap you.

He doesn't even care if you know self-defense 💀

When both of you go out on a date he'll take you out to the beautiful restaurants ever, but he rather keep it simply

He'll even buy you beautiful clothes to match your date.

One time both of you went to a Chinese sea food restaurant that serves raw and fresh sea food.

He bought himself those tentacles cus he wanna try them out.

End up sticking to his face.

Both of you gotta go to the doctor cus the tentacles suction wont let go.

He was traumatized and both of you never went to those fresh sea food restaurant.

NSFW

After ever date there should a spicy intimate time with him.

He would bend you over when you both in your car or at your house.

Just somewhere private where both of you could fuck.

He loves dominating you, but sometimes he also likes it when you're the one dominating him

He likes it when you overstimulate him till he's a whining mess when you're taking the lead.

You just loos so sexy ontop him while riding his cock while calling him a good boy.

It makes his cock twitch when you do that.

And the way you moan just sends him over the edge.

But when he's the one in control he would bend you over doggy style and hit your prostate head on with his tip.

He absolutely loves when you moan out his name.

Its just so cute.

He likes raw sex.

He wanna make sure to mark your insides aswell your body to show who you belong.

He loves it when your cunt squeezed his cock.

He'll call you a good boy for that.

When both of you are more on the romantic side he'll be gentle and loving with you.

He'll caressed your body and worship you.

He loves touching your scars btw.

He thinks its fascinating.

"God baby.. you're so damn beautiful.. such a handsome boy eh?.." He softly praised against your ear as he touched your scars.

He grunted when your cunt tightened around him.

"You're getting so tight around me baby boy.. such a good boy huh?"

Yeh...

He sometimes think about having a child with you sometimes.

This man has an extreme breeding kink...

Sometimes he'll rub your lower belly while he's fucking you cunt, whispering praises while he day dream of getting you pregnant.

He's glad you have a cunt ngl.

He could just impregnate you anytime..

But you're still a soldier and you still wanna keep the job so he respects that.

He'll wait when he's allowed to Impregnate you.

But he wont stop fucking you raw.

Sooo you have no choice but to go on birth control🤷.

#cod x male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #cod x ftm reader #cod x male reader smut #ftm reader #x ftm reader #ftm sub #ftm bottom #price x male reader smut #price x male reader #john price x male reader #captain price #price x reader

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kittievampire · 2 years ago

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idk if you’ve done this yet but like

i just need an mc that’s just sexually frustrated and lowkey touch startled like hello, you live with the living embodiment of Lust, that’s gotta hurt especially when he’s talkin bout his latest hookup while gossiping and mc’s just like “yeh that sounds.. like you had a wonderful time” words just so fulla jealousy and hurt

okay big word wall, im sorry, it’s late and this app is a bit buggish

teal deer: sexually frustrated maybe touch starved mc just wanna get dicked down hard by anyone at this point. your choice of who, cuz let’s face it all the available options are a good contender for our poor unfortunate soul

Hhhhhhh YES

I spun a wheel of names for this one lmao

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Relief

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Wet Dreams, Implied Non-Con Somnophilia (MC wants it when waking up after), Teasing, Degradation, Edging, Breathplay, Slight Dacryphilia, Creampie

Enjoy.

"Fuck!" You cried out, rage and frustration laced in your voice.

Tears welled up in your eyes, half of the duvet on the floor from your incessant squirming, and a hand between your legs, that's what your situation had you reduced to. Anyone else would've been embarrassed to be in this state. And you would've been too, had you not been so desperate to get off.

You slipped your fingers out of you, flipping your body over and slumping against your bed in defeat. You glanced at your D.D.D., tapping it twice to see the picture of the youngest sin you'd set as your lock screen, date, and time.

7:40pm

It'd been two hours.

You pushed your face against the pillow and screamed against it, your sounds being muffled by the soft material.

Two hours and you couldn't cum once?!

Have the gods forsaken you? It wasn't your fault you were, quite literally, kidnapped and sent to Hell! You didn't do anything but breathe to end up here!

You clicked your tongue, pulling the duvet back up from the floor and over your heated figure.

"At this point, I'll just go fucking atheist," You grumbled, eyes sealing shut as you let sleep whisk you away, hopefully to a land where you'd get some relief.

The Avatar of Sloth was never one to purposefully eavesdrop on conversations you and his brothers had. He respected your privacy, he truly did. It's just that you decided to have such conversations in front of him. Granted, he did have his head down, but that didn't mean he was asleep. He was trying to be, but he couldn't with what you were talking about!

"It was the worst thing I've ever felt in my life," Asmodeus sighed, taking a sip of his Demonus as he rambled on about one of his hook-ups. "Like, honestly, you can't talk that much game and be horrible in bed. You get it, right, MC?" The sin glanced at the tired and irritated expression on your face. You were practically seething, not only at the fact that he was bragging but the fact that he couldn't even tell that you were upset. "Totally," You grumbled out.

Belphegor shifted in his spot, biting his lip and looking down at his lap. It was surprising that his brother couldn't tell how frustrated you were, being the Avatar of Lust and all. Anyone could tell that you were struggling to keep your cool, and he knew why. He'd see it all the time in those wet dreams of yours.

The ones where you'd seduce him in an empty classroom at RAD, or where you'd guide him to Lucifer's room to fuck in his bed (he should consider that for one of his next pranks). Whenever he'd penetrate your dreams, he'd always wake up hard as a rock.

He had considered confronting you about it, but figured he should back off.

That was until the two of you decided to have a sleepover in the attic.

You had dark circles under your eyes from how late you'd stay up trying to get yourself off. Nothing worked. Even the wet dreams you had only served to make the hours of sleep you get decrease severely due to the number of times you wake up horny and decided to take a shot at masturbating. Then, of course, you'd be up a majority of the night with a fruitless endeavor for relief. You were pissed, but you figured that you might be able to sleep properly if you got help from the Avatar of Sloth.

"Can't you, like, put me to sleep or something?" You asked, holding a pillow close to your chest. Belphegor shrugged. "I guess I could. The only issue is I'm not sure how long you'll be out." You wave your hand in dismissal, placing the pillow under your head while throwing the blanket over your and Belphie's bodies. "Make me sleep for days for all I care, just put me to sleep, yeah? I haven't gotten a full night's rest in so long."

The seventh-born chuckled and pat you on the forehead. "Alright, goodnight, MC," He whispered softly into your ear as he gently placed one of his hands over your eyes. Your breathing slowed as you felt drowsiness course through your veins and relax your muscles, readying you for slumber.

"G'night... Belphie..."

The feeling of pleasure was what you yearned for, what you chased after. However, as soon as you'd feel its warm embrace around your body, wrapped around you like a blanket, it'd always seem to disappear from your grasp. Nothing was good enough, not even the dreams you had about the youngest brother.

This one, though, was quite interesting.

You were in the attic, the same place you fell asleep in Belphegor's arms. However, your face was pushed into the pillow and your ass was in the air, his hand planted in your hair to keep you in such a degrading position. He mocked you, teased you, and fucked you so well.

"Look at you and your needy little pussy, MC," He chuckled, thrusting his cock into the warmth that was your cunt, hips bucking into your ass and thighs. "Honestly, don't you have any shame? Walking around the House of Lamentation all horny, practically begging for someone to fuck you."

All you could let out were mindless babbles as he slammed his cock deep inside of your warmth, the tip bullying that same spot that made your vision go fuzzy. You whined out his name into the pillow, only causing him to push your face further into it. "What are you over there saying, hm? I can't hear you."

The lewd way that his balls clapped against your cunt was sending the pleasure you were experiencing straight to your brain, then back down to your pussy. Your walls convulsed around him, feeling that relief just inches away from you. Just a few thrusts away and—

Belphegor pulled out of you, delivering a spiteful smack to your ass as you whined at the loss. "No! No, no, nonono!" Tears formed in your eyes as your orgasm was denied. His hand moved your hair to the side before gently pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your neck. "You're so cute when you're desperate, MC," He murmured softly, running the palms of his hands along your thighs and slowly up your ass, giving it a squeeze of appreciation. His touch was stimulating, but your peak was already too far out of reach, and you weren't going to cum anytime soon without him pleasing you. Knowing this, you pushed your ass backward, causing it to collide with his pelvis as his cock slipped between your thighs.

"Please," You begged softly, beginning to move your legs so that your thighs would rub his still-hardened cock. With a low groan, Belphie gripped your hair once more. "Please what, MC? Use your words." He ground his hips against your ass, one of his hands reaching under you to gently cup your exposed breast.

"Please, Belphie, I wanna cum," You whimpered out, blushing at the sound of his chuckle in response. "You're so needy, aren't you?"

Suddenly, you felt something push the lips of your cunt apart with its entry, letting out a soft whine. Something of similar length and size penetrated you as well, gently thrusting into your pussy. You gasped in confusion. His hands were on your ass and your breast, and his cock was between your thighs.

What the hell?

Your eyes shot wide open as you felt your body temperature rising. One of your legs was hoisted up with Belphie's hand while the other was inside of your shorts and panties, thrusting his fingers into your cunt. He gently nibbled on your neck and smiled as he watched you stir to consciousness.

"Welcome back, MC." You could feel his smile on your neck as he pressed a kiss to it. "I wonder what you were dreaming about that got you so wet down here," He teased, thumb beginning to rub slow, lazy circles over your clit as his fingers thrusted into you slowly.

You let out a sharp gasp as you gripped the bedsheets, closing your eyes and shivering as he pressed his tongue against your neck, gently gliding it over your skin. "You seemed so agitated lately... Are you sure sleep was all you needed?" He curled his fingers, making you whine. You reached one of your hands down, almost as if trying to stop the stimulation despite enjoying it so much, only for the hand that held your leg up to grab your wrist. Your leg now resting on his forearm, he leaned in close so that his lips were an inch from your ear. "If you do that kind of thing, I'm gonna start thinking you want me to stop."

You felt your heart drop at his threat, immediately lifting your leg higher to give him more access to your cunt. "That's a good girl." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, continuing his soft administrations.

However, you were quick to grow restless. You'd been trying desperately to relieve yourself for weeks, and he was going far too slow for your liking. While you didn't particularly mind him slowly pulling you apart before making love to you, you wanted him to break you, fuck you senseless into the mattress. Though, maybe you were a bit too prideful to admit that. Instead, you keened and began to roll your hips down, feeding more of his fingers into your sopping heat. Belphegor raised a brow, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. "What are you doing there, MC? Is there something you want to tell me?" You caught your lower lip between your teeth, muffling a moan as you buried your face in the pillow, not wanting to give him an answer for fear of embarrassment.

"Tch,"

You heard a squelching noise as his fingers abandoned your pussy, which only made you gasp and start whining. "W-Wait! No, I was—" You cut yourself off with a small sob as you felt that familiar pleasure escape you once more. The sin pushed your shoulder down to the bed, climbing ontop of you and pulling down his pants with a small sigh. "You're so picky about what you get, aren't you? I didn't know you were so spoiled." He flicked his tongue against the tips of his fingers before launching that same hand to your throat, capturing it in a near-vice-like grip. "You want to be treated like a whore, don't you?" He pulled down your shorts and panties. "Here I was thinking I'd have to treat you all nice and stuff," He teased, a small grin forming on his face as he ground his hardened cock against your slit.

"Fine. I won't hold back then."

With that, he lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance and shoved himself between your folds, letting out a soft groan as he forced himself deep into your heat in one go. Your cunt fluttered at the stretch, and you cried out in pleasure. That ache in your stomach that had been bugging you for weeks was nearly gone. Bottoming out almost immediately, the Avatar of Sloth gave you no time to adjust. It didn't take you long to, but it would have been easier if he didn't start pounding into you from the get-go. His hand clenched around your neck, blocking your airways just enough to where you could still breathe somewhat, but your oxygen was limited. You gently wrapped your hands around his wrist, letting out choked whines as he fucked you into the bed.

"Poor lamb—" He smiled— "How frustrated have you been that your pretty little cunt is this needy? I don't even have to move that much, it's sucking me in every time I pull out," He teased, lifting your leg to press a kiss to your ankle. His hips maintained their merciless pace, the tip of his cock bullying your G-spot with its constant abuse.

Your walls were constricting around his shaft, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter as your orgasm neared. Finally, that relief that you'd been craving was closer than ever. Your eyes rolled back as you clenched your teeth, nails digging into the flesh of his wrist.

So close, so fucking close.

Belphegor hummed at your expression, brushing his bangs out of his face as his magenta eyes scanned your body. "This isn't right," He murmured, pulling his still-hardened cock out of you and removing his hand from your throat. You gasped for air, taking in as much as you could before letting out a sob, tears forming in your eyes. "No! Why?"

The youngest brother snickered at your protest, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. "Was this the position we were in in that dream of yours?" He asked. Before you could answer, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your face into the pillow, bullying his cock into your pussy once more.

A muffled cry erupted from your throat and could barely reach his ears due to the pillow he'd shoved your face in as he began to thrust once more. "Jeez, you really are a slut aren't you? You like this kind of stuff?" He laughed softly to compliment his sweet tone and contradict his harsh words and demeaning actions.

Skin slapping against skin, squelching, muffled cries of pleasure, and soft grunts from the disheveled seventh-born were filling the room, bouncing off of the walls and drowning out the sound of flickering flames coming from the fireplace. You were close to your climax again. Whimpering into the pillow, almost as if begging him not to stop again, you gently clasped one of your hands over his. He looked down at your hip, where now both of your hands were placed. He let out a small groan as he felt himself getting closer the more sounds you made.

"Fuck," He grunted out. "Gonna cum... You want me to fill you up, huh? Like in your dreams? I can do that if you say please." Belphie growled at the sound of your muffled moans in response, pulling your hair to bring your head up so you could speak. "Go on then, beg for it."

"Please! P-Please, please, need it! N-Need it, please, Belphie!" You choked out between sobs and mewls of pleasure.

Your tongue lulled out of your mouth as his cock pushed against your cervix, your walls clenching as your orgasm washed over you. His cum coated in your juices, he slammed into you once more, balls pushing against your cunt as he came. His hips stuttered as he rode out his orgasm, fucking his cum deeper into you.

When he pulled out, you collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily with a thin layer of sweat coating your body. Belphegor didn't even attempt to fix his clothes, merely throwing them off and brushing his hair back, smiling in amusement at how the white liquid he'd gifted you spilled out of your opening.

One moment, he was pulling your clothes off to make you more comfortable. The next, your nude body was pushed up against his for cuddling.

"Sweet dreams, MC."

Hope you liked it, anon!

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me smut #obey me belphegor #obey me belphegor smut #belphegor smut #belphegor obey me smut #belphegor smut obey me #omswd smut #omswd belphegor smut #belphie smut

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verchante · 9 days ago

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Ishq hai - LN4

cw: fluff, desi!reader as always, based on an debate i literally had one of my frnd. veer-zaara, om shanti om, and devdaas are goated idc

lando adjust the camera as he waited for people to enter the stream. "chat you need to fix something," his tone solemn. "don't start before me," a voice yelled from the hallway before his girlfriend came into the view. she handed him his cup of chai before sipping on her coffee.

"chat remember whose fans you are," lando says. "that's cheating!" his girlfriend exclaimed. "babe how is it cheating when some bhen ka lauda said 'we're yn's fans lando'," he read one of the comments. "bhabhi hai teri," lando says to the camera as if directly threatening the person who left the comment.

lando norris who is that? i'm js here for yn 😍😍😍

actually she's my fav engineer

lando move i can't see yn

"alright guys, what do you think is the goated srk movie and why is it mohabbatein," he says. "you know mohabbatein jimmy shergill reminds me of neil perry from dead poets society," his girlfriend chimes in. "but the goated ones are om shanti om, veer-zaara, and devdass," she added.

lando scrunches up his face at the movies she listen, already having been traumatized by devdaas. "mohabbatein literally serves everything. devdaas and om shanti om are just plain trauma," he argued. "nah, uh om shanti om, devdaas, and veer-zaara are just goated," she repeated.

kuch kuch hota hai, laughing in the corner

"i literally don't believe ki there are people who like kuch kuch hota hai. that movie doesn't even make sense," she scoffed. "oh so om shanti om and veer-zaara makes sense?" lando sassed. "a guy who died reincarnation 30 years later and took revenge for his dead love?" he added.

"exactly! that's actually like so green flag thing," she replied. "and an iaf pilot left his job to go to pakistan to confront his situationship so that she can marry someone else. mind you that girl went to pakistan overnight," he rolls his eyes.

"okay i get it but it's not like the entire story is bullshit. i mean kuch kuch hota hai just doesn't even make sense. i have this theory ki rahul has a type. he's into feminine girls and jab anjali ko dekha in sarees he wrote a letter to his daughter signed by tina."

"vaise bhi hai toh tharkulla red flag. uss bhen ke laude ko dono chaiye. matlab peak bakchodi. and i genuinely can't understand that kisi ki favourite movie is kuch kuch hota hai," she added. "you cannot talk about logic in movies when your favourites are om shanti om," lando argued. "please my favorites are much better than mohabbatein," she rolls her eyes at him.

"please apna kalesh aapne pass keep karein," lando scoffs at her, referencing to her kaleshi aurat teeshirt. she gasped, "i'm returning you to cisca, you caught on my sass," she punched his shoulder. "dil se movie bhul gaye kya," she read one of the comments.

"wait that's the one with chaiyya chaiyya na? meine dekha nahi hai. behenchod i even forgot the hook step of chaiyya chaiyya," she mumbled. "it's literally this," lando moved his chair away from her, demonstrating the hook step while being seated.

"behenchod a white man knows the hook step to chaiyya chaiyya and i don't," she stopped herself. "actually mujhe hindi bol na chaiye varna mera aadhar card le lenge," she chuckled. "even my name is khan is a good movie too," she reads in the comments.

"anyway songs," lando says moving chair to it's original place. "look i don't care what you say ishq hai is goated. what? g o a t e d, fucking goated brother," he claimed. his girlfriend next to his gasped. "this is so embarrassing. meine isse itne acche gaane sunaye and he likes ishq hai!" she complained.

"baby no, ishq hai is literally so good!" lando says. "it's fucking overrated. like yeah it's a good song but it cannot be goated when sajda, o rangrez, yeh tune kya kiya, bheegi si bhaagi si, chaand sifarish exists!" she exclaimed.

"you know what let me pull up my playlist," she said, opening up her spotify. "also it's mainly love songs wali playlist which i listen to almost daily. like the ealry 2000s and abhi wale. toh mujhe koi bakchodi nahi chaiye ki arey kun faya kun kyu nahi hai," she warned. "actually most of the songs in my playlist are goated." lando makes a face at her words.

"see apna bana le, not so goated. arijit singh have better romantic songs than this so not goated," she said. "agreed," lando chimes in. "zaalima, not sure you guys decide," she said. "i mean it's good but not goated good," lando justifies.

"ajab bi, mast magan, tujh mein rab dikhta hai, fucking goated." "no! tujh mein rab dikhta is not goated," lando argues. "like the other one is goated but not the rab song!" he added. "loud and wrong," she shook her head. "rangisaari," she announced. "not goated," they said in unison.

"raatan lambyian, fucking goated," she proclaimed. "you know yeah. it's you need it injected into your veins kinda songs," lando says. "heer ranjha, ishq wala love, not goated."

"okay the goated ones now." "main agar kahoon, kalank title track even luteron ka lootera version, khuda jaane, chaand sifarish, tere naina, o rangrez, teher ja, haule haule, rang jo lagyo, bheegi si bhaagi si, ye tune kya kiya, and sajda," she listed.

"these all are goated," she proclaimed. lando chimed in regularly with hmms and nahs. "i still believe ishq hai is above all," he states. "fuck off!" she rolled her eyes. "just accept that ishq hai is better," he says. "sajda is literally THE goated song," she insisted.

#lando norris #f1 #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando fluff

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cloudyskydreams · 5 months ago

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Scent drabbles! UT,UF,US

UNDERTALE!

Sans smells like pine and rain

You groan as you lazily smack at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Sweet silence fills the room once you finally manage to hit the snooze button and you consider getting up, for a very brief moment you really did think about it but your skeletal mate clinging on to you destroyed any thoughts of getting up and starting the morning early. You snuggle into him and inhale deeply, his scent has always been so calming. The smell of a rainy day trampling exploring a pine forest filled your senses and you sigh happily.

"heh did you just sniff me?" His voice makes you jump a little and blush in embarrassment.

He looks up at you with a brow bone raised and squinted sockets."Uhm... No?" your voice is a tad meek.

"don't worry I'm not scent out of shape about it." He chuckles and you shake your head at his pun. He pulls you back into him burying your face into the tank top he sleeps in. "it's too early to be up." He whines and you sigh snuggling into him and enjoying the comforting smell pulling you back into sleep.

Papyrus: smells like citrus and clean laundry

You and Papyrus are in the kitchen together eating breakfast. He lovingly made you both pancakes and you happily dug in when the decent sized stack was set in front of you. There was some for his brother of course but he wasn't going to be awake for a few more hours the lazybones he is. Papyrus worked on the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper while you munched on pancakes occasionally asking you for advice.

"EIGHT LETTERS, UNWAKBLE STATE" you think about it as you chew.

"Maybe ... Comatose?" He checks it with the spaces and other answers he already has and nods.

"THANK YOU SWEET PEA." You smile at the nickname and stand up to set your plate in the sink.

After you're done you creep up behind him and lean over his shoulder resting yourself against his back as you peer at the crossword. He Nyehs and leans his head against yours. You smooch his cheek and sigh contently before nuzzling into the side of his neck vertebrae gently. He smells wonderful like a productive day inside cleaning laundry and munching on freshly peeled oranges.

"Papyrus darling you smell so yummy I could just eat you up" he blushes at your words and you chuckle noticing that the citrus stands out more when he's flustered.

"(Y/N)...DONT DISTRACT ME FROM THE DAILY PUZZLE I MUST KEEP MY MIND SHARP!" You know he doesn't mean that from the way he's pressing himself against you but you chuckle anyways.

"Sorry clementine, I'll let you focus." You smooch his cheek again and he leans into the touch. Heading away from the kitchen to leave him be you decide for once you're actually motivated to get some laundry done.

UNDERFELL:

Red smells like campfire and apple pie

Fellby had called you complaining of the drunken red stating he didn't want his brother to come pick him up and to call you. You sigh and tell Fellby you're on the way. You grumble to yourself the entire way out of your apartment complex and to the bar. Once you make it to the bar you search around and spot Red perched on a barstool dozing off as Fellby stands close to him behind the counter crackling with his fire looking a little brighter than normal.

"Hey fell, m here for him don't worry" you say as you help Red off the bar stool he clings on to you and Fellby does the equivalent of an eye roll before walking off to serve patrons.

"heyy sweetheart, nice ta see ya" he slurs and you sigh bracing his body with yours as you help him stumble to the door.

"Jesus Red the suns not even down yet... Did you and Edge have another fight or something?" Red mumbles something stopping in his tracks.

"What?"

"i said i love my brother." Guess you hit the nail on the spot.

"Never said you didn't bud... Have you been seeing your therapist?" You get him walking again and he groans as you pry into his personal life.

"yeh e'ry two or so weeks" he huffs and you nod satisfied.You gaze at the stars for a bit as you help Ref stumble back to the apartments and help him into the elevator.

"Your place or mine?" He looks at you confused. "If you got into a fight it wouldn't be the best look to come home in this state..might set him off again?" You prompt and he nods looking a bit taken aback.

"guess yours then doll thanks for offering." His voice is gruff and there's a slight red hue to his face you brush off as the influence of alcohol.

"It's not problem babe I'm used to babysitting you " you chuckle and lead him to your apartment. He stumbles and collapses on the couch and you go and get him and cup of water from the kitchen.As your setting it on the coffee table he gives you a soft look and you pause to stare at him. You awkwardly look at eachother before he inhales sharply and looks to the side.

"keep me company?" You melt at his request and sit on the floor next to the couch.

"Wanna talk about it?" You prompt and he steels his face slightly, you take that as a no."That's okay... You should sleep this off."He nods in agreement and lays his head back after receiving a small smooch from you,you're sitting pretty close and you can smell his scent coming off of him it's like a fall night eating apple pie with friends around a campfire. You tell him about your day gently as he drifts out into drunken slumber and when you're done you stand up and stretch. These brothers and their emotional constipation, they have to get over it someday. You head to the kitchen intent on using the fresh apples you have to make a pie.

Edge smells like gasoline and cherries

You had ran into Edge in the hallway and had both gotten on the elevator at the same time. Unfortunately for you the elevator decided now would be the perfect moment to break down mid descent and leave you standing awkwardly across from the tall pointy skeleton who's looking more and more stressed with each second.You notice his breath is labored and wonder why he even needs to breathe before noticing he's sweating slightly.

"Hey.. you okay edge?" He looks at you and glares

"I-IM PERFECTLT FINE ITS JUST A LITTLE CRAMPED IN HERE PRINCESS/PRINCE." You would think he would know better than to lie to you at this point. He's obviously in the early stages of panic.

"Hey it's okay we won't be stuck for long... They're probably working on fixing it already" you press the emergency button on the elevator just in case. You sit in tense silence with Edge for a bit more before actually sitting on the floor, after a few moments Edge follows suit. You smile at him and gently start humming hoping to calm his nerves. He looks at you gently blushing slightly and listening to you hum as his breathing calms. The scent of gasoline dissipates the more you hum leaving the sweet after scent of cherries hanging around and after awhile the elevator springs back to life. Edge scrambles up and away from you to the furthest corner of the elevator and clears his throat.

"THANK YOU... TELL NO ONE YOU SAW THAT." his voice holds a threat to it but you just smile at him and his flushed cheeks.

"Have a good day edge." You hum as you exit the elevator after kissing his cheek now intent on going to the store. You have a craving for cherries now.

UNDERSWAP

Stretch smells like honeysuckle and honey

You sigh as you stretch out further on the couch. Today was lazy Sunday and you decided to spend the day with Stretch and Blue. Blue tried to join in on the tradition but couldn't sit still long enough and left to go about his day. Stretch however matched your laziness twofold so here you two were lazed out in his living room watching some nature documentary on bees.

"hey honey, what do bee's chew?" You think about it for a second before shrugging.

"bumble gum" he chuckles and you roll your eyes that was awful."

what's a bees favorite sport?" You groan hoping this isn't going to be a rest of the day thing.

"I don't know honey bun what?" You coo and he flushes a bit at the nickname but smiles as he sits up in his arm chair.

"Fris-bee." You chuckle at that one and he beams at you proud to have made you laugh.

"Okay Mr comedian no more" you say and he throws up and a okay sign standing up and gesturing for you to move your feet. You do and he sits down so you spread your feet back over his lap and he sets a hand on your calf rubbing it lightly. You guys enjoy each other's company and eventually you fall asleep to the monotone voice of the speaker on the documentary.

When you wake up you're cuddled to Stretches chest and he's asleep a little bit of orange drool leaking from his mouth. You giggle at the sight.He smells floral sweet like summer honeysuckle and the regular honey he likes to drink, it reminds you of your childhood and summer days. You nuzzle into him and he pulls you into his hoodie clad ribcage. You drift off back to sleep as you cuddle the clingy skeleton

Blue smells like mint and snow (stole this one couldn't think of anything lol)

Blue and you bustle around the kitchen as you cook together.

"NOT TOO MUCH SUGAR ANGEL WE DONT WANT IT TO BE TOO LUMPY." Blue reprimands and you halt on pouring in the sugar as he mixes the cookie dough.

It's winter time and you're making sugar cookies to ice and give out to neighbors. Blue and Papyrus had plenty of stuff planned for the winter season and you were invited to join in on them.

"Alright now we let the dough chill for a bit," you hum and set the dough in the fridge. Blue nods and starts to wash up as you head over and wait for your turn. You wash your hands and head to the living room with Blue.

"IM GOING TO TURN ON THE NAPSTATON GYFTMAS SPECIAL! ITS A CLASSIC THIS TIME OF YEAR!" He calls out and you nod. You can't decide if you like Mettaton or Napstaton more but you don't really watch them without the boys so it doesn't really matter in the long run.

Blue bounces over to the couch and gets comfortable as he turns on the special he's talking about. He looks at you for a second and there's a sparkle in his eyes a he gives you puppy dog eyes.

"CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR HAIR?"

You chuckle and nod sitting in between his legs to which he immediately shoves a bony hand in your hair. You lean back into the sensation and let him work out knots and braid and unbraid as you watch the musical drama in front of you.

Blue seems content to simply play with your hair and as you lean back you catch a whiff of his scent.

He smells like freshly fallen snow and peppermint a nice combination and perfect for these winter days. You find comfort in the scent and sensation of having your hair played with and subconsciously lean into Blues touch as he starts to massage your scalp.

Once the shows over you two hope back up and start on rolling out the dough and shaping it. It's a fun time and you and Blue take turns picking out different cookie cutters. You can't wait for more winter days like this to come.

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hotluncheddie · 4 months ago

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For the @steddie-spooktober day 22 prompt : leaves

rated: E (?) | cw: none | tags: housewife role play, feminisation, established relationship

🍁💕🍁💕

Eddie bought the place from a guy Hopper knew. A plot of land in Illinois, just outside Kentucky. A place to rest, to build roots. A new home.

After four platinum albums and near constant touring, Eddie made his lawyer find a clause in his contract titled ‘give me a fucking break.’

So after a final summer of shows. Eddie bought the land officially and did the closest thing he could to marrying Steve Harrington.

He bought a home for Steve, to get him away from the city. He was always complaining about it, about wanting a change - especially now that Robin had settled in an apartment with her girl and had gotten comfortable at her job with the museum. (Eddie flies them out during holidays. He’s rich now, and he’d do anything to put a smile on Steve’s face.)

So Eddie bought Steve a house, and a ring. And it was all very wholesome, and sweet. And Eddie always looks forward to coming back once he’s finished whatever show, interview or meeting that whisks him away. He’s always craving his little bit of wholesome, his little life of sweetness.

He’s also usually craving something else. Something that’s maybe less wholesome, and sweet, depending on how you look at it…

Eddie wipes the sweat from his brow, leaning over the pot of canned sauce he’s stirring. He still can’t cook, and every time worries it’ll mess with the fantasy.

But he can’t think about that now, checking he definitely set the timer for the garlic bread in the oven. He did, 5 more minutes.

He hears Steve kick his boots against the wall outside the frontdoor. He’d wanted to finish moving all the fallen leaves together to be readied for compost. They no doubt tacked themselves to the bottom of his shoes.

The door unlocks and Eddie scrapes a hand through his hair. He hears Steve shuffle around, taking off his jacket and hat. Eddie re ties his apron, pulling the strings tighter around his waist.

‘Honey I’m home!’ Steve calls.

Eddie tenses for a moment, then goes back to stirring. He shivers as Steve’s thick, work worn hands slip around his waist and squeeze. The smell of Steve’s hard earned musk making Eddie’s knees weak.

‘Hey baby.’ Eddie murmurs, as Steve kisses up the side of his neck.

The timer going off makes Eddie jump.

He shoos Steve into a chair and bends to take the garlic bread out of the oven, arching his back a little more than he needs to.

‘Okay, I, uh, think I just need to dish up.’ Eddie says, slightly frazzled, making sure everything is turned off and grabbing plates out.

‘C’mere a sec?’

Eddie turns, smoothing down his frilly apron and stepping over to where Steve’s sat, legs spread. In his flannel and blue jeans he’s as close to a cowboy as Eddie’s ever seen. (The tabbed off page of his old play girl doesn’t see much action anymore, rendered useless by the man before him.)

Steve pulls at his wrists, making Eddie sit straddling his knee. Eddie bites his lip at the friction on his cock through the thin cotton shorts he’s wearing.

‘How’s my best girl huh?’ Steve asks, pulling Eddie flush against him.

Eddie whimpers. ‘Good.’ He rasps. ‘Missed you.’

‘Missed you too, did you cook me something nice?’ Steve tucks a lock of hair behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie opens his mouth to answer but Steve shifts his thigh and grips Eddie’s hips to grind against him. Eddie moans.

‘What was that?’ Steve asks.

‘Yeh, yes.’ Eddie manages. ‘Pasta.’

‘Ah, just like a good little housewife huh? Go serve it up then.’ Steve says, lifting Eddie’s writhing form off his leg and smacking him on the ass.

Eddie serves up two plates, hands shaking, dick tenting his shorts.

He can’t wait to see what Steve has planned for desert.

🍁💕🍁💕

Tag list (lmk to be added / removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair

#I had a vision #but couldn’t think of actual smut for it lol #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddiespooktober #steddie spooktober #<3 #drabbles

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mariamakeslemons · 4 months ago

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Spooktober 2024: Day 6 Ghost

Warning: Non-con voyeurism, non-con touching, breaking and entering

You move around your apartment, ignoring Johnny’s whining and grabby hands. He’s trails behind you as you throw out the paper plate you used for breakfast, pouting at you as you try to make the apartment viewable for the man’s friend.

“Listen, I’m not letting the first impression your Lieutenant have of me is as a trash gremlin,” you remind the man.

“But, booooniiieee,” he whines, trying to grab you, “Ah jes wan’ a kiss.”

“Absolutely not,” you declare, spinning around to point at him with narrowed eyes, “If I let you kiss me, I know exactly how that situation will escalate. We don’t have time for that.”

“LT won’ min’,” Johnny states, causing you to sputter and flail at him.

“Absolutely not!” you repeat with a shriek, feeling your face burn as you scurry into the bathroom. Soap cackles, following behind you as you start the shower.

“Then, how aboot we have a lil’ fun?” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. You scowl and toss a spare towel at his face, ignoring his laughter as you start up a quick shower. You feel filthy after only two hours of sleep due to stress and nerves about work and this visit. The email you got from the Lieutenant only made it worse.

“Yeh sure Ah cannae help yeh in there?” Johnny asks, peeking his head through the curtains.

“Out,” you intone, grabbing your shaving kit and carefully start shaving.

“Och, tha’s right, bonnie,” he purrs, “Git proper smooth fer LT an’ Ah.”

“I will get the salt, you horny fuck,” you threaten, which only makes him pout and finally disappear. You’re pretty sure he’s still watching, but when Johnny turns invisible, he can’t talk to or touch you.

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

It had been a week after you moved into your new apartment when weird shit started happening. Nothing malicious, but still, weird shit. Your keys moving around when you know you’ve set them in a certain spot, your water bottle filling and emptying at random times, the music suddenly cutting on or off (luckily at reasonable levels of volume). You went and got one of your friends, one who’s always been sensitive to medium bullshit, to show up.

“Oh, this is rancid,” they said and immediately stepped back out of your apartment, refusing to go back in. They explained that your apartment is haunted by the last owner, a soldier who was killed. The spirit wouldn’t leave, there was still too much energy for them to just disappear into the ether. So, you now have a roommate who doesn’t pay rent. Fucker.

Of course, having grown up watching horror movies way too early, you know the best thing to do is research. Low and behold, you got a lot of information with a few careful questions and searches. One Sargeant John “Soap” MacTavish, also called Johnny due to serving under Captain John Price, was killed on a classified mission, leaving his apartment for sale once everything was processed with the family. It took a little longer, but you managed to email someone who knew the spirit. A Lieutenant Ghost, who was initially dismissive, at least, until Johnny started talking to you and demanded you type something only he’d type with a reference to a mission with a moment that didn’t make it anywhere near the report. Then, the Lieutenant started to ask questions, ones that you could answer and Johnny eagerly answered. From how the two men would converse with only each other, you’re pretty sure they were together together. Which makes Johnny’s obvious flirting and the few lines that the Lieutenant typed specifically for you all the more awkward.

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

“Oh, yeh shoul’ wear that!” Johnny chirps, pointing at a particularly short pair of shorts, “LT’s always liked a pair o’ legs.”

“Absolutely not,” you declare once more, trying to dry your hair before giving up and stomping over to your clothes. Pulling out a sweatshirt and sweatpants, you pull them on before sticking your tongue out at Johnny childishly. The ghost whines as you head into the living room, only to freeze. Standing in the middle of your room is a mammoth of a man, wearing a skull balaclava and dressed all in black. He turns his head, dark eyes taking you in before humming.

“Yer a looker,” he rumbles, taking a step toward you.

“Oi, LT! Boots off! Bonnie thing likes th’ flat clean!” Johnny calls, perching his chin on your shoulder. The man, the Lieutenant you think, looks at your shoulder and his eyes widen a bit.

“Well,” he huffs, “Bett’r listen t’ their rules, yeah?” He bends down and pulls off the giant boots he’s wearing as Johnny shoves you toward the giant. You swallow around a bundle of nerves as Johnny’s hands trace over your sides.

“Um,” you choke out, “How did you get in?” The behemoth pauses and looks at you, pulling out a key from his pocket.

“Was Johnny’s,” is all he says as explanation, before grabbing you by your hips and shoving you onto the couch. He clamors on top of you and pulls his balaclava up enough for you to see his mouth, “Now, yer gunna be good and let us have a little fun.”

“Donnae worry, bonnie,” Johnny coos, his blue eyes glowing ominously above you, “We’ll make sure yer havin’ a good time.”

#Spooktober 2024 #my work #Ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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spotlightlowlife · 2 months ago

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Sin misopportinity

I sort of think the last episode could have done with being a two parter, ending on the classic 'to be continued'. Why? Because technically, thought it was condensed down to 'Stolitz', a whole lot was going

• why exactly Stolas can't lend his book out if that's the case?

• isvit just Ozzie who can allow demons on earth and can dish a crystal out to just about anyone?

• who is and isn't allowed on earth and why?

• what are the differences between sins and goatia?

• what did all those of high status think of this case they had to observe?

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly the trial was about.

What were IMP in trouble for? Using Stolas's book? Going to Earth without being under jurisdiction and protocol which Blitzø now has down to the crysyal or was Blitzø in trouble for coercive abuse and stealing from his victim?

Blitzø and Stolas was the only case really built up with any evidence behind it, false aside, but what exactly was the criminal offense in this righteous world?

Their 'fling' was encouraged and there are other parings like it, but do Ozzie and Bee not rank above goatia?

The start of the episode had the team rushing to dispose of any trace of work, but what exactly were they hiding? This scene seem to make sense because 'shady+the law= run, hiding and cover lol', but it really doesn't.

Where they getting busted for an illegal business? No, they breach no particular moral code, the business was advertised (yeh yeh, pilot) and they have made no efforts to hide.

Taxes may have actually made for a good trial.

In the few times we have followed IMP to earth (excluding the shorts which are good and much needed, but maybe not a cohesive part of the story), Blitzø and co have been rather professional and stealthy, they have went directly to their target's locations and they have used weapons a human would use. They have pulled off not having human disguises because of time, place and the shallowness of the people around them.

On the other hand, Stolas presented himself to human in his monster form, which is probably fine since status brings special treatment, however Verosika and Barbiewire who is just an imp couldn't have drawn more attention to themselves.

We had Verosika, an asmodean crystal user and bee juice drinker (insinuated to be an adict), going to Earth and being responsible for a fish supersizing, causing a massive scene of the unexplained.

We have Barbiewire, an asmodean crystal user and addict who got close with a teenager who put in a dangerous situation and got killed, causing a gruesome mess which could easily have resulted in their little footprints being visible at this big deal of a crime scene.

So it would be a hard press to pull IMP up for misconduct because will these two ever be pulled up for their lack of professionalism? They alone could provide D.H.O.R.K with plenty of leads.