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sincerelyakilljoy · 1 month

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THE GOLD COIN THAT GLITTERS AND GLINTS

pairing - aventurine x gambler + debtor!fem reader length - 11.4k words warnings - nsfw/18+ content, fem!reader, some fingering (with his gloves on), slight choking, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, doll, etc), he's kinda mean, teasing, penetrative sex, guns (barely), gambling, aventurine whines a bit, kinda dom aventurine (?), slight coercion/threats (reader is consenting)

summary - you ran away from the IPC to penacony because of the huge debt you owed and couldnt pay. years later when youre out gambling a familiar figure appears with another offer you cant refuse.

NOTES

honestly i can see him being like this in all honesty, he definitely would be an ass tbh...this is proofread (ty to my frennn) but sorry for any mistakes :p also ive never gambled so writing that was a bit hard, so sorry if it sounds stupid

The smell of cedar and smoke fills your senses as you enter the casino, eyes scanning the floor before shifting to one of the casino’s cashier windows.

You huff as you saunter your way over to the cashier, lugging a briefcase along with you.

A sweet smile spreads along your features as you greet the cashier. “I’d like to exchange my cash.” You hum, setting your briefcase on the counter.

“For how much?” The cashier asks, clicking a few things on his kiosk before looking up at you as he reaches out and grabs the briefcase, flicking open the metal clamps and cracking it open.

“A million.” You say with a smile, watching as his face shifts with emotions you don’t even bother to acknowledge. “Hurry please, ‘m a bit busy.” Gently urging him to hurry.

Your tone is a bit rude but you don’t mean to sound like that, you’re in a rush and the face the cashier made only made you feel anxious and like he was going to take a bit too long.

The cashier only nods and hurries to transfer your money to chips, opening the briefcase to pull out the stacks of cash.

“M’sorry if I was a bit rude,” You apologize, you’re voice a bit awkward as you try to sound a bit nicer. It's not on purpose but..you’re a bit “tone deaf” per se. “I’m just in a bit of a rush.”

The cashier mumbles a “it’s fine”, clearly focused on his job at hand.

You don’t say anything more than that, only leaning forward against the counter as he deals with your money.

After a few minutes he sets a briefcase containing your poker chips on the counter, pushing the briefcase towards you. “Here you go, ma’am..”

You grab the cool handle of the briefcase, nodding a polite thank you to the cashier before walking away.

You look around the casino, looking at the games being played. Men surrounding tables with women on their arms while smoking fat cigars, some young, some much older.

You walk around a bit before seeing a poker table with an empty seat. You hum to yourself before walking over, glancing at the people seated. “Can I join?” You ask with a smile.

The other 6 people look at you, eyeing you pointedly. You can’t tell if they’re being judgemental of some sorts, their looks a bit annoying to you.

“Of course sweetheart, take a seat.” A man says, his voice drunk sounding and gruff.

You angle your head to look at him, raising a brow at the nickname he called you but you relent to not say anything more and just slide into the seat that happens to be next to the man.

As you sit the cashier deals the cards smoothly, sliding them in all directions cleanly.

After you’ve been dealt your cards you pick them up fluidly, eyeing the cards in your hands while keeping a straight face, a poker face if you will.

“Place your bet.” The dealer says, looking at the person next to him, waiting for his bet.

“Hundred thou’.” The man says, stacking his chips next to him on his left.

You swallow at the amount, a bit annoyed with how high the bet was already but what can you do?

You wait for someone to raise it but when nobody does the game starts.

You look down at your cards again, listening as the players place their bets, all of them not raising the previous price at all.

“Raise three hundred thousand.” You hum once it’s your turn, placing more chips on the table. You think to yourself whether or not it’s good to bet so much more this early on but you decide that it doesn’t matter much.

You have more money waiting for you in your account if you really needed it and to be cocky, you’re real fucking lucky.

A few at the table call while two of them fold, placing their cards face down and pushing them to the dealer before abruptly leaving, losing anything they’ve bet so far.

After the two leave the dealer places three cards face up on the table, an Ace of hearts, Seven of spades and a 3 of clovers.

You smile slightly to yourself, already seeing a in so early in the game.

Oh, you’re definitely winning this.

You won big.

Another 1.2 Million to your savings all from one match of poker. Lucky might just be your middle fucking name.

A bit smugly you get up from the poker table, collecting your neat, little chips in your briefcase, watching as the others at the table grumble curses while staring daggers at you.

You couldn’t care less. Feeling smug and cocky, winning one round is really getting to your head.

You hum a little song to yourself as you walk away, looking around for something else to play. But everything seems to be a little boring tonight, after winning so much money and one shot you didn’t know what you should play next in all honesty.

You walk around the floor, heels softly clacking on the soft, velvet floors as you eye tables for anything that even slightly grabs your attention.

That’s when you hear loud voices, someone yelling.

“This fuckers-hic- cheating..!” A drunken voice booms and nosily, you can’t help but walk over to see what’s going on.

A drunkard waving his hands at a man as a bouncer tries to grab him and calm him down.

The man seems calm, looking at the man with almost too natural looking smirk adoring his features. Blonde hair framing his face and a hat that looks like a fedora on, slightly hiding his features with rose tinted glasses on.

“Cheating? Don’t be so mad, maybe you’re just unlucky, hm?” The man says, a bit sassily while he flips a gold coin in his hand.

This seems to only enrage the drunkard who swings at the blonde man who just steps back, causing the drunk idiot to stumble and fall.

“That’s embarrassing, don’t you think?” The blonde says, a smug look on his face as he looks down at the drunk condescendingly.

You watch as the drunk gets dragged out, yelling profanities at the blonde who just shrugs it off.

You swear you’ve seen the blonde somewhere but can’t put a finger on it, so to quench your curiosity you walk over to the table.

As you walk up you look at the table, seeing its roulette you feel confident that you might get even more lucky.

You ask the dealer to join who simply says yes and you move to sit on the stool at the table, directly across from the blonde.

You attempt to get more glimpses of his face but can’t due to his hat and glasses.

The dealer calls for bets and each person places them, including yourself and the blonde across from you.

“Black, eleven.” He says, it almost seems like he’s bored as he smugly rests his chin on his palm, looking at the board as the dealer spins it.

As it spins you feel a bit nervous, roulette is more of a game of chance than anything, you just have to get lucky again.

And you do, the die landing in the slots you betted on.

You smile as chips get pushed your way, getting a slight thrill.

“Mm, seems like I wasn’t so lucky this round.” The blonde says with what seems to be a feigned sigh as he moves to pull off his hat, setting down next to him.

Then you’re painfully aware of how you recognized him.

IPC..he’s from the fucking IPC.

He smirks at you, cockily and knowingly, and you can’t help but fucking shiver from the way his eyes bore into you, almost saying “Recognize me?”

You ponder on whether or not you should act like you don’t recognize him, playing a few more times with the risk of him possibly confronting you or just walk out with your winnings with the chance of him following and confronting you.

Both seem to have the same outcome.

So you play innocent, shifting your gaze away from his with a calm face in an attempt to hide your onslaught nervousness.

You mumble your bet and push your chips forward, glancing at the blonde.

“Raise fifty million.”

He said your debt, the exact amount of money you owe to the IPC, he’s fucking with you.

You clench your jaw to save face, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you stare down at your chips.

He laughs, the sound snapping you out of whatever daze you’re in.

“I’m kidding, raise it five hundred thousand.” He hums, pushing his chips forward as he eyes you pointedly before saying his color and number.

You swallow at the eye contact, internally screaming at yourself to just leave but you don’t, either way you’d seem suspicious no matter what you did so you decide to stay, matching his bet.

The dealer spins the board and you just feel dizzy watching it, sudden waves of anxiety washing over you as you think about what might happen later.

You haven’t paid your debt in over 5 years, deciding you’d rather disappear and be a fugitive to the IPC than pay the debt you owed.

You only had them come after you once and that’s when you initially met the blonde.

Aventurine.

He was cynical, cocky and arrogant, wearing a smirk while threatening you.

The IPC had come for you when you still lived in the underground city of Belobog, broke and stupid you decided to take money from them as a loan.

A stupidly large amount of money that you didn’t even know what to do with.

Initially you didn’t want to ask for much, only a thousand or so but greed got the best of you and you just wanted to get money, so you said the price. Fifty million.

When you got the money you were shocked, the check was so huge you didn’t even think you could cash it in at the bank. You didn’t spend much of the money until you heard more about the IPC, when they started to get exposed for their inhumanity.

“You took how much from the IPC?!” Your boss nearly blew your eardrums out with her shouting and you only looked at her stupidly, like you were caught doing something obscene.

“F..fifty mil- but I’ll pay it back! I’ll just take it slow..y’know..” You mumble, rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you lean back against the bar's counter.

“Girl, I don’t think you know how serious the IPC are about their money…” Her tone is serious, eyes boring into you with worry and fear. “You don’t understand what they’ll do to get every last dollar back, down to the penny.”

You roll your eyes, picking up the broom that was leaning on the counter next to you.

“What? They'll take my stuff? Newsflash, I don’t have shit.” You hum ignorantly, slowly starting to sweep the floor.

“Girl, they will take you.” She grabs your wrist, it’s not tight or anything but she squeezes ever so slightly to let you know, she’s not kidding.

“If you don’t pay it back in the time they gave you in your contract, you're screwed. You don’t know what they will do to ya’.”

You roll your eyes for the upteenth time, completely ignoring her worries even though she seems scared for you.

“Honestly, I’ll pay it back. Don’t worry too much, I’ll be okay.” You sigh softly, placing your hands on your boss’s shoulders, massaging softly in an attempt to soothe her worries.

“It’s not like they’ll threaten to kill me or anything.”

Those words rang through your head a year later, after missing nearly every payment required of you. It was only a matter of time they came for you.

You pant heavily, watching as IPC troops stormed into your dingy, little apartment that you made home. Breaking picture frames, plates and anything else that got in their way.

You’re backed up into a corner of your kitchen, two IPC troops pointing guns at you as they seem to wait for someone else to come deal with you.

“W-what are y-” you’re interrupted by a gun shoving you in your stomach, pushing you back into the kitchen counter.

“Shut your mouth!” The trooper shouted, keeping his gun pressed to your abdomen, twisting it into your skin, making you cry out.

You stand there, shaking as you watch them tear you home apart.

In that moment all you can do is regret, regret taking the money while deep down knowing you weren’t going to even be able to pay the monthly payments, especially with the insane interest that was added to your debt.

With shuddering breaths you watch as someone else enters your apartment, seemingly dressed to the nines, you ponder on whether or not you could even afford a single piece of string used for his clothes.

He walks in, rudely stepping on the photos that were left scattered on the floor. He looks around, humming at the sigh of your home in shambles before turning to you.

“My, my…couldn’t have expected this..could you?” His voice is sickeningly condescending while keeping up his feigned friendly tone as he walks towards you, pulling off his rose tinted glasses that he simply tucks into a pocket.

You clench your jaw as he walks towards you, getting so close you’re practically huffing the expensive cologne he wears.

The IPC troops step out of the kitchen, leaving you and the blonde alone.

“Hm, this place looks awfully…” He starts, turning his head to look at the state of your home. “Lived in, hm?” He looks at you, tilting his head to the side as he wears a disgusting smirk.

You don’t reply, only staring up at him in hatred and fear, knuckles turning white from how hard you’re gripping the counter behind you.

“Can’t speak? That’s fine,” He shrugs, his eyes never leaving your face as he steps back a bit, giving you a bit of room in the small kitchen.

“You’re at least a bit aware of who I am, yes?” He asks, folding his arms as he looks at you.

You shake your head slowly. “I only know the IPC in general…nothing more.” You respond, your voice a bit shaky as you try to hold yourself together.

“Well, you do know what debt collectors are in general, right?” He hums, looking at you as he waits for you to answer.

And when you don’t, he’s stepping forward once again. You raise a brow as you watch him step forward before a sharp yelp is pulled from your lips as his gloved hand comes out to roughly grab your jaw, yanking your face so close to him his nose brushes against your cheek.

“Right?” He sneers into your ear his tone losing its feigned friendliness, only a tone of disgust and malice lacing his voice. He tightens his grip on your jaw and it feels like he might be able to just pull it off.

You wince at the feeling, feeling your eyes water from the pain alone. So you squeak out a “yes” and thankfully he lets go but doesn’t step back.

“I’d advise you to use your words,” He sighs, sounding all too relaxed but it makes sense cause he’s not the one in the situation at hand. “I can be patient but at the moment patience isn’t enough, due to the fact we’ve already have been soo patient and kind to you for the past year.”

You listen in silence, rubbing your sore jaw as you start daggers at him.

“What’s with that look? You’ve more or less brought this upon yourself..” He laughs and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. “Let me explain to you what’s going to happen from today onwards,” He hums, taking out a gold coin before starting to toy with it in his fingers.

“Right now you still owe about forty nine million eight hundred fifty dollars, somehow you managed to pay the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars that you owed one month but for some reason you never paid the monthly payments again.” He looks you up and down, flicking the coin up into the air before catching it in his hand.

“So, what happened to all the money you took?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly as he stares at you, still wearing a smug smile.

“I..I gave it away to people.” You lie, although you did give a lot of it away to friends, family or others in need you put the rest of it up. Why didn’t you just pay the monthly payments with that money? You didn’t even know, assuming that the IPC wouldn’t do anything to you for that money and the fact they probably have trillions of dollars to their name.

What’s a measly fifty million?

Clearly a lot if they’re doing this.

“Gave it away?” He repeats, raising a brow. “Generous aren’t you?” He says, before stepping closer to you once again.

“Let’s make a bet.” He positions the gold coin on his thumb and forefinger in a flicking position. “I’ll flip a coin, if you guess which side it lands on correctly I’ll give you some leeway, seventy five percent less interest and another year and a half to pay it back. How’s that sound?”

You stare at him with uncertainty, swallowing thickly as your hands tighten into fists, nails digging into your palm, leaving deep crescent shapes behind in your skin.

This man just stormed your house and trashed it to hell…how are you supposed to believe a single thing he says.

“I know, how are you supposed to believe a thing I say?” He says, practically reading your mind and it scares you a bit. “Trust me…you’ll want to take this offer.”

His tone feels like he’s not lying and the way he’s staring at you feels like burning holes right into you, silently telling you to hurry up and answer.

You exhale a shaky sigh before nodding. “Deal.”

“Hmph, good choice.” He hums before flipping the coin, smoothly catching it with his left hand. “Heads.” His voice is low as he stares you in the eyes, piercing you with his gaze as he clenches the count in his gloved hand.

“Tails.” You mutter, your voice shaky and quiet as you advert your gaze, looking down at his hand to avoid his eyes. Holding your breath in fearful anticipation as you wait for the reveal.

Slowly he opens his hand, the coin flipped on tails.

You let out a shuddering breath of relief as you see the coin, basically collapsing back against the counter as you hold back tears that threaten to roll down your cheeks.

“Awe, relieved are you?” He coos, voice sickeningly sweet and laced with condescendence.

He moves closer to you, invading your space as you back up instinctively, bumping against the counter that traps you. He reaches out and grabs your chin, not as harshly as before but firm enough to force you to look up at him.

“You’re quite lucky and here I was, ready to drag you out of here by the hair.” He laughs cynically, trailing one of his gloved fingers along your jaw. “Next time,” He starts, inhaling through his nose. “I won’t be so lenient. Next time, I’ll make sure you pay off your debt by any means the IPC sees fit, and trust me when I say this,”

He leans in, breath fanning against your ear. “You’ll fucking wish you were dead.”

Those words ring in your ears, years later, in this moment. You’re screwed, screwed in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

You regret not just paying it back, you should’ve just paid it back. You don’t even know why you got so cocky, developing a gambling habit and deciding to run away, changing your name and doing whatever you can to disappear.

You went to Penacony, thinking it may be a safe haven due to how many people come and go there..but clearly it isn’t, now that you’re stuck in this unwinnable situation.

If you could, you'd drop to your knees and pray, maybe even lick the bastard's shoes while you’re at it. But you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you see chips getting pushed your way.

“Miss? You’ve won again.” The dealer says simply, pushing chips towards you.

You inhale sharply, knowing the amount may well be over the money you’ve already won. You’re feeling real lucky now.

You decide to push your luck.

So, you put on a pretty smile, collect your chips and fucking book it.

Well not exactly, running in the casino will just make you seem stupid and suspicious so you turn, take your winnings and walk away, walking to a kiosk to cash out.

Maybe it’s the paranoia but you swear that you can feel Aventurines eyes boring into you, feeling that piercing gaze sting your back, even when you’re away from where that man is. Yeah, you need to hurry the fuck up.

Quickly, you shove your winning into your briefcase before speed walking out of the casino.

You contemplate whether or not you should go back to your hotel room. The IPC could be there, waiting for you to show up.

Instead of heading straight home, you go and walk around the city, trying to figure out what to do and where to go next. You’ve already done so much to get away, erasing yourself from Belobog completely and they still found you.

At this point it seems like you’ll have to fake your own death just to get away.

You walk around Penacony, taking in the sights as if it’s your first time there. Honestly, you’re just doing this to distract yourself. And you’re thinking and thinking about what you could’ve done differently back then and the answer is so painfully obvious. Never take the money.

If you felt like it, you would kick yourself for being such an idiot.

You walk through Penacony’s shopping district, not looking to buy anything at the moment but it’s nice to just look.

As you’re walking you see three IPC troops in the distance, talking to some woman while showing them a photo.

You freeze, wondering if they could be asking about you.

I mean, there’s tons of people in debt with the IPC, they wouldn’t do this much for one person…right?

Wrong.

You watch as the woman glances around, the IPC troops filling her gaze before their sights land on you.

One of them shouts at you and this time, you fucking book it.

Quickly pulling your heels off your feet to carry as you run in the direction of your hotel. You’re sure they’re on your ass, hearing heavy footsteps behind you as you run.

As you’re running you see a tight alley, dark and long. You look over your shoulder and see that they’re far behind but close enough to catch you if you take one wrong move.

Quickly you duck into the alley, hiding behind random clutter that’s in the alley.

You wait a second before hearing the troops stomp past the alley, yelling “where is she?!”.

You sigh a breath of relief, clutching your chest. You can’t believe you managed to lose them, panting and tired you laugh slightly to yourself, wondering how the hell they were so stupid.

You wait about thirty minutes before walking out the alley and running to your hotel, which conveniently was nearby. Although you look silly, running barefoot while carrying your heels and a big ass suitcase, you couldn’t care, hurrying into the building and to your hotel room.

You shove yourself into your room, shutting the door behind you before collapsing back against it, panting and breathing heavily as you slide down onto the floor, ultimately relieved.

Once you’re calmed down and caught your breath you get up to look around your hotel room, making sure nobody’s in there hiding to catch you off guard. You look in the kitchen area, being so paranoid you open the cabinets, searching the inside ‘cause honestly, the assholes could be hiding anywhere.

You check the bathroom next, yanking open the shower curtain and sighing a breath of relief as you see nobody’s there. You walk out the bathroom, sighing as you start to unzip your dress, exhausted and in dire need of a shower. You start to slip out your dress when you hear a voice clear its throat.

You whip your head around and see the blonde bastard, comfortably sitting in the recliner that came with your room.

You don’t even know how and when he got in but the thought of him being able to come in without you noticing sends a chill up your spine.

“Nice room,” Aventurine hums, looking at you with a disgusting smirk that makes your blood run cold as he flips his gold coin in his fingers. “Now, how can you afford this room, a trip to the beautiful place of Penacony and of course, your gambling habit but cant pay back the debt you owe?” He sneers, a disgusting tone of voice that hides his hostility, a mocking sound of friendliness slipping from his lips.

You can't even respond, you've been caught. You stand in the mini hallway of your hotel room, hands balled into fists as you try to think of something to say but you can't. You're scared, really fucking scared. All you can think is about his threats, is he going to kill you? Enslave you to the IPC as some sort of labor worker until you pay off your debt?

You're frozen, completely frozen even as he stands and walks towards you, piercing eyes boring into you, feeling like he can burn holes straight through your body with his eyes alone.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as he gets closer to you, eyes already watering just from his presence. “I’m s..sorry..” You mumble, looking at him a bit pitifully.

“Hm,” Aventurine grabs your balled fists, easily opening your hand, revealing deep crescents dug into your skin from your nails. You flinch with his every movement, breath hitching as he unballs your fists. “You're only sorry you got caught, be honest with your apologies.” He runs his fingers over the marks on your palm, tracing circles over them. “Honestly, it wasn't very hard to find you. Rather simple actually.” He hums, releasing your hands. “It was a bit obvious you'd be here but since you've done so much to get rid of yourself, it took us a while. But you know what happens now, yes?”

You're dead silent, not even knowing what to say in this situation, you can't apologize, you can't bargain and you can't pay. You can only beg.

“i..i'm sorry.. I swear.. please..do..don't..” You start to cry, shaking and staring down at your feet and your hands move to clutch at your dress. “P..please…” You say with a grovely tone, voice shaky as you try to look up at him, eyes bleary with tears making it hard to see him, but you don't even know if you want to see his face.

“Aww, don't cry,” Aventurine coos, voice laced with feigned sweetness as he reaches up to cup your cheek, gloved thumb swiping your tears away. You flinch away from his touch, still crying and sniffling as he looks down at you. His touch is disgustingly tender, softly brushing away your tears as if he cares but when you look at the look on his face it's one of condescendence and power, smirking as if he's getting a kick out of seeing your tears.

“Do you want help? Ill bargain with you one last time, how does that sound?” His voice disturbs you, making you shudder in fear. “If not, I'll just take you away now.”

It sounds like he wants you to take the deal, his second sentence a clear threat to force you into taking the deal. And like an idiot, you silently nod.

He smirks even wider at this, both hands moving to cup your face and force you to look up at him, his hold is firm, making sure you wont move your head to look away. “Is that a yes? Use your words, sweetheart.” He disgusts you, you hate him. Your mind screams insults at him, but all you do is play exactly into his hand. “Y..yes..”

You feel horrible, but you dug yourself this grave and you’re painfully aware of that.

He grins widely, hands holding your face firmly. “Spend the night with me.”

You do a double take, flinching and attempting to move away but his hands slide down to your waist, gripping it firmly to keep you still while squeezing hard enough that the feeling has you wincing in pain.

You look at him with a shocked expression, eyes wide with your brows furrowed and curved. You open your mouth as if you were going to say something but can't get anything out a few sputters of jumbled words.

“Huh? Cat got your tongue?” He coos, tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Take this deal and your debt is gone, zero cents owed to your name..”

You dont reply, eyes shut as you think. You hate this man but you can't deny that he is attractive and you really need the IPC off your ass. Pushing down your pride you respond. “Okay..”

You accepted the deal all too quickly. Selling yourself out without a second thought or consideration of how just accepting this deal would affect you in the future.

After you utter those words his lips are on yours, kissing you in a way that contradicts the way he acts. Your hands tug at the sides of your dress, as you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what to do.

His gloved hand slides up to cup the side of your neck as he breaks the kiss, looking at you with low eyes. “First kiss, hm?” He murmurs, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“You wish.” You mutter, looking away from him. You can’t help though as your breath hitches, feeling his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Ah, feisty aren’t you? Yet here you are, at my mercy.” He grins, sliding his hand to grab the back of your neck, tugging you closer so you’re pressed flush against him. You gasp at the movement, your own hand coming up to grab at his forearm, gripping onto the expensive fabric.

“Quite pretty too…it’s too bad you make such stupid decisions..” He murmurs before capturing your lips once again, his free hand grabbing your hip gently and pulling you closer against him while his other hand stays on the back of your neck, massaging the skin with his thumb.

You slowly feel your resolve crumble, the line between circumstances and your own free will starting to blur as you lean more into the kiss, your hands sliding up to grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them slightly.

You feel his hand trailing down your spine to your lower back, splaying his hand out and gently pushing you forward so you press against him more firmly.

You sigh shakily against his lips, letting your body press more against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He groans softly, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips before gently slipping into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours while his hands slip to your hips, grabbing them and pulling your hips against his, his leg gently nudging between yours.

You gasp into the kiss when he pulls your hips against his, your fingers starting to tangle in his blonde hair as you kiss him with more urgency, pressing your chest flush against his as you tilt your head opposite to his, further deepening the kiss as you whine softly.

He nips at your lower lip with his teeth, leaving a stinging pain behind before soothing it with his tongue, making you gasp shakily in response. “You're so needy,” He muses, starting to trail wet kisses and love-bites along your jawline and down your neck while his hands squeeze your hips firmer.

He bunches the part of your dress that's by your hips in his hands, letting it ride up your legs before he nudges his thigh up between them, pressing against your most sensitive spot. You leg out a shuddering moan before moving your hand to cover your mouth.

He pulls away to look at you, his once brutal gaze turned to one clouded with lust. “Don't cover your mouth sweetheart,” He coos, his voice lower and throaty but still holding that same condescending tone as he leans in and you can swear you hear the smirk in his voice when he whispers in your ear. “I want to hear those pitiful, little moans you make.”

Right after saying that, his grip tightens on your hips as he starts to move you, guiding you to grind against his thigh while he sucks and nips at your neck; leaving dark spots behind that feel hot on your skin. You let out a broken moan in response, your arms wrapping around his neck tighter while you bury your face into his shoulder. Fingers digging into his clothed upper back while you gasp and whimper, starting to move your hips along with his guidance.

At this point you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are, the insides of your thighs slick and your panties aren’t faring any better, practically drenched at this point.

You hear him let out a breathy laugh as you start to move your hips on your own. He runs his tongue along your neck to your earlobe before nipping it. “Fuck youre soaked..i can feel it through my pants..” He murmurs into your ear as he starts to move your hips faster against his thigh. “These were expensive too..are you going to pay for the cleaning or am i gonna have to add this to your debt..?” He smirks, running his tongue along the shell of your ear.

You whine in response, knowing that any words that might come out your mouth will just sound like gibberish.

You start to ride his thigh faster, trying to get to the edge as soon as possible. He groans in your ear softly as he feels you move faster, his hands tightening around your hips with a bruising grip as he laves his tongue along the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your thighs start to twitch as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the pressure in your lower stomach building quickly as your moans and movements get needier. Aventurine starts to trail kisses down your neck to your collarbone, his left hand leaving your hip to reach up and tug the straps of your dress off your shoulders, causing your dress to slack and fall.

He tugs the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts from the confines of your clothes, causing you to shudder as you feel the cold air of the room hit your breasts. He smirks and raises a brow, looking at you with blown pupils when he sees that you're not wearing a bra, his left hand sliding down your shoulder to cup one of your breasts, his gloved hand squeezing and massaging while he leans down, dragging his tongue along your breast before nipping the swell of it, making you gasp.

“So fucking pretty…” He groans before capturing your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardening bud before sucking harshly. He presses his thigh against you more firmly, drawing out a moan he finds oh-so pretty.

You rut your hips against his thigh faster, feeling like the building pressure in your abdomen is going to burst at any second.

A whimper bubbles in your throat as you feel his lips latch onto your breast while his hand fondles your breast, making you shiver and whine as you flutter your eyes shut and toss your head back slightly. One of your hands slides up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the blonde strands as you push his face further into your chest.

He groans against your nipple as he feels you tugging his hair, taking it as a sign of encouragement. He nips at your sensitive bud with his teeth, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He soothes the sting as he flattens his tongue, dragging it along your nipple, looking up at you with low lidded eyes.

Your breathing grows ragged as you get closer to your release, hips bucking against his thigh needily while lewd gasps and moans fall from your lips, Your fingers tighten in his hair as you mumble breathlessly, eyes watering as you crack them open. “I…ah…m’gonna…” You sob, words nearly incoherent as you feel the pressure in your stomach ready to burst.

“Hm? What’d you say? Use your words, sweetheart…” He coos teasingly, sliding his hand down from your breast to the spot between your legs, just barely touching your clit through your panties.His middle and ring fingers slowly starting to circle it, as his eyes flick up to your face with a wicked smirk gracing his lips.

You can’t muster out a thing as he starts to barely circle your clit through your panties while his thigh stays pressed against your cunt. You let out a pitiful sob as you buck your hips, grinding against his thigh as you desperately chase your orgasm.

“Hah…m…m’gonna cum...” You whimper, gasping and sobbing as you get ever so closer to your impending high.

“Ah...you're gonna cum, huh? Come on, pretty, cum on my thigh...” Aventurine hums, leaning up to press his lips to your throat as he starts to circle your clit faster, quickly bringing you to the edge.

You let out a broken moan as you feel your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your hips squirming as your thighs twitch and shake slightly. Your fingers tug at his hair roughly as you try to ground yourself as you grow dizzy and your body feels warm and fuzzy.

Your arousal leaks out of you, drenching anything in its path. Your thighs grow sticky and Aventurine’s pants are getting drenched as you cum, shuddering gasps and whines falling from your lips.

Aventurine smirks as he looks up at you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you reach your high makes him grow even harder in his slacks. Straining against the zipper of his pants. His fingers continue to circle your sensitive nub, cooing sweet praises in your ear and peppering kisses your warm cheeks as he works you through your orgasm.

“Mh...you’re so messy...” He murmurs into your ear, his voice low and hushed as he speaks. “Just look at what you’ve done, beautiful...” He pulls back, free hand coming up you clasp around your jaw as he tilts your head down, making you look at the sticky mess you’ve made.

His thigh is soaked. His white pant-leg sticks to the top of his thigh, wet with your arousal. You whine when you feel him pull his fingers away from your fabric covered cunt.

He hums softly as he spreads his fingers apart, sticky webs of your cum spreading between his gloved fingers that shine with your slick and you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

“I didn’t know you’d make such a mess, now my pants are ruined…” he chortles, his hand that’s gripping your jaw squeezes your cheeks together, causing your lips to puff out to a cute pout as you whine.

“How are you going to pay me back, sweetheart? Hm?” He tilts your face up to his, his gaze intense as he stares you in the eyes, wearing a smug grin.

“I dont…I don’t know...” You babble, your eyes a reflection of your neediness and lust as you look up at him. Your breathing still ragged and hindered.

“Mhm…I have an idea,” Aventuring sneers, looking down at you with a condescending smirk. “How about you clean it up, sweetheart…?”

He brings his slick coated fingers up to your lips while his other hand that was once gripping your jaw moves to grasp your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

He drags his gloved digits across your lips, smearing your arousal on them. “Open up.” He coos, gently pushing his fingers between your lips and into your mouth.

You part your lips more, letting him push his fingers further into your mouth. You whine as you taste yourself off his fingers, feeling dirty for doing this but you can’t help but enjoy it, fluttering your eyes shut as you willingly take his fingers into your mouth.

His smirk grows wider as he watches you take his fingers into your mouth. He pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. “Suck them, pretty girl…” He breathes, pressing his fingers down against the flat of your tongue.

You close your lips around his fingers, starting to suck them slowly. You swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning softly at the taste of your arousal in your tongue.

“Uh huh, just like that…” He coos, his hand that was holding your chin sliding to the back of your neck, cupping it as he pulls back to look at you. “Such a good girl…”

He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his gloved digits as he smirks down at you.

He snickers, looking at your flushed face. “God, you’re just a mess, aren’t you?” His hand that’s on the back of your neck tugs you towards him, his lips brushing against yours as he tilts his head, looking at you with lidded eyes.

“I’ll fix that…” He murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. His lips are soft and pillowy as they move against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his gloved hand slides down to your hips, grasping tightly while his thumbs trace small circles against them.

You sigh shakily as he kisses you, arms sliding up to wrap around his neck as you tug him closer, whimpering into his mouth as he tightens his grip on your hips, dressing bunching up in his hands as he firmly pressing his hips to yours.

He starts to walk you backwards to your bed, keeping your body close while never breaking the kiss. You feel the back of your legs hit the bed before he’s pushing you back onto the bed. He climbs on top of you, straddling you as he keeps up his feverish kisses.

You wrap your legs around his hips, locking your ankles together behind his lower back, whining into his mouth and letting your tongue slide with his as you kiss him needily.

Aventurine breaks the kiss, moaning softly as he starts grinding his hips against yours, rubbing against you so perfectly you whimper and arch your back against his body.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, lips latched to the soft skin as he sucks a dark spot to the skin of your neck.

His hand slides up and under you, lifting you slightly as his hand finds the zipper of your dress, his other hand moving to the middle of your back, lifting you up more to make it easier as he unzips your dress.

He unzips your dress, slowly sliding the zippier down, causing your dress to slack. “May I..?” He whispers against your neck, eyes peering up at you.

You nod sheepishly, looking away to avoid his blazing gaze. He grins, hands sliding down to the hem of his dress, pulling it down and off your body, discarding the fabric somewhere on the floor.

He sits up to look at you, taking in the sight of your half-naked body, your panties the only thing left on.

He lets out a shaky breath, gloved hands sliding up your lower stomach. One of his hands slides to your waist, squeezing the soft skin there while the other moves up to cup your breast, caressing the soft flesh there.

“So fucking gorgeous…can’t take my eyes off you..” His voice sounds shaky and breathy, his hips shifting to press against you harder, letting you feel how turned on he is.

You gasp at the feeling of his gloved hands all over your body, caressing and groping you as you lie beneath him, biting your bottom lip to quiet whatever pitiful moans that threaten to fall from your lips.

He starts to grind himself against you, the bulge in his pants pressing against your sensitive clit covered by your drenched panties.

He moans, sounding pretty and whiny as he leans in to bury his face in your neck, his hand starting to roll your nipple between his thumb and forefinger all while he ruts his hips against you, desperate to feel you.

“You feel so good… ” He mumbles, his tongue licking at previous marks he’s left on your neck. You moan desperately, hands clutching at the fabric of his jacket, pulling and tugging.

You need him so badly, body trembling with each roll of his hips, you only feel more desperate and needy. You whine as you feel his tongue lavish your neck, your legs wrapping around him tightly.

“Ah…I need you…so bad…” Words a breathy whisper as you grow more needy for him. You start to move your hips in tandem with his, whining shakily.

He pulls away from your neck, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he whispers. “Tell me what you want…I’ll give it to you…” His words a shaky rasp as his hands squeeze your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples.

You can barely get the words out, everything coming from your lips a breathless mumble. “I need you inside me…please…”

Hearing your words something in him snaps, turning off any critical thinking that’s wired in his brain. “I’ll give you it. I’ll give you everything you want…”

His hands slide down your body to the waistband of your panties, teasingly slipping his fingers under the hem before slowly dragging your panties down your legs while starting to trail kisses down your neck to your collarbone, nipping at the skin there.

You let out shuddering breaths as he teases you, purposely dragging on the removal of your panties. You moan and whimper as he trails kisses along the heated skin of your neck down to your collarbone, a shaky gasp escaping your lips as you feel his teeth nipping at the exposed skin there.

You let out a sigh of needy relief as he finally pulls your panties off, tossing them to the floor, presumably by your dress.

He pulls away from you once again, eyeing you more hungrily than before as he looks at your naked body, taking in the sight, trying to further memorize every curve of your body.

He starts to pull off his jacket, tossing it onto the recliner he was sitting on earlier. You’d roll your eyes at how he’s taking more care with his clothes than yours, but clearly, it’s the last thing on your mind right now.

He gazes down at you, eyes catching sight of your glistening folds. He reaches out, dragging a gloved digit along your slit teasingly. “You’re so wet, it’s cute.” He smirks, his words coming out breathily. The smoothness of his voice is gone, replaced with a tone of need and lust.

“You want me here? Wanna feel me inside you…? Tell me.” He sighs, tilting his head slightly as he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hazed eyes watching how your cunt swallows his fingers up so easily.

You gasp and buck your hips as you feel his fingers slide inside you, your walls clamping down on his digits as he starts to slowly thrust them inside you, his thumb moving to circle your clit.

You whine and shake your head, looking up at him with needy eyes clouded with lust. “I don’t…want your fingers…” You mumble between shaky gasps. “I want…I need you.”

Aventurine can’t help but wear a smirk on his lips, just the sight of you so needy, practically begging beneath him has him reeling and the thing is, you don’t even know how badly he needs you.

“Okay, gorgeous...” He murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers out of you, leaving with an empty feeling in your lower stomach that’ll soon be satiated. “I’ll give you just what you want.”

Aventurine pulls away, letting out a shuddering breath as his hands slide down, deftly unbuckling his belt, the clinking of the metal ringing in your ears as you watch him.

After getting his belt unbuckled he quickly unzips his pants, tugging them down just enough to let him pull himself from the confines of his clothing.

He lets out a shaky sigh as he frees himself, and in that moment you realize how desperate he really is for you.

You can’t help but shamelessly stare at his length, it’s lengthy and pretty with it’s tip flushed pink; practically oozing precum as it twitches. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

Aventurine hisses as he strokes himself, his thumb running over his tip, collecting the precum to smear on his shaft.

He glances up at you, raising a brow when he sees how you’re eyeing him. “Like what you see…?” He grins, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that barely lasts a second before he’s pulling away again, gazing down at you.

“I do…” You sigh, hand reaching out to gently wrap around his length. You slowly start to slide your hand up and down his shaft.

Aventurine gasps softly, his face nuzzling into your neck as you stroke him slowly. “God…you’re killing me…” He mumbles, his hands sliding up to your hips, wrapping around them. “Let me feel you…” He kisses you again, this time it’s needy and a bit sloppy, devoid of any sense of restraint.

You moan softly into the kiss, hand gliding along his cock. He whines into your mouth, his hands squeezing your hips even tighter as his hips buck into your hand in time with your strokes.

After a minute he breaks the kiss, panting as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. One of his hands moves to where your hand is, gently pushing your hand away. “I don’t need any of that...” He says simply, his voice low and quiet.

“…You sure?” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his expensive clothes under your fingertips. “I want to.”

You want to touch him, even though you hate him? Do you even hate him anymore? Has your opinion on him really changed so much just from this moment? He used to scare you but now you’re yearning for him… Have you really lost your common sense?

You bury these thoughts in the back of your head, saving them for yourself later when you finally have to face the reality of your actions right now.

He shakes his head, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your neck before nipping your skin. “I don’t need you to touch me, beautiful.”

He sits up, his face flushed and hair a mess. His gloved hands slide up your legs and to your thighs as he hums, gazing down at you with intense eyes. His hands travel to your inner thighs, gently pushing them open as he shifts to position himself between your legs.

Aventurine drags a gloved finger up your slit teasingly, making you whine and shift your hips. “Stop teasing already…” You mumble, brows furrowed as you look up with a slight pout on your face.

He laughs softly as your expression, a smug look playing on his face. “Don’t worry sweetheart, just wanted a taste…” He murmurs before bringing his finger to his lips, licking your arousal off the digit as he gazes down at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath hitches as you watch him do this, feeling yourself get impossibly more wet than before. You feel your cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment. “Don’t look at me while you do that…” You mutter, slightly turning your head to look away from him.

“Don’t be so shy,” He smirks, suddenly regaining the steadiness in his voice, not sounding as shaky and whiny as before. “You taste sweet.” He murmurs, as he grabs your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist. “I’ll taste you more next time…”

You furrow your brows, looking up at him with crooked eyebrows. “There won’t be a next time.”

Aventurine looks at you, a smug smile on his face. “We’ll see.”

You don’t bother to respond with any other smart-ass comment or a remark, choosing to focus on what’s happening in the moment.

He leans in more, one of his hands grabbing your thigh while the other wraps around his length. He rubs his tip along your drenched folds, making you whimper and whine, hips squirming against his hold.

His hand tightens its grip on your hip, silently urging you to hold still. He rolls his hips forwards, grinding his cock against your slick cunt, teasingly rubbing his swollen tip against your clit as he looks at you with a smirk.

You moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his length sliding against you, pressing against your clit instead of where you need him right now. “...Just...fucking…” You mumble, cracking your eyes open to look up at him, seeing him stare down at you with lust.

“Just what? I’m not a mind reader, doll.” He hums, shifting his hips slightly so that his tips pressing against your entrance. “Let me guess...You want me here, yeah? Want me inside you…?” He coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your jawline. “Tell me, pretty…you don’t wanna keep waiting, do you?”

You whine and shake your head, whimpering as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. “P..please…put it in…” You gasp, eyes low and lidded as you look up at him, a needy look on your face.

“There you go… Wasn’t hard to use your words, now was it..?” He murmurs, nipping at your earlobe as he presses his hips forward, slowly pressing his cock inside you.

You gasp as you feel him pressing into you, slowly stretching you wider. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder.

He slides in inch by inch, groaning softly as he feels the warmth of your walls hug his cock tightly, squeezing and pulsing around him needily.

You clutch onto him tightly while panting, feeling the sting of the stretch when he finally bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you, top of his cock nudging against your cervix.

He holds still for a moment, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he waits for you to get used to his size. “You’re so tight…it’s must’ve been awhile, hm?” He murmurs into your ear, you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers to you. “How’s long it’s been, sweetheart…?”

He starts to roll his hips forward, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes. “Do you not wanna tell me, pretty girl…?” He hums, running his tongue up, along your neck before nipping at the skin of your jawline.

You whine as he starts to thrust into you, soft moans falling from your lips as you flutter your eyes shut. “I..I don’t know…” You mutter, voice shaky as you speak. “It’s been too long…few years…”

You don’t want to admit it but it’s been well over a few weeks or months. Not having sex since you still lived in Belobog…

He grins at this, feeling smug at the thought of him being first in a long time, and he can tell just by how you’re acting, moaning with each slow drag of his hips, clutching onto him tightly and squeezing around his length like a vice, when he’s barely fucked you yet… It’s now feeling very obvious to him you haven’t felt like this in awhile.

He hums softly, his gloved hands sliding to your hips, grasping them tightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to screw you real good, huh?”

He starts to speed up his movements, pulling your hips along with his, rolling his hips into you at a pace that’s just perfect.

You whimper, hands grasping at the back of his shirt as you feel him thrust into you deeper and harder, soft smacks filling the room from your hips slapping against his.

He groans against your neck, one of his hands sliding up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly as he grinds into you. “You feel so good...” He mumbles, teeth nipping at your shoulder while you moan and gasp.

You whine as you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, squeezing hard enough to make your face feel warm but gently enough you can still breathe.

Your legs wrap around his hips, locking at the ankle as you pull him closer to you, desperate to feel him deeper inside you.

Aventurine moans shakily as he feels your legs wrap around him tightly, urging him closer. He starts to speed his pace up more, fighting the urge to slam into you with all of his strength.

His hand on your hip pulls you in tandem with his thrusts, hips meeting his halfway as he thrusts into you, feeling your walls twitch around his length.

Lewd noises escape your lips as you feel him pull you along with his movements. You feel him shift his hips before starting to slam into you harder.

You let out a loud gasp, feeling his tips slamming against your g-spot. You tighten your arms and legs around him, practically holding onto him for dear life as he smirks down at you.

“Right there, huh?” He sneers, starting to pound into your harder, slamming against your sweet spot over and over as you squirm and sob, gasping for air as you feel his hand tighten around your throat.

He pulls away to look at you more directly, smirking down at you as his lust filled eyes stare down at you. “You’re so pretty like this…” He sighs, his hand sliding from your throat to squeeze your breast, groping it roughly as he continues to pound into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix as you sputter and gasp beneath him.

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen start to tighten and twist, signaling you to your impending orgasm.

You look up at him with teary eyes and a blissed out expression, your hands moving to clutch at the bedsheets as you sob and whimper. The feeling of him slamming against your cervix while his hand squeezes your breast before his thumb rolls over your nipple, making your eyes flutter shut and your walls squeeze him tighter.

He drags his hand down from your breast to your waist, squeezing the plush skin as he uses it as leverage to thrust into you even harder, loud, wet smacking sounds filling your ears as you moan louder, pushing your head back into the mattress, arching your lower back as you feel the cord in your abdomen about to snap.

Aventurine suddenly slows down his movements, smirking down at you as he watches your face shift to a needy pout, eyes squeezing shut as you sob from the burning feeling of your orgasm being halted so abruptly.

“Not yet, pretty girl…” He murmurs, sitting up to pull off his shirt, revealing his fit torso, albeit a bit skinny he has the build of a swimmer, which you find attractive. He tosses the shirt next to his jacket before returning his attention to you.

He hums as he slides his gloved hands down to your thighs, squeezing them before moving to cup under your knees, pushing them up so their level with your shoulders.

Aventurine slowly starts to build up the pace again, leaning it to press his forehead to yours, letting your ankles dangle over his shoulders.

This position feels like he’s somehow even deeper inside you. His fat tip grazing your g-spot with each thrust. You moan and gasp louder, head feeling light and hazy as he pounds into you, wet slaps emanating throughout the room with each thrust.

He leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue running over your lips before his tongue sweeps into your mouth, sliding with yours as he groans against your lips…

His hands move to nudge your legs off his shoulders , letting them wrap around his hips once again. “You…feel…amazing…” He mumbles between kisses, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands slide under you, up your back and to your shoulders, his hands gently grabbing them as he pulls you close against his chest.

You moan into his mouth, his lips on yours as he swallows your sounds. You move one of your arms to wrap around his neck, holding him close while the other one slides under his arm to his upper back, hands slightly scratching at the skin there.

He continues to slam into you with reckless abandon, ditching whatever self control he may have had to fuck you how he-so desperately-is doing.

He groans as his hips pound against yours, wet slaps and lewd moans coming from the both of your lips as you both feel your orgasms building.

You let out pretty sobs against his lips, nails digging into his upper back, leaving crescent marks and scratches on the fair skin as your hips buck along with his hard thrusts, desperately chasing your orgasm.

Aventurine isn’t faring any better, whining and groaning into your mouth as he slams into you harder and faster, feeling your walls pulse around his twitching cock, basically signaling him of your nearing orgasm.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face into your neck as he moans softly, one of his hands sliding up to grasp the back of your neck while the other squeezes your shoulder tighter.

“m’...close...” You sob, clutching onto him as tightly as possible as you feel your eyes water from pleasure, head hazy and body fuzzy.

“Yeah? Me too, sweetheart…” He rasps, his hand slipping from your under shoulder to slide between your sweat slicken bodies, gloved hand finding your clit, his thumb rubbing harsh, little circles against it. “Go ahead, cum on my cock, gorgeous...”

His pace speeds up even further, slamming against your sweet spot over and over as he works to push you over the edge, his lips pressing against your neck.

You let out a loud, whiny sob as you feel the cord in your stomach snap, orgasm washing over you.

Your head feels lightheaded as pleasure clouds your senses, hips bucking and walls spasming around his cock while your juices spill out of you, covering his shaft and your inner thighs. Your body twitching against his as pitiful whines and gasps fall from your lips.

He falls over the edge immediately after you, his cock twitching inside you before he abruptly pulls out, spilling his seed all over your lower stomach as he groans against your neck, his hand squeezing the back of your neck as his hips buck against you, rutting his twitching cock against your lower stomach.

You hold onto him tightly as you both come down from your orgasms, staying in each-others arms. Panting and shuddering breaths are the only things you can hear.

After a few minutes, Aventurine sits up, gazing down at you as he looks at the mess you’ve both made, a small grin appearing on his pretty face. “Guess we’re both messy, huh..?” He murmurs, sliding his hands down your side to your hips.

You don’t respond to him directly, mumbling some random insult as you lift your arms to cover your face.

He can’t help but stare, looking down at your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, looking completely fucked out.

He hums softly, pulling away from you. “Where you going...?” You mumble, watching him stand up and start to pull his pants up from the corner of your eyes.

“To grab something…” He replied, glancing at you from over his shoulder as he buckles belt before walking to your bathroom.

You sit in a bit of a daze, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how things are gonna play out now the IPC now that you’ve fucked one their higher ups. What excuse is Aventurine gonna make for your debt? Is he even going to actually get rid of it for you?

God, you’re an idiot.

You’re about to smack yourself in the forehead when Aventurine comes back into the room with a wet towel.

“Erm….what’s...that for?” You ask tiredly, rubbing the back of your neck with your palm as you glance away from him.

“You’re stomach, sweetheart.” He hums, nodding down at your stomach, covered with his seed.

“Oh...nice…” You mumble, watching as he sits across from you on the bed, leaning in as he starts to wipe the sticky mess from your stomach.

It’s quiet between the two of you, it’s awkward but not unbearable. “Thank you..” You say softly, as he finishes wiping the seed from off of you.

He smiles slightly. “I made the mess..why wouldn’t I clean it up?” He hums, tossing the towel somewhere onto the floor.

You shrug in response before yawning, covering your mouth with your hand. Aventurine looks at you, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re quite pretty, y’know...” He tilts his head slightly as he looks at you, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks at you.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you look away, a bit embarrassed. “Mhm…thank you...” you mumble, scooting closer to him you place your hand over his, thumb rubbing over his gloved knuckles. “Are you staying…?”

Your question catches him off guard, a surprised look spreading on your face for a second before a grin spreads on his face. “I’ll stay if you want me to, pretty...” He hums, his hands moving to gently grab your waist, pulling you closer. “I want you to...”

“Okay gorgeous..I’ll stay..”

You don’t know when you fell asleep but you did. His arms wrapped around you while you cuddled up against him.

You didn’t expect him to stay, it was only a one night stand but you didn’t expect…this.

When you woke up you found everything in your hotel room tidy and neat, like he cleaned everything up for you before leaving.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes as you slid out of bed, walking to where your things were arranged neatly.

You bent down, starting to look for the briefcase that held your money.

You started to grow frantic when you couldn’t find it, not in any drawers, on any counters or with any of your things.

You stomped around, tearing the room apart until you crouched down to look under the bed, where it was shoved far under to where you can barely reach.

You groan as you drag it out from under the bed, standing it and placing it onto the bed as you flick the clasps and open the briefcase.

Your stomach drops.

Your fucking heart drops.

Your eyes widen and your jaw clenches, all the money that was in there gone, down to the penny.

You feel your face grow hot as you look at what’s been left in the box, a single, small note. Picking up the small paper you grow more angered, face scrunching to a scowl as you read the note’s contents.

Thank you for the night, as promised your debt is erased and the IPC will no longer have you listed as a fugitive but I took your money as a consequence for not initially paying your debt.

Actions have consequences, sweetheart. Be more smart next time.

-- Aventurine..

Fucking bastard. You might just kill him if you see his face again.

ty for reading sweethearts!! and thank you to my lovely friend who gave me suggestions and proofread this big'ol thing :p

#honkai star rail #star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x you #aventurine x you #aventurine smut #fanfic #fan fiction #anime

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moonbaby26 · 2 months

Text

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most.

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it.

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be.

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke.

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you.

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it.

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk.

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk.

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray.

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again.

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship.

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it.

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up.

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you.

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well.

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed.

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed.

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course.

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either.

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless.

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down.

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances.

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need.

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

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gremlingottoosilly · 21 days

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Mafia Price mayhaps?

Pretty please :)

Price didn't get into business because he wanted money or because he liked power. He had enough for a small farm and a buffer period of figuring out whatever the fuck was happening in his life, even after the dishonorable discharge over a fuck up he had to cover for the higher-ups. He didn't go into illegal gun trading and organized crime for the love of the game. He had money when he was booted out of the military. It's just that his boys didn't. No money, no purpose, only a dishonorable discharge and feeling of betrayal on their backs - and yes, he understands it's a pitiful fucking excuse for starting to support the very same system he sometimes had to fight, but he does what he has to do. Ghost, Gaz and Soap needed a new goal in their lives - and something as far from being a merc as possible. Besides, after years of service to her Majesty, Price deserves a luxurious leather chair to sit on and good imported cigars to smoke. He also deserves you, a pretty little thing who is way too nice for him. You're out of his world, completely - a nice girl, a good girl. In the past, when he was still Captain Price, he might have considered picking you up with some cheesy one-liner, buying you a drink or something nice to wear, and then ghost you for forever because his job is too dangerous to allow himself connections. He would have prided himself in thinking he is keeping you safe while jerking off to some vaguely similar porn star. Well, Price is done being a selfless servant of his community. He deserves the girl, even if that means moving a bit too fast and having Ghost choke her just enough so she would fall right into John's arms and in his bed. If you're a smart girl, you would know better than to try and resist the most dangerous guy in the whole country and his henchmen. If you're a good girl, you would know just how much he is willing to give you - as long as you don't try to force him away.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!cod #mafia!price #john price x you #price x reader #yandere price

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krypticcafe · 1 year

Text

When you call them "babygirl" (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, a smidge of suggestivness

a/n: calling them bbygirls>>>>>calling them fictional crushes. also, my personal Roach hc is that he's a selective mute that took up ASL to communicate.

EDIT: there's now a reversal! What if you were called babygirl 👀

Gaz

His eyebrows raise almost impossibly high

"Did I hear that right or did you just..."

He's not upset, just... surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

He doesn't mind it but man... it might've sparked something inside him. Might've.

You've given him nicknames before, both teasing and affectionate, but he never expected to be called that before. It's a new feeling.

You don't use it too much with him, but when you do, it gets the cutest laugh out of him. Gets him acting like he doesn't like it, but you know he absolutely does.

If you catch him off guard, he'll tilt his cap down and try to stifle a laugh to distract himself from how warm his face feels.

"Fuckin' hell, the things you do to me..."

You cheekily grin in response and give him those adoring eyes because you know that he knows you do it because you love him just that much to torment him :]

Now you only use it to amuse and tease him just to hear that golden laughter. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.

Price

First time you said it, he nearly choked on his cigar.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"

He doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that you caught him so off guard. Give the poor man a break.

You repeat it to him and he chuckles, a little awkwardly because him? Babygirl? He can't see it, at least he doesn't see if he even has the qualities for such a title.

But oh, do you disagree. In fact, you start using it more, regardless of what he thinks.

If it's in front of the other task force members, it usually gets him to stop in his tracks and let out a knowing groan, shaking his head and trying to get the team to focus back on whatever they were doing before.

Which is extremely hard with how Gaz and Soap are trying to fight back their giggles.

When you're alone, he sighs but leans into your touch a little more.

He's actually amused by it and has even tried to give you something equally cheesy or teasing just to bite back at you.

It works.

He knows he's egging you on to use it more but truthfully?

He can't bring himself to get actually upset over it.

Soap

You decided to test his reaction on a whim one night at a visit to the pub after a successful mission, walking up behind him and greeting him.

You've never seen his head whip around so fast, and you wonder how he didn't snap his neck.

Oh and there it is.

The classic McTavish SmirkTM.

He's grinning so wide, leaning into your side and wrapping your arm around his waist.

"Would'ya mind repeatin' that, love?"

You're starting to regret this, seeing as he's enjoying it a little too much.

Then again... it could make this night a little more rewarding.

After that, he practically pushes you to use it more, says something about getting butterflies or how it "rolls off your tongue so well"

Either way, you don't mind it, seeing how it makes him happy and how he seems more obliged to listen to you.

And every time you do, he's always got that adoring glint in his eyes and an excited grin on his lips because fuck yeah,

He is your babygirl.

Ghost

He freezes so badly, the only movement being his shallow breathing.

To be honest, you were a b i t nervous to try, but you figured there was no harm in it with how far your relationship was.

But now you're starting to regret even trying, wondering if you've crossed a line or-

"Say it again."

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-

You do as he says, and it gets a dry laugh out of him. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his forehead, mumbling about how stupid it is.

Except you don't miss that softened look in his eyes, the one weakness of his mask.

So you start rolling it out slowly and steadily, mostly in private because god knows he would strangle you for using it in public.

Much to his dismay, the 141 still overhears it thanks to you "teasing" him with it as a "joke".

Regardless, you don't mind limiting it to being used in private because you're the only one that knows and uses the fact that the Simon "Ghost" Riley secretly loves being called your babygirl.

Specifically in a soft or smooth way that gets him to just fucking melt on the spot. Even a simple, "How's my babygirl doing today?" in passing gets him all worked up at the idea of him being yours and yours only. It's even worse when you use it in bed.

So use it wisely!

König

He's looking around as if you're talking to someone else. Poor thing's all confused.

When he finally figures it out that it's him you're talking about, ohhh the way you wish you could take a peek under that hood.

The man's got his face buried in his hands, gripping and pulling the hood down on his face as if any inch of skin would further reveal how flustered he got.

Though you can already imagine it for yourself, his face burning brightly with his lips pressed tightly, causing all his stammering and sputtering.

Even worse, because of that, you add it to the list of various nicknames you have for him.

What you didn't expect is for him to adjust so well to it. At some point, he just sheepishly laughs and smiles whenever you use it, and of course, he's still a little shy about it,

But he starts leaning into it more, responding to it like he would any other name. Loves it like any other nickname when he just buries his face in your shoulder and cuddles you while you whisper reassurances to him.

Just be careful using it around the others, he'll implode if they find out.

Roach

What surprises you is how quickly he accepts it.

You had called out for him, and he just turned and responded with a signed "Yes?"

It kinda caught the both of you off guard.

He snickers and signs again, "Would you want me to call you something similar?"

You know where this is going, and before you can do anything, he starts calling you "hot stuff".

So now the two of you keep coming up with a bunch of corny, cheesy nicknames to sign to each other, some of which don't even make sense.

It's until that you call him it again he's like Soap in that he goes, "You know what? Yeah, I am your babygirl!"

Now he wears the name loud and proud. Almost too proudly. Pretty much the whole base knows it by now.

He got a goddamn name patch of it.

Occasionally, you'll get other 141 members commenting, "Looking for your babygirl?" or "Surprising that you don't have your babygirl with you today." with emphasis on the nickname.

So basically, what was supposed to be you teasing him was now him teasing you.

Hound

They first overheard you using it when you were conversing with some other force members, mostly talking about Hound and you. To many, it was a strangely unlikely relationship come true. He didn't think too much about it. You probably fumbled with your words.

Then he overheard it a second time. Then, a third. Then it came to a point where they just figured that it was now another term of endearment for them.

In all honesty, he's confused why you specifically like using that of all names, he simply can't see how such a cute, loving name could fit someone like him

You explain to them how it's kind of your way of showing them as yours, that they're your baby, and to you, they're one of the sweetest things to exist.

He melts at that.

So now when he hears it from you close or from afar, his head perks up, and he'll give a quick glance in your direction.

Sometimes, you use that fact just to get his attention, and he knows that, but he never minds when he gets to see you grinning so brightly.

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januaryembrs · 2 months

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

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moondirti · 1 month

Text

due to popular demand, a follow up to this featuring: 18+ content, gaz, ballerina!reader, internet stalking, men being gross, another a thinly veiled character study

Kyle is a good man.

Granted, his metric is not attuned to common standards for morality anymore, nor has it been that way since basic. He's sure that if he were to pick any sheltered samaritan off the street to read out his laundry list of transgressions, they'd balk at the fact that their taxes go to keeping him fed. They'd rather their image of the army stay unsullied and ideal. They'd rather keep him at arms length with a thank you for your service and not confront the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

But he can no longer be held to their degree. No longer exists within these spaces. No. Kyle – or Gaz, if one were to go off of what he's called most often nowadays – is a doorstop. A pestle. Something inconspicuous, obscure, that serves the sole function of making life easier for everyone but itself. And he assumes this role with a handful of others who have nothing else to live for, exiled to crowd the back of Foxhounds and kill at a moment's notice. Foul men. Friends.

If someone were to line up every operative on a special forces unit, or better yet collect the likes of the 141 and asses each for their moral standing, Gaz can rest knowing he'd come out on top. He's not yet as far gone as they are; can enjoy a night out or a pretty bird writhing underneath him without wanting to choke her out. Only devoted to his captain, or the others, to the extent that their professional relationship calls for (no matter how much it itches at him to watch Ghost take care of Soap, or to reject Price when he offers him a drink).

Sure, he laughs at their jokes. Might pitch in when they're swapping stories of their filthiest catch, Soap rattling on about the lass who'd stuffed her tongue up his arse, or encourage them to shoot on sight if they spot a potential threat, civilian or otherwise. Yet the difference is this: when he goes home, he can stuff that all away.

Knows not to let it infest the boundaries of the real world. Off deployment, his comrades play pretend at the noncombatant lifestyle, but the guise is ill-fitting. They're too big for their skin. They stretch and tear at the conventions holding them in place, like feral dogs made to heel. Kyle doesn't have to be tamed. He's still functional, familiar with the expectations held of him. Can submit to integrity more easily than most.

Kyle is a good man.

And that's what he tells himself as he returns home, train car completely void of anyone but himself. He's good for having given you up. He's good for not have followed you home. There'd been a brief lapse of judgement, but he's good for doing something about it before things passed the point of no return.

You've lived this far without his protection, he reasons. Yet it doesn't change the unreachable itch, closed away in a supposedly locked box. Gaz. Or, his captain's voice, cigar-smoked and advisory.

But why should you continue like that.

It's hard to fall asleep that night.

He's sick with worry wondering if you ever got home, bile broiling and distending up his throat at the thought of having abandoned you. It's pure concern that compels him to find your socials, really. Kyle is only searching for an update, or recent post, indicating that you're alive.

With nothing to go off of but a face, he searches for dance studios in both Acton Town, your area, and the Kensington, the area where you'd boarded the tube from. He makes a shortlist of the most reputable ones (your attire seemed to imply that you were a seasoned ballerina) and cross-checks them as hosts of upcoming recitals. Two renditions of Swan Lake and a production of Giselle turn up, each with their very own cast lists. Thus begins a tireless search of every name credited.

His heart almost leaps out of his nose when you eventually load into view, then plummets at how easy you'd been to find.

Your vulnerability only sets Kyle's conviction in stone. Bloody good thing he's got your best interests in mind.

Locked twitter, a LinkedIn, and a public Instagram page which sends his blood pressure skyrocketing after checking your follower count. Popular. And of course he can see why. Over a hundred posts chronicling bright smiles and flattering outfits. You mainly use the account to promote your practice, though; feed full of skimpy little outfits, leotards and exposed sternums and impossible poses.

Stop it. He's here for something specific.

Kyle sips in a deep breath, scrolls back to the top of your page, clicks on your most recent post. A casual video of your leg raised on a barre while your friend counts how high above your previous record you're able to stretch. Your skin is sweat-slicked. Your mouth is thrown open in a half-laugh, half-pant. He almost forgets why he clicked on it in the first place, before the timestamp catches his eye.

30 minutes ago.

So, you'd gotten home.

He can go to bed now.

Exit your account. Swipe up on Instagram to clear it from his running apps. If he's extra disciplined, he'd block you. Rob himself of the temptation to tug himself over the photo of you in the splits.

Kyle is a good man because he knows his limits.

(But Kyle now also knows the address of your studio. That, even if he blocks you, it'll take up space in his chest. A ticking-time bomb. A knowledge that'll haunt him whenever he's on the District, Circle, or Piccadilly lines, and the train announces Gloucester Road. A force, a stone in his throat, that'll grow so large it'll force him to stand up and disembark, to walk until he's standing right outside and wait on you to wrap up rehearsal.)

It occurs to him that the point of no return has long since passed.

inclusivity note: i felt the need to say that, while reader is a dancer, her profession is not meant to imply anything about her body type. flexibility and agility are not limited to thin builds, and while the ballet industry can be very toxic, i've seen my fair share of spaces where all figures are embraced and success is determined only by ability!

#ooo i love him a little delusional actually #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #gaz #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #cod #call of duty #x reader #x afab reader #tw stalking

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saksukei · 8 months

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subtle things captain john price does for you

masterlist | simon ghost riley version

captain price always promised himself to not have favorites. but all of that changes when you’re recruited by the task force. it's only then that john realizes he might not be that good at keeping promises after all. he conceals it well but let’s be real, he’s not fooling anyone.

a firm believer of acts of service as the best way of expressing his pent up emotions (he feels like he’s gonna die before ever confessing). so he’ll do such nice things. from letting you sleep in his bed, to taking first watch, to ensuring that you’re always comfortable, well fed and warm. he also offered you his cigar once and had a laughing fit when you choked as he pat your back.

after mission celebrations at a local bar, he has absolutely cute drunk pictures/blurry selfies of the entire crew which he later looks at smiles. he will absolutely escort you home, let you sleep on his shoulder and even carry you. “need help getting up?” prays you don’t remember it in the morning.

ALWAYS looks to you for approval. he doesn’t care if there are more decorated people present in the room, he’ll always look at you as if it’s just you and him. “you’re with me, yeah?” and he listens to your suggestions more than others. any time he has something mischievous up his sleeve, he looks at you with a smirk, head tilting because he knows you’ll read him.

he feels so protective over you. during missions, always checks where you are, what you’re doing. god forbid if anyone let’s him know that you’re in harm's way, he will claw his way out of hell if he has to, to get to you. “you alright?” you’re the first person he visits after the missions are over. “what’s wrong?” he asks, softly, his head tilting in your direction, eyes full of concern.

he enjoys your presence so much, especially if you and him are working in the same office. he feels at peace having you near him. he occasionally offers you tea and shares a sarcastic quip here and there, ensuring that the atmosphere is comfortable. he also loves it when you just talk. you have all of his attention and he picks on so many details about you that he tucks away to think about later. (cannot stand to see you upset because it makes him upset).

when it comes to you, his memory is so incredibly sharp. can easily remember your likes, dislikes, stories of your childhood, everything. he has you committed to memory and he can absolutely figure it out when something’s out of place. “nice haircut. it suits you.”

when it comes to training, he enjoys gun fights so much!! and he’s so smug about it too. “i know you can do better than this.” to “thought you were skilled enough to take on me?” also coaches you side by side because like hell is he gonna take a risk when it comes to you. “knew you could do it” he remarks, a grin on his face.

he’s your biggest supporter and it’s very evident. from him saying, “good job” on comms to “i’m proud of you” and the one time he accidentally let “that’s my girl” slip. simon snickered because he knew captain had such a soft spot for you.

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doeidawn · 17 days

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☁︎ — having a lot of thoughts about Price's thighs; f!reader, nsfw 18+ (MDNI)

John Price was a man of simple pleasures. It came with the lifestyle of a soldier—he had to learn to appreciate the small victories. And he knew how to wait until reward found its way to him.

He was a man with the patience of a saint and the resolve of a warrior. Never was it more apparent to you than moments like these: sat in his lap squirming and whining while he leaned back against the headboard, puffing on a cigar and just watching you.

"Please," you whine, almost unsure of what exactly you wanted by this point. Your hands brace against his chest, fingers splayed against the coarse hair and calloused skin that covers firm muscle. Your hips drag your cunt up and down the length of his thigh in a pattern so sporadic neither of you can sense a rhythm to it.

You weren't sure how long you'd spent rutting against him. Your thighs burned and your knees were sore but the throbbing need in your cunt was too strong to stop now.

The heat and wetness that pooled between your legs ached, beyond desperate for any other type of friction. But John couldn't seem to care less; couldn't bother to interrupt the show you were putting on for him. His lips wrap around the end of his cigar as his eyes rake over every detail of your body for the hundredth time tonight. Seeing the way his eyes devoured you only made you wish that much more that he'd actually do it. One thing was certain—he reveled in this.

He was kind enough to remove his clothes, although you suspect it was more for his sake—he couldn't have you staining a pair of his trousers, after all. It still wasn't enough to see the outline of his thick cock throbbing against his briefs, but every attempt you made to remove them was met with a scold and a small thwack of his palm meeting your ass.

He'd turn his head before billowing a small cloud of grey smoke from his lips. "Not yet, darling." His voice was such a soft rumble that it was almost easy to forget how aggravating his denial was.

You know he can feel how worked up you are. It'd be impossible not to when your slick painted his thigh, matting fine hair to his skin. But John got a kick out of this. He liked to watch you beg and whine and show him how much you needed him.

"Please just fuck me." All of your mounting impatience bubbled to the surface as you begged—pleaded—with him. "Please, John, I jus' wanna cum. Need you to fuck me."

His free hand would snake up your thigh, grabbing the pillowy flesh on your hip. "I know you do, baby." A reassuring squeeze followed his faux-compassion. "But you can cum for me like this, yeah?"

Of course you could, and he knew it. When he spoke to you like that—encouragement and expectation all wrapped into one—it was almost impossible not to. Even if you wanted more than just pathetic ruts against his thigh, the heat that gnawed at your core was growing increasingly harder to fight back against. You offer him a small nod and hum a quiet "mm-hmm" in reply, almost reluctant to admit to your desperation and give in to his game. Not that he couldn't tell.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, that's my girl."

He flexes his thigh, the muscles underneath going taut and firm as he shifts his leg just enough to press against your cunt. You can't stifle the moan that escapes your lips. The newfound pressure feels amazing; such a small difference yet so monumental when you were this sensitive.

He kneads the skin on your hip, fingers leaving small red imprints as they dig into you. "There you go. You like that?" The smoke curling around his lips as he takes another puff of his cigar makes him look as devilish as he sounds.

A roll of your hips takes your breath away, the air catching in your throat in a choked moan. Your eyes flutter as you meet his darkened gaze. "Mm-hmm," the affirmative sound rumbles in your throat.

Thwack. His palm meets the swell of your ass in a much sharper spank than before. The sudden sting makes you whine and buck against his thigh, hips jerking at the feel of the sudden stimulation. Your cunt throbs as heat blooms over your skin.

As comforting as he is domineering, he runs his hand gently over your flushed skin. "Use your words, darling." Your mind already felt like mush—too tired and desperate to cum—that the warm baritone of his voice was almost too much to bear.

"Yes, I like it." You finally manage to sputter. Nails rake over the hair dusting his chest when your hands search him out for support. "Feels so good."

He groans at that. "Yeah? Y'gonna cum for me?"

"Yeah," you mewl, burying your face in his neck. The combination of his musk and cigars hits you even harder, the scent filling your nostrils and making your head spin further into delirium. "I need it, John, I need it so fucking bad."

The pressure on your body only increases after that. His hand slides to your lower back for support to guide your rolling hips up and down his thigh. He keeps your pace steady, taking some of the work for himself as he watches you squirm.

"I know you do baby." He takes another drag from his cigar, planting a kiss on your shoulder after blowing the smoke away. "Christ, you're makin' a mess, leakin' all over me."

You whine into his stubbled skin, feeling his beard brush against your cheek as you nuzzle closer. You didn't have to feel his cock throbbing against your leg to know he was enjoying seeing you like this (and he probably couldn't stand to just watch for much longer).

"Cum for me like this and I promise I'll make it up to you." His hand gently tangles in the hair at the back of your head. Fingers interlace with the strands as he tugs just enough to pull your head back and meet your heavy-lidded gaze. "Give me a nice li'l show and I'll fuck you proper, fill you up good. But you need t' cum for me first, love."

A strained curse leaves your mouth as your hips buck wildly against his thigh. The friction of firm muscle and soft skin makes your cunt throb against him. Your lips find his in a messy fit of kisses. The taste of old tobacco coats your tongue and adds to the haze of sensations.

His grip loosens in your hair before his hand slides down the bare expanse of your back, resting at your waist as fingers curl to hold you firmly. His teeth tease and pull at your bottom lip, drawing a whine out from you between your heavy breaths.

You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your mouth. "That's it," he groans, leaving your panting mouth behind. "There you go, love, cum all over me. Show me how good it feels."

His encouragement is what sends you over the edge. The heat that had been building in your core spills over, making your body tense as waves of pleasure flow through you. His hand digs into your waist as you pant and moan against him, the sensation grounding you amidst the overwhelming feeling of relief.

A strong tobacco scent hits your nose. Fluttering your eyes open, your sweaty body goes lax against him. Lifting your hips, you can feel your slick string between his thigh and your cunt. You smile down at him, cupping his jaw in one of your hands.

Your fingers thread through his beard. Leaning in, your nose brushes over his before you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "Gonna keep your promise?"

"Always do."

#clown writes #me when i want to write about other characters but the old man infests my brain #john price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain price smut #price smut #cod price #cod smut #cod x reader #call of duty #cod

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medium-rare-bimbo · 10 months

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Faster than light thoughts

♡Masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

May contain stepcest, age gap, dubcon dark content

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡dark!!! CULT LEADER EDDIE !!! CULT LEADER EDDIE !!! CULT LEADER EDDIE !!!!!!! Imagine being his object of affection, the one he devotes his followers life to <3<3 did someone say virgin! Reader ?? 👁👁 yes me I did. He takes your virginity as a ritual, there are people surrounding your bed as he takes what's his, telling you that this is what needs to be done so you can ascend into a higher being

♡ chrissy, nancy, robin sleepover where they teach virgin! reader how to cum. Youd be so embarrassed to admit it :(( but that's okay they tell you its completely natural and to go at your own pace and not every boy is going to make you cum. Boys are useless! When you shamefully tell them that you've never EVER cum and that you havent even had your first kiss, they assure it that it's okay and robin offers to teach you <3 naturally you end up with your back against her chest and her fingers in your cunt, you had gotten fuzzy a while ago and everyone was fawning over you pretty pussy. They all take turns in fingering you and tasting you, you have the best sleep you've ever had ♡♡♡

♡ being fucked with a beer bottle <3 would be with either eddie or billy, they'd laugh at you while you cry about how gross it is

♡ cucking Jason <3 what better way to get back at your bully than fucking his girlfriend, chrissy deserves her tits in my mouth

♡ stealing their shirts so you can put it on a pillow and hump it later !!!!!

♡ making you squirt infront of people!! Maybe billy, thinking he gets an ego boost after it. Or eddie think he would let everyone have a go of making you squirt <3 such a sweetheart

♡ hopper catching you working at a strip club then blackmailing you after you beg for him not to tell anyone <3 he makes you fuck yourself dumb on his cock then mocks you when your legs go numb

♡ bimbo! crybaby! Reader getting her clit pinched after she gets bratty

♡ hybrid reader!! Hybrid reader !!! Hybrid reader!!!!!! Bunny! Puppy! Kitty! Cow! Bird! Bear! Lamb! Mouse!! SO MANY THOUGHTS IN MY BRAIN!!!!!!!

♡ I think steve would like a kitty, all pretty and only exists for the purpose of looking good and being a hole to stuff <3<3 spoil me so much !!!! Or maybe a puppy, gets to leash me up and make me choke on his cock maybe breed me

♡ eddie would like a bunny, a soft little thing that can keep up with his fat loads of cum, or maybe a kitty who does nothing but lay there and mewl for his cum <3 he just wants a little dumb thing he can corrupt

♡ hopper likes the puppy because old grumpy men and puppies are soul mates!!! Hed be so strict but I'd love him for it !!! Make me feel so special 👁👁 piss kink with hopper x untrained puppygirl reader 👁👁 smoking a cigar while you cock warm him I'm all gooey inside

♡ I think billy would definitely be into cow hybrids 👁👁 cuz like hes the bull of Hawkins and I think he needs a little breeding cow and on milky titz to sucky suck👁👁 shy lil thing that follows him around

♡ robin would like a bird because they're so quiet and pretty!! Just so nice to look at and she would definitely love it when you try to groom her makes her feel so special!!! Or when you coo as shes eating you out omg !! loves how soft your lil wings are !!!

♡ nancy definitely be into puppygirls<3<3 I think shed love to just do whatever she pleases especially when you take everything she gives you, you're so obedient and eager to please her !!!!!!!!!

♡ argyle? Definitely a cow orr maybe a mouse, just wants someone whose soft and warm. Would let you sit on his cock while he smokes, all the praises !!! Stroke your pretty little thighs and pet your ears sucky sucky on those titties

♡ my sick little freak Jonathan? The original perv? Bear. Just something that lays there all pretty and soft, let's him take pictures!! His fav are when you're lying in the sun and he pulls your underwear to the side to see your pussy <3

♡ what if hybrid! boy/girlfriend !!!!!!

♡ AAAA WOLF EDDIE AND BUNNY READER IM GAGGING CHOKING NOT BREATHING, him wearing a muzzle!!! Spikey collar that leaves scratches in my thighs

♡ wolf steve and puppy reader 👁👁 wants to get you full of pups, all hairy and warm treats you so well<3 hunts you the biggest deer he can find just so he can prove how much of a good mate he is

♡ bear hopper x bunny reader <3<3 so big and warm so strong and smart he has to protect his little dumb cocksleeve, let's you have all the blankets for your nest!!! Soothes you when you cry because hes so big and doesnt fit in it :(( but its okay because he likes being pressed against you so tightly

♡ bull billy and cow reader !!! Hes so mean at first!! Always huffing and grunting at you making you think he hates you </3 makes all the others bully you because hes the alpha and whatever he says goes until some dumb new bulls start showing interest in HIS shy submissive mate he gets into so many fights!! Hates that they think they can have you >:00 YOURE HIS >:((( sneaks into your separated room (because everyone is so mean and the farmer cant have their pretty little Hefner sad) just so he can mark you as his. would 100% let's you touch his horns, but only you >:((

♡ dont get me started on heats and ruts

♡ breed me so good!!!! I'm going feral possibly even insane

♡ joyce + hopper with puppygirl!!! Makes my heart all gooey and gross, joyce would spoil you so much!!! Give you extra rewards and treats when you behave or when hop is being grumpy and strict! Definitely would stuff you with toys and make you lick them clean

♡ step dad! hopper digging out a bullet vibrator from his bimbo Step daughter after she gets it stuck inside her because shes so dumb </3

♡ brothers bestfriend/dealer! Eddie corrupting naive! Innocent! Virgin! Reader, him waiting for your roommate to arrive and he gets to know you so well

♡ scumbag! Stepbrother! Jonathan x innocent! Reader. making you sit on his lap, he blows smoke into your face all the time :((((( makes your eyes tear up and forget about his boner that hes rocking against your clothed cunt!! Dont get me started on his Best friend perv! Argyle who is soooo nice to you but only so he can feel you up close against him

♡ theres a belt that has a lighter attached to it omg imagine eddie using it to light the blunt in your mouth omfg I'm going insane right now

♡ mean! eddie making his artist! Girlfriend draw porn only so he can cum on it and ruin it :(((

♡ being the new secretary at the police station and befriending hopper through your husband. Staying late one night, you and hop start talking which leads to you complaining to him about struggling to have a baby and how you're so worried that you may not be able too, he assures you that theres nothing wrong and even offers to help, your husband is oblivious when you become pregnant, he doesnt even bat an eye when the baby comes out huge (giant genes jim hopper ♡♡)

♡ argyle becoming a masseuse and getting a bit too handsy with his favourite client <3<3 his hands are amazing with pizza dough they would be amazing with my ass <3

♡ would I let Vecna absolutely destroy me? Yes I'm not a coward, I want his claws to make my hips bleed is that too much to ask? "BuT nYmPH hES UgLy aND scARY" and I'm horny so what

♡ you know those baby dolls that you have to take care of for like a week? Imagine being forced to take care of one with whoever, unfortunately it unlocks their breeding kink and they cant get the thought of you and their baby out of their head so it's only natural for them to stuff you full

♡ serial killer! eddie escaping from prison and hiding in your house!! Somehow convincing him to let you live by saying you'll cook him meals and clean him up, he forces you to be his housewife until you're no longer useful to him but once he gets his cock in your sweet tiny little hole he cant stand the thought of you being harmed. When the cops arrive to search your house he takes you with him because he cant just leave his personal fleshlight behind

♡ argyle fucking the new delivery girl, he drives you to the houses because there were too many complaints about him being high </3 but that's okay because your cute little face gets extra tips and he doesnt mind staying in the car especially when your skirt flips up as you climb off the seat. Would let you ride him after you come to the car all teary eyed after you get yelled at by a mean customer who wanted a new pizza

♡ perv! Robin, nancy and chrissy convincing innocent! Reader to try on new clothes infront of them, they assure you that you dont need to change in the bathroom because "they're all girls" they grope you claiming that they're "just making sure it fits right" they then make you try on some underwear that would look sooo cute on you. You think nothing of it until you're stood infront if them and you feel vibrations coming from the fabric pressing directly to your clit, but dont worry chrissy makes sure to catch you as your legs struggle to hold yourself up plus shes holding your hands <3<3 and robin is being so sweet and 'fixing you bra' while telling you how pretty you are, nancy is the sweetest however as she reaches down to help you with false concern, rubbing your clit "trying to make it stop"

♡ hopper x fairy! Nymph esc! Reader !!! He finds you in the forest and takes you back to his cabin because a little thing like you shoudlnt be out here all alone >:(( You're so curious of this big strong creature that took you with them that you follow them around like a puppy, so he shouldnt have been so shocked when you wondered into the bathroom and watched him while he showered, as much as he tried to shoo you away it was hopeless which is why he invited you to join him. Definitely not a ploy to see you naked

♡ want 001 to gaslight me while his cock tears me in two!! "It doesn't hurt that bad, you were made to hold my children how can you give birth if you cant take my cock?"

♡ steve x bimbo reader <3 he thinks you're so dumb and hes looking at you in shock most of the time because how can anyone be that stupid? But he doesnt mind because you're his housewife and he loves that you make him feel all gooey inside, you cook him meals and bake him desserts you're so good with the kids and dustin adores with his moms new girlfriend. When you come home from babysitting with eyes watering about how you have "baby fever" and how you "cant wait to have a baby of your own" he obviously takes the opportunity to help you, he cant have his favourite girl sad now

♡ joyce and karen getting wine drink with reader, they all start talking about how awful their husbands are in bed (let's pretend hopper isnt with joyce ♡) and how they're never satisfied luckily you've bought some new sex toys and because you're so generous you cant help but share with your best friends

♡ 001 being in charge of you at the facility means he watches you do everything, sleep, eat, shower, exist, all of it. Hes all you've ever known and it feels so natural for you to come to him about the ache between your legs

♡ the way I would suck the soul out of this man

♡ dark! Reader being absolutely infatuated with mr Phil Callahan after you gets arrested at a house party, you're always getting In trouble just so you can see him not even hoppers huge cock can make you behave, you want HIM. Thankfully callahan is a good man, a good citizen who would do anything to help someone in need, so when your bent over begging him to fuck you he cant refuse, he doesnt question how you got into his house or how you knew where he lived. Your pussy is worth it <3

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #enzo x reader #murray bauman x reader #phil callahan x reader #karen wheeler x reader #joyce byers x reader #jonathan byers x reader #argyle x reader #001 x reader #chrissy Cunningham x reader #robin Buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #Henry creel x reader

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merakidoll · 11 months

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toji’s allowed to have a little more fun before the big day. featuring: gojo

bachelorette toji who started to have a little too much fun. the liquor mixed with cigar got into his system, and even tho he wanted to blame his behavior on that- he couldn’t. because he knew exactly what he was doing. the pretty little stripper just looked too good in the bedazzled pink two piece, the color of the outfit made her skin pop, her curves fitting into it so well that toji - nor gojo could take their eyes off of it.

“what a pretty thing” toji whispered in her ear his hands sliding down her thighs while she sat on his him grinding down into his hard on. “don’t ya think go?” gojo downed the rest of the hard liquor in his cup looking the girl up and down with a nod. “so gorgeous. what should we do with her?” after booking a private room with you the two men started to ravish on your body.

gojo’s cock shoved into your throat filling it with his cum, his balls hit against your chin refilling as soon as it released the seamen, getting right back into making your lose your voice. you moaned around him your eye going crossed by the way toji’s fucked deep into you.

“some good pussy” he growled rubbing your clit as his tip touched deep within. his head was thrown back abs flexing, trying to get as deep as he could wanting you to feel him in your chest. “m’so deep huh baby? daddy so damn deep, too much?” you tried saying no by shaking your head but it only lead you to choke around gojo making him cum once again, you drinking down his cum. “ughh shit” gojo held your head down, you throat contracting around his tip making more cum shoot out, overstimulating him

the feeling of it all made you body go hot, toji filling your cunt as well with his thick cum and using his fingers to push it back in once it started to come out. each man gave you a single kiss stumbling out of the room leaving you there with cum all over yourself and a dazed out mind

#toji fushiguro x black reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x chubby reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime x black!reader #anime x chubby reader #anime smut #toji x reader x gojo #˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ (mirah work’s) ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄#ׁ ˳ ౨ ( mirah’s creation) ৎ⠀⭑ ⠀𓂋⠀⠀!

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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two is hardly a crowd

— john price x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni (age gap, mxf, dirty talk) swearing, mention of death and injury

— a/n: i’m so in love with this man. oh my god.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” You say through the door, knocking a few times.

“Come in.” He calls back, and you try to still your hand as it reaches for the doorknob. Every time he calls for you, you can’t predict what will happen. Some times he’s all work no play, giving you assignments like he does the rest of the 141 with a straight face and serious look in his eyes.

Other times, it’s… less business, more pleasure. He smiles more, offers you a drink. Jokes with you. Flirts… you think, but you weren’t entirely sure Price meant it. You don’t have the most experience with this kind of thing, but he certainly isn’t having those kinds of meetings with Soap or Ghost. He doesn’t compliment them at all, let alone sweet talk them like he does to you. It’s only really when you’re between missions, and almost always when everyone else has gone out for the night or gone off base. He knows you don’t leave even on off days— Price is observant, and the only other one who stays, too.

Swallowing, you push the door open. You know everyone’s gone home this break— Gaz just left last night, and he was only here this long because he couldn’t get a flight out. Now, you knew it was just you and the Captain. It made you as nervous as it did excited, considering the embarrassing crush you were nursing for him.

“I really hope you aren’t telling me I have to spend the year locked up in the cockpit of a jet.” Taking a seat in front of him, you watch the curl of his mouth form around a lit cigar. He leans back, and your eyes are drawn to the stark lack of papers or files open on his desk. All of them are stacked in piles. All closed cases.

“Nothin’ like that, don’t worry.” You watch him closely as he pours himself a glass of scotch. Then, he pushes the full one towards you. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine.” You reply, trying not to think too hard about the last few weeks. It was rough— all your missions are, but the burn of the scotch now going down your throat and the undivided attention from Price makes it a bit easier to forget. “Starting to understand why you all drink so much, though.”

“You did well out there, not that you need me tellin’ you.” He looks at you under the brim of his hat, still sandy from the return. You wonder if he ever washes that thing, or if he’s superstitious, like it’ll wash the luck off or something. “All the boys were impressed. So was I.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You try to hide the obvious heat that spreads to your body, nearly making you squint. Of course it was good to be recognised, but hearing it from him. ‘So was I’. You impressed him. “Is— was there something you needed me to do?”

“Just hate to think of you wastin’ your off time in the barracks. I’m not takin’ the jet, so I was gonna offer it to you. Get out of here for a bit, see your family.” The sentiment was sweet, and the idea that he was thinking of you nearly overshadowed his offer.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t… see my family. Besides, I’m not a big fan of flying. I like to avoid it, when I can.” The fact you’d just spent almost a month flying between bases and never said a thing makes Price lean forward, eyebrows raised. It was a stupid fear to have, but it was there nonetheless.

“Take a car, then. Go see— something. Anything.” His forearms were on the table, leaning toward you. His shoulders are slumped slightly, about as relaxed as he gets.

“You trying to get rid of me, Captain?” He laughs dryly, taking the cigar out of his mouth again to finish off his drink. You follow him, needing the liquid courage.

“Course not, love. You just shouldn’t be hangin’ around here at your age. Let us old guys sit and rot, but you— go live a little.” Almost choking on your drink, you bite down on your bottom lip as you swallow. Love. Love. Fucking hell, you’ve been less tense while staring at the barrel of a shotgun.

“You aren’t that old.” You say meekly, dropping your gaze from his intense one.

“Don’t change the subject.” His voice is dripping with authority, one that simultaneously drops you into line and makes you need to shift on your seat. “Why are you still here?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” That shuts him up for a second. Your family probably thinks you’re dead— if they know you’re alive, they don’t care enough to check in. Any friends you had drifted away when you became too hard to reach, missing birthdays and never coming home for holidays— always working. Once you joined the 141, they stopped trying completely. You didn’t mind. You only wanted to focus on your job. The next mission. Keeping people safe. These guys were all the family you needed. Plus, Price was here.

It was hard to find a good enough reason to leave him, and the kindness he always showed you was ten times more than you’d get if you really went home. It was more than enough to feed your ridiculous crush on him, too, which you couldn’t figure out if it was a good or a bad thing.

“Ah.” He says after a while, and then fills up your glass. The action mixed with the subtle uncomfortable look on his face, like he’s not sure what to do, makes you laugh out loud. The sound seems to relax him again. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Well, why are you still hanging around base?” You take another sip, the honey flavour of the liquor easing the burning taste. “You’re not afraid of flying too, are you?”

“I think I’ve seen enough of the world by now. Happy where I am.” Before your heartbeat can catch up, he keeps talking. “Besides, the company’s not all bad.”

Your face gets so hot you think you might break out into a sweat. It was definitely one of those kinds of meetings. Your favourite. These kinds of talks with him, where you get to see the man under the title and pressure of the job. Price, as you’ve discovered, is smooth. A gentleman, of course, but such a sweet talker. You only ever see it here, alone with him, but you can never stop thinking about it when it happens.

“If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.” You say, stumbling straight over his compliment. He makes you so confused— you’re usually straight as a steel blade. Impossible to bend, strong willed and focused. With him… you can’t even think. “But you… you don’t have anyone to go visit? You said you aren’t taking the jet. I’m sure your wife would be missing you.”

“If I had one, I’m sure she’d of left me by now.” You honestly hadn’t been sure if he had family. You had a feeling he did… look at him. There’s no way a man that looks like this, talks the way he does isn’t dodging women left right and centre. “When have people like us got the time for date nights, aye?”

“Soap does it. Gaz. It’s not impossible.” Your glass clanks against the wooden table as you set it down, and Price’s eyes seem to light up a little. “I mean… I’m sure you could find someone if you— if you wanted to.”

“You got me there.” He fakes a little surrender, his hands rising off the table. You almost didn’t realise how close he was until he sets them down again, fingers nearly brushing against your skin. “What makes you so sure?”

“You’re…nice.” He laughs, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. You watch him intently, smoke curling and fogging in front of his face. Ash drops onto the desk, and his giant hands swipe it away quickly.

“Nice.”

“Mhmm.”

“That all?” Your throat feels dry. He was looking at you so closely. Like he could see through you, right to how fast your heart was beating. Like he could see your thoughts in a cloud above your head, as clear and thick as the smoke in front of him.

“Fishing for compliments, Captain?”

“It’s John.” You suck in a low breath at the sound of his first name. Your eyes nearly flutter shut. “And can you blame me? Pretty girl like you, maybe I could get some ideas since you wanna marry me off so quick.”

It was subtle. So like him, smooth and easy, but it hits you like a freight train. That cross of a line in such a short, stupid little sentence, but he knows he’s made a touch down when you smile and hide your face. You were a soldier, for fucks sake— but he had you blushing and smiling like you were a kid.

“I’m just saying, Ca—John. You are nice. You deserve something like that to go home to.” The sentence wasn’t well thought out, two glasses of scotch going straight to your head, but it was true.

God, how you have thought about being that for him. Let him come back from a long mission, take the stress out of his shoulders and have him really relax. He was always so on all the time, so much pressure running the team. He was fucking good at it too, which was worse for your crush on him. You just wanted to take care of him like he took care of everything for you and the team every single time—

“I think I’ve got all I need right here.” You blink up at him, hands gripping the side of your chair. His head is tilted slightly, a smirk on his face. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Like I said, I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

His voice is low. Lower than before. Maybe you’re just drunk, but his eyes seem a little darker, too.

“On base with me, eating leftovers? Sounds like a real fun t—“

“Yeah. I want to be here with you.” You don’t take a breath for a good five seconds. Just let the confession hang in the air. It’s thick, full of smoke and tension, and the burn across your face is either from embarrassment or pure need.

He wanted to be here, alone, with you. Until now it was easy to sign all these passing comments and looks off to pure coincidence. Maybe even a lack of options, being one of the only straight females on base. But with the way he was looking at you now, it was anything but.

“Are you messing with me?” Your eyes nearly shut completely, suddenly feeling the warmth of his hand on yours. His covers you completely, thumb tracing along your knuckles. They’re still blue and green from the fading bruises of the last mission, and he pays extra care not to press to hard.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His eyes stay on your touching hands, the rough pads of his fingers drawing aimless lines on your skin. “I’m patient, but I’m only a man. Only so much time I can wait before I blow myself to bits keeping this to myself.”

“Keeping what to yourself ?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

“I’m your Captain.” He says like it’s a confession, and your heart is beating so fast he can probably hear it with those trained ears.

“I know that.” He makes a noise like he’s in pain, going to pull away, but you’re faster and catch his arm. “Tell me anyway.”

“It’s… you mean something to me. A lot. More than I can chalk up to just admiration. I want to take you out.” He says, his voice trained, like he’s using every ounce of bravery he’s got to get the words out. Only then does he finally look up at you, his pupils nearly overtaking his eyes. “I want to see you outside this place. I don’t wanna be looking over my shoulder every three seconds makin’ sure no one’s watching the way I’m staring at you. You’re in my head. Can’t get you out of it. I want to do this the real way. The right way.”

“I—“

“But if you don’t feel the same, you’ll never have to hear it again. Trust me. I’ll learn to live with it. I— it’d just kill me if I never asked.” He runs over your sentence, then leans back, taking a few puffs of the cigar like a reflex.

“You really aren’t messing with me?” Your hands were reaching out instinctively, missing his touch, as fleeting as it was.

“No, love. Just been working up the courage.” You were grinning like an idiot at his expression. The composed face of your Captain had folded in on itself, now replaced by the man you knew was underneath— admittedly a little more nervous than you were familiar with. “Is that… do you—“

“Oh! Yes. Yeah— fuck yes. I’d really like that.” Nodding rapidly, his head hangs back and he sighs a little in relief. Adjusting his hat, he watches you smile at him, fondness dancing in his eyes.

“Guess I wasn’t the only one thinking about it?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Nah. The foods just really shitty on base. I’d do anything for a good meal.”

“Ah. Of course.” He squints, smirking as you laugh. He takes another drag of the cigar, and you watch his mouth intensely— letting your eyes linger with the safety of his confession. “Well, can’t deny a pretty face like yours, can I?”

“In that case, I haven’t eaten since this morning.” You say, the words fumbling out of your mouth before you have a chance to reign them in.

“It’s nine o’clock, Private.” He chides, the tone of his voice making you squirm in your seat. “You wanna go now?”

“You’ve been patient enough, haven’t you?” Your leg bounces with all the extra energy you suddenly have, mind wiring with thoughts of where he would take you. He stands up, and you follow him, pushing your chair back as he clears the distance around the table in two steps.

Those giant black boots, ones he still hasn’t changed out of since coming back. They were tracking dirt and mud all over the hard wood floor, and you had a feeling he’s never had anyone tell him to take his shoes off before he came inside. Probably why he wears his camouflage jacket everywhere, too. You hate to imagine the state of his real place, wherever that may be. He keeps walking towards the door, unlocking it and nodding towards you.

“Come on, then. Better move if you want anything other than pizza.” He smirks, and you really could walk out the door. You could, and make him take you out to a nice dinner. He’d be sweet, and you know you’d probably ask him a thousand questions that he would answer without skipping a beat. And you want that— you do. You’d thought about it more times than you’d admit out loud. You’d get there.

But right now, you had too much adrenaline. It was like being on a mission— heart racing, antsy to just jump in with both feet and not look back. There was something about living the life you did that made you not want to wait for anything anymore. Now, you had been so, so patient with Price, because you had to be. But now it was right there in front of you, standing at the open door.

A kick in your step sends you right up to the door, your hand slowly pushing against his grip on it. It’s squeaky and obvious what you’re doing— and his eyebrows raise higher and higher, eyes flicking down to you when the lock clicks shut.

“Not hungry?” He rasps, taking a step closer to you. His hand drops from the door, settling gently on your hip.

“I have something else in mind.” Your hands fist in his jacket and you yank him forward, feeling his hand on your neck as you finally kiss him.

He doesn’t rush, taking his time to feel your mouth against his. Once he realises you don’t want to let him go, he drags his hand up your face, along your cheekbone, thumb tracing along your skin lightly. You push yourself up on your toes, wanting to be closer.

He grabs you a little harder, and you moan into his mouth when his hand tangles in your hair. He uses it as leverage, nearly pulling you off the ground. He’s wrapped his arm around your waist, and the warmth of his body against yours has you pulling on the hair that hangs out of his hat. He’s the one to make a sound now, letting out a low groan when you fist your hands and tug.

He tastes like expensive cigars and scotch, his mouth burning it’s way into your memory. Every time you look at him from now on all you’ll be able to think of is how he tastes, and how easily he’s taken over you. He towers over you, and with one hand still around your waist, the other tucks your hair behind your ear, a hint of something softer despite the neediness of both your movements. You hate it like that, always thinking you look off balance. It’s why you have your head shoved in a hat most days, but he seems to like it. He walks you backwards, away from the door, picking you up with a strong forearm under your ass until you feel your calves hit the hard wood of his desk. He presses close, only leaving your lips for a second to kiss along your jaw. When you whine and tug on his hair, he comes back up, and you can feel him smiling through it.

When you need to take a breath, reluctantly you lean back, eyes fluttering open when you feel his forehead press to yours. His hands cup your face, enveloping you in the feeling of him everywhere. The shadow of his body blocks out all the light in the room except for him, tunnel visioning him into focus.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You say before you can think, almost like some kind of trance had overtaken you. Price laughs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly.

“Is that right?” You nod once, and he leans closer, his mouth lightly pressing its way along your neck. You squirm in his touch, needing more, but he only gets further away. “You have no idea how many times I thought about walkin’ down to your room and begging you to put me out of my misery.”

“Fuck, Price.” You tug him closer by the ends of his jacket, smiling when you feel his hands fall to your waist and his head pull back. “You should of. It’s so lonely in there.”

“Don’t play games with me.” He says lowly while you bat your eyes up at him, that authoritative tone rumbling through every word. “Your tuggin’ on my last string of control with that look.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll finally snap.” He groans, kissing you lightly.

“I should do this right. Take you out. Buy you flowers and dinner.” His hands begin to wander again, getting a little more daring, opposing the words he’s trying to talk himself out of. “You deserve it.”

“You could just propose, skip the twenty steps and get a ring.” He smiles again, finally, and even if it’s controlled and Captain like, it’s a smile. “Heard you army boys like to settle down pretty fast, anyways. That what you want?”

“Fucking hell. You really are trying to marry me off.” You shrug, and something much more intense is in his eyes now. It makes you tick into a higher gear, cogs turning faster and faster. “Can I kiss you again?”

Instead of answering, you bring both hands on either side of his face and yank him to you, moulding your mouth to his. It’s desperate, one lonley hand seeking another as he puts his palm over yours, then moves you seamlessly. You mould for him, standing as he hurls you up and into his arms, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist tight even when you feel the hard wood of the table under your thighs. He reaches behind you, one hand on your lower back rolling your hips towards him, the other now revealing his half finished cigar.

You want to roll your eyes, but he’s too overwhelming to think about anything else. The way he smells— smoke and old spice filling your senses. You can’t get enough of it, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingertips tracing up his neck. For a second you hesitate, feeling the material of his hat against your knuckles, but the slightest touch of your hand in his hair makes him groan into your mouth, and you throw all caution to the wind.

He kisses you a little rougher now. Keeping you still with one strong arm around your waist, he’s slowly uncoiling, strand by strenuous strand. His other hand is still occupied with his cigar, and you can’t figure out why he’s holding onto it right now until you hear something crash and hit the floor behind you.

“Jesus, Price.” You sigh into him, only opening your eyes for a second to see he’s shoved everything on his desk to the floor— ashtray shattered in pieces under your feet. Didn’t want to waste his damn cigar, but the countless files on his desk weren’t important enough to him.

He pulls back, your lips chasing him even though your lightheaded from a lack of oxygen. You open your eyes again, your arms still wrapped right around the back of his neck, and your head drops to the giant mess on the floor. Cigar still secured in his fingertips, both of his hands cup your face, forcing you to look at him. You’ve never seen him unwound. He’s your Captain— a man of control, someone who’s always three steps ahead of the enemy. But here, breathing hard and standing between your open legs, he looks fucking wild. His eyes are half shut, and he’s smiling like a fool, the sight making you feel even warmer with him this close to you.

“You are something else.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you smile.

“And you’re a fucking tease.” You kiss him again, and he nearly whines in his own protest as he pulls back. “John.”

“I know, love. I’ll take care of you.” He steps away a little, one hand dropping to the edge of the table. “Mind holding onto this f’me?”

He brings his other one up, the end of the cigar appearing in front of you. Instead of handing it to you, his thumb drags down against your lip, your mouth opening for him on the silent command. Dark eyes watching your every move, he puts the end of the cigar in your mouth, watching you take in the familiar taste of it. Of him. It sends a buzz through your veins now, the alcohol and feeling of him overloading your body. He lets his hand slip to your jaw, smirking at the way your teeth nearly bite into the end. Then, the asshole winks at you, and you almost choke on the smoke burning through your chest.

“There’s a good girl. Stay nice and still, yeah?” He presses a quick kiss on your cheek, watching as you nod slowly. Mesmerised. It’s taken about five minutes and a few well chosen words for one of his best soldiers to become a puddle in front of him. You knew it was a little embarrassing how quickly you lost your nerve with him, but he didn’t have to look so smug about it.

Just as you think you’ve recovered, he drops his hands, still staring at you as he expertly undoes your military pants. He doesn’t even have to look down, just watches how your eyes close, head falling back as he yanks them down your legs and his fingers hook into the fabric of your underwear.

You almost forget the cigar completely, moaning around the end of it as you feel him draw closer. The rough pads of his fingertips, hardened from years on the force, are gentle and soothing against the sensitive skin, and he plays with the seams sitting around where you are clearly edging him towards.

He’s not watching you anymore. No, now his eyes are occupied with the sight in front of him, just below your face. How your back is arched towards him, enticing him to move a little faster. Your legs spreading across his table, knuckles white as they grip the edge in anticipation. Then, there’s your fucking underwear. Price spits out a few curse words, then rips them away, tucking them into the pocket of his own pants.

“You wear that just to drive me insane?” His hands splay on your thighs, rising higher and higher. You hum around the cigar that’s growing heavier in your mouth. “That what you wear all the time? Pink and lace shit under all that gear?”

“Just hopin’ you’d take it off and find out.” You mumble, only half coherent with your mouth full. The comment seems to undo something in him, and his restraint frays as you finally, finally feel two of his fingers dragging slow, steady circles on your clit.

You crumble forward, hips shifting to seek out something a little faster, but his free hand holds you down. He kisses along your neck, down to his collarbone while setting you alight with his soft moving hands. As he dips just below there, in a place he knows will be hidden in your uniform, he spends time there. He listens to the little noises you make, how you say his name like it’s the only word you know. He fucking knows he has you right there— and he hasn’t even taken off his shirt.

“You are so gorgeous, baby. You know that?” His mouth is so hot and his fucking hands— they were playing you like a violin. Plucking all the right strings, a melody of pleasure played out of your mouth, interrupting his ramble. “Never gonna be able to keep my hands off you. Not when I know how sweet you sound.”

“Hmph.” You groan around the butt of the cigar, and he grins a little mockingly, cooing as he takes the cigar from your nearly open mouth.

“There you go, did real good for me. Need to hear you louder though, princess.”

“Please, Price.” Your hips buck, and his fingers dip lower, teasing.

“You ask me, it’s yours.” He whispers, then bends down to press one long, bruising kiss to your lips, one you take greedily.

“I need you.” He kisses you, humming low into your mouth, then you feel one of his strong fingers curl inside of you. “Ohh— fuck.”

“You’re alright darlin’. That’s it.” He whispers in your ear, and your mind focuses only on the sweet adoring touches of his free and and his mouth and the coil tightening low in your stomach.

Everything is only him— the roughness of his hands subsided by the gentle graze of their touch, exploring all the parts of you he’s telling you he’s dreamed about. His other hand, finding the places that make you scream the loudest, never letting up as your eyes roll backwards into your skull. His mouth— god, that fucking mouth. The way he’s talking to you, telling you all the ways he’s imagined you spread out for him, how long he wants to take with you, how hard he is for you, only you.

Your hands reach towards him, sliding down his toned chest, along the lines of his jacket until you blindly caught on the waistband of his jeans. You could feel yourself slipping into that blissful heat low in your stomach, but you wanted him to fall with you. As much as he was talking, you were just as desperate to get your hands on him, even if you couldn’t articulate words right now.

“You don’t ha—fucking hell.” He growls, kissing you harshly as your hands slip into his pants and palm him through his boxers. “I’m not gonna last. You’re fucking me up real good, princess.”

“J-Just let me make you feel good, too.” You blink your eyes open, pleasure skittering up your spine. He pumps his fingers inside of you faster, skilled in a way your brain can’t compare to anything else. The rough skin of his palm drags across your clit with every move, sending your hips into a roll in search of more— greedily chasing whatever he’d give you.

When you finally feel him, hot and heavy in your hand under his boxers, you can feel he wasn’t lying. He’s a fucking mess— a choked moan shocking through him as your thumb gently swipes across his tip. When you pull away he looks up from where his head dropped on your shoulder, eyes only half open to watch you spit in your hand, and then return to wrap your fingers around him, pumping him slowly.

“Ohh, fuck. That’s good. Fuck, that’s so good.” He praises, hot breath kissing your neck and collarbone. You could tell he liked to talk, but it wasn’t even the words he was saying that was sending you spiralling helplessly anymore. It was the noises.

Desperate, nearly whining as you tighten your grip, matching the pace of his two, strong fingers curling inside you. You felt boneless— foreheads pressed together as you watched each other fall apart from just the others hands. You weren’t much better, high pitched, girlish sounds that had nothing of the trained solider in them. Just a girl, spread out on her Captains desk, exactly where she wants to be.

“So tight, baby. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.” You hum, closing your eyes and imagining it. If he felt this thick in your hands, you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel in— “Gonna take you out to a nice dinner and then bring you home, fuck you in a real bed. Fuck… you think about this too?”

“A-all the— fuck, right there— all the time.” You manage, vision beginning to blur. “I’m so close, Price. Please.”

“Give it to me. Wanna feel how wet you get after you cum for me.” He groans. He switches so fast— low, heavy voice interrupted by slightly higher moans and a gasp. He’s so hard to keep up with, it melts your brain down to only the simplest of instructions. “Cum for me.”

You lose conscious control of your hand, only knowing to keep holding him like that as his hips buck, fucking into your palm. Pleasure takes over— zapping and skittering through your body, making your legs shake. His breathing gets faster, stuttered little gasps coming from him as he guides you through your orgasm, hand slowing to a soothing rhythm.

There was none of that softness for himself, though. No— he was nothing but hard and fast, using your hip as leverage to drag his length along the wet hold of your hand. The table creaks under his strength, and you wrap your free hard around his neck again to hold on tight, needing to see him through it.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls, and then covers your hand in warmth as he cums to the sight of you. His jaw is hanging open and you take the opportunity, kissing him desperately. He responds even with the pleasure clouding his thoughts, all tongue and teeth and feral sounds as his hips slowly still in your hand.

Both of you are reluctant to let go of each other, but you seemingly find yourselves at the same time as you both flinch at the touch of the other. You take your hand back first, sliding up along the lower contours of his abs. You’ve been obsessed with that part of him for so long, it’s nearly surreal to have it under your hand.

“You… Jesus Christ.” He breathes deep, his head falling to the crook of your neck. He kisses you affectionately, taking slow inhales like the taste of your skin will bring the oxygen back to his lungs. “That’s not what I thought this meeting was going to go like.”

“Funny.” You say softly, still searching for your voice. “It’s exactly what I had planned.”

He sits up at that, and you catch the look of him believing you— just for a second before he shakes his head, smirking.

“Alright, smart ass.” You laugh, tugging him to stand closer between your spread legs. “You okay?”

“Never better.” He kisses you softly again.

“You gonna let me take you out? Do this the proper way?” His hands hold your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin. “Cause I meant it when I said I’m not keeping my hands off you now. I’m a man of my word.”

“Pizza is fine with me.” You smile, and he picks you up off the desk, but not before sneaking one lazy kiss while you’re up in his arms.

Pizza would be fine every night, you think as you quickly pull your pants back on and follow him out the door, still seeing the light pink fabric of your underwear sticking out his back pocket.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #john price #captain price #captain price smut #price smut #cod fic #mw2 x reader #cod mw2

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margowritesthings · 9 months

Text

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?”

Marston.

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

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churipu · 5 months

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Hi! ☺️ First and foremost, I hope you're doing well. Also, I just recently found your page and I love your writing!

I really liked your post on the super sensitive reader with the jjk men. Can I get headcanons of the jjk men with reader who is very stoic and a little emotionally constipated? Like they have never seen reader cry ever while in their relationship together, but then reader ends up having a hard week and ends up crying from frustration.

jjk men & their emotionally constipated partner

featuring. shiu kong, itadori yuuji, todo aoi, geto suguru x reader

warnings. cursing and jjk men being sweet and soft to their partner <;33

note. hi anon! i'm doing great, hbu love? thank you for liking my works, you don't know how much that means to me, i hope you have a great day! and thank you for requesting, i find this request very interesting <33 also, thank you guys for the big amount of support i've been receiving for the last two days, can you imagine i gained like 140+ followers in that matter of time? i'm going to start violently sobbing istg. anw, i hope u sexies enjoy this <33

SHIU KONG. shiu loves you a lot, even if you struggle in showing the love back to him, he knows you love him a lot. shiu would receive random messages (mostly a picture of something and then you tell him that it reminded you of him, probably deemed as your love language now). i feel like shiu is partly happy that you don't take things into the heart - but at times he'd be very worried about you. you never cry, you almost never get angry at him even if he did something wrong (you'd just tell him it's nothing and you weren't mad, but he sometimes think it's because you didn't want to engage yourself in arguments), and hell, he barely sees you smile at all.

shiu has heard you tell stories about your new work place, which you quote unquote as toxic. and you've been in the company for no longer than three months, but the stories about your very annoying co-worker and your boss never stops. he swore that the topic of your work place was the only thing that could get you riled up.

i feel like shiu would be the type of boyfriend who would tell you to stop working because he's financially stable enough to provide for you, but you decline telling him that you didn't want to live off of him.

shiu didn't force you to stop or quit your job though, he'd be glad to listen to you talk about your days at work.

"y/n? you're ho— darling, what happened?" he saw the solemn look on your face and realized that something must have happened (yet again) at your work place, he dropped the cigar that was lodged in between his lips and immediately approached you.

you shook your head, inhaling sharply before kicking off your shoes, "work, of course."

"is it your boss? or that same co-worker again?" shiu knew that it was either your boss or this one co-worker who doesn't seem to enjoy your presence in the office.

"both." you sat down on the couch, throwing your head back in exhaustion (you were about to cry and the only way to stop your tears from coming out was to just force it back in with your head back), "i'm getting my paycheck reduced this month."

shiu took a seat next to you, "why?"

"i was blamed for something my co-worker did, this is so unfair," your voice cracked a little and shiu pulled you into a hug, you choked out a sob, "this is so unfair," you muttered out, your pent out anger and disappointment finally seeping out in a form of tears.

"hey, shh..." he soothes you, pulling back to see your tearful eyes. he grazed over your cheek to wipe the droplets away, "let me take care of them, yeah?"

you shook your head, "don't have to, i don't want to make this into a bigger mess."

shiu planted a kiss on your forehead, "don't worry about it darling, you trust me, don't you?"

"yes."

shiu had a "talk" with your boss and your co-worker the very next day and your co-worker ended up resigning right after, and your boss, well they never bothered you anymore (and you're getting an extra paycheck for the next half a year).

ITADORI YUUJI. people always wonder how you and itadori ended up with each other. him being this ray of sunshine, and you were like the moon. but he didn't care about what everyone says, he loves you — and that's what matter, right?

wrong. don't think that you didn't notice the enormous shit talking about you behind your back, about how you probably bribed itadori into dating you and what not. usually, you'd shove all those down the drain and forget about it.

but for some reason, you couldn't help but to rethink about what they said. how itadori isn't too fit for you, or how you don't deserve him at all. the only thing that managed to trigger you was how somebody said that itadori deserves someone more "emotionally available" for him, and that person isn't you.

you never liked being emotionally constipated, people always talk about you behind your back, saying how you're so distant and that being the reason you don't have any friends. you keep telling yourself that you're used to it when it comes to you, but when it comes to itadori and your relationship — you feel helpless.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you looked up at him, a glint of worry flashing in his eyes. and you can't help but to feel the frustration building in you as you remember the words people say to you, "yes..no? i don't kno—" you choked out, smacking your hand on top of your mouth at the sound you let out.

it just got worse when you feel the tears you've been penting up for the past few weeks come out. itadori blinked feverishly, a little surprised to see you crying like this. he has never seen you cry before, "y/n..?" he breathes out, his hand reaching out to you, but you moved back, trying to avoid his touch.

the embarrassment you felt was horrid, you hated crying in front of people, even your own boyfriend, "baby," itadori mutters out seriously, grabbing your arms and then pulling them away from your face, "tell me what's wrong. talk to me."

i feel like he knew where this was going, he had a hunch. for the past few weeks, you asked him about why he was with you, why he loves you when there were better people out there (you think). and he knew it was because of what people said.

"i...i just don't think i'm the right one for you, yuuji. they're right, you need a more emotionally available partner."

itadori's face fell when you said that, and he shook his head, pulling you into his embrace. rocking back and forth like a baby, "why would you say that? why would you listen to them y/n?" he asks quietly.

"i...don't know."

he pulled away, brows furrowed and he held your shoulders, "you're perfect for me, i don't give a fuck what they said about you and i. the next time someone says something, i'm going to beat them up," the thing is, he looked so serious you couldn't help but to chuckle.

"you just chuckled.." he breathes out, "my life is complete."

TODO AOI. he's very boisterous, and i feel like he'd be the type of person who would defend his partner everywhere they go. when you accepted his feelings, he was surprised since he never expected you to like someone like him. but he was pretty damn proud of you, and as a boyfriend, he shows you off like a trophy.

telling people about how amazing you are, how you make him happy, or how you treat him nicely. but people are fucking judgmental, some of them don't like the idea of others living happily — and you never thought that "these" particular people would target you next for it.

saying how fucking weird todo is for liking someone like you, and you had to be honest, it did get into you. and so began your avoidance to your own boyfriend, todo.

he hates it. he hated how you changed out of the blue, no matter how hard he tries to reach out for you, you weren't the same anymore and he never got why you decided to change.

believe me when i say that he tried asking his friends about it, or about tips to get you to talk to him. but really, they weren't much of a help, saying how you probably got bored and is avoiding him so he would be the one to break up first with you.

todo didn't want to let the idea of that get into him, but after a few weeks of you avoiding him non-stop, he began thinking the same thing. were you bored of him? did he do something that you didn't like? or is it because he ate the last chocolate chip cookie you were saving up and blamed it on someone else?

so when he got the chance to bump into you, he immediately took it as a chance to ask you about it.

"why are you avoiding me?" you tried ending the conversation right away by going the other way, but man is fast fast so he didn't let you — still wanting to know about the sudden change in your behavior.

todo knows how you didn't like being cornered, or how you don't like talking about the relationship, sappy shit. but if he didn't talk to you about this, todo knew he was going to regret it.

"y/n," he grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you back lightly, "did i do something wrong?"

you were silent for a few seconds before todo's ears perked up at the sound of soft, choked out sobs. you were crying. you were crying. and the panic sinks in, "i..i'm sorry, did i pull on your collar too hard?!" he panics, flailing his arms.

you shook your head, "...no, i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo stopped his panicking and stood up straight, "i couldn't stop thinking about what people have to say about us, and now that i think about it, i feel like you deserve more than me," todo widened his eyes and looked around.

"who the fuck said that? i'm going to beat them up so bad people won't recognize them," todo mutters out and the corner of your lips tugged upward, "is that why you're avoiding me?"

you nod, "it was wrong. i know i should've said something about it. i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo laid his hand on top of your head, brushing your h/c softly with a gentle smile, "you're perfect for me, fuck those people," he cusses out, "next time you hear em', don't forget to find out their names— i'm going to give them a lesson for it."

SUGURU GETO. suguru and you are like two peas in a pod. people never see him without you and vice versa, and often people would say that you both are the perfect couple. despite your personalities almost being the same type of calm, suguru is a calm man, and he's soft spoken. while you were just plain cold and stoic, rarely speak of something or even show your emotions.

someone bothering you? okay. someone making fun of you? okay. you were practically a walking definition of "i give zero fucks". but that doesn't mean you can't feel hurt, you are still human after all.

so when suguru told you about how he has a new co-worker, and how she has been clinging onto him, how she tries to get in his pants. you find it cute how he tells you about it, even telling you that you should come to his workplace so he could show you off.

you didn't feel anything because you trusted him. until you see the so called "co-worker" of his. she's pretty, you can't deny that. and you could see how she gets along with almost everyone, having no problem in instigating a conversation or complimenting people. people definitely like her.

that's where the insecurity began sinking in.

would suguru fall for her like everyone in his workplace does? would he leave you for her? so many questions you wanted to find the answer to.

"baby?"

you look at him, completely out of your daydream. he cocks his head to the side, "are you okay? you've been zoning out a lot lately..." he said, voice gentle and worried.

you nodded, "yeah. sorry. got a lot in my mind."

"do you want to talk about it?" he brushes a few h/c strands from covering your face, "you've been a little distant. is it something that i did, baby?"

god, just the thought of suguru thinking it was him made you a little sensitive. the past few weeks was already hard enough for you to contain yourself from breaking down, and him asking that made the tears you held in for so long drop out all at once.

suguru was a little taken aback and he sat straight up, alarmed, "y/n? baby? what's wrong?" he asks you gently, wiping the tears that never ceased from your face.

"i feel..i feel like i'm not enough. you deserve better than me, suguru." suguru swallowed the lump in his throat, he should've known, ever since you came to his workplace, you had started getting distant. and he should've known that was the reason.

suguru shook his head, cupping your face before giving you soft little kisses all over your face, "don't" a kiss on your forehead. "you" a kiss on your left cheek. "dare" a kiss on your right cheek. "say" a kiss on your nose. "that" a kiss on your chin.

the male gazes into your eyes deeply, "i love you," he softly said before planting a kiss on your lips, "you're the one i want, you're perfect for me. i can't see my future without you y/n, so please don't think about that..."

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