#i have a bad habit of falling off the grind and then never getting back on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

1K notes · View notes

mydarlingem · 10 months

Text

guess who is actually back for realsies!! life has been so fucking crazy but i come bearing gifts! requests always open pls give me ideas. thank you for reading ilysm and i missed you! 🫶

cw - nsfw, grinding and a little sex but nothing too detailed. he just needs you so bad!!

470 words

atsumu miya is in love with you.

 hes in love with you when you sit on his lap after a long day of practice, running your hands through his hair while he listens to you talk about drama with people he could not care less about, he just loves the sound of your voice.

hes in love with you when you are out for drinks with msby and their partners and he cant keep his eyes off of you. you just radiate joy and it never fails to make him feel your joy. he loves how well you get along with his teammates, it means a lot to him that you get along with some of the most important people in his life.

hes in love with you when you get up with him for early practices. he loves kissing your nose each morning as you shake the sleep off, brushing your teeth together and wrapping himself around you while you make his breakfast. leaving little kisses on your neck when you laugh and swat him away, saying you dont wanna burn the eggs. he loves the sound of your laugh.

hes in love with you when you wear that matching lace set, straps and fabric clinging to your soft skin, grinding softly on him. he thinks he could cum so hard he would go blind. how stunning you look on him, how good you smell, the taste of your chapstick is permanently seared into his brain.

hes in love with you when hes deep inside you, skin on skin he cant possibly feel closer to you but he needs more. how his name falls from your lips and your hands cling to him as he fucks you like there is no tomorrow. how he loves to take care of you afterward, always cleaning you up and holding you, feeling so secure in his arms.

hes in love with you when you mumble his name in your sleep, subconsciously reaching for his hand. it makes his heart feel warm, he always grabs your hand to clasp, though he would never tell you that. he loves having some sort of physical contact at night because even if he is asleep, he loves knowing you are still there.

hes in love with you on the days you feel like everything is going wrong. when you cant find your keys, you burnt breakfast and your hair doesnt look right. the chaos of a bad day means that time spent decompressing together will make you feel even better, there is nothing he loves more than being there for you.

because atsumu miya who loves with his whole heart. he loves every single weird quirk and habit you have because they all make you the person who is making him a better man.

#haikyuu x reader #drabble #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu smut #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #haikyuu

417 notes · View notes

ikemenomegas · 4 months

Note

There's that scene in Phantom Parade where Gojo tells nanami that if he didn't go with him, he would scream and cry on the spot and in your au, id expect nanami to slowly turn to gojo's alpha and go: 😕😮‍💨

😆i have no idea the context of that interaction, sounds like something inspired by Gojo and Nanami's terrible Hokkaido work adventure, but it did make me giggle bc you're absolutely correct

"Why is he like this?"

"Hmm?" you turned slowly. Satoru had kept you up last night. You stifled a yawn. You'd spent over six hours humoring him through losing spectacularly at final fantasy fifteen. Or at least you thought it was losing, could you lose that kind of game? Either way, you were pleasantly sleepy and the world felt washed in cotton.

So you thought Nanami had spoken, but maybe that was just many years of getting good at reading the gradation of Kento Nanami's Shades of Exasperation.

Nanami was staring at you and so was Satoru, with a kind of familiar hesitation that indicated he was awaiting some kind of reaction from one or both of you. So you decided that whether or not Nanami had spoken was probably irrelevant.

Your kouhai's expression now told you he was seriously wondering whether or not you'd been hit on the head when he wasn't looking. It wasn't like you'd complain about it if you had been.

"I'll go with you, Satoru," you said, equably, gazing up into your mate's covered eyes and falling back on something that occasionally satisfied whatever mood he was in, although efficacy tended to depend upon what exactly he wanted. Where were promising to go? No clue, but hopefully somewhere where you could get something to drink. As you'd grown older, staying awake all or most of the night seemed to make you more inclined to dehydration the next day.

A loud, whiny "Noo-ooo," left Satoru's lips. They were glossy with just a slightly darker shade of pink at the center like he'd freshly applied the lip tint you'd bought him last week. He'd said it was some limited edition thing that tasted, or at least smelled like it should taste, like umeshu.

"Of course you'd come--" Satoru had continued with making a scene, and Nanami looked like he was starting to grind his jaw a little, which was a bad habit both you and Shoko had been trying to break him of, "--unless you're the kind of alpha to leave me alone--".

You reached for Nanami's shoulder to prod him but your hand was snatched from the air and enfolded into Satoru's, a jealous tint to the air that you knew was all performative. Probably.

At least that had worked. Nanami looked like his mouth was about to drop open.

You wanted to point out that Satoru was already well on the way to crocodile tears by this point. "I thought the crying was going to be for Nanami," you teased with a tired, almost fond sigh.

A loud, near approximation of a whining, petulant sob left Satoru's pink lips. You wondered if there was actually any alcohol in the lip tint. Maybe the fumes were going to his head.

"Why are you ganging up on me!?" he exclaimed, ridiculous and provocative, and clearly angling to see where this was going.

Fine. Never let it be said that you didn't know how to go for a killing blow, even against Gojo Satoru,

"Well, you look awful pretty when you cry. I just thought I'd give you a chance to show it off," you said, reaching up to cup his cheek, the very image of an alpha placating an omega.

Nanami's palm hit his face with a near audible little smack. Whoops.

Satoru snickered as he drew you up the street, long legs eating up the distance so smooth it was almost like he was gliding. You followed along, trailing for a bit just to make sure Nanami was in fact, grudgingly, trudging along in Satoru's wake.

It occurred to you that you still didn't know where he thought you were going.

#omegaverse #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #myy oc #they're both freaks by the way #kento nanami #who has to learn to live with that #i do think he loses a little bit of respect for you once he leans you've married gojo while he was away and sort of hates himself for that #because he thinks it's unfair to you #shoko thinks it's more than fair lol #ask answered #from the notebook #omega!gojo #alpha!reader #barely edited #midnight fics #goodniiight #io.omegas

156 notes · View notes

starry-eyes-love · 8 months

Text

Chapter 1: Frozen Desire

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader (18+ Explicit, Minors DNI)

Summary | Chapter 1 Frozen Desire: It's been one month since Ellie caught both you and Joel grinding up into each other in a sleeping bag. Joel has hardly talked to you, and he has treated you like shit for the past month. When your sleeping bag zipper breaks one night and you are left to lay there alone, cold and freezing you think back to all the times Joel was nice to you and you finally break down. What you didn't realize was that Joel heard you and can’t take it anymore, so he comforts you in a way he swore to himself that he never would.

Make sure to read the Prequel: Just This Once prior to reading this Chapter. This chapter gives a lot of backstory to help build the characters.

Warnings | Smut, language, names used (honey, baby). Rough Joel & tender Joel, angst (a lot in the beginning), violence (shoving and attempted head butt by you to Joel), kissing, fingering, unprotected PiV, rough-ish play and sex, creampie, age gap (no actual age is stated but is implied).

Word Count: 4.4k

It had been several weeks since you and Joel had your little humping session in the sleeping bag. Ellie, being a teenager, kept teasing Joel about it and he kept getting more and more angry with you because of it. So much so that one night you two didn’t even share a sleeping bag together, and that was the night that you realized that Joel can sometimes be the world’s biggest asshole.

It was winter, and the wind was really cold. Your sleeping bag had seen better days and you asked if you could conserve body heat by sharing a sleeping bag. Without hesitation Joel replied “I’m not your fucking keeper,” and then zipped himself up, laid down, and faced away from you. You tried to zip yourself up in your sleeping bag but you noticed that the zipper was broken, and you couldn’t get the sleeping bag tight around you. You looked over at Joel and noticed that he had already fallen asleep. You quickly glanced over at Ellie too and noticed she was already asleep. So you tried to wrap yourself in your sleeping bag to stay warm by the fire, and then you tried to fall asleep.

In the middle of the night the wind had picked up significantly and you laid there awake, freezing, unable to feel your fingers or toes. You glanced over at both Ellie and Joel and noticed that they both were fast asleep, and you didn’t want to wake them. So you laid there shivering, trying to stay warm, but your mind kept wandering over all the events that have transpired over the last month. You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach form when you thought back to when Ellie had caught both you and Joel grinding into each other. Ever since then, nothing has been the same; not with Ellie, and certainly not with Joel.

Ellie, being a teenager, loved to tease Joel about catching you two. She constantly called him an old man, and said that she was surprised that he could still get it up after all these years. Even though her teasing was harmless, it was something that you hated because it made Joel feel guilty especially since you were a lot younger than him. Joel had a habit that when he got really frustrated he'd take his frustration out on you by snapping at you, correcting you but not in a nice way, or ignoring you and refusing to talk to you. On one occasion Ellie's teasing got so bad that you snapped at her in front of Joel and told her to knock it off and to leave him alone. She laughed at you and said “I like to see him ruffled, it’s fun”, and then she walked away not understanding the complexity of what she had just done.

As you laid there remembering all these moments you felt tears sting your eyes. You remembered how Joel used to be, and you wanted that tender man back. Tender Joel was the person who talked to you, smiled at you, hugged you when you were worried or upset, and cuddled you when you were cold. You missed his warmth and his love, if that is what you could call it. He'd always roll his eyes at you and truly never gave you traditional affection, but he gave you Joel type affection. If you were hungry after having very little to eat, he'd give you his food. If you were cold, he'd share his sleeping bag with you to help you stay warm. If you had bad nightmares he’d hold you until your breathing returned back to normal comforting you until you fell back asleep. He also looked out for your safety. He’d kill raiders for you if you didn't see them coming. He also taught you how to survive, something you didn't know much about until you started traveling with him.

Joel was always grumpy, always correcting you, but you saw his love for you a few months back when you killed a raider by shooting them dead center in the eyes when they tried to attack him. When Joel turned around to see who fired the shot, he was surprised to see that it was you who did it. As he got up off from the ground and walked back over to you he immediately grabbed you, hugged you, and whispered in your ear "that's my girl" and then turned and walked up the hill.

You also saw Joel's tenderness when you killed a deer, gutted it, and then dragged it back yourself. When you met up with him at the camp you noticed that he only had gotten 2 rabbits for supper. You couldn't help but tease him in that moment saying "mine's bigger" as you pointed to the deer. He stood there and for a moment you thought you saw a small smile touch his lips when he shook his head and said "apparently." Then once again he turned and walked away from you towards the fire. When he was a few feet away from you he yelled over his shoulder "go get Ellie to help me with supper. You can rest, you must be sore after having to deal with something that big."

But ever since the sleeping bag incident, you didn't see any of that behavior anymore with him. Yesterday, both Ellie and Joel had gotten a rabbit for food. You, however, wound up empty handed and didn’t get anything. When you all returned to cook the prized possessions, Joel had asked you if you had gotten anything for food and you told him no. He then said "well, you gotta kill it to eat it. And if ya don't get somethin', then ya don't eat. I’m sorry, I only have one." At first you told him you understood and that you weren’t really hungry, even though you actually were. You knew that survival was cruel, but you didn’t think Joel was worse until after speaking with Ellie.

When you were scavenging for berries Ellie had approached you to help. You two were talking and then eventually she told you that Joel had the option of getting 2 other rabbits, but he chose not to. She told you that when she asked him why he said "you only kill what yer gonna eat." So that night you went to bed upset and hungry. As you faced away from everyone you silently cried because that was the first time in a year that Joel never got extra just in case you couldn't get anything. What you didn’t know then was that Joel heard you crying, and it killed him to know that he was the one that was causing you this extreme pain.

As you laid there continuing to shiver you silently wished out loud that all of this would stop. You hated his hatred for you, yet you didn't do anything wrong. You hated his constant reminder of how stupid you were, even though you were just trying to live. You hated the way he scorned you for just giving in to your fantasy of wanting to be with the only man you've been with for the last year. You also hated the love that you felt for him as you realized that he didn't feel the same thing in return. It was then at that final admission that you felt your hardened exterior crack and a horrible sob escaped your mouth.

Joel, unable to sleep, laid on the ground facing away from you and heard everything that you had said. After weeks of treating you like shit, it was then that he realized that he was being the world’s biggest asshole to you, and he hated himself for it. As he continued to lay there listening to you, he felt a sickening feeling rise up into his chest. He realized that he was embarrassed for the way he had been treating you. So when he heard your horrible sob escape your mouth he unzipped his sleeping bag, and took it over to you. When he got to you he grabbed your shitty sleeping bag and threw it off from you. He then said in a stern voice “come here.” When you didn’t budge, he rolled his eyes and then laid down next to you, grabbed your hips, pulled you tight to him, and then zipped the two of you up in his sleeping bag to get warm. He tried to turn you around to get you to face him where he could tuck you in closer, but you refused. So he held you in the spooning position and soothed your cries by saying “shhh honey. It’s ok. I’m sorry. Stop crying now.”

Fifteen minutes later your shivers finally stopped, but your tears did not. You had a lot of emotions boiling up to the surface and Joel didn't want to stifle them. So he just laid there with you and slowly rubbed soothing circles onto your skin to try to calm you down. But when he heard you let out another broken sob saying “Why do y-you hate m-me so much?", he paused as he didn't know what to do.

After a moment of silence you took Joel’s lack of response as another sign that you did something wrong. You tried to move away from him, but you felt him grip your hips and say “Don’t" in your ear, but nothing else. Up until this point you would have gladly melted at his response if he would have elaborated more besides just saying don't. But his lack of response mixed with your emotionally exhausted state, you finally had hit your breaking point where you didn’t give a shit anymore. You were filled with so much hurt and anger towards him for not caring that you wanted to leave, and you wanted to lash out at him for his inability to care for you or even give a shit about you. So you started to shove him to get up. Joel, however, wasn’t in the mood for your theatrics. Every time you fought against him he just locked you tighter in a vice grip with his arms. You tried fighting harder to get away from him, even threatened to hit him if he didn’t let you go, but he never moved. The harder you fought, the tighter he gripped you.

“If you hate me so God damn much then why won’t you just let me fucking leave?” you yelled trying to force Joel off from you. When he didn’t move you attempted to headbutt him with the back of your head so he would let you up. When you did this Joel had finally hit his own limit with you and snapped. He firmly grabbed your shoulders, rolled you over, and then slammed your back hard onto the ground saying with a stern voice “Stop it and calm the fuck down. Right. Now.”

After Joel slammed your back onto the ground you laid there for several moments seething with anger but not moving. Joel had never been this rough with you before. As if he could feel your tension he gently grabbed your head and tucked your head against his chest saying in a calm voice “I don't hate you, but you need to calm down baby, please.” He continued to place soothing strokes on the back of your head saying “I don’t hate you, never have. I just- I need you to calm down for me ok. Can you do that? If ya still want to leave after that, then I’ll let you leave.”

While being tucked into Joel’s chest, his scent of pine and cinnamon started to consume you and you closed your eyes to focus on your breathing. As you did this you had recalled a memory that the two of you had shared when you first started out traveling together. One night you were fighting with him and you were overly emotional (like now) and he had then held you in the same tight embrace that he has you held in now, telling you to calm down and if you wanted to leave afterwards you could. The longer you focused on the memory, the calmer you were becoming. After a few moments Joel had noticed that you were slowly calming down so he turned both of you carefully onto one side. You heard him say "atta girl, you're doing so good honey" as he ran small soothing circles down your back. The longer he kept reassuring you, the more you kept melting into his embrace. The more you relaxed mentally, the more your body responded to him physically.

Joel could feel you slowly start to relax and calm down with you in his arms. He knew you could be very emotional, especially right before your period. But he also knew that being an asshole didn't help the situation either. As he laid there with you consuming your sweet smell of flowers and pine, he felt like he truly was in heaven. He was glad for a moment that you were acting all crazy, but he’d never tell you that. He was glad because it gave him the opportunity to hold you once again. It was something that he desperately wanted to do these last few weeks, but Ellie was making it very difficult for him. Ellie was always teasing him about being too old and that holding a woman close was ‘disgusting.’ It really didn’t matter to him what she said, as he knew she was just pushing his buttons, but each time it still hurt and made him question his want and need for you.

As he laid there holding you, he started thinking on how he's been treating you these last several weeks. How mean he's been to you and how he just acted like the biggest asshole on this Earth. He knew that he shouldn’t be taking out all of his frustration on you, but god damn it, he wanted to be with you but he knows he shouldn’t. He wanted to be inside you so bad more times than not, to the point where he couldn’t even think straight anymore. But after losing both Sarah and Tess, he knew he couldn’t take the chance yet again, not even with you. He knew that once he tasted you, even being inside of you, he would be hooked for life. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t risk it. But as he laid there trying to think of a way to get out of his feelings he realized something. If he didn’t start treating you better or showing you appreciation, he was gonna lose the one person that made his entire life better in this shitty world, and that one person was you.

As his mind started to race he felt a tightening in his chest and he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take seeing you like this, someone who's always been so strong now reduced to an emotional mess, and it was all because of him and his stupid fears of getting close to someone again. The truth was he adored you and wanted you not just to stay with him, but to be with him. Just him, as a man. When he saw the internal turmoil that you were having, of how you weren’t understanding what he was feeling (not that he shared it with you anyway), he did the only thing that he could think of at that moment. He reached down, grabbed your face, and then smashed his lips to yours in a rushed and heated kiss. As soon as his lips connected with yours, it was like someone unleashed the inferno in his body. He needed to have more of you and he didn’t care who the fuck was watching this time.

When your lips were first on Joel’s it was like the whole world had stopped or at least drastically slowed down for a moment. All you felt was the moist, soft, tender lips; a scruffy face, and raw sexual energy. Your body felt like it was floating and your head was spinning. Prior to Joel kissing you it felt like you had a low fire burning in your belly 24/7 for this man. But now, it felt like you had a raging inferno. You wanted more, you were desperate for more, so when you felt his tongue skim along your lower lip requesting access into your mouth, you gladly gave him access. As soon as you parted your lips you felt his tongue gently enter your mouth cautiously, unsure if this was what you truly wanted. But as soon as his tongue connected with yours, it was like someone ignited a fire between the two of you. Very quickly the lazy slow kiss turned into a hot frenzy kiss where you both were wrestling your tongues together, trying to see who was the more dominant one.

As you two continued to wrestle each other with your mouths, you felt a familiar throb between your legs return and you also felt yourself getting wet again. Without thinking, you raised your hips upwards towards his and as soon as you came in contact with them you ground yourself into him. When he felt you do this he also ground down hard onto you and moaned your name into your mouth to make it perfectly clear that you turned him on. And once again you felt his tight bulge against your heated core. You two both found your bodies begin that familiar dance rutting hard into one another, chasing that high once again. But this time it was different. This time his movements were more frantic and heated, like he was desperately trying to make you understand that he wanted this with you.

You wanted him to place his hands on you and to touch you in ways that you only could dream of. You wanted him to be inside of you and to help you calm that hard ache deep in your lower belly. You needed him to cradle you against his body and slowly rock into you filling a need that not even you could fill, no matter how many times you touched yourself in private. You wanted Joel Miller completely without restraint. So when you pulled away from him, you looked up into his eyes with dark blown out pupils and tried to find the words to tell him how you felt.

“Joel, please, I-” you started to say when all of a sudden he cut you off by saying “Shh honey, I know, I got you. I’m gonna give you a little relief. M’k.” Then you felt him unzip your pants and shove his hand down between your legs.

“Fuuckk” he growled in your ear when he came into contact with your underwear and felt that you were completely drenched. “Is this all for me baby?” he said as he slowly slid his knuckles up the seam of your panties feeling how wet you were. When he heard you slightly whimper you felt him move his hand to the inside your underwear. As soon as he came in contact with your pussy you felt him tease your little hole to get some of your arousal on his big calloused fingers and then he slowly drew his fingers up your slit, circled your clit, and then slowly brought his fingers back down by your entrance. You heard yourself give out a long soft moan in his chest.

Joel then slowly slipped two fingers deep into your heat, and as he did you whined at the full feeling and the gentle stretch that was burning inside of you from his large fingers. “Fuck baby, you’re so god damn tight” he growled in your ear. “My poor baby has been neglected hasn’t she” he said while pulling his fingers out and gently tapping your entrance with his hand before entering you again. With each slow thrust of his fingers Joel slowly started to get your body to relax to allow him in deeper. Finally he bottomed out to the knuckle and curled his fingers to hit that spongy area deep inside of your core, the one that hasn’t been hit by someone in a very long time. After he stroked that sweet spot a few times you heard yourself groaning and frantically started to chase your high by humping his fingers feverishly trying to get a better angle but you couldn’t. Out of frustration you whined and started to beg for him to go deeper as you weren’t quite getting him where you needed him. He immediately hushed you and told you to be quiet and that he was going to help you. Out of desperation you reached out and tried to undo his belt on his pants and he bit the side of your neck and told you No while still fingering you at a fast pace. When you asked him why, he said “I’m not gonna be able to stop if I- we can’t- it’s-” and then you knew the problem, the entire problem all along.

Ellie was just a few feet away and you couldn’t risk her waking up with Joel’s cock buried deep within you, at least not laying on the ground outside. Ellie was the reason he was acting the way he was. You didn’t hate her for it, as she was just a teenager and Joel was taking on the father figure with her. She needed to be taught stability and appropriateness in a world that was not appropriate nor stable at all. But even in knowing the reasons you still felt your heart shatter again, like it hadn’t shattered enough times already tonight. Once again the flood gates opened and you stopped moving and tears streamed down your cheeks. You were mentally exhausted and were sick and tired of feeling all of these emotions, but mostly you were frustrated and Joel knew it.

Joel stilled at your reaction and then you heard him take in a ragged breath. The next thing you knew he was yanking your pants down and shoving them at the bottom of the sleeping bag and undoing his belt and pants. He didn’t give you any time to adjust as he plunged his cock deep inside of your scortching heat while putting a hand over your mouth to silence the moans that you gave him. As soon as he was fully sheathed you felt him still for a moment to allow you to adjust to his large size and then he started to move, setting almost a brutal pace.

Joel was bigger than any guy you have ever had. At first it was uncomfortable, but then you started to love the full feeling while he moved in and out of you. You started to feel that coil build tight inside of your belly again so you started matching him thrust for thrust. After a few moments you needed him to get a little deeper as he was barely scratching that itch inside of you, so you brought one leg up higher to allow him deeper access. As soon as you did that both of your your eyes rolled back into your head at the tight feeling and you heard Joel give out a loan moan followed by several incoherent sentences.

The next thing you knew you both were grunting and moaning as you both rutted hard against each other. His cock kept hitting that sweet spot over and over again deep inside of you and you kept hearing and feeling his balls slapping hard against your pussy. You were no longer concerned with who was nearby or what was happening, all you could feel or focus on was Joel. You heard him whisper in your ear “Fuck baby, you’re so god damn tight. God, I need this. You need this cock don’t you.”

You responded “Joel I- fuck it feels so good, please don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping baby, I don’t fucking care who sees or hears us. I’m not gonna stop fucking this beautiful lil pussy until you come so hard on my cock. Then I’m gonna fill you up. Do ya want me to do that sugar, fill you up?”

As soon as Joel said that you felt your walls begin to tense and flutter inside of you as the coil was being wound tighter and tighter in your belly. Joel could feel it too and growled in your ear “fuck baby, I feel ya squeezing me. Is my baby close, ya gonna come for me?” A few more deep brutal thrusts was all that it took for you to feel that coil snap inside of you as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and you exploded around him. His hand went to your mouth in an attempt to quiet your moans. But as you looked up at him you saw him look at you the same way he did when you killed those raiders, pure bliss and that he was so proud of you. Joel continued to fuck you hard through your orgasm and he kept growling in your ear saying “that’s it baby, keep coming. Squeeze my cock, such a good girl."

As your body started to come back down from your orgasm you felt his thrusts start to get sloppy and you begged him to come inside of you. Finally after a few more deep thrusts he found his own release moaning your name into your ear as he spurt hot white ropes of his cum deep into your pussy. Eventually you both came down from your high, reapplied your clothing, and then both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Come morning you were hoping that Joel was going to be in a better mood, and he was but only for a little bit. After Ellie woke up his icy stance eventually came back up towards you. Later on you had approached him and wanted to discuss the subject of what had happened earlier when he said to you “we aren’t going to talk about it anymore, clear.” And just like that, tender Joel was gone and survival Joel was back. But this time it was different as when he turned back to yell at you to hurry up and keep up, you caught a smirk on his face as he looked you up and down with a heated glare in his eyes. You didn’t know what was going to happen with your relationship or where you stood with everything. But you knew one thing was for certain, sex with Joel wasn’t going to be a one time only thing. You two would fuck again. In fact, you were certain of it.

-End Chapter 1-

There will be more parts coming out in the future. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know in the comments. Feel free to reblog and share it. Thanks for all of your support :)

taglist: @punkshort

#joel miller #joel and reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel and ellie

200 notes · View notes

steddie-island · 5 months

Text

Day 12 of @steddieholidaydrabbles : Only one bed WC: 922 | Rating: M (language, some fade to black sex) | CW: Slight angst with a happy ending Read the full list of tags on ao3

Letting Joyce host Christmas hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea at first. After all, she had the most room, and a big chunk of the group would be there for Christmas anyway– Nancy and Jonathan, and Mike would be there for Will and El. Joyce hosting just made sense, and truthfully, it sounded like a good idea.

That was before Eddie was actually there, though. One look and suddenly this was a very, very bad idea. It was the worst idea that anyone had ever had in the history of ideas.

Eddie, with his big hair and his bigger personality, with his rings and that smile that still turned Steve into a puddle. Fuck, Steve missed him, and it was so much worse actually seeing him again after so long.

He wanted to cry. Or puke. Maybe a mixture of the two things.

As per usual, Robin saved him; one look and his soulmate knew just what he was feeling, knew she needed to get him right out of there. Joyce had a list of shit she needed done, anyway, and Steve was never happier than when he got to be useful.

Robin directed him where to hang lights, where to move the cars, “No no dingus, Rudolph doesn’t go there, Joyce wants him here!”

By the time they got through all of it, Steve was just exhausted enough to eat and then fall into bed.

Until the bed assignments were being passed out, and Joyce directed both him and Eddie to the guest room at the end of the hall.

“Robin and the girls will be in the living room. The boys can use Will’s room, Jonathan and Nancy are using Jon’s old room. You and Eddie can have the guest room!” she’d said, like they were doing her a huge favor by sharing.

Steve wanted to argue. He wanted to cry. He wanted to offer to sleep in the fucking car instead, or beg to switch with Robin, but Joyce just looked so hopeful– everything was going so well! How was he supposed to argue with her?

So he looked at Eddie, read the expression on his face, and nodded. “That’s perfect.” He could get a hotel room tomorrow or something, there was no need to argue tonight.

It was off to bed after that– like everyone was suddenly just too tired to be awake for another second longer.

So he and Eddie really had no choice but to say their goodnights, to head to the back room. He kept his back to Eddie as they both changed into their pajamas.

“I can take the floor.” It was the first thing either of them had said to each other since the breakup. Steve ached, just hearing Eddie’s voice and knowing those words were meant for him. “Don’t be stupid, we both know you’ve got a bad back,” Steve said. “I can take the floor, Ed. It’s– just for a night.” Eddie looked like he was about to argue, or maybe to ask a question. His jaw worked as he turned the blankets down on one side of the bed.

“We’ve slept together before,” he said instead. Those beautiful lips curled into a teasing smile. “We’ve done a lot more than that. I think we can share a bed for one night.” Steve thought about it– it was the mature thing, and he really didn’t want to sleep on the floor, not after all the work he’d put in that day.

“Okay.” He nodded, returned Eddie’s small smile, and turned down his side of the bed, too. “Yeah. We can do that.”

The lights were turned off, and they both climbed beneath the blankets. It was dark, quiet. Steve drifted off, despite the fact that Eddie was barely six inches away from him.

He woke up to the warm weight of an arm around his waist, of warm breath against the back of his neck.

He would’ve thought Eddie was sleeping, if not for the way those lips were pressing so tenderly against his skin. A warm hand was splayed over his stomach, just above his boxers. “I miss you.” Eddie whispered it into his neck, into his hair, and oh, there was no way he was asleep. Not unless he had a new habit of sleep talking, of sleep grinding– okay, maybe that wasn’t so new. Steve could feel him, hot and thick and hard against his ass. His breath caught in his throat, and then Eddie’s mouth was sucking down below his ear.

“Fucking miss you, Stevie. Miss you so goddamn much.” Steve whimpered, nodded, tipped his head to give Eddie better access. He missed this, too. No one– no one– touched him the way Eddie did.

And touch Eddie did. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Steve’s boxers. He stroked with slow, sure movements, and his hips worked against Steve’s ass with that same torturous rhythm.

When they came it was together. Steve rolled, wrapped an arm around Eddie’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I miss you, too,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.” Eddie nodded, kissed him again. Steve had expected a desperate reunion, if there was a reunion, but that wasn’t what he got. He got sweetness, and tenderness. He got Eddie whispering promises against his chest, his stomach, his thighs as they made up again, and again.

And again.

When they were sated, while Eddie washed his hair, Steve thought that maybe Joyce hosting wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#AHHH It's 10:13 my time I know the next prompt was already shared but #I'm posting this anyway ergwrfwer #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #I'll post it to ao3 with a full list of tags when I can think of a fucking name lmao

132 notes · View notes

babblingeccentric · 10 months

Text

The long awaited Ace x Survivor!Reader pussy eating scene

contains: cunilingus (obviously), grinding, consent negotiation

"No! I- I don't… Not yet. I'm… it's…"

"It's okay. We can wait as long as you need. Take it nice and slow." Ace says gently, rubbing your arms comfortingly.

"Okay. Slow. I like slow." You say as your breathing calms. You are struck with immense gratitude for Ace, his gentleness, his patience, his care for you. It makes his terrible table manners and habit of falling asleep on top of you and trapping you completely irrelevant.

"I'm cold," you say looking up at him with big eyes that you know turn him to mush.

"I can help with cold," he says, eyes crinkling as he grins and pulls you onto his lap.

Your naked chest pushes against his, breasts squishing and making Ace's grin widen. You know he's a sucker for your tits, and you don't mind considering how good he makes you feel when spends an evening sucking and biting and kissing and kneading them.

With his arms wrapped around you and your bare skin pressed together it's not long before the heat of Ace's body is raising your own temperature enough to make you squirm. He starts pressing hotter kisses to your neck and face, making your hands clutch uselessly at his back to try and anchor you. Your squirming has begun to grind the thin fabric barrier of your underwear against his bare cock, which has been hanging out from his shorts.

Your reedy mewl of "Aaace" makes him pull back a little and press your foreheads together for a little breathing room.

"You've gotten so much more talkative. You used to be quiet as a mouse when we first started doing this kind of thing," he remarks, smirking.

"Your fault," you retort as you look away and scowl, making Ace laugh.

"It better be," he says. "Anyway, if you're still not ready to go all the way, what do you want to do instead?"

"Uhh" you answer, having not given much thought to possibilities beyond the hands and thighs you've already tried, and the dread that the thought of a dick inside you and a man over you inspires.

"Cause I was wondering if you'd let me eat you out. I'm really good at it," Ace says eagerly.

"Huh?" you respond eloquently.

"Y'know. Let me go down on you, suck you off, stick my tongue in you, make you cream all over my face." Ace lists nonchalantly.

"Oh G.d," you say faintly

"...Is that a good "oh G.d" or a bad one?" He asks after you fail to say any more.

"I… Good. I think," you say absently, still overcome with the idea of Ace's mouth on you there. You've felt its hot and wet pressure on your own mouth, your skin and neck and breasts. It seems stupid to have not realized the possibilities of a mouth for yourself after how much dick you'd been forced to suck. But you'd never considered the idea until just now. "Oh god…"

"Okay, so is that a yes?" Ace checks as he hooks fingers into the waistband of your damp panties.

"Yes. I want you to eat me out," you tell him. He grins and shifts you up the bed so he can stick his face between your thighs and pull your underwear down.

It’s a weird feeling, anticipation swirling in your gut at the pleasure you know Ace can give you but it mixes with some of the same fear from that hellish ship you can’t seem to get rid of. It makes your heart pound.

Ace doesn’t bother to start slow, tearing off your underwear with the same enthusiasm he rips the wrappers off candy bars. Unlike with food, he takes a moment before diving in to just look. It makes you squirmy and embarrassed but also hot and eager.

After looking his fill Ace doesn’t bother with any more niceties, he just presses his whole face between your thighs to wrap his mouth over your pussy. His hands worm their way under your ass to pull you closer into his face.

He eats you like you're a ripe peach, mouth opening and closing sucking you in the whole time. Every motion long and slow.

Everything is hot and wet and so so much as it threatens to burn you up while his big hands dig into the soft give of your cheeks.

His tongue comes out to scoop the slick leaking from your cunt into his mouth. The soft wet smacks are the filthiest thing you've ever heard.

It returns to dip into your hole and dig out more of the fluid. You realize you've been making pitchy little ah-ah-ah whines and digging your fingers into the blankets like you'll fall off

Your legs are hooked over Ace's shoulders, your heels digging into his back. There's a wet pop as he pulls off you and asks "Good?"

He knows damn well it's good as you lie there gasping like a fish, and you can tell by the roguish grin as he asks. His hair is a mess and his entire chin is glossy with spit and your fluid.

"I-- hah- ah- Please!" You stutter out

He grins wider and returns to your cunt. This time he gets more precise, licking up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking like it's a hard candy. You writhe under him, left untethered as your orgasm sweeps over you and you can’t think.

He keeps sucking through your spasms as your heels kick and your thighs shake around him, slowly weaning off the pressure as you come down. You squirm and he shifts to gentle licks, cleaning the slick you’ve dripped.

Looking down at him between your legs you’re swept with overwhelming love for him. Who else would treat you so kindly, hold you so tenderly, make you feel so good?

He looks good like this, too. His hat is on the nightstand leaving his glossy black hair free for you to run your fingers through, his eyes dark and lidded full of desire, the spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks peeking out above your mound. You cradle his temple and pull him up towards you.

He goes reluctantly. He would be happy to spend the night down between your thighs patiently working you to orgasm over and over again until the pleasure washes your mind free of all of the terrible touches you endured on that ship and all you can think about is you and him and feeling good. Maybe another time.

“Good?” He asks again, voice soft and tender.

“Very, very good.” you tell him as you swipe a thumb over his angular cheekbone.

“Good,” he says and tucks himself in beside you on the bed

#one piece smut #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #reader insert #x reader #mine #my writing #fic #survivor reader #i wanna smooth out that transition from crying to flirting its a non sequitur #and I'm not sure i like it #like if the reader gets it or it flows right #and im not sure im perfectly happy w the ending #i edited it in and im not sure if i wanna add more or should leave it

283 notes · View notes

kakujis · 1 year

Text

sweet like cinnamon;

warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, blood kink, dacryphilia, soft!yan baji, pet names(baby, kitten, pretty girl), mentions of stalking and violence.

summary: baji would rather u stay home for the weekend and sinks his teeth in when you don't.♡

wc: 2.8k, not proofread per usual

an: here's my entry for @saecore's dc collab! this was so much fun!!!! honestly... i couldn't bring myself to write a mean!baji cus i think he's actually really really sweet as yan uwu. he's only a lil mean. just a bit. one of these days i'll write out the super mean baji of my dreams but not today!!!

when keisuke baji finally managed to have you in the palm of his hand, he thought that he had it all. finally, after years of trying he could keep you all to himself. but he realized quite quickly that he still wasn’t your very first priority.

“it’s just a little weekend trip kei, i’ll be back by monday!” you had told him, exasperated. you ignored his grumbling, continuing to pack your things. it was a small two day get together with your friends that you hadn’t seen since you started college. sure, most people spend summer break with their significant other, but the two of you had the rest of the season together. a measly two days couldn’t hurt. that’s what you thought anyway, but your boyfriend kept grumbling disagreements, noting that he had been missing you too.

through many kisses and sweet words you managed to convince him. “keisuke,” you mumbled against his lips, “i promise we’ll spend the rest of summer together, okay?”

and he had agreed, head stuck in the heat of the moment as the two of you grinded against each other. he was still agreeing, minutes later, when he was buried to the hilt within you, drowning in the whimpers of his name. even when you two were finished, his softening cock still inside you, he agreed.

so why was he so fucking angry? don’t fall back into bad habits, keisuke. he thought, pacing around your shared apartment. he was different now, he had you, he didn’t need to follow you around anymore. he was done stalking through alleyways to beat anyone within an inch of their life if they so much as looked at you. you were safe as long as he was around. ah, that’s the problem isn’t it? that he wasn’t going to be around on your little trip.

it had been exactly 12 hours since you had left that morning. “see you later, baby!” you pressed your lips to his cheek, before you ran off waving. he watched how excited you were, jumping into your friend’s car. something about it made his hand twitch and his heart hurt. maybe he was reaching his limit.

was it really not enough for him just to be your boyfriend? he knew, deep down, it wasn’t. he wanted to keep you safe within his grasp. did you even think about how dangerous it’d be at night?

“keii, please, it’s a cabin… it’s safe.” you whined out the night before, “besides.. i’ll be with my friends!” he shot you a look, irritated and unbelieving, because really that was your best excuse? you quickly responded, “and i’ll even text you when i get there!”

you kept your promise, the familiar ding! in his pocket alerting him that you got there safely. he had tried to distract himself earlier today, heading over to chifuyu’s place to hang out for the day. his friend tried to reason with him, you were having fun with your friends. he likened it to when toman would get together, since everyone became so busy with their lives they never had time to meet up. but baji liked toman. he didn’t like your friends that took up your time away from him. maybe it was insecurity, the fact that he couldn’t hurt them the way he hurt others, you’d be sad and he doesn’t want that. but the less you responded to his texts the more antsy he got.

so antsy that he was driving straight to your location on his bike. it would’ve been a nice night ride, the breeze cool on his face, if his adrenaline wasn’t going haywire, if the blood in his ears wasn’t pumping wildly with this sickly sticky feeling caught in his chest.

it was a quiet, cozy sight. cabins set in nice manicured rows with dimly lit porch lights. honestly, maybe he should rent one of these out and take you up here himself. sticking his hands in his pockets, he silently moved across the site til he came across your cabin. now he just had to find you.

peering through the open back window, making a mental note to scold you later, he saw you. laid there on the bed, flat on your stomach, feet up in the air and giggling as you sent “sorry for the late response,” texts. you were cute, wearing a shirt way too big for you, which was obviously keisuke’s, and pajama shorts.

alright, you’re safe and settled. there’s no reason for him to stay any longer and yet he’s climbing in through your window. the inherent need to be with you over taking any earlier self doubts. he strides over and covers your mouth before you can scream, your body half turned from the noise of his boots hitting the floor.

he lets go of you, and you fall limp on the bed as he moves over to lock the door. you stare at your boyfriend as he analyzes your room, checking the door knob, the lock, even crouching down to see if the planks were loose. with your eyes wide and mouth agape, you’re sure that if your jaw could’ve hit the ground it would’ve.

“keisuke, what the fuck?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice down. he glances at you, confusion etching across his face.

“whatcha mean kitten? i’m just checking up on you.” he says, climbing back up to sit on your bed. there’s concern lacing through his face, even a small pout since that wasn’t really the reception he wanted.

“by breaking into my room? you couldn’t have like, called me or something?” you sit up now, legs crossed as you face him. there’s… no way he doesn’t see an issue with this, right? you scan his face, looking for anything, something that would indicate he knew this was… strange.

but he doesn’t see an issue at all, too focused on trailing your body, the way his shirt just barely covers over your thighs, soft and plush and so inviting. something in his eyes changes, something dark and needy. he rests a hand on your thigh, before leaning closer, nose nuzzling yours.

it’s annoying how easy you crumble to him, already whimpering as his hand traces delicate circles on your thigh. you try your best to resist, leaning back on your elbows as he inches towards you, but eventually you’re trapped underneath him with your head up against the headboard.

“just missed you s’all,” he breathes, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. “what about you pretty girl? you miss me?” his hand trails up further, pressing up against your clothed cunt.

you suck in a breath, “i-it hasn’t even been a day, kei.” you shouldn’t give in, you should ignore him for doing this and yet you’re already slightly grinding into his hand that’s slipped it’s way into your shorts, your clit caught between his fingers.

“don’t care,” he drawls, moving down to lick a stripe up your neck. he latches on, sucking a bright red hickey onto your skin. you mewl as two thick fingers enter you, massaging your gummy walls. he uses his other hand to push your shirt up, palming at one of your tits.

“off.” he commands, pulling off slightly to give you some room. he watches your shaky hands, continuing to roll his fingers into your dripping cunt, stretching you open, as you pull the fabric off over your head. he taps at your shorts with his other hand, one brow raised when you hesitate and suddenly you’re scramble to take those off as well, struggling with his hand working in and out of you. you bite back a particularly loud moan when you bring your knees up to slip your shorts off, feeling his fingers press in just a little deeper than before.

there’s something different about his demeanor tonight, something that he just can’t shake. so he finds purchase on your neck again and you gasp as his fangs lightly graze against your skin. there was always a little voice in the back of his head, a sort of urging, especially whenever you two fucked to sink his teeth into your flesh. he’s felt it before, after each fight he’s been in, the scent of blood has always gone straight to his cock, but he’s always wondered just what does your blood taste like.

he gives in to that voice and bites, his fangs prickling little holes in your skin. he knew it, you taste heavenly, a saccharine liquid enveloping his buds. should’ve done this sooner, he thinks, way sooner.

“ah!” you almost scream, biting so hard on your fist you almost draw blood there as well. you push at him with your hands, tears welling up in your eyes. keisuke was rough, you knew this from the dozens of marks he’s left on you before, but he’s never drawn blood.

he withdraws, face flushed as he laps up the wound one more time. he slips his fingers out of you, tugging off his sweatpants and shirt, his leaky cock already dripping with precum.

“kei,” you sniffle, “that hurt.” with shaky hands you press against the mark, wincing at the sting. but keisuke can’t hear you, too focused on the wanton need of his throbbing cock.

he grabs his shirt, balling it up and bringing it to your mouth. “gotta be quiet baby, i don’t want your friends to hear us,” he growls, auburn eyes burning into you. he’s thinks he’s doing them a favor because if they interrupted he’s not sure how well he’d be able to restrain himself. you do as your told and clamp down, tears already starting to stain his cotton shirt. he’s right, you’re not sure how well you’d be able to explain your boyfriend sneaking into your get together.

he wipes one tear away with his thumb gently before he’s settling himself in between your legs, his tip coated in precum as he slides between your folds. he groans lowly when he notices a trickle of crimson running down your throat and he realizes he can still taste you on his lips. you already look so pretty, flushed and crying all for him.

he hooks one leg up over his shoulder as he sinks down into your pussy. you moan as he pushes deeper, inch by inch into your twitching walls. he bites down hard on your shoulder blade as he bottoms out, coaxing sweet drops of blood into his mouth. it’s strange, the mix of pleasure and pain makes your head feel dizzy.

keisuke tries his best to start slow, he doesn’t wanna hurt you anymore than he is now, but fuck do you feel good. he swears you taste like honey as he suckles harder, his cock bullying your cunt with each thrust of his hips. you claw at his back, nails digging and scratching pretty red lines along his skin. the sting of his bite starts feeling oddly good, so much so that you’re arching your body up closer to his touch.

god, you hope your friends are asleep because even with your mouth stuffed you’re fucking loud. his flushed and leaking tip kisses your sweet spot with each thrust, as he finds new places to mark again and again. it drives him insane, coppery ichor flooding his tongue while it drips down your body staining the sheets below. he’s always wanted to ruin you for anyone else, mold your cunt to his cock, and with the way that you’re clenching and crying he’s probably doing just that. it sends shivers down his spine that you’re so fragile, malleable even.

he shifts up to lick at your tears, salty clear liquid muddying with the cherry from his mouth as he peppers kisses on your cheek. “taste so fuckin’ good, you still with me baby?” he grunts, each slam of his hips pulling out a whiny moan from you. you whimper out an “mhm” with a slight nod of your head, glassy, unfocused eyes meeting his. he pulls his shirt out, a small bit of drool falling from your lips, wanting to hear your little hiccups and gasps.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cry,” he grins, lips smeared red, nails digging into your thigh as he pushes it down further, his cock reaching deeper than before. “so fuckin’ cute takin’ my cock, huh?” his praise runs straight through your head, and he knows, feeling the slight twitch of your pussy.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sob, each thrust of his hips has your eyes rolling back. “feels s-so good, kei, i wanna cum..” you look at him through fluttery, tear-coated lashes, puffy lips babbling and gasping. he leans in, thrusting his tongue against yours, at best a shoddy attempt to quiet you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you’re not sure how to feel about it, not that you can really think too hard about it, caught up on the fullness of his cock.

keisuke’s too sweet and too in love to not give you what you want, his fingers slowly rubbing sticky circles on your clit. it’s just barely not enough, but the position he’s keeping you leaves you unable to grind back against him. he’ll get you there, but there’s just one thing he wants to hear as you unfold.

“you belong to me, right?” he asks with a small tilt of his head, scarlet tinted fangs flashing as he smiles, seeing you nod frantically. “then say it, kitten.”

“i-i belong to you, keisuke,” you answer, breathless and needy, “to you and only you.”

“that’s right,” he hums, picking up the pace of not just his fingers, but his hips, each slap of skin getting you to mewl even louder, “all fuckin’ mine.”

“‘m cumming, kei, i’m-“ you slur, eyes rolling back one final time as you cream on his cock, entire body shaking. “fuck,” you whimper out and he follows not too long after with a snarl, hips stuttering with sticky, white cum painting your walls as your cunt tries to milk every drop.

his head drops as he pants, hips finally still. you giggle when his pretty dark locks tickle your face. “keisuke, my leg!” you groan due to the burn of your hip. “why do you always gotta stretch me so far?” you pout, pushing and kicking your boyfriend with your good leg off and out of you.

he backs off with a fake yelp, smile beaming with pearly white fangs as he brings his hands up in a fake apology. he moves to get dressed as you rub your hip, slowly bringing it back down into a resting position. you wipe off the rest of your tears, shifting a bit, trying to find your discarded shorts and underwear when you hear a familiar zip. you look over to see keisuke shoving your other clothes back into your weekender bag, before he lugs it over his shoulder and throws it out through the window.

“keisuke, what the fuck?” you hiss for the second time that night. he ignores you this time, walking over, clothes in hand to help you dress. his mother always taught him to help a lady out when she needed it. “are you just gonna ignore me?”

he does, instead helping you shimmy your shorts back on, a pleased hum when your shirt falls back over your body. while it covers the marks he left on your shoulders and chest, he can still see the ones left on your neck. good, he thinks, you look the best marked up and all his anyway. he rubs his thumb over your pretty lips which you kiss as you look up with pretty, hazy eyes, making him fight the urge to take you again.

he grabs your hands, slowly pulling you up on your feet. your legs feel a little like jelly and the ache from his marks is starting to kick in so you wobble into him, draping your arms over his shoulders.

“alright, let’s go.”

“go where?” you ask, waiting for any type of answer, as you lean against him.

he picks you up, “home, dummy. you’ve been with your friends for too long.” he nuzzles his nose into your cheek as he saunters towards the window. “besides,” he breathes, pressing his tongue against one of your marks. “i wasn’t done playing with you yet.”

you shiver, face heating up at the implication. you spare a glance at the bed, well, it doesn’t look like a murder scene, but there’s definitely smeared blood on there. your cunt twitches, full, but not nearly enough, at the thought of him drawing blood again and maybe you don’t mind ditching your trip. you can hear your phone blowing up in baji’s pocket, but you ignore it, you can answer them in the morning.

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers #keisuke baji #baji keisuke smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x you #baji keisuke x y/n #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #pibby writing #eeeeeeeeeeee im so nervous #gen theres one scene and im like i hope it makes sense but whateva.#eee ok bye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

374 notes · View notes

mncxbe · 24 days

Text

Sweet n Low

𝑨𝒌𝒊 𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝒄𝒘: csm spoilers, sad Aki, on and off unestablished relationship, lil bit of smut and silly, slice of life// 2.3k words

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: ok so my city's full of wax cherry trees and they all bloomed this week♡ i was riding a bus when i passed some of the bloomed trees and they looked like they were covered in snow and it gave me this idea for Aki// divider by @benkeibear

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕: Aki rarely takes days off of work. It’s pointless, a waste of precious time he could spend hunting down devils, but after getting injured into a fight, Makima forces him to go on vacation.

The heavy snow on the streets of Tokyo was long replaced by blossoming trees and vendors selling sakura mochi. Everything is so much lighter during spring- the air, the people, everything except the weight on Aki’s shoulders and the questions weighing on his mind. What’s he supposed to do with a free week? The whole point of this vacation is for him to relax and recover, so staying at home with Power and Denji is out of the question. The only other place he knows is Hokkaido, but he swore he’d never go there safe for the anniversary of his parents’ death.

Truth is, Aki has nowhere to go, and when Aki has nowhere to go, he comes to you.

When you open the door to your apartment, your colleague greets you with a nod “Hey there”

Oh hi, Aki. You move to the side, letting him step inside. As always, Aki takes off his shoes and sits down at the kitchen table, looking around the apartment while you make him coffee- medium grind, slow drip with no milk and a pinch of sugar. You notice he’s quieter than usual, his expression darker as he stares at something outside the kitchen window. During the few years you’ve known each other you learnt that Aki has the bad habit of getting lost in his own thoughts when things got tough– his mind is both a refuge and a prison, but today it seems to be the latter. Placing the steaming cup of coffee next to him you squeeze behind his chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. I see you were discharged. You feel any better?

“A little bit…” he muses “Look, I was wondering if I could crash at your place this week. Makima made me take a week off after my injury” You smile, nuzzling your chin in the crook of his neck. He always smells so good despite smoking, like a fresh summer breeze. I’d let you stay but I’m going back to my hometown this week so… “No, no it’s okay I get it. Forget I asked” Aki and you are close, but not close enough to let him stay at your place by himself. Still, you can’t shake off the feeling that you have to do something for him. You could come with me you suggest and he tenses up, shaking his head “I couldn’t possibly it’s your vacation. I don’t want to intrude” Nonsense you giggle, slowly running your hands up the sides of his face and into his hair to undo his topknot. The protests that fall from his lips are quickly silenced when you trace soft kisses on his neck and jaw, working your way up to the shell of his ear.

Come on, Aki, it’ll be fun. You and me in my little hometown for a whole week you whisper, rolling his stiff muscles under your palms, easing the tension in his shoulders. We could go on walks all day. I’ll show you around, it’s a pretty village, quite quiet too, perfect for you to relax. Your hands slide lowers down his chest and abdomen, finding purchase on his thighs. Your body’s practically flush against his back and Aki’s breath catches in his throat when you kiss his cheek again I can help you relax–

“Ok, alright, I’ll come with you” he cuts you off, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, one of the few signs of affection he showed you. You straighten your back at his compliance and ruffle his hair, earning a soft frown from the man Wonderful, we’re leaving tonight.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

You reach your hometown by morning, just before sunrise, and you rent a room at a local inn. “Why don’t you just stay with your family?” he asks the moment the door to your room slides shut behind you. He drops his luggage on the floor and reaches for his pack of cigarettes Because I promised you I’d stay with you. You snap your fingers to get his attention and Aki turns to see you pointing at a no smoking inside sign and huffs, mumbling curses under his breath as he returns the pack to his breast pocket. “I really have to go all the way to the front porch to have my damn cigarette?”

Sort of you laugh and it’s like music to his ears. He takes a deep breath in to calm his nerves and looks around the room: it wasn’t much larger than his own bedroom, with a bed in the middle and a table for two in the corner, next to the built-in closet. A fresh breeze seeps inside the room through the open window, carrying a faint flowery scent. It was early morning and people were slowly starting to come out on the streets “So, what’s the plan for today?” Jee, Aki, relax we just got here. We should sleep for a while, we’ve been up all night you say as if you didn’t sleep during the whole trip. “I think I’ll pass. I’m going to take a walk around town” You nod, yawning as you slip out of your clothes and into your pajamas. You sure you don’t want to stay?

Curling up between the sheets with you in his arms sounds awfully tempting, but he needs to be alone at least for a while. “I’m sure. I’ll be back in a few hours though”

And so he leaves the inn and walks down the stone paved street lined with pretty houses, family restaurants and shops with closed windows. From time to time, someone passes by and gives him a friendly good morning but aside from that, the place is silent. There are no cars rushing around, no bustling crowds and no devils massacring innocent civilians, just peace and quiet, as if the whole town was frozen in time. Aki doesn’t understand how a village just hours away from Tokyo could be so serene, but he welcomes the normality of this place, allowing it to settle down over him and soothe his worries.

He finds a bench on the main street and takes a seat, procuring his pack. He cups the flame of his lighter with a hand, sheltering it from the soft breeze as he lights a cigarette and takes a deep breath in, the smoke stinging the back of his throat. Aki drops his head back and closes his eyes, listening to the birds chirping in the distance. Perfect, everything is perfect, he’s certain he made the right decision by joining you on this trip. He’d go back to you in a few hours and you’ll show him around town, maybe he’ll even get to meet your family one of these days and the two of you would have a good time. Maybe he will even allow himself to believe that you are more than occasional fuck buddies.

But then he notices the trees and the sense of peace crumbles. As he looks up at the crowns of flowers above him through half lidded eyes they seem covered in snow and nausea washes over him. How did he not notice them sooner? Fuck his mind for not allowing him to have one peaceful moment before memories of the day his family died rushed in. Suddenly, the picture he conjured up of this corner of paradise, his plans to enjoy the vacation are spoiled, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. He ashes his cigarette and gets up from the bench, retracing his steps back to the inn, away from all the things that remind him of his past. He shuts himself in, desperately trying to ignore his memories and the white trees lining up every street that make him feel like the world is caging in on him.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s in his room until your sleepy voice snaps him back to his senses. Aki, you’re back so soon? you mumble, rubbing your eyes and stretching out an arm, beckoning him to join you in bed. And he does, shrugging off his jacket and slipping under the sheets. Did you have fun on your walk? He mumbles a yes, though you can tell he’s not in the best of spirits, so you simply smile up at him, holding his face in your hands. I’m glad then. Maybe we could go to the hot springs later today. I’m sure you’ll love it. Your touch feels so warm against his skin, your lips so deliciously sweet when you kiss him. Aki hooks an arm around your waist and deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against one another and your breaths grow shallower as he pulls your pajama shorts to the side.

His actions are urgent, desperate, but you let him kiss you and touch you and fuck you and he does it like you’re his lifeline. Because in moments like this one, when he's plagued by his past, the pain so vivid and intense even years after those unfortunate events, you are the only thing that brings him peace.

So what’s up with you, hm? You seem awfully tense.

The sun sunk low under the line of the horizon a few hours ago, the only source of light coming from the lampposts on the main street, a hue of gold floating dissipating in the dark of the night. Aki’s back is turned to you as he pretends to sleep, his ribcage rising and falling with each breath he takes. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk– he’s been acting strange ever since he returned from his walk and didn’t even join you to the onsen, but you can’t just leave him like this.

Shifting closer to him, you run your hand along the expanse of his arm, feeling his muscles relax under your touch. You’re not going to accomplish anything by ignoring me, you press and he sighs, turning to lay on his back. He looks so pretty in the soft light that seeps through the open window, his jaw tense, lips pressed in a tight line, lashes batting slowly as if to fence off the sleep. When he finally speaks his voice has a distant edge to it. “It’s just the trees. They remind me of the snow in Hokkaido”

And is that a bad thing?

Of course you don’t know, he never told you about his parents and he has doubts that this is the right moment to have this conversation. But your eyes are so imploring as you prop yourself up on your forearm and look down at him, waiting for some sort of clarification.

“You know... my parents and my brother died when I was a kid, killed by the Gun devil. It was winter and everything was snowed in. I was playing outside with my brother but I sent him to grab something from the house and that’s when-” His voice is strained, like he has to force the words out of him and you feel your heart breaking for him. Your gaze drifts to at the tree in front of your room’s window, its white flowers basking in moonlight and somehow you can see it: the soft glow of the petals and the way they slope to the ground when the wind sweeps them off their sepals resembles snowflakes falling.

You fiddle with the collar of Aki’s t-shirt, trying to find the right thing to say. Would he even appreciate your sympathy? You know he’s not the type of guy who likes to be pitied and you fear doing worse, pushing him farther away. I’m sorry to hear you say under your breath, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist and placing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. I didn’t know it’d be like this.

“Don’t apologize, it's not your fault. I’ve got my own issues to deal with, but I want us to have a good time here” His reassurance doesn’t really have the effect he hoped for, he can tell you’re already overthinking. Aki cups your cheek, tilting your head up, making you face him. “I mean it, Y/N. Don’t worry.” His lips brush against yours in a soft kiss, his hand finding its way to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “Plus they’re just fucking trees. I won’t let them ruin the only actual vacation I had since I joined the Public Safety”

But won’t they bother you if you see them all the time? I mean, hell, they’re everywhere.

"I know they are…” his voice drifts off as he leans closer to you, his deep blue eyes scanning your features as he traces the contour of your face with his fingertips. Your skin is smooth and warm under his touch, a reminder that you’re here. That he’s here. He’s not in the frozen land of Hokkaido, not in his childhood home, but in a little town with cherry trees east of Fukuoka. This is your home, your life, and for a week he’s allowed to be part of it, to forget his worries and leave his past behind. And he’d be damned if he let a couple of plants ruin it for him. So he kisses you again, gently pushing you back down on the mattress as he whispers against your lips “I guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you whenever we’re outside.”

#‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚#chainsaw man #chainsaw man aki #aki fluff #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #csm x reader #csm #aki x reader #csm aki

29 notes · View notes

detectivecarisi-1 · 11 months

Text

The Senator’s Daughter Chapter 5 (Bodyguard!Dave York x AFAB Reader)

AN: It’s finally here!!! This chapter took way longer than I expected it to, but it was so much fun to write! I hope you all enjoy! The school year is coming to an end, so hopefully over the summer I have more time to write. Seriously, guys, people reading and enjoying this makes me so happy. Thank you so, so much. -Megan

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY, minors...no.)

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Smut (not with Dave don’t get too excited...) non-descriptive PIV sex, really bad sex, hints of BratTamer!Dave, bratty reader, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcoholism, references to drug use, mental illness, violence, infidelity, age gap relationships.

Prolouge Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Dave has no fucking clue why he allowed this.

The uncomfortably nice dress shoes he’s still wearing stick to this sketchy bar floor, with every uncomfortable shift of his feet he hears how disgusting this floor is, he feels his feet struggle to pull away, he doesn’t even want to know what mysterious substances he’s standing in. He’s watching you down shot after shot. Probably on your fourth… maybe fifth? You’re still okay, he can tell, probably just now comfortably drunk. Not shit-faced… not blackout. Just drunk. Used to your routine now, he knows exactly when you need to stop. As soon as you start breathing heavily, or your eyes turn drowsy and sad, sometimes you even start huffing air out of your mouth and poking your cheek slightly to feel the slight numbness there, that’s when you’re done.

The night after you and your father had your falling out, Dave sat on your floor silently resting his back on the dresser in your room, the knobs of the drawers digging painfully into his back, watching you lay on the ground, seemingly in a whole other universe. After a while, you stood up, determination etched into your features, grabbing a little black dress from your closet and slamming the door to your bathroom. He remained of the floor, knowing where this was going, he was so ready to tell you to sit the fuck back down, clearly not in the right mental state to go out, but 15 minutes later when you emerge, in nothing but a simple black dress. Yet, you look anything but simple. The dress stops at your mid-thigh, he can see the beginnings of a flower tattoo on your thigh peeking out from below the hemline. You haphazardly applied your makeup, mascara smudges on your lids, lips glossed, the faintest bit of glitter dabbed directly on your lower lash line, catching the light, looking remarkably similar to the tears you were just crying on your floor.

Dave’s not sure why… but suddenly he can’t find it in him to argue with you. He just grinds his teeth, “One fucking drink,” he growls it like a threat. It is.

He doesn’t stand by it.

On the car ride to the nightclub you chose, you’re chewing on your fingernails, biting them down to nubs, a nervous habit of yours, you wish you could stop. Looking out the window, your leg starts to bounce, up and down. Dave takes the moment to lay down his rules.

Rule 1: “Don’t you fucking dare trying to leave his sight” Not that you could. Eventually, you tried, you definitely fucking did. Trying to slip between crowds of people. But Dave, never looked away, always found you. Dragging you by the wrist outside the club, glaring at you, muttering under his breath something about how you’re on “thin fucking ice.”

Rule 2: “When I cut you off, that means you’re done. No questions asked.” Fine. A little harder to avoid that rule, since you’ve already learned from Rule 1 he watches you like a hawk. Dave follows you to the bar, when you place your drink order, Dave leads you back. When you’re too far gone, Dave walks up to the bartender, and closes your tab while you’re still dancing.

Rule 3: “No drugs.” As if you needed reminding. You get caught with Percocet once apparently it follows you for the rest of your life. Who knew?

As he rambles on and on about his rules, you’re still chewing the nail of your thumb, tapping your foot on the ground. You want to ignore Dave, say something snarky in response, but he has such an aura of authority radiating off him, you can’t even begin to think of something sly to say back, afraid of the consequences.

“Yes, sir,” it’s mumbled, your eyes are still intently trained on the blurred lights of Norfolk, VA, as your private car speeds down the street. Passing people walking on the sidewalk, laughing, holding hands, dancing. You’re too focused on what you wish you could have to notice Dave’s eyes darken at the nickname.

At the nightclub, against all expectations, you’re shy at first. Stiffly tapping your hand on your thigh to the beat of the music. Making a beeline for the bar, the bartender greets you by name, with a warm smile. You return the gesture, as he slides a shot in front of you. Without a second thought, you tilt the shot back to your lips, swallowing the drink with practiced ease. The fruity shot is bearable to you, but you still wince at the burn and the sharp aftertaste of vodka. Still nervously looking around the room, looking uncomfortable and completely out of your element.

This pattern repeats for you. You look like a fish out of water, until around, shot number 5, when you’re officially calm enough to get on the crowded dance floor.

It’s how tonight is going, as you’re grabbing a group of 3 girls you just met by the hand, dragging them through the crowds to a mostly empty spot. Your hips moving rhythmically to the song that’s far too loud on the bar speakers. Your outfit leaves extraordinarily little the imagination, ripped jeans, your faithful converse, and a tiny faux leather top. You opted to go braless, and Dave can see the way your breasts move under your shirt as you dance, he can see your nipples pebble under the cool air of the bar.

Dave knows if he can see it, everyone else in this bar can see it. He’s not sure why that thought bothers him.

Leaning against a pillar in the corner of the dance floor, watching man after man approach you asking for a dance. You always give them a polite smile but shake your head no, usually leaning forward to whisper to your friends about the interaction. His fists clench as he watches the men walk away dejectedly, making sure they don’t turn back around.

He’s had to step in a few times, pulling an overzealous man refusing to accept a polite no as an answer out of the bar, pushing him to the curb.

He wishes he could knock their teeth inside their skull.

He knows this is a really bad idea. He knows that allowing you to drink away your sorrows isn’t healthy. He knows this is your fucked up way of avoiding the issues in front of you. He knows you’re out there, drinking until you’re numb, finding your validation from the men who approach you, smiling every time a new man approaches. Laughing as another asks you to dance. He can see the way your eyes light up at the attention. He knows you’re still hurting. But, Mr. Leland did say you could go out, so he’s in no position to tell you no.

It’s been a month since Mr. Leland and you had a falling out. The house is still filled with an awkward tension, like a dam about to burst at any moment. You’re doing everything you can to avoid your father slinking out of rooms like a spooked cat whenever Senator Leland enters. Your father is making non-verbal, vain attempts at an apology. Stocking up the fridge with your favorite sodas and snacks. Early one morning, Dave exited his bedroom, pulling himself out of the almost too soft mattress with a groan, leaving to do his morning check in on you, he opens the door to find Mr. Leland leaning on the wall next to your bedroom door, the telltale sign of his stress painted across the lines of his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Mr. Leland looked up at Dave, nodding, before he left with a shy smile. Seemingly losing the courage to knock.

You’re no better. You spend your mornings sleeping till noon, when you wake up you sit on your bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone or reading, Peeve lays loyally next to you, bringing you stuffed ice cream cones and dirty socks when you look especially sad. You always give her a delighted giggle before kissing the top of her head.

Dave sits, usually playing sudoku, sometimes with Peeve on his lip, or slipping into his room to call his girls until you’re ready to leave. Most of the time, you don’t leave till it’s closer till 9, when it’s finally acceptable to go out drinking. Weekdays you opt for a quaint Irish pub, weekends, you prefer the bustling, grimy clubs that line the streets of Norfolk. They’re loud, they’re packed, you can easily slip into the crowds and go unnoticed.

As unnoticed as someone as beautiful as you can be.

Dave tries to shake that thought as soon as it enters his head.

But watching you, right now, so lost in the music, hair thrown up into a messy hairstyle to stay out of your face while you dance, your smooth skin glistening with glitter and sweat, hips rolling sensually to the beat that Dave can feel in his chest; it’s impossible to not notice how beautiful you really are.

A handsome, college-aged boy with a curly mop of sandy blonde hair approaches your with a smile, politely holding out a hand for you. Dave scoffs, knowing your routine by now. You’ll give him that shy smile, and turn to a girl and start dancing with her to shoo him off…

Imagine how caught off guard he is when you follow the first part of the formula, nervously smiling at the boy, before grabbing his hand. The boy smoothly pulls your into a spin, before wrapping the hand that isn’t holding yours around your waist, smiling at you with a goofy grin as he does. The music in this club is ridiculously loud, but Dave swears he can hear your laugh over it. Your head is thrown back, freely giggling, as the boy leans forward, chasing you, to whisper something in your ear. Your eyes widen, before you laugh, actually laugh, not a polite, fake laugh. a real, genuine laugh that leaves you breathless. The boy lifts his arms, pulling you in for another spin, allowing you to move closer to him. The two of you start to dance a little more erotically, swaying in perfect synchrony. Dave’s fists clench when the blonde’s hands drift lower, resting on your hips, guiding your movements.

Dave’s ready for you to shoo him off, hell, Dave is ready to push through this crowd and rip the bastard off you himself. His face grows hot when you smile, turning around, pressing your ass to the guy’s dick, guiding his hands to your waist. Dave watches, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, when your eyes meet.

You don’t look away.

Neither does Dave.

———-———-———-———-———-———-——

You’re not sure why, but Dave’s gaze emboldens you. Your hands slide up your body, fingertips catching over the lower swell of your breasts, reaching up to tangle in your hair as you continue to grind into the blonde. You can feel the mystery man behind you start to react to your movements, his dick hardening and pressing into you as you move.

It pushes you further.

You grab his hands, guiding them to your breasts, and you moan, not from the feeling of his hands on your chest, but from the way Dave’s eyes harden and he stands up straighter, shaking his head just slightly as you move. It feels so fucking good, watching him react to you. Since that night with your vibrator Dave has gone back to being the perfect bodyguard, refusing to speak to you about anything other than your safety, his eyes remaining respectfully on yours, ignoring your soft whimpers when you’re plunging your own fingers into your dripping pussy as he sleeps across the hall.

Seeing him right now, barely holding back jealousy… it’s turning you on. So, you grab the blonde, spin him around so his back is facing Dave, and you lean forward and whisper in his ear, asking him if he’d like to come home with you, the house is empty, and the look Dave is giving you is filling you with a desire you haven’t felt in quite some time. You don’t look away from Dave as you bite the blonde’s earlobe. He smells like tequila and an unholy amount of cheap cologne. But you can feel Dave’s eyes on you as you pull mystery man’s earlobe between your teeth. It’s Dave’s gaze that eggs you on, not the sharp gasp from the man pressed in front of you.

Holding back a smirk as Dave’s lip starts to curl in anger, you grab the boy’s hand and walk toward Dave, making sure to sway your hips more than usual with every step. Dave wants to break the boy’s neck when he noticed the boy behind you shamelessly watching your ass.

“Fucking pig,” he thinks.

You’re more than a little tipsy, but completely drunk off the look Dave is giving you. It’s that same annoyed look he gave you the morning you two first met, but now you know that you did this. You have enough control over him for your actions to get him red in the face, to have his eyes almost black with frustration, to get his body so stiff with jealousy that he looks like he may snap at any moment. You did this.

You decide to see how far you can take this.

“Miss Leland,” he greets you as you get close, eyes burning through you, voice raw.

You fucking love it.

Pulling the blonde’s hand, you drag him toward Dave. “Dave…this is…” it hits you in this moment that you don’t know this guy’s name. Dave raises his eyebrows, putting a hand on his hip, “this is… some kid dancing with you at a bar?” He looks the boy up and down, scoffing and shaking his head at you, “is he even old enough to be in here?”

The boy beside you starts to open his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand in his direction, cutting him off. In the corner of your eye, you see his shoulders fall in dejection, but the rush pumping through your veins at the power you clearly have over Dave leads you to not care.

“Is there a problem you wanna address with me Dave?”

The corners of his lips fall downward into a frown, he shrugs indignantly, “You don’t even know the guy’s name and you’re practically fucking him on the dance floor. Is there a reason you brought him over here to me? What you wanna ask for my blessing or something?”

Mystery Man butts in; “Actually I…”

Dave silences him with a glare. Mystery Man lifts his hands in surrender.

“I can go… if you, or … your daughter I guess feels more comfortable?”

At the same time Dave says “yes” you say “no.” You shoot Dave a glare, before turning to Mystery Man, “he’s not my dad,” you tell him, your voice laced with annoyance. Before you soften your gaze, placing a seductive hand on his elbow, batting your eyelashes at him, “Please, baby I want you to stay.” Turning back to Dave, “Call the car. I’m taking him home.”

Dave pushes off the wall he’s leaning on, throwing his hands up, scowling at you; “Whatever you say, princess.”

———-———-———-———-———-———-——

Mystery Man is apparently named “Seth” which… yeah makes sense. He’s studying business at Old Dominion University, and he’s in some sort of frat on campus. Kappa Omega? Whatever. They’re all the same. Your dad is in DC for … something, giving you the entire house for yourself. You obviously didn’t bother to ask why he up and left, given the circumstances, so it’s just you, Dave, and Peeve in the house.

When the car pulls up to the driveway, Seth lets out a low whistle at the sight of your beachside mansion. He chuckles, sounding a little bit too much like that one lifeguard from SpongeBob, before starting to talk about how cool your place is, and how “you could throw a really fucking killer party in here!”

Dave gets out first “don’t you fucking think about it.” he says, pointing a finger at you, while he uses his free hand to help you out of the car safely. The feeling of his hand gently grabbing yours makes your heart rush in your chest.

Dave slams the door before Seth has a chance to get out.

Before allowing Seth into your bedroom, Dave has to search him, you know, normal bodyguard shit. He’s patting Seth down, asking him to empty his pockets. Seth pulls out a magnum condom with a goofy, lopsided grin. Dave rolls his eyes, straightens up, and looks at Seth with a deadpan expression. Doesn’t say anything. Just stares at Seth blankly with his hands on his hips until that stupid fucking smile falls from his face.

“I patted the motherfucker down… he’s gotta be joking…” he thinks.

He shakes his head and walks away.

———-———-———-———-———-———-——

Okay… maybe you’re exaggerating how good this feels.

Never mind, you’re definitely exaggerating how good this feels.

Seth isn’t the most… well-endowed man you’ve ever met. Usually, that’s not a problem. If the person is able to have a simple understanding of female anatomy, basic listening skills, or is willing to learn. Problem here, Frat-boy Seth think he’s a sex god, and doesn’t need to listen to the criticism and advice of the girl he’s fucking.

Even better, he’s completely oblivious.

You move his hand to where your clit actually is, and somehow, someway, he’s back to stroking the outer lip of your pussy, whispering in your ear how he knows it feels good and you don’t need to “move his hand away from where it feels good, baby, it’s supposed to be sensitive.”

At one point, he has a finger shoved inside you, and he moves, the tip of his finger barely grazing that spongey part inside you that has your breath hitching in your throat. You moan, a real fucking moan, and tell him “Fuck… yes… just like that” and he responds by … doing the complete opposite of “just like that” roughly jackhammering the finger inside of you, feeling like he’s trying punch your g-spot out of your body. You try to redirect, but it’s no use, he’s in his own little world. You fake an orgasm, loudly moaning like the girls in porn videos clearly catering toward the male gaze. Seth loves that shit. Whispering in your ear about how he can “feel your pussy cumming. I feel it tightening around me, baby.”

Yeah, right. Okay.

Now, he’s got his dick inside you, while you just … lay there. You tried to interact, moving your hips to get some pleasure from the hookup, but he told you he “gets distracted” when the girl tries to move. So, here you are. Starfished on your own bed, looking up at the ceiling, moaning as loud as you can, trying to convince Seth he’s doing a good job so this can hurry and wrap up.

Deep down, you know you’re moaning this obnoxiously so someone other than Seth hears. Maybe someone devastatingly handsome, who radiates dominant, masculine energy, completely fucking hates you, someone you want to suck off until he’s sobbing from the pleasure?

Thinking about Dave has definitely made this unfortunate experience a little bit better. You close your eyes, trying to imagine Dave is inside you, not this random fucking frat boy, but you know Dave would be pounding you into the mattress, a hand wrapped in your hair, the other stroking your clit, until you’re soaking his dick with your cum.

The thought causes your pussy to tighten around Seth, and he whispers something about “wanted to cum with you,” his breath hot and humid on your neck, as he starts to stroke your “clit” again.

You indulge him by giving him a high pitched, girlish moan, and a strangled “oh fuck!” while flexing your pelvic muscles.

It’s an Oscar worthy performance. He’s whispering that he “loves making a pretty girl cum” completely clueless to the fact that you literally don’t feel a thing. Even worse, he’s breathing heavily in your face, the smell of hot tequila making this situation even worse. You’re doing everything in your power to imagine yourself literally anywhere but here. This has been the longest 10 minutes of your life.

Finally, finally he cums. Silently. No noise, just him hovering over you, jaw dropped, furiously ripping off the condom while he jerks himself off, spilling onto your stomach.

Seth groans, laughs, and tells you “That’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” before getting up and starting to button the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt he was wearing at the bar.

You grimace, wiping up his cum with a ball of tissues from the box next to your bed, in the process, you hear a faint “oh… oh fuck,” in a soft voice of panic from Seth.

You’re considering the possibility of a broken condom or something like that, before Seth is shoving a wet, obscenely warm, tequila scented hand over your mouth.

Your eyes shoot up to look at him, giving him the best “What the fuck?” eyes you can muster, but before you can fight him off, he’s pressing a finger to his lips, shushing you. His cellphone is pressed to his ears, and though you can’t hear exactly what’s going on the other line, you can hear the shrill sounds of a girl yelling angrily. Seth keeps his hand pressed to your mouth, and clears his throat, in a calm cool voice he tells the woman on the other line, “It’s fine, babe. You know, Colin’s just throwing up in the bathroom so I’m chilling with him in there. That’s why it’s so quiet, I’m not cheating on you… Babe, come on, I’ve told you this. You’re being ridiculous! You know I love you.” Seth says all this bullshit while his dick is softening against your thighs, and his hand is still tightly pressed to your mouth.

Holy shit. What a fucking asshole.

Without a second thought, you bring your right hand up and slap Seth across the face. The satisfying crack echoes through your room. You can feel your blood pumping through your veins. Fuck this guy.

Poor girl… not only has she been with the human embodiment of a shitty frat party, and she’s probably been stuck having the worst fucking sex of her life, the motherfucker is a dirty, disgusting, cheater. Fuck you, Seth. Fuck you and your stupid Hawaiian shirt.

Seth recoils from the slap, dropping the hand over your mouth to cradle his cheek which is quickly spreading a red blossom over his face, giving him a bright red flush. His eyes start to water, and the fucker has the audacity to say, “why’d you do that?” his voice cracking and shaking with the wounded ego he’s currently experiencing. You can hear his poor girlfriend on the other line yelling louder at Seth, so you take the opportunity to let her know how much better she deserves, yelling “You fucking dick! you fuck me, but don’t tell me you have a fucking girlfriend? get out of my house!” throwing the dirty clothes littering your floor at the half-naked Seth.

You’re reaching into your dresser, grabbing and putting on a T-shirt, long enough to give you some semblance of modesty, as you’re still throwing shit at Seth, nothing breakable of course, anything you can get your hands on, really, but hopefully it’s enough for him to get the picture. Not because you’re mad at Seth because you were hoping for something more, honestly, this behavior tracks. You're really pissed you didn’t expect this from him. A blonde, business major frat boy? You should’ve known. Your heart is just breaking at the thought of the role you accidentally played in hurting another woman.

Seth’s face is rapidly turning a brighter red, from the handprint imprinted on his cheek, and from the anger and embarrassment of being caught cheating. He’s swatting away the things you’re throwing at him, trying to reason with the girl on the phone, telling her you’re a liar, that you’re just drunk and jealous and mad that he rejected you.

God, you hope the girl sees through it.

Everything snaps when Seth calls you “an ugly fucking bitch!” and tells you he’s gonna “go to the press! tell them how crazy Senator Leland’s daughter is!”

Your blood runs cold, and you stand frozen, staring at Seth for a moment. You can barely consider what to do next, but Dave decides for you. The door to your room flies open, and Dave strolls over, calmly, to Seth, grabbing the phone from his hand, Seth tries to grab it back, Dave simply says into the speaker “he’s a loser, dump him.” and hangs up, dropping it to the ground. All the while, Seth is scrambling to his feet, throwing threats at Dave about how he’s “so fucked dude!” and “my dad’s a lawyer, asshole! I’ll get you fired.”

Dave turns to you, hands on his hips, face perfectly neutral, but you know him well enough to see the frustration in his eyes. It’s comical, really. He’s so casual, mildly annoyed, while there’s a whining, fully grown man child in a Hawaiian shirt, Winnie the Pooh style, threatening him with legal action, entitlement dripping from his voice. Dave raises his eyebrow at you, shakes his head, and walks over to Seth, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the house silently.

Watching Dave pull a man out of your room with such ease… shouldn’t be as hot as it is. You walk out the room, following Dave, curious to see the situation fully divulge, when Seth yells, “she’s a fucking bitch dude! I was gonna propose to that girl and that whore up there ruined it for me!”

Yikes.

It doesn’t bother you, you’ve been called names before, you regret the situation, but you didn’t know, and you did do what you could to let mystery woman know what a shitbag her boyfriend is. You don’t really care about what Seth has to say. He’s a wounded puppy with a far too big ego. But looking at Dave, watching his jaw clench and unclench, his eyes almost completely black, you know he cares.

Without warning, his knee flies up to Seth’s stomach. He doubles over in pain, groaning holding his stomach. Dave watches for a moment, before grabbing Seth by the shoulders, turning him around, gripping the back of his head, and slamming his head down onto the railing of your staircase with a loud thud. Seth’s body immediately goes limp.

You stand at the top of the staircase; your stomach feels like it’s pooling in your feet. Eyes wide, jaw dropped. Dave is breathing heavily as he rolls up his sleeves. He looks like he always does, slightly frustrated, but his eyes are wild and his shoulders shaking with the deep breaths he’s taking. You look at Seth, slumped on the stairs, holy shit… “Is… is he..?” Dave gazes at you for a moment, his brow furrowed, his eyes softening when he processes you standing there, before he looks down at Seth, chuckles, and kicks him lightly on the side, you’re met with a quiet groan from Seth’s lips. “Nope. Still with us. Having a rough day though. Gonna be having a really rough day tomorrow.” He shakes his head in disgust “He’s lucky that’s all I did,” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear it.

You nod, taking a shaky inhale in. Dave bends over, and grabs Seth under the shoulders, dragging his limp body down the stairs. Seth’s eyes blink in confusion, before falling shut again. When Dave turns, you take a moment to admire how the light blue dress shirt he’s wearing is tightening around his shoulders, emphasizing his shoulder blades and the expanse of his back. Dave looks like he’s done this hundreds of times, dragging a dead weight, that is. The thought should scare you, but … it doesn’t. It just makes you feel… warm, safe. He did this for you. He didn’t care about the insults Seth was throwing at him, but the moment Seth said something about you Dave lost his composure. He’s doing this, to take care of you. The thought bounces around your head…

It’s fucking hot.

When Dave and Seth disappear from the front door, you walk back into your room, cleaning up the aftermath. You’re completely sober and wound up. The horrible sex, and your ever-intensifying attraction to your extremely hot and capable bodyguard, has you feeling like a coil about to snap.

You’re picking up socks, keys, bookmarks, rings, things you threw at Seth in a blind rage. Bending over to pick up the items, you’re not wearing any underwear, and the frigid air hitting your pussy makes you incredibly aware of how turned on your actually are. His calm, cool, expression as he brought Seth down on his knees, the power radiating off him, the bulge of his biceps as he pulled him down the stairs. The way he did that for you.

Fuck… it’s almost too much to handle.

Your door opens with a click, and you let out a quiet squeal at the sudden noise. You turn to see Dave entering your room, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a slight red splotch of blood on the cuff. Your eyes widen as you stare at it, and he follows your gaze.

“Hit his head pretty hard,” he explains “head wounds bleed. He’s still alive. Called a car for him. He’ll be fine.”

You nod… “is he going to…” you trail off, the thought scaring you so much it dies on your tongue.

“Don’t worry, princess, he’s not telling the press. I made sure of it.”

The inherent mystery of the statement leaves many doors open about how he made sure of it… but you can’t find it in you to care. He did this all for you.

And that damned nickname. The way it drips from his lips like honey. Deep down, you’re aware that he means it as an insult, a way to hurt you, call attention to your spoilt nature, but it just makes your heart skip a bit and your breath catch in your throat.

You release a shaky gasp. You know, by the way his eyes narrow a little, he heard it.

He clears his throat, jerking his head toward your bed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You look around, shrugging at him in confusion.

He stands, staring back at you, gaze unwavering, “Sit down.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, your voice full of incredulity. You cross your arms defiantly, “Why?”

You see Dave, tilt his head to the side, like he expected this behavior. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, eyes cold and never leaving your gaze. He takes deliberate steps forward, until he’s right in front of you, cornering you against your bed. You try to maintain unwavering eye contact, but he’s so close to you. He’s so big and so broad, he’s enveloping all of your space, you’re surrounded by him.

He looks down at you, hands reaching up to touch your shoulders, you immediately crumble, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Good. Was that so hard, princess?” He sounds amused, he’s biting back a smile.

Bastard.

You cross your arms again. “What do you want, Dave?”

He’s standing over you, hands coming down to rest on his hips, “did you learn your lesson?” He asks, like you’re a child being scolded.

You let out an annoyed gasp, scoffing at him, you roll your eyes like a frustrated teenager, “Oh my God, Dave, are you fucking kidding me? Come on, I- “

“Shut up.” He doesn’t yell it, he doesn’t growl it, just … says it.

You stop in your tracks, all arguments getting stuck in your throat.

“Did you learn your lesson?” He says each word with deliberation, looking down at you, when you don’t answer immediately he raises his eyebrows, your cue to keep talking.

“What lesson?” Your voice is softer now, slowly giving in to him.

“Bringing a stranger home. Did you get the attention you were looking for? Was it worth it? You got nothing out of this, and you know it,” he shakes his head, laughing bitterly under his breath, “fucking boy couldn’t even make you cum.”

What?

You made sure to moan… loud. He definitely heard you, there’s no way he didn’t. You were acting like you were auditioning for an adult film. You did it on purpose, that’s for sure. Even though it’s true, you didn’t cum, how does he know that?

“What? What the fuck Dave? Were you listening in on us?” You ask, feigning offense, disgust, and shock. Really, you’re happy he heard. You wanted him to hear.

He couldn’t know that though.

Still, a part of you is fairly sure he already does.

“You definitely didn’t, princess. You can’t lie to me on that one.” He smirks, it’s almost cruel how he’s looking at you. You feel so small in front of him, your face hot with embarrassment, your cunt throbbing with need.

You force yourself to make, and hold, eye contact with him. “I’ll have you know, I did cum. I came, hard, Dave.” Your eyes are just as cold as his, you’re lying through your teeth.

He smiles, “Sweetheart, I listen to you cum every single night. Walls are thin, princess. I’ve heard it all, and what you did with that boy? That wasn’t it. That was a show you put on for a guy who has no clue what he’s doing.”

Your blood turns cold, heart falling for a second. You’re confused, embarrassed, and still so turned on. Before you can begin to create a response, Dave reaches into your bedside table, pulling out the vibrator. He tosses it at you, you still haven’t moved, just staring at him in shock.

“Finish yourself off, princess. I know you need it.” He’s got this ridiculously sexy, smug smile on his face. He watches you for a moment, smirking at the look on your face, before he turns his back, and leaves.

You’re left alone, on your bed, so you do what he says.

As if you had any other choice.

Taglist: @fatimaisabelpascal @hayley1623 @marysucks-blog @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @casa-boiardi @stevie75 @pedritosdarling @fckinel

if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

#Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york fic #dave york smut #Dave york x female reader #dave york x afab reader #bodyguard!AU #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #enemies to lovers #dave york fluff #slow burn #My writing #my work

74 notes · View notes