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#you're here for more than that babes!!
rofax · 9 months
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I took a piece of art from my journal like, 2 years ago, and re-did it digitally bc it has been feeling ESPECIALLY POIGNANT LATELY.
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corrieguards · 11 months
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If you write canon x OC and you think your OC character is the only one that fits the canon character - then i'm sorry to break it to you babe, but you're actually delusional.
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kangaracha · 7 months
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wips list
nevermore (120k)
queenmaker (3 chapters)
lyre lyre (1/4 done)
FNF (dear fucking lord keeps i hate it here)
what the water brought/pirate au
boxer!minho? dlc? something
pretty ch 4
the gone and the gathered ch 3&4
valleys (66k)
torture fic x3
tgbyb ch 4
tsotl end part 1
darling don't wake up x4
goldmine goldmine (landmine) all of it
soul is yours to keep/zelda fic
draculas
heart rewrite
where the river bends
rabbithole/angel/the stars in your eyes
all that is good/holy
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ambreiiigns · 1 year
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i saw One post say... the only reason people latched onto tomgreg is bc they're the only men who aren't related and are therefore shippable... my brother in christ the first time they talk tom asks him if greg would kiss him. and like. i have to act like it's just normal
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bitchthefuck1 · 2 years
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yikes... you worshiping male characters regardless of what they do while criticizing jen walters for the few bad aspects of her show that can be attributed to the writers and not her... your blog says everything about why you make it a point to hate watch she-hulk every week and it's incredibly disappointing. i'm not some mcu fan who loves everything they put out, but man, it's tiring seeing people criticize media like she-hulk in bad faith waaaay more than mediocre white male media. oh well :/
This is... actually really funny because you don't always get anon hate that tells on itself so much.
I've been very clear and consistent about specifying that I don't dislike Jen Walters and in fact really like how she's portrayed by Tatiana Maslany. Her performance is the only really worthwhile thing the show has to offer, and it's why I find it so frustrating that they don't really do anything interesting with her. Every post I've made has been about the writing or specific narrative choices or the CGI or something to that effect.
As for me "worshipping male characters", whomst??? I'm not even really sure who this is about, as there's not a single male character I've posted about uncritically on here. Best guess is that this is about Matt Murdock, which like... I drag him constantly for being a shitty person and a crappy friend. I think his narrative arc is incredibly compelling and the Netflix series was really good, but I hope I don't need to explain to you that there's a difference between finding a character's narrative compelling and liking them as a person/co-signing their behavior, especially when you also criticize that behavior.
I think a lot of the criticism for she hulk has been bad faith dude bros whining because a woman was in a marvel thing, and that's dumb bullshit, but you can't lump all criticism in the same boat. My problem with she hulk, which is my problem with a lot of marvel's stories centered around women, is that they market them as though they're some groundbreaking feminist storytelling and then do very little to actually develop the story or characters well and coast on mediocrity that's only made passable by the talented women they cast. It's a huge disservice to the characters and to anyone who actually gives a shit about them. I'm not going to applaud them for crumbs, and if you're going to sell your work on it's "feminist storytelling" then you sure as shit better deliver more than a shallow girl power narrative. It's 2022.
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bebopsisyphus · 2 years
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All my simpathy to people in the US witnessing their rights and authonomy being revoked, truly. It sucks and seeing y'all protesting in the streets is inspiring. But jesus christ, there are too many non-american people who are talking about this as if it was the end of the world for them. Babes? Never seen you this angry about political developments happening in your own countries. What's up with that?
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taylor-titmouse · 2 months
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hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator
i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.
this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.
i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:
DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE
hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.
and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.
you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.
okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.
YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS
good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.
porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!
as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.
while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!
to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!
YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY
hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.
god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!
this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).
okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!
also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.
abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.
I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT
kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.
please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.
as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.
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radicallxser · 3 months
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"Careful", you snag the boy's shirt before he can step into the road. The boy's head snaps away from his phone and towards you.
He looks pissed but you watch his face shift into a blank sort of stare.
"Sorry-", you release the grip on his shirt, shifting the carrier on your hip, "you should pay more attention when you're this close to the road."
You offer him a weak smile and he blinks up at you, then turns and scurries across the road, focused back onto his phone. Sighing, you adjust baby carrier and begin walking again.
The walk isn't a horrible one, ten minutes is nothing on the half hour walk it takes you to get to work. It's just a little more difficult with a awkward sized baby carrier.
Typically you'd take the train, but you need to get to the grocery store before it gets dark. The air is already chilly but the forecast calls for snow and the baby doesn't need that.
-
The store is a little warmer when you step inside and you even manage to snag a buggy.
The store is relatively quiet and you find what you need to...except for the box of baby rice towards the back on a shelf you can't reach.
You groan softly, glancing at the snoozing babe. She loves those...
You stand on your very tiptoes, grabbing at air. Then, a hand reaches up and grabs them. You turn, about to ask them for the box, when the man passes the box to you.
"Here, you looked like you needed help." He holds the box out with one hand, running his fingers through his black hair with the other.
You blink curiously at him, then take the box.
"Thank you so much, hon." You grin, placing the item in your cart and hurrying to check out.
-
The walk is still cold, despite the sun barely starting to set. You shiver, somehow managing to carry the groceries and the baby carrier at the same time.
About half a mile from your apartment, you bump into a chest. Dropping a few bags and praying the eggs aren't in them.
"Sorry about that", a masculine voice mumbles above you. You tilt your head up to meet the eyes of a boy a little younger than the one who helped you before. He tilts his head, a tuft of white hair hanging in his eyes.
"Would you like some help?" He starts grabbing the dropped bags before you can answer. He makes a gesture for you to lead the way.
"I'm Jason, by the way. We live in the same complex."
You swear you've never seen him before, but maybe that's just you.
-
That night, groceries put away and a baby snuggled happily against your chest, you lay in bed.
Oblivious to several pairs of eyes watching you and the bickering from the rooftops above.
"Ummi spoke to me today, with the baby!" Damian speaks.
"Yeah, well I helped ma with her groceries!" Jason gives him a playful shove.
"Well, the baby smiled at me!" Dick jabs a thumb at his chest triumphantly.
"All of you hush!" Tim speaks up, crouched next to Duke, eyes focused on a familiar window.
Bruce looms nearby, caught up his daydream where he's the sweater wrapped so tightly around you. Someday.
Someday sooner than you think.
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washeduphazbin · 3 months
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Hello! I really loved the Adam x Reader Wife interaction hehehe reminds me too much of the dialogue: -You're an Idiot. -Yes... But I'm YOUR idiot... And forever 😌 Can we see a little more of this relationship?
You ABSOLUTELY can because it's the only thing on my mind since writing it. This will mostly be snippets of fluff between Adam and a female reader from my last one-shot. This is much shorter, but I wanted to give more of this dynamic before I work on a bit of a longer request someone sent in for them during the finale.
TLDR: Welcome to the Adamverse
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
"So this absolute cunt really thought it'd be okay to take one look at me and suggest that those Losers in hell can really make it into heaven and be redeemed!" You hummed as Adam sat with his head in your lap, complaining about his musical meeting with Charolette Morningstar. He looked up at you through his black lashes with a pout on his lips; you very clearly weren't paying attention. You had a book in your hands, which was taking more of your attention than Adam was taking up.
Now, that was something he couldn't let happen.
Your book was thrown halfway across the room in one swift movement, "Adam." You huffed, looking down at his innocent face, twirling his brown hair around his finger.
"Reading will rot your brain." He brought a clawed hand to his head and made a crazy motion against his temple.
"Pretty sure you've got that backward, darling." You felt his wings shiver under your touch as you stroked them tenderly, finally giving him your undivided attention. He stretched out in your lap like an oversized cat; Adam hummed pleasantly,
"Readings for losers, and my wife is not a loser." He shot back, yelping as you tugged on one of his feathers. "You bitch, the fuck was that for!"
"You seem to forget how much your bitch wife loves to read fuckhead." You shot back with a dirty look,
"Jesus, what's got your panties in a twist! I'm the one who had a rough day. First, I got blue balled and couldn't get to finish inside your sweet pus, and then I had to go to the most painful meeting of my life with the biggest doe-eyed fool I've met since her father. Now my wife is ignoring me when I'm clearly in distress." He watched in amusement as you tossed your head back with a sigh; you...his favorite winner. You caught the softer look in his eyes as you glanced down at him,
"Adam, you know I love you more than anything."
"I'm aware of how great I am, yes- if you keep giving me those bedroom eyes, I'm not going to be able to hold back."
"Glaring Adam. I'm glaring at you. I in no way want to fuck you right now."
"Impossible. No one ever glares at me AND no one ever doesn't want to fuck the fuck master; I'm a goddam delight, sugar."
He watched you take a deep breath of air in, "You did not just call yourself the 'fuck master.'"
"Ugh, duh, of course, I did. I am the fuck master. I've never heard you complain about this dick babe."
"You're an idiot."
"Ugh, duh. But I'm your idiot, forever." He mused, wiggling his fingers with his wedding ring on it. "Because you're gross, and you love me,"
"Unfortunately."
"HEY!" He sat up, brows furrowing in frustration. His jaw was set in a way you only recognize as a moment of slight panic and stress. "The fucks that supposed to mean?" You sucked in a small intake of breath, cupping his cheeks between your palms. He glared at you but still nuzzled against the soft palms of your hands.
"Darling." You spoke softly, moving to rest your forehead against Adam's, "I love you. I wouldn't want to be with any other person in heaven, hell, or on earth." His eyes softened, and you could see his face drop, "You're annoying as hell. But so am I; that's like our thing." You gave a crooked grin, nuzzling your nose against his, only to nuzzle his nose right back against yours. "I love you and that you're trying to keep everyone here safe and protected."
"I am; I want to keep you safe. You don't belong down there with them, and they don't belong here with us." He nodded rapidly, "You're so...good."
"You're giving me far too much credit, I didn't do drugs, and I didn't kill anybody when I was alive. I wasn't like a saint."
"You're a saint to me." You felt your cheeks burn, and you hit Adam gently with your wings; you saw his face light up and snicker. "What? You are. My saintly wife," You let out a strangled sound of embarrassment as he began to pepper kisses against your face. "Who's so good at praying on her knees-"
"And you ruined it." Adam tossed his head back in a laugh, pulling you close to his chest. You hummed as he nuzzled his face into your breasts, “Adam?”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
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enkvyu · 8 months
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“babe i messed up, we gotta go bald.”
“no!” you grab onto the electric buzzer and fight against him, holding gojo back. “wait, let’s think this through!”
“look at my hair, it’s horrible! i can’t go out like this!” your boyfriend whines and though he resists your pull, you know he isn’t putting force behind the gesture.
“you look…” you yank your eyes away from his head, suddenly struggling to look at him. “fine.”
“you paused!”
“it’s fine, gojo!”
“it’s not! if my lover can’t even look at me without laughing, what are my students going to think?” gojo checks himself out in the mirror of your apartment's bathroom, turning his head side to side to observe the lousy slash he had given himself.
“their opinion of you can’t go any lower.” you reassure him. “and it’s fine, really. just, put down that shaver, that’s it, put it down on the counter and i can fix your mess for you.”
gojo gives you a wary look but eventually relaxes his hold. you pick up the shaver and the handle is still warm from his touch. turning it on, you let the hum of the device fill the silence.
after gojo had decided to abandon his glasses for a blindfold, he realised simply letting his hair grow out in whatever direction would not cut it anymore, else he wanted to look ridiculous.
when he complained to you, you absentmindedly told him to get a haircut without thinking of the consequences of your actions. of course gojo wouldn’t just go to a barber, of course gojo would think he could style his own hair and of course gojo would pick the worst haircut, making the first move without another thought. and now, after running the shaver a few centimetres up from the nape of his neck, the both of you realised that he should never be allowed near a electric shaver ever again.
you exhale. "okay, i've got this."
gojo looks at you through the mirror. "don't stress. worst case scenario, i can just buzz everything off."
you stare at him. "i cannot love you if you're bald."
"seriously?"
"what's with the look? would you love me if i was bald?"
gojo doesn't even hesitate. "yes!"
that makes you feel guilty. you don't comment on the topic any more, instead channelling your attention to the shaver in your hands and the white hair above your boyfriend's head.
“hey, don’t ignore me. you wouldn’t love me if i was bald? what’s next, you wouldn’t love me if i was a worm?”
you bite your lip to stop your face from contorting into a grimace. “i’m trying to focus here.”
“and i’m trying to make sure there’s still love in our relationship.” he turns around and looks at you. “do you love me?”
looking at him, a small smile slips through your disgusted expression. your boyfriend was regularly annoying, but there were times when his childish behaviour was more endearing than irritating. this was one of those rare times.
“yeah, i do.” you admit.
“prove it.”
“huh?”
his hand closes around yours, the one holding the buzzer. “i’m going bald.”
“no you’re not!”
“this is my hair, i get to decide what to do with it!”
“gojo!” you quickly reach over and unplug the shaver. “let’s be rational!”
he looks at you with bleary eyes. “i love you.”
“me too, which is why i can’t let you go bald.”
“you’re lying. if you loved me, it wouldn’t matter how much hair i have on my scalp.”
you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. when you peek through your fingers, gojo is still giving you a wounded look. “okay fine, i would still love you if you went bald. it honestly doesn't matter to me, but is this what you really want?”
“and if i was a worm?”
you look away, busying yourself with tidying your already tidy sink. “are you going bald or not?”
“answer my question.” his hand wraps around yours. “you can’t leave here until you give me a response i can accept.”
you try to shake him off. “i’m not backing down on this, i will not love you if you turned into a worm.”
“i would—”
“no you wouldn’t! how would you kiss me if i was small and slimy?”
he pauses. “i don’t need to kiss you to show my love, it’s just a side benefit.”
“okay, and what about our species difference? what if i find a handsome worm and fall in love with him? he would treat me better since we’re both worms.”
“i would keep you in a cage so that you'd never meet another worm.” he says, completely serious.
“is that what love means to you?”
“i’ll fill the cage with all your favourite things!” he brings your hand up to his cheek and presses against it, littering kisses onto your palm when you don’t react. "it's also to keep you safe! you'd be completely defenseless as a worm."
"well, if you were a worm i wouldn't be able to keep you safe. you're the strongest, if you can't protect yourself then how could i?"
"that's something different. i wouldn’t be the strongest, i would be a worm."
"an unlovable one."
he drops your hand and grabs the electric shaver before you can. "i'm going bald."
you don’t stop him this time. “fine, go ahead. but when you’re hairless i am not taking the blame for this. if you even start to complain to me i will plug both my ears and walk away. that means if your students take photos of you and spread it like the plague, i won't stop them.”
“i knew it.” gojo says after a moment’s silence. “you don’t love me anymore.”
“if there was ever a time that i did.”
“when did you start falling out of love?”
this was slowly getting out of hand. “gojo.”
“when i ate your chcolate? i apologised, what else do you want from me? want me to kneel?”
“gojo!”
“is it because i used your expensive skincare? i was curious because it came in a little pipette thing and i wanted to squeeze it real bad.”
you hiss. “i knew that was you.”
“you seriously believed me when i told you it wasn’t me? we live together and we live alone, who else would it be?”
a humourless chuckle escapes your lips. perhaps gojo detects your intentions before you can act on them with his six eyes, because he freezes, backing up against the edge of your sink.
in his fear, you yank the shaver out of his hand and flick the power switch back on. the buzz fills the air.
“you’re going bald.”
“i was just kidding! i don’t want to be bald!” gojo leaps out of his chair and heads for the door. unfortunately, you grab onto his shirt and pull him back.
when gojo walks out of your bathroom a few hours later, his head is lighter than when he first entered.
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sped wrote this so i could post smth it’s so stupid i’m crying
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captainfern · 1 month
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You Know You're Right
Captain John Price x fem!reader
["You Know You're Right" by Nirvana]
[18+]
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• summary - an argument with your bodyguard ends a lot differently than you anticipated lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.6k • warnings - fem!reader, thick girl friendly ofc, bodyguard!price, protective/jealous!price, oral [f!receiving], angry!sex but not really, he calls you a slag once i'm so sorry but he doesn't mean it i swear, unprotected (obviously) piv, reader has a breeding kink but price is like babe chill, but he also has one, so uh yeah breeding kink (obviously), reader is on contraceptives tho x, dirty talk, praise, degradation, strong language, 99% porn 1% plot • also to note: reader is a wealthy woman in the english countryside. sorry to all my american cuties but you can be a sexy british heiress for a while x
and the uniform stays on 🙏
my contribution to @glitterypirateduck price writing challenge for this month. sorry for the lack of work recently. uni's a bitch. and sorry for any mistakes lol anyway enjoy x
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You don't know how long John Price had been your bodyguard for. You honestly couldn't recall the amount of days, weeks, months, years it had been since you had first met him.
Of course, you remember the day itself, the events, the moment you first met him. A crisp, autumnal morning with the trees around you alit with oranges and reds, and you stood on the front steps of your grand country estate as a couple of military-grade hummers pulled up in front of you.
You remember a few armed men spilling out onto your driveway, clutching M16's or AR15's or whatever the fuck they were because you weren't paying attention to them. You were paying attention to the man that followed behind them.
A man who, as the armed soldiers-of-sorts fanned out and scanned their surroundings, approached you with a warm smile that melted the early-morning chill from the air. With deep eyes that heated you more than the fuzzy housecoat you had bundled around you.
He offered his hand, and you shook it. His hand was warm too.
And the way he spoke– oh fuck, his voice. Flint striking steel and fire crackling from it's spark. A smoker. A man who, all so suddenly, sounded much too experienced to be the bodyguard of a wealthy woman in the English countryside.
"John Price," he had introduced. "S'a pleasure, miss."
You then smiled politely in return and introduced with your name. He chuckled lightly, commenting something along the lines of oh, I know who you are, miss which made your body grow even warmer.
You had looked up, ignoring the fact he was still holding your hand gently in his, and gestured to the three young men who were pacing around the front of your house, weapons drawn. "Will these gentlemen be staying with you for the entirety of your stay?"
He shook his head ruefully. "No, miss. They'll be gone within the hour. Just ensuring they know their way 'round in case they need to get here in a hurry."
You looked back down at him, arching a brow and finally removing your hand from his. He dropped his arm with a clearing of his throat, bringing his hands up to clutch the top of his vest.
"Will they need to get here in a hurry?" You challenged, almost jokingly, but John saw no joke. A joke about your safety is no joke he'd dear indulge in.
"No," he said sternly and quite quickly, you remember. "But it's just precautions. No, don't you worry, sweetheart. You're in safe hands. I assure you that."
Sweetheart.
Perhaps you remember the first meeting with John Price because it was the very first time he referred to you in such a way. Sweetheart. Now, a little over a year later, he still refers to you as such, but also–
"Morning, love. Sleep well?" He'd ask when you emerge from your bedroom in the morning.
Or,
"There she is. Rough night, pet?" He'd quip when you finally decide to show yourself about late-afternoon after a night out with your friends.
Or even,
"Need a hand with that, darling?" He'd offer when you found yourself struggling to carry the many shopping bags through the door.
Oftentimes, the way he spoke to you, the way he referred to you, was like you two had been married for years. And it wasn't only the way he spoke to you that had you going to bed giggling and kicking your feet like a girl with a crush.
Lingering touches and long hugs and kisses to the top of your head. John was always so warm and welcoming. His presence crackled like a fire in winter, lulling you to sleep or to a state of comfortability. If it was any other man, you wondered if you'd be weirded out by the closeness of him– but because it was John, everything just felt... right.
Riding horses in the springtime, and he'd assist you into the saddle with big hands running down your sides and legs, settling you onto your sturdy steed with a squeeze to your knee. He'd ride on a seperate horse if you wanted to canter through the forest; or he'd walk alongside yours if you were only taking a lazy stroll across the pastures.
Swimming in the summertime, and he'd smooth oils across your exposed skin. You'd revel in the way his large palms moved against you, such a strong man being so incredibly gentle. He'd watch you swim, his eyes occasionally darting up and around, before settling back on you again. He always declined to join you, angling that silly little boonie hat of his over his eyes to shield the sun's rays.
Keeping you warm in the wintertime, letting you snuggle up beneath furs and blankets on your couch while he chopped firewood outside, bringing the axe down again and again until he had enough kindling to keep the fire running for days to come. You'd watch him work up a sweat, muscles stretching and contracting beneath his shirt. Your entire body would flush with warmth.
But sometimes... sometimes the two of you didn't get along so well. And it wasn't your fault, you didn't think. You honestly found Captain John Price so confusing at times, especially now that the two of you had known each other for quite some time.
Partying with your friends, and you'd attract the attention of some poor man who didn't know what he was getting himself into. He'd smile at you, offer you drinks or a smoke or whatever you wanted, his hands beginning to wander as the music seemed to grow louder and louder and the colours around you blurred together. You'd laugh and dance and sing with your friends, this man actively engaging with you and–
It never lasted.
Price would swoop in. Sometimes before the stranger could offer you a drink, sometimes after. Sometimes the man never got the chance to even speak to you, with your bodyguard planting himself firmly in front of you and blocking your would-be pursuer.
You were never one to complain. After all, it was his job to protect you. But you didn't like when, after getting home in the early hours of the morning, he would roughly escort you to your room, ensure you wouldn't be sick, then leave without another word.
He'd be better by the morning.
And this became a cycle. A cycle of trying to combat the winds of a hurricane. Impossible, really. You just had to brace yourself.
But you were sick of bracing yourself. You were sick of getting fucking cock-blocked by your ex-military bodyguard. You were an absolutely gorgeous, rich woman living on her own in the countryside, and you fucking deserved to find someone. You, frankly, deserved to get fucked.
"I'm going out tonight," you told Price as you emerged from your bedroom. You were already dressed, looking impeccable as always.
Price lounged in one of the chaises positioned in the hallway outside your bedroom. He glanced up from his phone, glanced back down, and then did a double take. His eyes shot up again and he immediately pocketed his phone as he got to his feet, knees cracking with the speed of it all.
"I– you said you were just going out for a few drinks with friends?" He countered, eyes skimming up and down your frame. But not for any longer than a second, you don't think. Forever the gentleman, his eyes honed in on your face, his gaze already beginning to melt the icy facade you'd put in place.
But you steeled your nerves.
"I am," you said with a smile.
"You're going into the city? I'll have to organise a driver–" Price began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. You didn't live too far from the main city, but it was still a significant drive for simply a few drinks.
"No, no, we're just popping into town," you said, referring to the small, quaint town less than five down the road. "Having a few drinks at the pub. Nothing big."
You and your friends were regulars at the pub. And John frowned. He knew that the other regulars– a group of men you'd become familiar with– would also be there.
You clocked his frown and your smile grew. "What's the matter, John? Am... Am I not allowed to go?"
He huffed. "No, you can go, but just let me–"
"Oh, no need," you said with a batter of your eyelashes. You told him you'd organise your own driver. "And you don't need to come. I'll only be a couple of hours."
John's jaw tensed, and you could see the muscles moving beneath his facial hair.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm coming."
Your smile faltered. "No, you're not. I'm fine, John. Have a break. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be back before midnight–"
"That doesn't make me feel better," John growled. "I... I have no problem with you going out, but I need to come with you. I– I am coming with you, end of story."
Your smile had disappeared completely now. You then looked him up and down. He was dressed how he usually did, even around the house. A suit complete with the trousers and white dress-shirt. But he wore his kevlar vest over top, and with a belt stocked with a couple of sidearms and ammunition, he didn't exactly look inconspicuous. At least he wasn't wearing his boonie hat.
"Price..." You began. "Please, just... I'll be fine, okay? Can you just let me do something on my own–?"
"No."
You frowned. "John–"
"It's my job to protect you, is it not?" He cocked his head, daring you to challenge him. "You hired me to protect you. You pay me to keep an eye on you since there are a couple of real fuckwits out there that would want to hurt you, right? So why the fuck would I let you leave here alone?"
He took a step forward, opening his arms in a gesture of so?
Your frown deepened. "I deserve some privacy, you know. I appreciate that you look out for me, but I want to be able to enjoy myself in public without..."
John waited, but urged a mocking, "Without...?"
You scoffed. "Without you hovering over me. I just want to... enjoy myself, okay? I want to meet people–"
"Oh," John suddenly said, and his tone was less of realisation, more of discovery. "I see."
You scowled. "What?"
"You want to get fucked, is that it?"
Your mouth dropped open. "I–"
"No, no, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay," he tutted, shaking his head as you stood there, embarrassment suddenly festering in the pit of your stomach, as he appraised you like you were a whole new person. He sighed. "You want me gone so I don't stop the lads from flocking to you. Is that it? You want me to let you go out on your own so you can get one of those boys to fuck you?"
The shame in your stomach, pulling and pushing at your conscious, fizzled out and was instead replaced by a new flame of self-determination. You took a step closer to your bodyguard and jabbed a finger into the taut material of his tac vest.
"You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck, got it? I can do what the fuck I want. I'm a grown woman, Price," you seethed. "Secondly, yeah, I might just get one of the guys at the pub to fuck me. I bet they would, you know. I bet he'd bend me over his knee and–"
"Stop talking," John rolled his eyes, and the gesture made you a whole lot angrier. But he continued before you could say anything else. "You're not going. You can throw a fit if that's what you want, but you're not going."
Throw a fit. You wanted to slap him for that. But you didn't. Even though you were growing angrier and angrier at the man before you, there was something inside your brain that prevented you from going that far. Maybe it was the fact that... seeing him so protective of you... made you feel...
You shook your head to send the thoughts away. You're meant to be angry at him, babe.
"Fuck you," you spat, since those were the only words that managed to come to the forefront of your mind.
He grunted. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just a needy fuckin' slag looking for a quick fuck–"
You raised your hand to slap him. You wanted to strike your palm across his handsome face. A slag? Who the fuck does he think he is–
Price grabbed hold of your wrist before you got within inches of his cheek. And, quickly, you realised you'd made a huge mistake.
In seconds, he had your soft body pinned against the wall beside your bedroom door. He pinned you there with his body, hard and firm against yours, one large hand holding your wrist and nailing it to the wall, while the other grabbed your other wrist and held it by your side.
His face was close to yours. You could smell him. Rich oud, the warmth of some sort of spice note, expensive tobacco–
Your core fluttered.
Oh, fuck off–
Price shoved a knee between your legs, parting them and forcing a yelp from your throat at the way he dragged himself impossibly closer. The taut muscle of his thigh beneath you made you scream within your head, silently begging that the warmth of your clothed cunt didn't give anything away because-
You were fucked.
Fucked off, yes. Angry at him, yes.
But he was also turning you on in a way that no man has ever done before.
"D'you want'a try that again?" He whispered, the words ghosting across the heated skin of your face.
When you didn't respond right away, he pushed his knee up higher, shifting his hips closer to yours, humming out an impatient, "Hm?"
You shook your head.
"Didn't think so."
You frowned. "You're such an arsehole."
"I know," he said, words hushed. "But you fucking love it, don't you?"
The both of you paused. Breathing jaggedly, you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, a storm passing between the two of you, complete with the crackling of thunder. You could feel him breathing against you, and you willed yourself not to look down at where your bodies were flushed together. Instead, you remained calm.
You watched the way his eyes darted across your face. How they lingered on the curves of your cheeks, or the part between your lips. His eyes scanned over your nose, your eyes, your everything. You could almost hear his brain trying to keep up.
You could feel your core growing warmer and warmer, arousal pooling and no doubt tangible. Without a doubt he could feel it against the material of his trousers, soaking through to his thigh. It was already drenching your underwear, and probably ruining his suit.
God, you loved him in a suit.
"What are you waiting for?" You whispered your challenge, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat between you.
Price groaned and he released his hold on your wrists. Instead, he grabbed the fat just above your hip in one hand and wrapped the other around your jaw, before he was pushing forward and slamming his mouth to yours.
•º•º•
John Price didn't know how long it had been since he fell in love with you. He honestly couldn't recall the number of days, weeks, months, years it had been since the moment he first saw you.
But of course he remembers what the day was like– how beautiful and welcoming and soft you looked, bundled in your expensive housecoat with a sliver of your leg exposed to the chilly autumn breeze. He remembers the bright smile, tired but bright, you had offered him as he walked up to you and extended his hand. He remembers the way your hand felt within his, and how he didn't want to let go.
He remembers how his heart lurched in his chest when you introduced yourself, and he recalls feeling nothing but sincerity for the fact a pretty woman like you needed to be protected by someone like him. Oh, but how gorgeous you looked when you thanked him for his service. The almost-guiltiness didn't last for long.
You were always so sweet to him. Even when he put you in your place, told you what you could and couldn't do for your own safety. You were constantly being kind to him. Respectful and polite and understanding.
You were such a good girl.
And as the days passed, as they blurred into weeks and months and finally a year-ish together, you got all the more sweeter. But–
But you now knew him. You knew what made him tick. You knew exactly what to do to get your way. Saunter through your home with a pretty, coy smile and a soft hand on his bicep and of course, sweetheart, we can go into the city today. Or a well-cooked meal of his favourite food, paired with a pint if you really wanted to get into his good books, and okay then, love, I'll call your driver to take us.
You knew how to deal with him. And he let you, of course.
But as the months went by, Price couldn't help but grow resentful. His pretty girl, being chatted up by some absolute mingers in a big-city nightclub. Or maybe even the village idiots down at the local pub. How dare they?
He found himself growing more annoyed that they approached you, instead of worried that they could cause you harm. Sure, they were still a threat, and Price was doing his job. But also, also, they were encroaching on what was his. What belonged to him.
His good girl.
And he supposed he should have seen this coming– an argument bubbling up and over about it all. About how he was always there when you just wanted to socialise and have a good time. How he was always turning guys away from you. It wasn't fear, and John understood that. But he was firm in his thinking– you were his.
Oh fuck, you even looked gorgeous when you were angry at him. When you were spitting and hissing like a feral cat, and even with your claws unsheathed and swinging right towards his face, he found you to be the most ethereal being on the planet.
His pretty girl.
He didn't mean to call you a slag. Of course he didn't mean it. His anger conjuring into stupid fucking words that he couldn't keep hidden in his head. And even then his anger wasn't to you, but to the local fuckwits who haunted the village pub in the hopes of spending time with you.
Delusional cunts.
When John caught your wrist and pinned you to the wall outside your bedroom, he didn't mean to escalate things. He was angry at himself, angry for saying such filth to you. But then–
But then he felt it. His heart hammering wildly against his ribcage and your chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt the way you squirmed against him, how you arched off the wall and how your barely clothed pussy seemed to throb against the muscle of his thigh. He could feel your warmth through his trousers, feel your need.
His needy girl.
And he was more than happy to indulge you. Hell, he was more than happy to indulge himself.
•º•º•
John's mouth on yours was hot. Liquid heat passing between you, sparks flying as he pulled you closer by the hand on your jaw. He split your lips with his tongue, pushing inside with just as much strength as you anticipated. His lips against yours smeared your gloss, sticky and sweet, mixing with the spit that threatened to drip as he licked into your mouth again and again, chasing the taste of you.
You moaned into it, eyes shut and hands wrapping around his neck. Fingers delved into his hair, tugging and pulling and angling his head to get yourself closer. He groaned in response, pushing his pelvis closer to yours, and you could feel him growing in his suit trousers.
Then, you began to move. You followed him blindly, your eyes still closed as you attempted to keep up with the languid rhythm of his tongue. He licked at your teeth, your tongue, your lips, committing your taste to memory.
You'd never been kissed like this before.
You were walking backwards, guided by Price's large hands. He had two hands on your waist now, holding you flush to him as he slowly edged you back, back, back until the backs of your legs bumped into something. Your bed.
You broke the kiss, surprised, and turned your head to the side to see that yeah, he'd navigated you both back into the warm, lovely-smelling oasis of your bedroom. As you looked to the side, your bodyguard continued his mission, dragging his lips along your jaw and then latching his mouth onto your neck.
He groaned, tasting more of you. He'd imagined what you'd taste like, imagined the saltiness of your skin his lips. He now knew what your mouth tasted like. All was left now was–
John forced himself away, grumbling to himself and gently pushing you back onto the bed and into a sitting position. You smiled up at him, and he shifted to stand between your parted legs, cupping your face in two hands. He bent down to place one last kiss to your lips, before slowly– with cracking knees and a shallow grunt of effort– he lowered himself to his knees.
His hands dragged down your body. They rolled over your shoulders and arms, skimming lightly over the curves of your breasts and stomach, running over the fat of your hips and thighs. When his knees hit the, thankfully carpeted, floor, he gripped your knees and gave you a couple of comforting squeezes.
"Alright, sweetheart?" He asked, voice husky and full of yen– desire and longing mirrored in his eyes.
His eyes on you, his hands dragged back up your thighs and to where your skirt sat bunched a few inches below your hips. He pinched the fabric, toying with it while waiting for your response.
You nodded at him. "M'alright."
"Can..." He dropped his eyes for just a second to look at your skirt, before raising them again. "Can I take this off, please?"
You nodded again, followed by a whispered yes, please. You then raised your hips for him to pull the fabric down and away from you, shuffling back to rip it down your legs and fling it across the room. You giggled at his enthusiasm as he returned to his original position.
Price groaned low in his throat and leaned forward, holding your thighs apart. Your underwear still on, he pressed his face against you, his beard tickling the softest part of your inner thighs. His nose pressed onto your clit, his lips placing a kiss to your clothed core. This forced a moan from your throat, and you gripped your duvet for some kind of stability.
He kissed at the patch of arousal that had bled through during your altercation in the hallway, his nose nudging against your clit as he decided to swipe his tongue against you. He groaned and you keened, a high pitched mewl, your legs twitching either side of his head.
"Pretty girl..." He whispered, the rumble hitting your clit and making you mewl out again.
He kissed at your clothed cunt again, tongue smoothing along the thin cotton fabric until the entire area was wet with his spit and your arousal. Your legs twitched beside him, pleasure sitting fuzzy in the base of your tummy, and you wondered– no, you knew that he could probably make you come in your fucking underwear.
But he didn't. Whether you were thankful for that or not, you weren't entirely sure. But he eventually, and rather torturously, pulled away for long enough to pull your underwear down your legs. He let it fling from your ankles, not caring where it landed, before he was pushing back between your legs once more.
This time, he licked a fat stripe up your cunt before latching his mouth to your clit and sucking. You cried out, a hand shooting down to grab hold of his hair, fisting it tightly as he laved his tongue over you. His mouth was hot, burning at your core, but your body had now been set alight– the flame of pleasure coursing through your veins, heating your body. Your legs trembled now, thighs flexing either side of his head, his facial hair scratching and tickling you all at once.
John's movements were quick. Quicker than you expected. He seemed desperate for it as he licked back down your cunt and stuffed his tongue into your hole– in and out, in and out– before curling and repeating the process. You moaned at his well-timed movements, never leaving you dissatisfied or overstimulated in the slightest. Price was amazing.
He kneaded the fat of your thighs as he ate you out, enjoying the softness of you around his head. His cock was hard and leaking in his trousers, and one of the reasons he wanted you to quickly come on his tongue was so that he didn't bust a fat load in his fucking briefs. He couldn't handle that today. Not when he'd been waiting so long to have you.
"John," you moaned, stretching the syllables. Your hips bucked, his nose catching your puffy clit. You ground against him, moans bubbling from your throat as you tossed your head back. You rode his face, locking your ankles together at his back and anchoring yourself with one hand on the bed and the other in his hair.
He moaned in response, eyes on the way your body writhed above him. He loved the way you bucked up, wriggling in search of your coming high. Fuck, you looked gorgeous.
John screwed his eyes shut and focused on curling his tongue in and out of your sopping hole. He felt his cock twitch. If he looked at you again, he was sure he'd come.
You moaned sweetly above him, orgasm building tight in the base of your tummy. You continued rocking your hips, the mattress creaking quietly beneath you. But the sounds from your mouth, coupled with the wetness of Price's mouth on your pussy, was all that rang true in your ears.
"John, fuck– oh fuck, please–" You mewled, edging on a whine. Desperation was creeping in. You hurtled towards your high.
Then, you felt deep vibrations rock through your core (unbeknownst to you, John had mumbled a that's it, come for me, baby against your hole). The band of pleasure inside you snapped, and with one last push of your cunt into his face, you came.
You moaned John's name, head still tossed back as pleasure fizzled through you. Your thighs clamped down on either side of his head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you came on his tongue. John happily buried himself deeper into your heat, tongue licking you slowly through your orgasm.
He had looked up, chanced it, and watched you come. He managed to hold on and not come in his briefs, but he could feel the front of them growing tacky with his precum.
A few moments later, ensuring your orgasm had been well wrung from your beautiful body, John withdrew from your cunt. He unbound himself from your legs and got to his feet as you blinked up at him, dazed and fuzzy.
"Feeling good, sweetheart?" John asked, gently and carefully guiding you further up the bed. You crawled with him until your head hit the pillows at the top of the bed and John knelt between your legs, his hands rubbing circles over your bare thighs.
"Yeah... good..." You replied lazily, eyes dropping down to where you could see John's cock straining in his trousers. The sight made you moan, and you attempted to sat up, but Price stopped you.
"Hold on, sweetheart..." He murmured, placing a kiss to the top of your head before helping you out of your top. In companionable silence, he discarded the garment and went to work unclipping your bra, letting your breasts spill out as he discarded that too.
He groaned, happily to himself, reaching forward to roll one of your pebbling nipples between his fingers, his other hand groping the opposite breast.
"Fuckin' beautiful..." He muttered, and then leaned forward to kiss you.
You tasted yourself on him as he guided you back down. A soft tang, a subtle sweetness in his saliva. You moaned, fingers once again moving to card through his hair and stroke the back of his neck, just above his shirt collar.
While you kissed, Price slipped one hand between you and unbuckled his belt. He let the belt hang open while he deftly unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them open just enough for him to reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He hissed into the kiss, his hand on his own achingly hard cock causing pre to dribble down his shaft.
"Fuck..." He muttered into your mouth, and you pulled back, shifting to look between you. The image of your bodyguard still dressed in his uniform, but with his thick cock hanging out, was a sight to behold. You moaned, hips bucking involuntarily, the heat of your cunt coming within centimetres of the head of his cock.
Price moaned loudly, immediately dropping his hand to fist the base of himself while positioning his hips against yours. He ran the leaking tip, ruddy and flushed red from his arousal, through your soaked folds. At the same time, you both moaned.
"Oh my god," you breathed, still looking down. Price, eyes on your cunt, continued to smear pre along your slit, running his cockhead up and down, revelling in the way your arousal leaked around him.
"S'alright, pretty girl..." He uttered, not looking up from where he circled his tip around your hole. "S'alright... I'll make you feel good. I'll make you feel good." Then, he finally looked up, eyes boring into yours. You felt your stomach flip as he smiled warmly. "That's what you need, isn't it, sweetheart?"
His words dripped mirth. You whined, knowing where he was going with this.
"Just so desperate for some cock, s'that it? S'that what's got you all riled up?" John poked fun at you, referencing your argument beforehand.
You gave in and nodded, shifting your hips and catching the tip of his cock against your entrance. It made both you and Price release sounds of pleasure, but he held strong, gripping himself at the base and pulling his cock away an inch.
"Use your words," he instructed, voice husky, ash-laced. "Use your fucking words, love. Tell me how desperate you are for my cock. How much of a fucking whore you are for it."
The unexpected degradation punched a moan from your lungs. You babbled, "Y-yeah, fuck– need your cock so bad, John, please."
"Yeah?" Price teased, running the head of his cock up and down your folds again. "You need this cock?"
He pushed the head of his cock into your hole, and you moaned, arching your back. But he stopped there, the flared tip of him laying dormant inside. Your cunt fluttered around him, arousal leaking down the curve of your arse. You whimpered, attempting to push your lips down onto him, but a firm swat to your thigh had you pausing in place.
"S'this the cock you need?" Price asked, voice dark. "Or 're you wanting t'get fucked by some stranger? Want one of the lads down at the pub to fuck this tight cunt? Eh, sweetheart? That's right, isn't it? Actin' like a fuckin' slut lookin' for a quick fuck–"
"No, no, no, please–" You said quickly, trying not to get distracted by the way Price's accent was strengthening as your cunt fluttered around his cockhead. "S'only you! Need you, John, please. Only need you 'n– fuck, only need your cock."
Price growled, pleased, having itched that jealous spot inside him. That's right, that's what he wanted to hear.
His good girl.
"That's fuckin' right, baby. Good girl–" John pulled out and then pushed back in, slowly parting your walls for the girth of his cock. You moaned and he leaned forward to kiss you, being as gentle as he could while splitting you open. He murmured against your lips, "That's a good girl. Yeah, that's it, sweetheart. Doin' so well..."
The buckle of his belt clinked as John picked up his thrusts, stretching you apart on his cock. You could feel the bunched fabric of his trousers and briefs against you with each of his thrusts, and when he curled over you to kiss you, the feeling of his dress shirt and tac vest against your bare chest had a shiver rippling through you.
He kissed you hard, just as he had done in the hallway. This time, a bit of saliva did escape your mouth, rolling from the corner as you parted your mouth to moan, Price's tongue licking over your lower lip as the head of his cock punched up against the base of your cervix.
Just like everything else about him, the sex was hot. Price radiated warmth. The space between your bodies was heating up, and you could feel the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. Beneath his beard, Price's cheeks began to burn read, a bead of sweat trickling from his hairline. His hips moved quickly, but with precision, shunting you deeper and deeper into the mattress, making it squeak and groan.
His cock hit all the right places, too. Your walls hugged him, tight and hot and wet as he plunged up against your womb. John could feel you squeezing him. Feel the sheer hold you had on him, physically and otherwise. He grunted and groaned to himself, his balls already beginning to tighten, his lower back starting to strain from the effort.
"John..." You whined, second orgasm already fast approaching. You felt yourself beginning to tighten up again, your muscles pulling taut as the band of pleasure in the base of your abdomen began to expand. The drive of Price's cock was pulling it further and further. You were so close.
And when you were this close, John always seemed to know what to say and do to push you off the precipice.
Expertly, your bodyguard moved his arm downwards to press a couple of fingers to your puffy clit, rolling it beneath with a gentle stroke. He drew gentle circles that made you spasm beneath him, a panting moan filtering from your parted, spit-covered lips.
He continued the drive of his hips, cock hitting the best spot inside you. Bursts of light, of pleasure, appeared behind your fluttering eyelids, the intensity of it all making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. But you did– you forced your eyes open, lids drooping. You locked eyes with Price, and he smiled down at you in a way that was probably meant to be comforting, but it only turned you on more.
"My sweet girl, just look at you," Price cooed, still slamming into you. "So gorgeous. Such a pretty girl, an' you look even prettier getting stuffed with my cock, don't you?"
You nodded, delirious now. You wanted nothing more than for him to come inside you and–
The thought made you moan loudly.
He chuckled. "S'that right?"
"John, fuck–" you moaned out. "Fuck, please–"
Come inside me, you wanted to beg him, but the tip of his cock at the plug of your womb and his fingers on your clit had your vision whiting out as the band in your stomach snapped again.
You came hard. Legs locked around his waist, the fat of your thighs and stomach rippling with his strong movements, you came. Arousal gushed out around his cock, the sensation forcing an unexpected whimper from you. The slick walls of your cunt clutched the girth of him, squeezing with each fluttering pulse of your erratic heartbeat. Fuzzy pleasure washed over you and, just like with his mouth, he stroked your clit through your orgasm and stopped right at the brink of overstimulation.
But you gained no mercy after coming.
John redoubled his efforts. With two strong arms either side of you, he rutted into you with renewed energy, now chasing his own high. His balls, almost painful at this point, smacked against the plush curve of your arse, with the head of his cock leaking inside you.
Oh fuck, he wasn't wearing a condom.
He knew you were on contraceptives. Of course. He knew almost everything about you now. But the thought–
"John–!" You all but sobbed, wriggling beneath him, becoming impatient. Not because you wanted it to end, but because you wanted him to end inside you. "John, please come inside me."
"Fucking hell," he grit out between clenched teeth, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Stuffing you full of him. Coming right up against your cervix, flooding your womb. Filling you out, watching you grow fat with his kid. Laying claim to you, how you were truly his. His pretty girl. His good girl.
Not today.
But the thought alone had Price coming.
"F-fuck, take it, sweetheart, jus'– fuckin good girl, take my cum, baby–" Price muttered, pumping his hips as he came. He filled you with the same kind of warmth he radiated. Comfort and security, maybe.
You moaned quietly once Price'd emptied himself inside of you, and you relaxed your legs so he could flop to the side. Cock still inside you, softening just a bit, Price curled you into him, his face resting in the crook of your neck, your legs entangled.
The two of you caught your breaths, breathing in each other's scent and the pungency of sex. Your eyes opened and closed lazily, the heat of Price's body lulling you to sleep. But you forced your eyes open when Price pulled back– only to change positions. His suit rustled as he pulled you in against him, and you wished you could run your fingers through the hair on his toned chest.
After a little while, you felt Price kiss the top of your head.
"Feeling alright, love?" He asked, and the sincerity in his voice had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
"Yeah," you replied. "More than alright. I... thank you."
"Thank you," Price said, nuzzling into the top of your head.
•º•º•
The two of you basked in each others company for what seemed like hours before a buzzing broke the haze of whatever dream you were living. Peeling yourself away from Price for a moment, you reached over to your discarded purse and fished your phone out, finding it alight with missed calls and messages from your friends.
You almost felt guiltly.
"Cancel," John grumbled below you, seemingly already knowing what you were looking at. "You're not going out tonight, are you?"
"No, 'm not feeling up to it," you said, smiling.
John, burying himself into the crook of your neck once more, arms wrapped securely around you, smiled too.
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
this was the first long-ish fic i've written in a while so forgive me if it wasn't my usual best lolol. anyway thank you for reading and make sure to go check out the other @glitterypirateduck submissions for this writing challenge
lots of luv <3
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hollyoongs · 11 days
Text
NUMBER ONE ✦ S.JY
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pairing scuderia ferrari racer!jake x scuderia ferrari race engineer!fem reader
summary The Australian Grand Prix was something Jake has been looking forward to winning since he entered the F1 races, so when he wins, he also wins a big victory celebration on your part.
genre smut
warnings thigh humping, orgasm denial, fingering, 69, squirting (two times), use of sexual toy (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby and princesse), spanking, sub!reader, dom!jake (he's so pussy drunk)
a/n this is my first gift from me to my lovely friend @cmoundiamante since it's her birthday and because I couldn't decide which of my gifts to post, but both of this deserve to be out here. Also, this happens in an alternative universe where en- and bynextdoor are actually F1 racers, only the teams that actually play in F1 remains the same and I've the permission of my friend to actually use her format since it's her present, in case you didn't know.
wc +3.9k
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As you walked into the bustling Australian Grand Prix track alongside the rest of the Scuderia Ferrari team, the air was charged with excitement. The fans' euphoric screams reverberated throughout the circuit, a cacophony of support for their favorite teams. It was a special Grand Prix, especially for one person in particular, Jake Shim.
For Jake, racing in Australia held significance beyond the adrenaline of competition. It was a melding of his upbringing, shaped both by the country that practically raised him and the Korean customs instilled by his parents. As he donned his racing suit, the blend of cultures felt palpable, driving him to perform at his best on the track.
Amidst the buzz of the paddock, you caught sight of Jake preparing himself. As you made your way over to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his determination and skill. "Hey, Jake," you greeted him with a warm smile, "ready to show them what you're made of out there?"
Jake returned your smile, his eyes alight with determination. "You know it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "This one's special, not just for me but for us."
"Don't lie to yourself."
"It's actually true. I'm in my hometown with the girl of my dreams on the team that I've worked so hard to get into."
"Ah, so I'm just the girl of your dreams now?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you adjusted the lanyard around your neck, indicating your role as a Scuderia Ferrari steward.
Jake chuckled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "Of course not; you're more than that. You're the reality of my dreams," he said, his tone sincere as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.
"Smooth talker," you remarked with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "But seriously, Jake, I have a good feeling about today. You've been putting in the work, and it's going to pay off."
His smile widened, mirroring the confidence that radiated from him. "Thanks, babe. I'm going to give it my all out there and take that trophy home." He said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination.
"I'm actually looking forward to it because…" You went near him, your lips at the same height as his "I don't want to waste your victory present."
"What do you mean?"
"Want a clue? You know what they say about a nice outfit…" You leaned in, kissing him and making him sigh when you went back again to his ear. "It's what's underneath that counts."
"Jake! It's time to be in position for the practice race." You backed away with an angelic smile for the boss after he called out your boyfriend. He was pushing your boyfriend backwards to his car as Jake was eyeing you up and down with his characteristic flirty smile.
The engines roared to life, filling the air with a symphony of power as the cars lined up on the grid, ready to tear through the track at breakneck speeds. Jake sat in his Ferrari, his focus razor-sharp as he visualized every turn and every maneuver he would need to make to clinch victory on his home turf. Behind him was his friend, Mingi, who was also adjusting to the car and communicating with the staff.
Beside him, the Red Bull of Sunghoon sat poised, his friend exuding confidence as he eyed the competition ahead. Mercedes' Nishimura Ri-Ki, ever the formidable opponent, sat further down the grid, his steely gaze betraying his determination to reclaim the top spot.
McLaren's Kim Sunoo exchanged a grin with Yang Jungwon, his teammate, as they prepared to make their mark on the race. Aston Martin Aramco, with Lee Heeseung and Park Jongseong at the helm, were determined to prove their worth on the track.
Alpine's Han Dongmin, the youngest of all the F1 drivers, shared a nod with his teammate Kim Donghyun, their eyes reflecting the fire of competition burning within. Williams, RB, Kick Sauber, and Haas completed the grid, each team eager to showcase their talents amidst the throngs of fans cheering from the stands.
As the lights above the track blinked to life, signaling the imminent start of the race and the end of the one and only, the tension reached a fever pitch. The air crackled with anticipation, the fans holding their breaths in anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold.
And then, with a deafening roar, the race began.
The cars surged forward, a blur of colors streaking past as they jostled for position in the opening corners. Jake navigated the chaos with precision, his Ferrari darting through the pack as he chased the elusive lead.
Beside him, Sunghoon fought tooth and nail to maintain his position, his Red Bull dancing on the edge of control as he pushed it to its limits. Ri-Ki, ever the strategist, bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
As the race unfolded, the crackle of the radio cut through the roar of the engines, a lifeline connecting Jake and his team to navigate the twists and turns of the track. Amidst the chaos, your voice broke through, a beacon of calm in the storm.
"Jake, you're doing great out there," you said, your tone laced with encouragement. "Just keep your focus, and remember to breathe. You've got this."
Jake's grin was audible through the radio as he replied, his voice brimming with determination. "Thanks, darling. I'm feeling good; I just need to stay sharp."
"Just remember to control the curves in Sector 3 and let me know if there's a problem."
"Yes, ma'am." You let out a small smile with the nickname and started getting nervous for him.
As the laps ticked by, the race intensified, with each corner a battle for supremacy as the drivers pushed themselves and their machines to the absolute limit. Jake only went to the box two times, which made him pass from 4th to 6th, but he was so willing to take the win home, which made him give his all. Jake, fueled by the cheers of the crowd and the support of his team, refused to relent, inching ever closer to the front of the pack.
And then, as the checkered flag loomed on the horizon, Jake made his move. With a daring maneuver, he seized the lead, his Ferrari passing all the cars in front of him, and taking the opportunity of Ri-Ki's and Heeseung's hitting the box, Jake just went for it, his mind going blank for a second.
"And what a story this is for Jake Shim. What a performance! What a comeback! A Ferrari one-two headed by Jake Shim, who wins the Australian Grand Prix"
"Wait… did I hear that correctly?"
"Fuck yeah, you did P1!" You just won!" He clapped fast a few times, and before he sreamed of joy, he just couldn't believe it. He gave the last victory lap to the fans and went straight to his team.
As he climbed from his car, he took off his helmet with a triumphant smile on his face, the staff jumping to him in excitement. He caught sight of you in the crow, your eyes shining with pride. Crossing the paddock, he swept you up in his arms, the taste of victory sweet on his lips as he held you close and tasted your lips in a fond kiss, right before he ran to the podium and received not only the champagne that the three top drivers of the GP opened in a celebratory manner, but when Jake held high and proud the trophy, hearing all the cheers.
As all the events ended and all the staff got together in a happy mood, the head of the team made his way to the center of a circle, a joyful aura shining in him.
"I want to say congratulations to Jake and Mingi; today's performance was amazing, and because of that, we're going to have a celebration!" The boss announced it, his voice booming over the cheers of the team. "And since Ferrari came out on top, we will have a celebration later! So have a good rest, and we will let everyone know where it is after we prepare it. Great job everyone!"
After the exhilarating celebrations and festivities, the adrenaline began to wane, leaving in its wake a pleasant exhaustion that seemed to seep into every muscle and bone. Jake glanced at you, a contented smile gracing his lips as he realized just how much he was looking forward to some quiet time alone with you.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close. "Are you ready to head back to my place? I could use some rest and relaxation after today's excitement."
You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes as you replied, "Lead the way, champion. I'll be right behind you."
As you made your way through the bustling paddock and out into the cool evening air, the adrenaline of the race slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet anticipation of the intimate moments to come.
Once you arrived at Jake's house, the soft glow of the lights illuminated the room, casting a warm, inviting aura over everything.
"I'm going to the bathroom." You said, Jake saw your way, and his side smile popped out. You rolled your eyes. "No."
"Come on, you said—"
"I know what I said. Come to the bedroom in twenty." After you said that, you turned around and went to the shared bedroom, feeling his gaze on your ass as you walked out, swaying your hips slightly.
You showered quickly enough to get yourself ready, looking in the mirror every time you did something. You saw yourself, and you were proud of what you saw: the burgundy lingerie covering your body, a 4-piece lingerie set that featured a bra, a g-string pant, and a thigh garter, the floral lace soft underwire bra with garter leg straps highlighting your legs line, the light makeup in contrast to the color of your lips that matched your whole outfit, and of course, the color of your boyfriend team. You were fixing your hair when you heard the door of the bedroom open up. You looked at the time on your phone, and he actually waited twenty minutes.
“Babe? What are you doing?” You opened the door to reveal yourself to Jake, his eyes widening at the image.
Jake stood in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The soft glow of the bedroom lights played over your figure, accentuating every curve and contour of your body clad in the enticing burgundy lingerie set. His eyes lingered on the delicate lace and the way it hugged your curves in all the right places, igniting a fire of desire within him.
"You… you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire as he stepped closer, unable to tear his gaze away from you.
A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his intense gaze. "I'm glad you think so," you murmured, feeling a surge of confidence at his reaction.
Jake closed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out to trace the lines of the lace along your skin. His touch sent shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire of longing deep within you.
"You know," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Seeing you like this… It's almost too much to handle."
A soft gasp escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, caressing every inch of your exposed skin, leaving you trembling with anticipation.
"You're the winner today," you whispered, your voice barely above a breathless sigh as you melted into his touch, your hands going straight to the buttons of his jeans, opening them up as you moved your hands to remove his shirt. The tattoo on his ribs is on full display, and his necklaces are shining in his neck. "I will do anything that you want. Congratulations, winner."
With a hunger that matched your own, Jake captured your lips in a searing kiss, his desire evident in every movement and every touch. In that moment, all thoughts of the race and of the celebrations faded into the background, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable passion that burned between you.
The kisses followed their level; all the passion could be seen in those kisses, as Jake would not take his hand off your neck and the other one off your figure while making his hair a mess that he could care very little about. They went a little further into bed. You sat Jake down with a gentle push, and you opened his legs with your hands as you kneeled down to him, taking off his pants once and for all.
The moment you stood up, Jake started playing with a thread from your thong, stopping almost immediately when you positioned your entry on his right thigh and stuck your lips to his sensitive neck.
His breath hitched as your lips trailed along his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His fingers tightened around the delicate lace of your lingerie, pulling you closer to him as he let out a low groan of pleasure. Every touch and every whisper of your lips against his skin fueled the fire burning between you, igniting a passion that threatened to consume you both.
As you continued to explore each other's bodies with feverish intensity, time seemed to slow to a standstill, the world outside disappearing as you lost yourselves in each other. With every kiss and every caress, the connection between you deepened, transcending the physical realm and delving into something far more profound.
In that moment, there were no barriers, no inhibitions, just the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. And as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of desire, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with endless pleasure and exploration.
You could feel how your pants started getting wet with Jake's caresses, especially on occasional taps on your breasts and buttocks. You started with a gentle movement that let out a sigh from your side. You looked for some sign of dissatisfaction in your partner, meeting Jake biting your lower lip while watching your action. Jake dropped the palms of his hands at every slap of your ass, making you pant in combination with a little surprise.
"You're too much for me, baby." Jake threw his head back and raised his hands to your hips, the top of his thigh being soaked by your natural lubricant. You hid your face in the hole connecting his neck and shoulder, his ear receiving your ecstatic jades, making known the wave of pleasure you were feeling. He stopped your movements for a second and handled your hips so that you jumped on his thigh. The vibration they caused went straight to your clitoris, making you moan a little higher than usual.
Jake took his hands out of his place and removed your bra. Delighted with the movements of your breasts with the leaps he made, he took his hands behind him and smiled with a little malice. Jake knew when you were at the edge, repeating his name amidst loud moans and whining so he could fuck you like they both knew they liked.
"You're close, princess?" You gave a loud moan in response, and he took your jaw and made you look at him. "Tell me, baby. Are you going to cum for me?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna cum so bad." You started speeding up, feeling the knot of pleasure about to explode until they were stopped by Jake, who held you as he took out his legs, causing you to shake by the sudden stop.
He once again attracted your lips, holding you as close as he could to calm yourself down and shut the whines from your mouth. His hands snaked to your back thighs and made you jump, your legs wrapping his hips and getting your dripping entrance in touch with his clothed erect member, making him moan in your lips.
Jake left you in bed for a moment, opening the closet in pairs until he found his favorite object. You couldn't hold your breath knowing what was in his hand. He stood in front of the bed with it in his hand, still with that smile you loved, but right now, it made you tremble.
"You told me I could do what I wanted, right?" You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he scanned your body again with desire; you could feel it for miles. "You know how I like to see you."
Without waiting any longer, you sat in bed, making a space for him. Jake took off his annoying boxers, and he was next to you in no time. With a little sign, you put your covered entrance on his face, his lips kissing your inner thighs, which made you sigh with pleasure, still delighted with what you did earlier. You licked your lips when you saw his dick, completely erect and red, desperate to be cared for. Jake's hands completely lowered your last complicated garment, opening your vagina with his two fingers and blowing a little to get a moan out of you that reached his dick, getting him to move a little.
You spat on his dick, feeling his legs shake because of the sudden action. Your right hand caught him, creating a delicious swing that made Jake moan. You could feel your fluids falling into Jake's face because of Jake's stimulation of your clitoris; something he loved too much was seeing your entrance palpitating in anticipation.
"Baby, do you want my fingers first or my tongue?" You liked that thought of it, which makes you close around nothing, and now it was Jake turning to lick his lips. He slapped your ass one more time, making your entrance touch his mouth, the sensation making you stay there. "My good girl wants to be eat out? Making you more wet than you are so my dick can enter your pretty and tight cunt?"
"Fuck yeah, Jake, please eat me out." Your voice sounded so pretty to him that he just forced you down to stay there with his arms in your legs.
"Good fucking girl," for a second, you forgot to continue your movements, the pleasure being too much with his tongue creating circles in your clitoral area and traveling all across your entrance. You starred at your movements on his dick at a faster pace, getting in response to him squeezeing your ass in delight.
Now, your mouth was on his tip, kitten licks being delivered and causing him to twitch. You kept that for more minutes until you felt his two fingers ipening your entrance, your back arching up.
"No matter how many times I fuck you numb, you're still fucking thight. My girl is so thight for me as usual. Fuck, baby." He stopped his words and movements when you entered his dick into your mouth. His deep grunts and moans motivated you, loosing your throat so all of his length went inside. You hollowed your cheeks and controlled your gag reflexes.
"Baby, don't stop; you're such a good girl for me." The pace of his fingers continued faster, distracting you a few times, his cock blocking your loud moans and only the sounds of your wet entrace and his dick having the blowjobs of his life surrounding the room. You felt his dick getting swollen in your mouth, and his grunts just got louder.
You sucked everything out of him until you felt his fingers disappearing from your entrance and the vibration of the vibrator he pulled out on your clitoris. Your mouth was opened for that, and Jake's first drop of sperm stopped right at the back of your throat. Jake's hand took his dick, moving it fast, and let all its essence fall on your face and part of your clavicles, some of it landing inside your mouth. His other hand had stuck the vibrator on you, your body shaking endlessly and your moaning finally being free.
Jake settled in where his head was before; now there was his dick, his fingers going back in, and you felt like any minute you were going to collapse.
"I know you're going to cum, but you have to wait one minute. Can my good girl do that?"
"Yes, Jake. I can do that." Jake turned up the speed of it, and you just shoved your head into the pillow, hearing him count so slowly that you were staring to get a tear in your eye. One minute passed, and he smiled proudly.
"Cum all over my dick, baby," as you did it. His fingers made more obvious the amount of squirt coming down to his dick and legs, wetting your lower bodies for another minute, and he did not stop his fingers until you had nothing. You got on all fours after a few seconds of watching him move his dick up and down again., him puching you like you were before. Your ass up and your face planted on the mattress. "Stay like that."
"For fuck sakes, Jake. Let me—oh shit." His dick opened up your entrance suddenly after he put the condom in, your moans matching as you felt your mind going cloudy. Jake threw his head back as he slowly pushed himself to touch your sweet spot. You screamed in pleasure when he did it, being silenced by the pillow you were biting.
He couldn't wait, and his movements were fast, your ass moving like waves every time he thrust himself into you. Jake got as much noise as you, your thightness making him touch the sky, and your moans getting messier and louder once again.
"Jake, I'm cumming again."
"You're not. Not until I come first so that you can cum in my mouth." He felt how you clenched, and he slapped your ass. He took your hair in a messy ponytail and arched your back. "You want to cum? Then wait." The sound of your bodies colliding got faster, and he captured your lips when he felt like cumming completely. Once he left you, he grabbed the vibrator, reaching it to the tenth level. You held his arms, finally letting out the screams you were holding while that toy was inside you and your fingers in your clitoral area.
He laid down to face your cunt again. "Good job, baby. Make a mess all over me." His tongue got out of his mouth, and the view was enough to make you squirt bigger than the last one. Jake was so pussy drunk that he just went up a few seconds to have it all.
The heavy breathing of both of you was loud. Jake gently massaged your legs as you fell on the bed again, right next to him as he kissed you gently. The tiredness was invading both of you, but even with how tired you were, you smiled at him.
"How was your celebration?"
"Better than the trophy, for sure. You were perfect; you're perfect. I don't deserve you."
"Congratulations, my number one."
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makkir0ll · 21 days
Text
"you have really long eyelashes"
it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?
"thanks?" he replies
"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.
they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.
he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.
but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.
"can i-"
"no" he cuts you off.
"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.
"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.
"i'll buy you you're favorite food."
and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.
you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.
you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.
"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.
"still?"
"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.
"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.
he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.
"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.
"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.
"all of them?"
"yes, all of them."
he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.
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KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.
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yuukiiqwq · 26 days
Text
Satoru is the type to get jealous over little things because he just wants you all to himself. Right now, he's sulking on the couch. Why, you may ask? Let's rewind a bit.
When you finally moved into Gojo's house, you got a cat. No, you didn't adopt one. It was Gojo. He came back one day with a cat.
"Toru. Why are you holding a cat?"
"Excuse you! His name is Fluffball!" He huffed. "And starting today, he's living with us!"
You blinked at him. Did he just name the cat Fluffball? What kind of name is Fluffball??
"Satoru Gojo."
He flinched at you, calling him by his full name. His brain instantly went into danger mode and activated his secret weapon.
"He'll keep you company whenever I go on missions!" He said as he gave you the puppy eyes. "And isn't he adorable?"
You bit the bottom of your lip. This was cheating. He knew that you couldn't resist. You don't mind adopting a cat... but out of nowhere? Do you trust yourself with taking care of a pet?
You sigh as you gave in. You couldn't say no. The cat was adorable after all...
"Fine. We can keep him."
His eyes instantly lighted up as he smiled down at the cat in his arms.
"You hear that Fluffball? She said yes!" He spins around with the cat, causing the cat to let out a series of meows.
You shaked your head from his antics. "Stop spinning the poor cat. And we will not be calling him Fluffball."
Thus causing Satoru to whined immediately. After all, in his opinion, Fluffball was a great name!
That was a few weeks ago. Now, back to the present. You ended up adoring the cat. Which is fine and all, but you've been paying attention to the cat more than Gojo lately. Like he's right here next to you, and instead of cuddling him, you're cuddling that cat.
And the name you came up with for the cat? Even worse. You took his nickname and gave it to the cat.
How did he find out? Well, it started with you asking for the cat to come over to you.
"Toru, come here," you called.
Satoru immediately came to your side, but you had a look of confusion, thus causing him to become puzzled himself.
"Satoru, why did you come over?
"You called for me! Obviously, I came to your side as fast as possible!"
You narrowed your eyes at him. "I was not calling for you. I was calling for Toru." You motioned your hand towards the cat that came over. You immediately picked him up and covered him with kisses.
He was absolutely confused, and it wouldn't be the last.
Out of nowhere, all the nicknames you would call him would go straight towards the cat. No, he was no longer Toru. Or Babe. Or Darling. Or Baby. Or love of my life. Or beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend. He was just Satoru.
He regrets ever bringing that cat home. So what did he do? Well... he called Suguru for a favor.
The next day, when you came home calling for the cat, no noise was heard. You searched all throughout the house but didn't find the cat anywhere. Then you heard the front door unlocking and Satoru walking in with the biggest smile.
"Satoru, do you know where Toru is?"
He walked up to you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.
"Satoru?"
"Well... I invited Suguru over while you were out, and Suguru just fell in love with the cat."
"What?"
"He wanted to bring him to his house for a few days! He said something about how he adores that little thing and wanted to spend a lot, and I mean a lot of time with him!"
You immediately knew something wasn't right. There was no way Suguru would do something like that.
You sternly repeated his name– "Satoru."
You stared him in the eyes, waiting for him to tell you the truth.
"Fineeeeee. I called Suguru for a favor," he whined as he nuzzled against your neck. "You're spending too much time with Fluffball! You're forgetting your amazing boyfriend!
"I am not forgetting you, Satoru. We literally live together. You're insufferable, and like you said, you're my boyfriend. I can't forget you that easily. And his name is not Fluffball."
"Oh, so now you remember your poor lonely boyfriend! Don't lie to me!" He huffed at you. "You're calling that cat by my nicknames! What happened to calling me Toru! Or baby! Or my beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend!"
"I have never called you by that last one in my life," you said as you rolled your eyes at him. "Are you really jealous of a cat, Satoru?"
He leaned into you, putting all his weight on you. He was basically crushing you as he continued his whining.
"So what if I'm jealous! You're not paying any attention to me! I thrive off of attention! Especially yours!"
You chuckled at his response.
"There's nothing to be jealous of Satoru. How can I make up for your horrible suffering?"
You felt the instant regret the second those words left your lips. You see the way his eyes get clouded with lust as you feel one of his hands trail up your thigh.
"Oh, you'll make it up to me, alright," he whispered in your ear. "At the end of this, the only thing you'll be able to think of is me and my cock."
He then pulled you into a hungry and greedy kiss. He kissed you like he had been deprived of you for years. And in his opinion, he has.
You only noticed you're in the bedroom once you felt the soft mattress behind you. You don't recall how he brought you into the bedroom. All you know is that you're in for a very long night because he's not letting you go anytime soon.
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satoruoo · 5 months
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currently thinking about clingybf!gojo
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clingybf!gojo who refuses to answer to anything other than a nickname or a petname because you're his girlfriend and it makes him unbearably happy when you do.
"satoru, could you pass me the-" "tut tut, that's toru or baby to you, princess." "listen here bro, pass me the fucking remote-"
clingybf!gojo who you catch multiple times using your shampoo and body wash because he claims that it makes him feel more at ease.
clingybf!gojo who has no reservations when it comes to physical affection, throwing himself into your arms and burying himself into your boobs like the weirdo he is.
clingybf!gojo who spam texts you like crazy if you don't respond within an hour.
toru 💟 what are u doing baby what r u doing no way u made me double text u think i'm afraid of that shit?? i'm not ‼️ buzz buzz it's me again bitch BABY WHERE R YUO
clingybf!gojo who has absolutely no fucking shame when it comes to his love for you, shouting "i love you" as loud he can from across the street when he leaves for a mission.
clingybf!gojo who has entire albums in his phone dedicated to you, ranging from candid photos that he thinks make you look beautiful to x0.5 mugs of you that he keeps for blackmail purposes.
clingybf!gojo who brags about his relationship constantly to anyone who has a pair of working ears. nanami and megumi could not give a shit less if they wanted to. yuji is the only one truly invested.
clingybf!gojo who is one of those lovers who constantly ask stupid questions to see if your love runs as deep into your veins as his (he hopes it does).
"babe, if i was a dinosaur-" "yes, toru, i'd still love you and yes, we could have little dinosaur baby humanoids and yes, i'd still let you hit." "good, because i know i'd be the sexiest dinosaur you've ever laid eyes on-" "i changed my mind." "what!? why!?!"
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taggin: @sad-darksoul
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luveline · 8 months
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I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕
thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k
Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since. 
She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks. 
"I wanna see Spence," you murmur. 
Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary. 
"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me." 
"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way." 
You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do. 
It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door. 
"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands. 
"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger. 
He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that. 
"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"
You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.
"I don't feel like me," you say. 
Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last." 
"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid. 
"I know." 
You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this. 
"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay." 
The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand. 
"Concerning, right?" Emily asks. 
Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?" 
"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand." 
"Where are her clothes?" he asks. 
"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks." 
"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says. 
Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively. 
You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?" 
"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already. 
"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers. 
You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say. 
Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse." 
Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it." 
"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?" 
"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down." 
Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly. 
"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further. 
He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting. 
"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks. 
"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest." 
You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them. 
"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully. 
"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale." 
"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?" 
"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…" 
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