#i am more comfortable with that fucking thing than a hand drill

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw big shoutout to that woodworking class i took in my final semester of high school for allowing me to 1. not constantly sound like i'm talking entirely out of my ass and 2. hide some very niche secrets because of the like 2 full months of paperwork & osha training before i got to actually build anything

#dont click see all on the tags i accidentally went insane over woodworking Its Not Worth it #god that class was such a mess. it took so long bc we couldn't all go to the shop unless everybody passed the safety test #and. well i'm pretty sure only i and like 3 other kids actually wanted to be there . im still a bit angry about it yeah #i wanted to build a table for my mom for mother's day and didn't finish it til JUNE and then it fell APAAARRTTTTTTTT!!!!! but its FINE #I WAS GRADUATING LIKE A WEEK AFTER BUILDING THAT TABLE BUT ITS ///FINEEEEEE//// #THE actual knowledge that i still retained from it is really funny tho tbh #the only thing you can call a guard on a bandsaw is the lil 2" radius circle printed around where the blade goes through the table #if you put your fingers inside of that circle they will be Swiftly Removed #i am more comfortable with that fucking thing than a hand drill #however drill presses are fine. kinda fun actually #walnut smells really good when it's being ripped but the dust gets fucking everywhere somehow even more than white oak #that was my last class of the day that semester and i would constantly go home with my black clothes having turned brown #and i'll say. most fulfilling class i've ever taken to be completely honest #ik i am not attending a trade school but WHYYYYYY DOESNT MY UNIVERSITY OFFER WOODWORKING AAAAGGG #WHAT IF I DROP OUT TO BECOME ONE OF THOSE YOUTUBER GUYS THAT MAKES TABLES THAT ALL LOOK THE SAME HUH. WAHT THEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! #WHAT IF I WANT TO MAKE 32 TABLETOPS OUT OF MINIMALLY TRIMMED SLABS AND EPOXY THAT ALL SOMEHOW LOOK BORING. WHAT IF I MAKE BANK ON THAT #ITS! BETTER!! THAN ALL THESE ESSAYS!!!!!!!!! #ahegm sorry folks. what i meant to say is that whenever ebony looks like he's creaming himself over furniture that's me talking through him #all that being said if i ever have to look at autocad ever again i will start huffing the polyurethane

[leah-lover]

Two hearts one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader.

Part 2. Part 1

When you woke up the only thing you could feel was the soreness between your legs. Your consciousness took a minute to come to you. You started to slowly become aware of your surroundings. The pillow beneath you didn't feel like yours. You were on your side and a set of arms were holding you. You were being spooned by someone. Alexia was spooning you. Your eyes popped open as you started to remember what happened last night. You confronted Alexia. She confessed that she had feelings for you and you two slept together. Your jaw dropped when the details came to you. She threw you on her bed. You two made out. She Ate you out, and fucked you with her strap multiple times. She was dominant, rough, and demanding, but she kept praising you and telling how good you were for her, she praised you into taking her big strap, and edged you. She didn't let you come easily, you had to beg her for it time and time again. You also remembered that you returned the favor to her. You went down on her and she grabbed your hair while doing so. You felt proud when you remembered that you made her feel so good.

You couldn't help but move when the events of last night were flooding your memory which woke Alexia.

“Buen día.” She whispered in your ears. You then smile and turn your back. “buen día.” You reply. “ Sorry I woke you.” You whisper still.

“cómo te sientes?” She asked.

“ Well I can't feel my legs. Other than that I feel fine.” You say jokingly which she chuckled as a response.

“you are gonna force me to speak English aren't you?”

“ We can speak both.” You respond.

You two lay there in the dark, comfortable in the silence and in each other's touch.

Suddenly, you felt her hand trace along your stomach and chest, her hand was gentle she almost doesn't touch your skin.

“ Why didn't you tell me earlier?” You ask.

“ I didn't want to take advantage of you. I wanted to protect you from pressure and what people would say.”

“ Capitana, people are my last thought. I would trade everything to stay here with you forever.”

“ Are you sure?” She asks with worry in her voice. As a response you turn around to face her. Your hand cups her cheek, and kiss her in a short and sweet way. “ Yes I am.” You say as soon as you pull out. She attaches her lips to yours again this time pulling your body closer to hers. You make out for a little while longer only for your alarm to interrupt your sweet moment. You pull out from the kiss and touch her nose with yours. You stay like that for a moment before pulling out hold to shut your alarm.

You two then get up. You shower while she prepares your coffee. Once you were in the shower you notice the dark spots all over your neck, chest, and thighs. You smile and make a mental note to cover them up once you are in your car.

“ Seems like you had fun with my neck last night.” You say to her when you get out of the shower. She smiles at you and says “ I can do whatever with what's mine. “

“ So my body is yours then.”

“ Your the one who said that while begging me to come last night.” She responds.

“ Let's not bring that up or else I would want a rematch.”

You two leave her apartment and head towards the practice facility.

Upon arriving you two didn't look at each other or talk to one other. You joined your usual group and spent the day separately.

“te ves diferente” said Claudia after you left the gym to go to the pitch.

“no dormí mucho.” You respond.

“no, no es eso. Apenas escondes una gran sonrisa. Qué paso anoche” added Jena.

“nada. Déjalo en paz.” You respond before you run to the pitch leaving your friends behind.

While you were training you kept feeling Alexia’s eyes burn through your skin. As a result you were more alert to your surroundings. You kept making good shots, never missing the back of the net. You aced all your drills and tried your best to impress Alexia.

“Lo hiciste muy bien hoy americana.” Said aitana after you were done training.

“Me siento muy feliz hoy, supongo que eso ayudó.” You respond to her loud enough for Alexia to hear.

You went through the rest of your day at the facility normally. You did some recovery, you showered, got ready and left for your car all while not saying a word to Alexia.

When you arrived at your car you found her waiting by it.

“ Let drive to my house.” She says as soon as you two are face to face.

“ No.” You respond.

“ What do you mean no. Did I do anything wrong?” She says nervously.

“ I am not going home with you again.”

“ por qué¿”

“ I am not a whore for you to sleep with whenever you want. If you want to sleep with me again you have to ask me out on a date, charm me with your presence, and convince me to go home with you.”

“ will you go on a date with me?,”

“ No. “ You say before getting in your car.

“ This won't be easy Capitana.” You say before driving away.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #woso smut #woso request #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia x reader

[muniimyg]

10.5: love 》 series m.list

note: we made it !!! i am so incredibly grateful for everyone's love and support with c2u <3 meeting u all was so fun ,, answering ur asks and interacting thru comments truly made my day ! i'm glad i was able to share this silly goofy concept and have it well received . as usual ,, please lmk ur thots !!! i have 3 extras that will be posted soon (ie: their first hook up, a comfort scenario, and one final smut extra) so please look forward to those !!! thank u for ur patience ,, all the love 💗

warnings: sex tape vibes (kind of), pussy eating (nom nom), fucking LOL ... dirty talk & creampie! easy shit yk? lmaoo

taglist request: CLOSED

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

//

As much as Jungkook loves to play soccer for the glory, he loves it best alone. 

When the bleachers are empty and the field is wide and free—that’s when he feels the most love for his sport. To others, it comes off as lonely and sad but to him; it’s serenity. Sometimes, it’s the only place he feels like he can truly be himself. It’s a place where he doesn’t have to be anything to anyone. It’s a place where he can be lost and found at the same time. It’s also his go-to place when he can’t sleep. Jungkook hasn’t slept well in weeks. He figured it was time to be in his own space.

His haven. 

His favourite part has got to be when he plays so hard that he doesn’t even notice the world is waking up. The moment Jungkook looks up and sees the sunrise—he always gets this feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s an easiness that can’t be explained.

It’s an incredible relief. 

When he sees the sun, he stops playing. He takes a break and sits down to watch the sun bloom on the horizon. There’s so much bliss in the stillness of the world. He feels so much clarity when it’s just him, the net, and the ball. It’s like nothing else matters and his mind can focus on one thing: winning.

Jungkook has only done these late-night sessions a handful of times in his life. 

The first time was the day before Uni tryouts and he doubted his talent. Everyone kept telling him he had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t make him feel any better. To Jungkook, his luck was just like everybody’s. He was afraid of it not coming through when he needed it the most. Therefore, he worked his ass off regardless of his luck history. 

Note: Jungkook was the first in his year to get in. 

The second time was when he fucked up at a game and cost his team a minor setback. It wasn’t the end of the world—he just felt like shit.

The third time was the day he redeemed himself and scored the winning goal that got the team to championships. It was the best game he had in a while. It was also the first time felt tired of it. Tired of the game, tired of the play… Just tired. 

The fourth time was when he decided to take a break from soccer and tend to his burnout… Eventually, he came back after a few months. Of course, he did. He loves soccer more than anything in the world…

That was until you.

He didn’t go back to the field and have a session to himself to celebrate. No, he celebrated with you instead. You didn’t know and he never told you… But that’s what he did. The first day he came back to soccer, he went to you right after. With you, he found rest. 

That’s when he realized something… 

He wasn’t tired anymore.

At least, whenever he was with you.

He wasn’t tired. That’s all he could really ask for, right? To fall in love with someone that was his safety net. 

The fifth time would be today. 

Jungkook has been out here since 3AM, kicking the ball and practicing drills. It upset him, to be honest. He thought being here would help ease his heart. Everything feels so clogged up and messy to him. It’s like no matter what he does to try to clean up his mess, everything stains. So, he thinks to himself that maybe if he ran enough laps or kicked the ball hard enough—it would stop.

The mess. 

The yearning.

The loving. 

But it doesn’t.

No, instead his heart continues to ache. As he clenches it every so often, he thinks of you. Then, for a second, his heart is still. In the stillness, he tries to think of good things around him. 

At least the rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it was an hour ago.

At least the sun is coming up and it’s a new day. 

At least you were here—

Wait. 

You’re here?

Jungkook rubs his eyes. Partly due to disbelief and partly because the rain made it hard to see you clearly. Yet, somehow… In his heart, he knows it. He knows it’s you. 

How’d you know where he was? More importantly, why are you here? 

Why was his heart racing so fast again? 

Be still. 

He isn’t sure of what to do. Should he wave? Should he call your name? Are you here on accident? 

Considering it’s almost 6AM… It can’t be an accident, right?

Just as much as Jungkook’s head begins to fill with questions, yours does too. As you walk closer and closer to him, you can’t help but only hear your heartbeat pound louder and louder. Is this normal? To feel like your heart could jump out of your chest if it meant getting to him faster? You let your mind spin. 

Why the fuck are you here? 

What are you doing again?

Did you write everything down?

You sure felt a lot braver ten minutes ago… Suddenly, seeing him has made you doubt all the courage you worked to have for this moment. At the same time, the complex feeling of pure happiness and relief blossoms. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him. There’s a stillness in the world and it’s only when you look at him and it’s good. You know that now… But oh my god. 

You’re about to lose your shit. 

How did you get here?

When did it all begin? 

Was it from the first night you two slept together? Or was it the karaoke night when you realized you were waiting for him to kiss you? Could it be time he fucked you in front of your mirror and you vowed to never drink coffee before meeting up with him ever again? 

… No. 

Maybe it was when Mina came along. 

You gave him a blowjob just to stall him from going (bad move, by the way. That was pretty bitchy). Oh, and we can’t forget about the time you craved him when you were drunk out of your mind and all he did was take care of you. Half asleep, you woke up to him mounting your mirror on the wall… And well, maybe…

Maybe it was then. 

When he fixed your mirror, he fixed your heart. 

That’s probably why the time you two hooked up in his bedroom at the party felt so right. It was finally clicking.

You were into him then.

You just didn’t know how to admit it. Then, it got fucked up because you were caught off guard. 

The perilla leaf.

The exile. 

The hate sex. 

Everything good and bad has led to this moment and you can’t help but feel like you’re falling apart. Finding the origin of it all feels exhausting… In your head, you debate it all. In your heart, you’ve always known. 

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

The friendship, the sleeping with him, the hurting him—the loving him… It wasn’t supposed to do this to you. You aren’t supposed to be this nervous and so impatient at the same time. You aren’t supposed to feel this stupid either… 

But you do. 

… And that’s okay. 

Sometimes, with love, you’re going to feel a little stupid. You just have to cross your fingers and hope the person you’re being stupid for is just as stupid as you. 

In your case… There’s a good chance he is. 

As you stand on the sidelines, Jungkook places his hand over his eyes to see you clearer. He tilts his head in confusion as you drop your bag. 

Then, just like that…

It happens. 

His thoughts pause, his heart goes still for the nth time, and his world slows down as he takes in the sight of you. Nothing will ever be better than this. The same way he feels an ease when he watches the sunrise—he feels it as he looks at you right now. 

God, he loves you so much. 

He has known it for so long but this… You in this moment; it’s bliss. 

Complete and utter bliss. 

If that isn’t enough… His heart is completely undone the moment he realizes two things: one, you’re wearing his jersey, and two; you’re holding a towel in your arms for him. He can’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. All that shit you said about how you would never be a part of his fan club and how you could never be that girl…

Oh, this is gold. 

Honestly, it’s more than enough. For you to show up and make this effort—it fills his heart. Yet, you’re you. Always full of surprises and ways of making his heart go on overdrive. As he sinks in his thoughts and soaks this moment in; he watches you take a deep breath. Then, slowly but surely, you extend your hand out to him. 

It’s then when he knows it. 

The wait was worth it.

The wait is over.

You and Jungkook sit on a bench, under the technical area’s cover. For a while, you two watch the sunrise in silence. Both too afraid to say anything to ruin the moment—both so undoubtedly in love. Once the sun is fully up, you brace yourself. 

This is it. 

Jungkook turns to you, chasing your eyes. 

“You nervous or something?” he jokes, as he begins to dry his hair with the towel you placed around his neck. 

“Yeah,” you confide. “Am I doing this right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as you scoot closer to him and take the towel. In your continued silence, you take over and start to dry his hair. Scrunching the towel, you pat dry his neck and cheeks. He gulps, unsure of what to do… He likes it though. He likes that you’re taking care of him and that you’re trying. He knows you are. 

As you pat dry him, you try to find your words. It takes a moment, but you think to yourself… It’s now or never, right? You’re already here. You’ve already folded. 

It catches Jungkook off guard when you suddenly tug him close. Putting the towel aside, you cup his cheeks with your hands. Your hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s holding himself back from kissing them. With a pout on your lips, you begin your confession. 

“I hate being your friend.” 

Jungkook squints at you and chuckles. He removes your hands from his cheeks, smirking at you. “What bullshit are you on now? Didn’t we agree on—”

“I never agreed,” your eyebrows knit together. “It’s been like… A day and a half and I’m going crazy being your stupid friend.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Enemies?”

His suggestion annoys you.

You lift your hand to hit him, but he catches your wrist. Then, he opens his hands for you. You sigh teasingly but take it. Intertwining your fingers together, you two sit in silence again for a moment. 

Holding hands, watching as the rain pours, and preparing to give your hearts to one another… It feels like this could be a dream.

“Tae and Yuna, ” you begin, breaking the silence. Your voice sounds weary and desperate. “They’ve been friends since the very beginning. He always had feelings for her and she did too… But she didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. He’s dating Mina’s friend now or something—it’s so messed up. It’s so unfair, y-you know? They deserve each other so much and I—”

“Breathe,” Jungkook comforts you. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want that to be us,” you blurt. 

Jungkook blinks at you. 

“It’s so scary. Jungkook, I don’t want that to be us… B-but it is us, isn’t it? Y-you hate me because of—“

His eyebrows knit together. “___, I don’t hate you. Don’t say that.”

Your lips quiver, unsure of how to navigate through this talk. Maybe you should have planned it better. Maybe you should have written this whole speech out instead of word-vomiting like this… But that’s the thing. 

You aren’t good at this.

Regardless, you’ll try for him.

“I’ve been selfish,” you admit, letting your eyes dart to the field. You can’t look at him. It feels too overwhelming to.  “I’ve been inconsiderate and I know I can’t justify my actions because they hurt you—I just need you to know that I was scared. It was so scary trusting you, falling asleep beside you, and waking up next to you. It was so scary watching you laugh with other girls and not knowing how to tell you how I felt… I’m sorry I started fights while trying to figure out how I felt about myself… Honestly? I think I was so scared because you made it so easy.”

A beat.

“T-the truth is… I’ve always known how I felt about you.” 

Jungkook can’t help but smile. He wonders if you know what you’re doing to him… Do you? He’s afraid you don’t.

“Really?” he pries, moving closer to you. “How do you feel about me?”

Attempting to be intimidating, you turn to face him with a glare. 

“D-don’t push it.”

Jungkook pouts. “But I want to know… Please, please, please?”

For a moment you contemplate. Then, you look at him and take it all in. His wet hair, soft eyes, and pouting lips… How were you ever strong enough to say no to him before? Truly, you’re a changed woman.

Curling your fist, you shut your eyes and say it. You tell him the whole truth. 

You give him your heart. 

“You said you got ahead of yourself… But have you ever considered that I was beside you the entire time? L-like you said you’ve had feelings for me since the first time you made me laugh… Me too. I knew it then too. I just didn’t know what to do because every time I dated guys, it all felt the same… With you, it was different from the start. I don’t know how to explain it… All I know is that I like you in every way it’s possible to like someone—I like you. My heart has been yours all along. I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you. It just felt like everything with you kept falling into place and I was terrified I was f-falling too… I think—n-no, I… Umm, I know that I…”

Something others may not know about Jungkook is that he’s consistently bad at one thing. That one thing is playing it cool when it comes to you. He has to fight his inner demons to stop himself from professing his love for you every 10 minutes. So, it would be a lie that he wasn’t loving this. He loves watching you feel what he feels. 

Your words, sweet and well-awaited, completely captivate him. 

He can’t help it when you’re like this. So perfect, so cute, so his. He can’t resist!

Which is why he kisses you mid-confession. 

Jungkook kisses you slowly and deeply. Like never before, you lose your breath from how passionately he kisses you. Once you two pull away, he rests his forehead against yours. Smiling, he sneaks in a couple more kisses. 

Timidly, you say, “So… You aren’t mad at me anymore?”

With a laugh, Jungkook shakes his head. “God, you drive me crazy.”

“So… That’s a no, right?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and purses his lips. You press your lips against them and kiss him once more. 

“___?”

“Y-yeah?”

“... I checked my phone a moment ago and Yuna ratted you out. She texted me like ten minutes before you came. Said if you don't show up I should knock on your door and fuck your feelings out of you.” You gasp, burying your face with your hands. Sighly dramatically, Jungkook makes a cheeky comment. “Once again, I waited for you.” 

You hit his chest playfully. In pure disbelief, you groan at him. “What? Y-you knew and still made me do the whole speech—”

"I didn’t know!” You ignore his claim. “Although, I wouldn't have had any issue fucking the feelings out of you—"

"Are you insane?" you fume. "I was literally sick to my stomach trying to get this confession thing done right!"

“I was excited!” He teases, and nudges you. You remain annoyed at him. Jungkook can’t help but find it cute. “Awh, ___! Come on. It’s not every day that a guy gets to see his girl in his jersey, holding a towel for him on the sidelines! Also… I just really wanted to see what all your fuss was about. I promise, I didn’t know.”

It’s too late. 

Just as you stand up and storm away from the embrassment, Jungkook catches up to you. Out on the field, the rain continues to pour on you two. Drying him off was useless if you were going to be this dramatic. 

As he catches your wrist, you shove him away and cross your arms. 

“I feel stupid,” you sigh. “Y-you knew how I felt about you. I was worried and anxious the entire time and y-you knew!” 

Jungkook shuts his eyes and can’t believe how feisty you are. It’s entertaining and frustrating at the same time. God, you were so complex… But at the same time, he knows you’re just afraid. This is you finding an out. This is also you trying to stay. 

He takes your hand. 

You don’t shake him off say anything. 

You let him take it. 

He holds it like it’s all he has ever wanted to do (it is all he has ever wanted to do).

“I didn’t know everything! Hey, the fuss was cute,” he ensures you. “Do it again.”

“No!” you cry, feeling your clothes start to stick to your skin. It’s pouring now and you instantly regret being dramatic.

Except, Jungkook looks so perfect. His hair is wet and his shirt is soaked so you can see the way his muscles curve. He’s so handsome that you have to gather all your strength as a woman to keep yourself from jumping on him.

“This shit is so hard!” you complain through the rain. “How did you do this? You confessed like every time we fucked—”

“Yah!” Jungkook warns, feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe he should be the one to storm away now…  “Be nice to me or else I’m about to reject you.”

You roll your eyes at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you tug him to your eye level. Happily, he complies. 

“Do it then,” you call his bluff. “Reject me right now.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, loving the way you look at him. He blinks at you slowly and bites his inner cheek. For a moment, he’s silent. You’d think he’s contemplating or something… But he’s not. He’s been sure about you since your first laugh, remember?

“Kinda cruel considering you’re all I’ve been waiting for,” Jungkook confesses, as he dips his head low and kisses you. 

As he kisses you, you squeeze his hand. Holding his hand tighter, he smiles into the kiss. The rain continues to pour, making everything feel unreal. As he pulls away, he looks at you the way he always has… This time, you get what Yuna was talking about.

The warmth in his gaze.

The love in it.

The you in it.

After what felt like endless heartache with other boys—this felt healing. 

This was yours. 

Him. 

And that’s when your heart tells you something you never knew… 

You waited well too. 

You two escape the rain and make it to your place.

In your bedroom, you quickly get undressed and sit in front of your mirror to dry your hair. Jungkook comes out of the washroom all clean. Passing by you, he plants a kiss on the top of your head. You watch from the mirror as he reaches inside your closet for one of his shirts. 

Your high from the moment at the field suddenly dies. Suddenly, you realize the confession wasn’t enough to move forward. For fucks sake, he has his clothes in your closet.

“Jungkook?” you ask cutely.

“Mhmm?” he responds as he dresses himself.

You almost choke on your words. “What are we?” 

He grins, coming back to you and swaying you side to side. Without batting an eye, he answers: “friends, of course!”

Instantly, you push him away. Your shoulders slump as you glare at him. He laughs his ass off, loving the way you reacted. When he calms down, he kneels in front of you and apologizes. 

“Okay, bestie,” you play along as he gets up. “Should we eat perilla leaves to celebrate?” 

Jungkook’s mouth drops. His eye practically twitches at the mention of perilla leaves.

Throwing his hands up dramatically, he cries, “Oh god... My girlfriend is so mean to me… She’s so hot, holy shit.”

Girlfriend.

That sounds about right.

He’s so big. 

Sometimes, you forget that.

It slips your mind because Jungkook has always been a giver. You never really had to worry about it being uncomfortable. He makes sure you cum first and always puts his needs above yours—tonight was a prime example of just that. 

As he towers over you, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips. Each kiss is so soft and intimate, your pussy clenches at his very touch. It doesn’t help when he places his thumb on your clit, rubbing and stretching it out to stimulate you even more. As you moan into his ear, he feels shivers go down his back. 

You gasp as he bites your skin, enticing you to want him even more. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “put it in, please.”

“Mhmm,” he moves the hair strands on your face and kisses you. “Be good for me, okay? Be patient. Gonna fuck you good so I need you to be on your best behaviour.”

“B-best behaviour,” you repeat rather lewdly. “Okay… W-whatever you want, love. You have it. You have me.”

Love.

God, you and your fucking words.

Jungkook bites his bottom lip, trying his best to take his time. Truth be told, he wants to fuck you silly right now. He wants you so bad that your legs won’t work and he’ll have to tend to your soreness. He wants to fuck you so good that you scream his name and lose yourself in him… But he’ll take his time tonight. 

He wants to show you so much. He wants to show you how good he can make you feel. How you won’t ever regret your decision of being with him. He wants to show you what kind of man you chose and what kind of man you get to have.

A good man.

A man that has wanted you for so long that now that he has you—oh was he ready to drag it out.

Jungkook gently places his dick in between your folds. It’s hard and thick. You can feel it against your wet pussy and want nothing more than for him to put it in. Instead, Jungkook lifts himself and sits in between your legs. There, he holds the base of his cock and slaps it against your pussy. He rubs his cock up and down your folds. Then, he splits them open with his fingers and spits on it. He then spreads his spit with his cock. You feel so lucky when he pokes it inside once in a while. Like a tease, he takes it out so quickly that you begin to feel frustrated. 

“P-put it in, please…”

Jungkook smirks. 

“Put what in?”

You glare at him.

“Your hard, thick, stupid cock. Put it in my wet, needy, desperate pussy right now… Please?”

Jungkook lets out a sexy chuckle. “Not yet,” he tells you, as he fully stops. He then moves over and helps you sit up. Leaning against your headboard, he spreads your legs. Just when you think you can predict his next move, he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs his phone. Unlocking it, he passes it to you.

“Film me.”

You nod, following his orders.

Tapping record, you angle the camera to your pussy. You watch through the phone screen as Jungkook positions his face in between your legs. Gulping, you throw your head back as he makes his first lick. 

Jungkook holds onto your thighs, helping you keep your legs open. He digs himself into your pussy, devouring every inch of it. To deepen himself, he digs his nose in and curls his tongue as he licks you. When he pulls away for air, he sucks on your clit making sure to keep you on your toes. 

“Oohhh,” you sob. “S-so good. J-Jungkook—“

“Mhmm,” he murmurs onto your skin. “Tastes so good.”

“A-aghhh! Oh my god!”

The thing is… Jungkook has eaten you out before.

But this was different.

It was slow and sensual. The way he licks you and eats you out just feels so surreal. Your toes curl, your stomach winces, and your pussy tightens as you’re about to climax—

Jungkook pulls away. 

He has a devilish look on his face. You stop the recording and toss his phone aside. Suddenly, he takes hold of your ankles and tugs you down. On your back, you open your arms and welcome him in again. Gladly, he buries himself in your breasts and moans at your softness. 

“That was—“

“Everything my girl deserves,” he tells you sweetly. “My girl…”

“Your girl,” you pull him in for a kiss. “All yours..”

Jungkook moans, unable to stop himself. He lifts his hips, making space for him to quickly pump his cock before guiding it inside you.

… And oh my god.

He feels so good.

Him inside you is so fulfilling and healing. 

“You okay?”

You nod, mesmorized by the man he is.

“More than.”

With that, Jungkook kisses you and begins to fuck you. He thrusts in and out, making you feel his entire length with each stroke. Your body takes him in as if it’s welcoming him home. As he feeds you your craving, he picks up the pace. You wrap your legs around him, moaning from how good it feels as he buries himself in you. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook hisses. “Love this. Feels so good.”

“Mhmm,” you whimper. “J-just like that!”

Jungkook continues to fuck you, drilling himself deeper and deeper. Soon, you’re chanting his name and his ego begins to boom.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you… And you know it. You can feel it. To express so, you claw his back. Digging your nails deeper and deeper, holding him close.

“N-nghhh! I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, pretty girl. You behaved so well,” he praises. “Proud of you.”

Your heart flutters. 

Then, your pussy clenches as you release. He feels it. Jungkook groans, accepting that this round will be over soon. There will be plenty more, for sure. As he pumps inside you lazily, cautious of being sensitive to your climax but also because he’s hitting his. 

Then, he creams your pussy. It oozes out, but he pumps himself a few more times to stuff you.

As he spills himself onto you, he lets out heavy breaths and collapses on top of you. You let him catch his breath there as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I love you,” you confess. 

“Good… I was hoping you would.” Jungkook lets out a tired laugh. “I love you too, ___. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything I’ve ever loved.”

You hold him tighter.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. “Love, we are not going to play that game.”

Tilting your head at him. “Why not? It’s true.”

“You think you love me more than I love you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Prove it.”

With that, Jungkook laughs as you shift position. Leaving him on his back, you climb on top and straddle him. As you lift yourself to guide his dick inside, he lets out a whiney moan. You are so sexy. You are quite literally his favourite part of living.

“I’ll prove it,” you accept the challenge. “Will you last though?”

Jungkook’s lips slight part, amazed and shocked at your initiative. In response, he relaxes and gestures at your body. There’s a tightness that overcomes his entire body. It’s mixed with excitement and relief. For the nth time, he gives in.

Jungkook folds.

Happily, he gives himself to you.

“With you? Forever.”

Forever.

After 3 rounds, you two call it a night. As you drift to sleep, Jungkook holds you. Before this, you two talked as much as you could and even began to make plans. There is an indescribable comfort in being with each other.

Upcoming dates.

Better ways to communicate.

Everything and anything in between—you two want it all.

As the rain pours, Jungkook finally shuts his eyes. He pulls you closer, kissing you for the final time tonight. There would be tomorrow to kiss you anyway.

Tomorrow and the day after that… And the day after that. And the days that follow—he’d do just that.

He can’t wait to kiss you forever.

To hold your hand forever.

To love you forever.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook finds rest. His heart stays still and feels loved. Besides, this is what he has wanted to be all along—

Close to you.

#bts smau #bts smut #jk smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jk x yn #jk x oc #jungkook uni au #jk fwb #bts fwb

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is physically injured but it doesn't specify the cause, jason is big protective and tries so so hard to be gentle

a/n: alright alright y'all know the drill there's more written lemme know if you want it

You're staring at your reflection in the mirror, gnawing your bottom lip as you wonder how you'll explain the bruises across your cheekbone and around your eye. You hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that Jason doesn't get back when he says he will - that whatever work he's away doing as Redhood will take just a few extra days and you'll heal enough to be able to hide it.

Your thoughts screech to a halt, though, when the man himself steps into the doorway of the bathroom and lets his duffle bag drop to the floor when he sees you.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" Jason questions immediately as he stares at you, his eyes trailing over your form, scanning for more injuries. Instinctively, you go to cover your wrist and forearm, cursing internally when you realize that the only thing that did was bring his attention to the hand-shaped bruises littering your skin.

"Hi," you say quietly. "...how was your trip?" Jason all but snarls and stalks toward you, bringing his hand to your face so that he can gently, gently, hold your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilt your head, examining the bruises. You can tell he's noticed the small cuts from rings making contact with your skin when his jaw clenches even more and his eyes focus on yours.

"Baby," he starts, and the edge in his voice makes you still. He's angry, you realize, in a way you've never seen before. It's right there, under the surface, straining to get out, and the only thing stopping it is the fact that you haven't given him a direction to shoot in yet. "You are not going to pretend this is fine. We are not ignoring this. You need to tell me what happened."

"I know, Jase," you respond, shoulders slumping. You're tired, he realizes, and it's most likely that the adrenaline of whatever happened is wearing off. He slides an arm around you and lets you lean into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I just… I'm not just deflecting, you know. You're okay? Everything went okay?"

"Nothing worse than some scrapes" he soothes, going to wrap his other arm around your waist. You flinch, though, small enough that he wouldn't notice if he wasn't so attuned to you. But you're you, his person, and every fibre of his being is trained on you right now. So, of course, he notices. He notices the way you ever so slightly suck in a breath and tense in his arms.

"Baby…" he begins. You drop your gaze away from his. "Let me see, yea? We can wait to talk about what happened until you're ready, but I gotta make sure you're okay."

"I am okay," you mumble, still determinedly keeping your eyes away from his as you fiddle with the front of his Redhood armour.

"Can I check?" he prompts, and he's so gentle about it, so soft and caring and loving that it makes your bottom lip tremble. You nod in response and he presses a kiss against your forehead, murmuring thanks into your skin.

You step away from him so that you can begin to lift yourself onto the counter, but Jason makes a strained sort of noise and stops you, instead lifting you gently up onto it, keeping a careful eye on you to ensure he's not hurting you at all. Once you're sat on the counter, you spread your legs so that he can slot his hips between them and he places his hands on either side of your hips.

"Can I lift your shirt, sweetheart?" he asks softly and the whole thing, how kind and considerate he's being, chips away at you a little too much. Your breath hitches and your hands tighten their grip on the counter and you rip your gaze away from his.

"You just got home, Jase. You gotta be tired - why don't you shower, get out of your armour and stuff. We can do this later."

"Baby," Jason sighs as he cups your unbruised cheek in his palm and brings your face back to his. When you realize you can't avoid his gaze anymore you simply close your eyes, refusing to see the way he looks at you. "Can you look at me, sweetheart? Come on, hey, I'm here to keep you safe, yea? I'm gonna help you. I'm gotta make sure you're alright."

And that's all it takes for a sob to make its way out of your throat. You move to hide your face in your hands as you begin to cry, but Jason stops you gently, using a hand on the back of your head to guide you into his chest, letting you bury your face there and weep.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay. You go ahead and cry, get it all out. You're safe now, yea? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." Jason soothes as your hands grab at the jacket that serves as the outer layer of his armour. Truth be told, he is tired. He was away for a week dealing with this job and he can feel the way his body is aching and his head is swimming with exhaustion. But none of that, nothing else in the world matters when he has you, bruised and bloody and weeping into his chest.

Truthfully, there's not much that scares him more than this, and seeing you in this state has him rattled, forcing his own tiredness to the back of his mind. You, his baby, who is always so brave and stoic, who he remembers as a teenager getting into street fights and laughing through a mouthful of blood on several occasions, is trembling in his arms from fear and exhaustion and he's not even sure what else because he doesn't know what happened and you're in no state to tell him. So all he can do is stand there, keeping you in his arms and whispering any sort of reassurance he can think of into your hair. His aching legs be damned, there is nothing, nothing, that is going to make him move an inch until you are good and ready.

#smsn.writes #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine

[prettyboypistol]

TF2 Mercs x M!Reader || How the Mercs Jerk Off +18

minors dni and get blocked

ambiguous genitals for Pyro

Scout

The stereotypical setup of "makes a night of it" sometimes only to end up frantically fucking his fist 10 minutes later as he gasps out your name breathlessly.

Most of the time though his man is a horny mess. Sneaks off to jack off frequently (like 2/month).

Has jerked off in the showers before but prefers his bedroom to relieve himself.

HUUUGE on fantasies. Always talking to himself and imagining you in various ways. His favorite is imagining you blowing him.

Usually lasts a short amount of time, but can recover extremely quickly.

Pyro

Oh. My. God. This is the HORNIEST mf alive when they're lucid. Yeah, they're a little awkward about how close they get to you, but everyone shrugs it off as them being socially unaware.

You smell so amazing to them, the smell of you looks so pretty to them in their head because of their synesthesia. Has embarrassingly gotten off to the colors and feeling of your voice and smell.

Your voice is a calming purple to them with a gentle rumbling against the bottom of their mind, the sound feels a sort of comfortable chilling ironically.

They refuse to do anything outside of their safe space- hell, considering that nobody even knows if Pyro needs to jerk off-

It HAS to be: right vibes, 3 am, locked door, calming smell candles, windows shut, etc etc

Soldier

Has a love/hate relationship with jerking off, he sees it as manly and masculine to release urges, but also weak to indulge himself in base desires.

A manly man thinking of another manly man like yourself? Well technically that's twice the amount of men. At first he assumed he was jealous of your physique, but then he drempt of you on top of him right about to push your-BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEP 0600 SOLDIER TIME TO WORK

Awkward boners are his specialty, excusing himself to "go oversee the maggots" when you flex a particularily nice deadlift.

Less private than Pyro but still prefers a more private setting like in the woods, a bathroom stall, or just a spot he deemed far away enough from everyone else.

Most embarrassed about wet dreams where he can actually get off in his dreams, deeming that day "surprise laundry inspection/washing day"

Demo

He's pretty lax about jerking off to be honest, has probably drunkenly teased you about you should be careful about how often you keep your shirt off.

"Ey laddie, careful showin' those pecs around! Cannae imagine you'd like a man eyein' those tits of yours!" Of course it was a joke, you two were close like that. of course he was just teasing you.

Oh god he wanted to fuck your pecs. Unabashedly staring at your chest he imagined how nice his dick would look in-between your pecs, maybe scrunched against a tight wifebeater too oh fuck-

Reletively respectful of everyone's decentcy and only relieves himself either in his room or in the empty showers at 4 in the morning. He's probably only been caught once but never agains after that.

Cums a lot, that's why he prefers the shower wanks to quickly wash away the evidence.

Engie

This man is so fucking ashamed of touching himself to thoughts of you- much like he would be about thinking of anyone. He's got such a huge shame surrounding the whole thing but the evil voice in his head only made him strangely harder.

He imagined you wakling in on him as he whispered out your name and you shaming him as you slide up behind him as your hand wraps around his jerking him off all while telling him just how much of a pervert he is.

This man has the biggest undiscovered humiliation kink god it's so fucking pathetic (i deeply desire him)

Has jerked off in his workshop multiple times with the door deadbolted shut and a drill running to hide what he's doing.

Honestly prefers the feel of vaseline/nonsexy lube on his dick and it's a lot less suspicious to have that around.

Heavy

Doesn't often feel the need due to how high alert he is.

When Heavy is at ease he's more bearlike and chill rather than a hotblooded, horny-brained mess. When he does actually touch himself, he is extremely quiet in his bedroom and quick about the whole ordeal.

Has a nasty "habit" of thinking of you. He assumes it's because you're actually nice to him and he's not been around a woman in god knows how long. You're not womanly-like in the slightest but Heavy likes to think about his hands on your hips as he makes you whine.

Feels a stinging sense of guilt afterwards but generally shrugs the feeling off. It's not really such a bad thing if he keeps it to himself and keeps everything professional, right?

Sniper

I wrote a fic about how I generally feel Sniper jerks it here but I'll rephrase it here as a TLDR

This man is really fucking weird about jerking off to you. He HAS stolen something of yours to smell and fantasize with and if given the chance he WILL steal again.

HUGE scent kink and voyeur/creeping kink kind of like Engie in a way where he wants you to call him out on his bullshit.

Probably the most unprofessional about it. He has fondled himself as he watched you through his scope during battle and he will do it again.

Pretty quick ordeal overall to keep himself sane. He jacks off often and quickly to keep a baseline sense of sanity (pre-nut insanity is a thing and his diagnosis is terminal RIP)

Medic

Honestly I headcanon Medic not feeling a need to masturbate. His lust for you oozes out in his operations in some sort of gorey satisfaction in operations on the team. (think like, the taboo passion of physically rearranging someone's guts gets him off in a weird way.)

This isn't to say he gets sexually aroused by his experiments, it's just that the excitement of the thrills get cross-wired in his brain. When you drop your shirt on the floor to prep for an operation his dick twitches in his pants but that's literally it.

Flirts with you on the operating table <3

The only time he's actually masturbated is for experiements. (One was if he could create life without an egg and the second was to see how much cum could a healthy man extract out of him.)

Spy

This man is so hoity-toity about getting off it's almost a pain to write. It's an actual whole night for him. It starts with a nice bath with oils more expensive than your paycheck, then a professional massage, then a calming cigarette mixed with some top-grade cannabis in either a blunt or in a nice dessert. THEN FINALLY he lays himself down onto his pretty little bed and fucks himself.

And even then Spy has a routine to jerking off to really indulge himself. He starts slow and gentle with teasing touches that go lower and lower until he's strained against the fluffy bathrobe he is cuddled in.

Imagines you riding him a lot, but if he's in the mood to bottom, he slowly fucks himself with a pretty nice vibrator as he imagines you fucking him as your dick brushed against his prostate in the most delicious of ways.

This man is convinced that every other merc assumed that he gets too many bitches to need to masturbate and he fully intends to keep that assumption alive and well.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #fanfiction #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #sniper x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #engineer x reader #heavy x reader #scout x reader #soldier x reader #pyro x reader #tf2 x male reader #tf2 mercs x male reader #tf2 mercs #tf2 smut #prettyboy pistol

[snonkerdoodlefizzy221b]

you know what i think is underrated? Aziraphale has courage.

He's been a sort of outcast among heaven for his whole life. They tell him that he's a terrible angel, and he buys into it. They treat him badly and demean him at pretty much every chance they get.

And yet, he still attempts to serve them. Is it trauma? Yes, absolutely. If you've been told one thing all your life from people who have drilled into you that THEY are the master power, of course you're going to believe that, and be extremely hesitant about believing anything else. But he still goes to them. Still faces them in his memos. Hell, he even participated in the Arrangement and acted like nothing was wrong. To people he had every right to be afraid of, and was probably scared to death of, he lied. That takes some serious balls, I'm telling you. He had the courage to do something like that.

He also had the courage to go out and face the world. Being a new angel must have been very difficult for him when he was learning human mannerisms and how to navigate the world. He must have had so many embarrassing run-ins with people while trying to learn how to go about seeming human. He probably had to put in so much effort. How long did it take him to become comfortable enough with the mannerisms of the time in order to make sure that he wasn't suspected of witchcraft?

How long did it take him to put aside his fear and prejudice against "sullying" himself with human (and viewed-as-sinful) pleasures? Probably a damn long time.

And then, of course, Crowley. He associated with Crowley from the very beginning--he had the courage to put a demon under his wing even as God watched. He lied to God's face. He kept going to Crowley, interacting with him, all while Heaven could easily see him and do him in. He started the Arrangement with Crowley, even though Heaven drilled into him that demons are bad. He became friends with Crowley. They both became so intertwined even as Heaven loomed ever closer.

Those chuckturds drilled into him that Armageddon was the one thing that his end goal must be. He averted it because he liked Earth too much.

He did all that. He had the courage to go against what he was being told to do. He had the courage to navigate the world when he didn't know anything about it.

Even as he is in the 21st century--he is seen as eccentric, old-fashioned, and probably a bit kooky by the rest of Whickber Street, and anyone who sees him. Maybe he isn't aware of their perception of him, but I rather think he is. I think that he is aware of them, and despite that he goes out and interacts with them everyday and keeps being himself. Despite pretty much everyone else (barring Crowley) looking down on him.

(The reason I'm saying this is because he has so much more courage than I do--than I could ever imagine. I am afraid of being myself because of all the things around me and I care a lot about what people say. He has so much courage even though people would probably perceive him as just as much of an outcast/weird person as I think they perceive me.)

He had the courage to stay and attempt to make Heaven better even without Crowley by his side. (Yes I know they've both done and said horrible things to each other not only over the years but especially in the bookshop scene and they both tried to degrade core parts of each other's identities there and both's end goals were right and a lot of the things they said to each other were wrong--that's not what I'm focussing on.) He went in without the one being in the universe who truly, wholly supported him. To that force that traumatized him so wholly.

And I want that courage to be a main part of him during Season 3--because how could it not? He has to challenge all the beliefs he's been fed from the moment he was created. He has to face the person he hurt and try to make amends--be around this painful thing and focus on the task at hand. He has to fuck shit up and try to make a change under the watchful eyes of the Metatron. You know what? He's shown enough courage at this point that the actions part (fuck shit up) won't be a goddamn problem. It is himself that is his own worst enemy--those beliefs and morals that were Heaven's but he thinks are his, his past and current actions in relation to Crowley and the weight of them all. He needs to face that, fix it, and go on and save the world. And he will. He has the courage to do it.

#courage #aziraphale #good omens #good omens meta #good omens shitpost #shitpost #he has so much courage and i think that's really admirable

[esha-isboogara]

𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓽 ♡ !!WIP!!

*i’ve had this in my notes since ninth grade but i am feeling pretty motivated to reboot it sooo

my daddy issues and my need for validation from my higher ups is really starting to shine through huh ? i’ve had a crush on jake peralta since i was young so why not release all those thoughts onto the page..ALSO amy is not around in this bc i can’t bear to have them in the same universe and not be together i love them so so so much.

teacher!jake peralta x highschool!reader

y/n gets a low score on her health quiz and doesn’t know how to feel. lucky for her mr. peralta knows a thing or two about sex ed.

☆you know the drill minors..shoo shoo!!! power imbalance, piv sex, oral(m), fingering, praise, dirty talk, sex on the desk, reader is of age

y/n glanced down at her paper ,blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. the number 33 was scrawled out on the top in distinct red ink as if to rub everything in. she was in utter disbelief.

“if anyone has a problem with their grade feel free to speak to me at the end of class”. the teacher spoke , leaning against the chalk board.

she wanted to get to her feet and scream in his face . how could he have done this? she was a perfect student and he just ruined it like it was nothing. how could he be so calm about the whole ordeal? but she stayed seated , doing her best to gain control of her emotions. she was in high school now , too big to be crying over grades. you were college bound, just a few more months you had to hold on.

the end of class came in a flash. y/n did her best to gain composure as she walked up to his desk.

“can i talk to you about my grade mr. colbert”? she asked timidly,placing the piece of paper in front of him.

he gave her an unamused look and nodded. “make it quick miss l/n”.

taking a deep breath and mustering all her confidence she finally spoke. “this lesson doesn’t make much sense to me ..i studied for it all this month and i still failed. i was hoping”-

mr colbert put his hand up as an indication for her to stop. “look y/n, i’m sure you’re used to getting your way when it comes to your grades. kids like you infuriate me, trying to worm your way into a teachers heart in order to pass. unlucky for you though i’m nothing like that. sorry you failed my quiz but that is not my fault. maybe study harder next time and don’t rely on me to be your saving grace”.

it was clear he didn’t want to continue the conversation. she thanked him for his time and walked out a few warm tears trickling down her face.

“fucking jerk”. she thought,clutching her bag. she needed someone to talk to.

—————-

“mr.peralta”? she peeked her head in through the open door hoping to see him. to her relief there was, sitting pretty at his desk.

his head turned towards her and he smiled warmly. “hey y/n ? what’s goin on”? he was a nonchalant as ever. it was always so easy to talk to him or at least for her.

she walked in and sat in one of the empty desks in the front of the room. “i need your help with something. it’s school related so don’t worry..usually i wouldn’t bother asking but you’re the only person i’m comfortable speaking to”.

he nodded , his dark umber eyes locked onto hers. she always felt so special when he focused all his attention on her when she was speaking. like she was the only girl in the world. she knew how strange these feelings were but she never failed to embrace them when they surfaced.

“im failing health..and mr. colbert refuses to work with me. so i figured i’d ask you instead”.

his face lit up. “i’m truly honored y/n. i would be more than happy to help you out whatever way i can”. the man left his chair and made his way towards her. “ and i’m sorry mr. colbert is such a douche to you y/n. he’s usually the main topic of gossip in the staff room…you didn’t hear that from me though”.

the tenseness in her shoulders eased at his words. she knew she could always count on him. she could feel a smile creep onto her face.

“ugh, i’m so glad i’m not the only one who feels this way about him. all the kids in my class adore him”.

“oh not by a long shot”. he laughed. oh that laugh. y/n felt so comfortable in his presence.

a bit of small talk ensued , the both of them laughing and talking like old friends.

it almost made y/n forget why she came here.

almost.

“here”. she handed him the large packet , his hands brushing over hers as she did so. if she wasn’t carful she’d start developing unprofessional feelings towards him.

“can you explain to me what you’re learning”? mr. peralta asked, his eyes scanning the packet in his hands.

she nodded. “yeah so basically it’s like sex ed and stuff…ya know consent and the parts of the body and all”. for some reason she felt her face heat up as she spoke. she wasn’t sure why. “i know about all of it but the terms really confuse me”.

he nodded. “yeah yeah that makes sense”. with a grin handed the papers back to her. “i think i can teach you a thing or two about sex ed. but you know how much i hate book work so instead we’re going to try a more…hands on approach”. his tone was sweet but she could see something more primal behind his eyes.

y/n was eager to pass her health class so of course she’d do anything.

jake found it adorable how oblivious she was to the situation. what an innocent little girl waiting for a man like him to ruin that angelic façade.

“okay. let’s start with consent hmm”? he sat in the chair next to yours. he placed his hand on her thigh causing an exited shiver to run down her spine.

“consent is important for both parties understand? one person can want it but the other might not. don’t ever let a man force you into submitting to his wishes”. his hand was now running up your thigh ,passing underneath her uniform skirt. “for example , do you consent for me to go on with this y/n ? your answer will not change anything don’t worry”.

y/n felt all the breath leave her lungs at once. she couldn’t believe this was happening right now. was she actually about to fuck her juvenile justice teacher?

“y-yes”. she managed to say.

mr. peralta held a stern look on his face. “you’re sure y/n”?

unable to speak she nodded her head vigorously. the tingling sensation on her inner thigh was something foreign but not unwelcome.

“perfect ! you’re such a fast learner y/n, my smart girl”. he hoisted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and sat her on the surface of his desk.

how could such a man be so strong she thought to herself. though, she was not complaining.

he sat down in his desk chair and admired her pretty figure sitting atop his desk. it was heavenly. she was obviously so flustered. he wanted to take her as soon as possible.

“have you ever had sex y/n”?

she was taken aback by his question but shook her head earnestly. “no mr. peralta. i…have never been kissed either”. y/n immediately regretted sharing that bit of information she was sure she made herself look like a fool in front of her teacher

he felt his heart skip a beat at this information. the thought of destroying her for every every other man was appealing to him. “so i’m your first? a pretty girl like you i would have expected at least a kiss”.

he moved his face upwards and ghosted his lips against hers. “but i am more than happy to be your first”.

“m-mr. peralta”?

“call me jake sweetheart, it’ll sound so pretty coming from your mouth”.

“thank you for helping me…it means a lot of me”. she spoke nervousness laced in her tone and she was starting to fidget with her fingers.

grasping your hand in his he gave it a confident squeeze. “no need to thank me yet beautiful, we haven’t even got to the good part yet”.

he slid his fingers over her clothed sex, basking in how wet she was. and just for him. the amount of restraint it took for him to not wreck her right then and there was immense.

“okay sweetheart, just follow my directions and you’ll be fine”.

she nodded again eager to have this feeling of tension building in her stomach relived.

“yes mr. peral-i mean jake”.

always so ready to please him. jake knew he didn’t deserve a girl like her sitting pretty atop his desk but he was not going to ponder the fact longer than a millisecond.

ever so gentle he moved her panties to the side , the gasp of pleasure was music to his ears as the cold air washed over her sex.

“my my y/n..you really are filthy. i never would have taken you for that type of girl”.

she turned her face away from his gaze,not wanting him to see how flustered he was able to get her.

“no need to be shy , i think it’s cute” he comforted. it was taking a lot of self restraint on his part for him not to devour her then and there. the last thing he wanted to do was over stimulate the poor thing.

her thighs we’re quivering at his touch ,it was clear how eager she was.

“i’m going to touch you now sweetheart..is that okay with you”?

#no father activities #another middle aged man #andy samberg #jake peralta #jake peralta smut #jake peralta x reader #esha writes

[seijorhi]

Hey Rhi 👋

It’s been established that I’m completely obsessed with your fic “Means to an End” and I was wondering if you could PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE just spare me a couple more crumbs!!!!! Whether it’s just a couple of backstory ideas that didn’t make it into the fic, outtakes, lil fun facts, more info on the twins and readers highschool drama, or more info on Atsumu and Ames relationship, LITERALLY ANYTHING.

At this point I’m starving 😔, you could throw me a bone and I would die happy.

OBVIOUSLY I don’t want to force you or anything, if you’re not comfortable with doing any of those things, or if I overstepped a boundary, than I’m sorry and I understand. I wouldn’t be at all booty hurt.

This is just me being desperate, delusional, and annoying 😭. ( I was going to ask some questions but my mind is blanking for some reason 😃)

With that being said, hope you keep your mental and physical health 🆙. And in case nobody’s told you this today, we love and support you babe ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

-🌫️🌬️

nonnie do not let it be said that i leave y'all to starve

atsumu's not usually the grateful type.

some might argue that he should be. the talent he's been blessed with, the opportunities that came with it – but what none of those whiny little piss-ants seem to understand is that those things weren't given to him. he worked for them. hours on the court, practicing with samu, competing against him. drills, endless fucking drills, running til he puked, set after set after set, serve after serve after serve until he was practically fuckin' flawless.

he won't be grateful for his teammates, or his coaches, not even for samu. they worked their asses off to get where they are, too, and samu– samu's his other half. a part of him. it'd be like being grateful for his right foot or grateful for his lungs.

you certainly didn't trip and just fall into their laps – onto your knees, pretty mouth begrudgingly parted – back then, either. never let it be said that he and osamu half ass these things.

but as the girl behind the counter lays out her tray, glittering, shiny – expensive – pieces splayed out to show him, atsumu decides that maybe he has to rethink that.

because he is grateful, really.

ame might as well be a gift, wrapped in ribbon and fucking lace, delivered right into his hands. his sweet, eager to please, idiot girlfriend. atsumu grins, hardly listening to the sales assistant prattle on about the collection – but to his credit, he pretends, throwing in a nod and thoughtful hum every now and then.

'just get her a decent looking fake, s'not like she's gonna know,' samu had said. 'why waste the money?' the why bother goes unsaid.

osamu's not wrong, exactly. he isn't in love with ame, some days he can't stand her. she's fucking annoying at the best of times. ame's not the end goal here – more of a means to that end – but he's not gonna sit and pretend he's not kinda looking forward to breaking her heart and kicking her to the kerb.

but if ame's been good for one thing – if he's grateful to her for anything – it's that she making all this so damn easy.

always chattering, giggling, smiling, bulldozing over your worries and fears. not that you told her the full truth. he doubts that even she'd be able to overlook that, but you told her enough that would've raised some serious red flags with anyone else.

not ame. not his girlfriend. your best friend, supposedly.

what's there to worry about? he and samu, they've grown up since high school, matured, lost that mean streak of theirs. she's so in love with the idea of him that she can't even imagine the atsumu you're intimately familiar with.

he almost died laughing when, at dinner the other night, she'd bashfully admitted to wanting to play a little matchmaker with you and osamu over the weekend. like he and samu haven't already seen you naked, fucked you – claimed you as theirs in every way that counts.

and sure, you've always been easy enough to manipulate to where they want you. even without ame this reprieve of yours was only ever gonna be a temporary thing – til they got their shit together, at least – but fuck it all if she wasn't going out of her way to make it a nice, smooth transition.

he glances up at the sales girl, a grin already taking shape. 'the earrings.' he says, jabbing a finger at the diamonds, 'i'll take 'em.'

she deserves something nice, considering he's just so damn grateful for her help in all of this.

#but also #do not expect this on the reg #i had a thought and i ran with it #this brain is a temperamental piece of equipment #gotta hit it with a spanner just right before it clicks on and starts spewing stuff out #it is now firmly tapped out #fhdjkslfdjs #fic asks #means to an end #-🌫️🌬️ anon

[wroteclassicaly]

This Is For You

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: With Hawkins burning, you only want one thing, or rather, someone—Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Language, smutty content, vaginal fingering, NSFW, dominant Eddie, mentions of injury and blood, light choking, & oral sex.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: I have no idea what this trash is, other than me letting my emotions and my dissociation pour into my writing. I’ll most likely do a part two if anyone is interested? Thanks for all the love on my first Stranger Things (Steddie x Reader) fic! Sorry if this is all over the place. I’m a few episodes from being finished with the series!

Also, it’s obviously obvious that Eddie lives in this fic, but he and the reader are going through some heavy shit (because who wouldn’t be), so it’ll be dark and heavy. Anyways, sorry for my rambling. Enjoy! - Kristen <3

~*~

“I don’t want to talk…” Is all you say, once again looking, not at him, but straight through. If you permit even a morsels glance, you’ll run like a fucking coward.

How ironic.

To say that it’s unnerving to him, that would be a liar’s goldmine. The beat in which you do not miss, fingers pinching together against a tickling press—you let the vocal bomb off with the loudest give away, mouth wet, yet pursed. “I want to fuck.”

His brows raise and those outrageously, chocolate brown orbs widen, hand curling around his beer bottle’s neck, fingernail shredding beneath its faded label. A deep sigh paddles his chest, thoughtful. “Y/N…”

He knows.

You aren’t doing well. An understatement, to be exact. In the nineteen years Eddie Munson has known you, boldly asking him for any kind of sexual activity is so far left field, that the monsters and the damned Upside Down makes more sense. You’re not giving him any eye contact, zilch emotion, with the exception that your request brings in—a vapid heat surfing its tail. You push passed the long haired rocker, but he grasps a ring clad hand around your wrist, those fucking eyes drilling holes deep enough that you can open your own rift in them.

It’s a comfort you’re not ready to accept, to indulge in. Yanking your limb from Eddie’s grasp, you try to swallow over the sting that piles into your throat when his hurt immediately filters in, distorting his beautiful features.

“Y/N-“

“Can we or not, Eddie?”

More pained directed your way in heaps.

His jaw clenches tightly under pressure, fingers tapping an idle beat across the beer bottle, tongue suctioning over his teeth, a crude noise echoing around the cabin. He’s avoiding your stare, mulling. It’s your turn to heave a hefty groan, already heading back out the open doorway, in which your bestfriend occupies. He doesn’t give you a response.

“Yeah, whatever. You know what? Fuck this, plenty of fish in Hawkins, am I right? I mean… they might be fried now, but…” A humorless laugh leaves you, bogging your throat into a constricting silence.

There’s a coping mechanism coming forth. Make jokes about the aftermath Vecna draped over your shithole town, in order to survive its ever lasting effects. It hasn’t been four weeks, but it’s a lifetime in your mind. It’s a minute too many. And you refuse to fucking think about anything that won’t make you forget.

“Stop it.” Eddie bites back, suddenly way too close to you. His worn sneakers in your eye-line.

Did he even close the door?

“I’m not doing anything.” You simply give, unfolding a tad.

Anger. Something Eddie has picked up since his own time underneath Vecna’s world, his… ‘death’. Both of you can’t go back to the way things were—all changed the moment Eddie attempted a deal with Chrissy and she died in his trailer, shredding both your worlds apart to the truth. You clench your eyes closed as Eddie chucks the beer against the wall, murky liquid pooling across the floor, brown glass shattering, Eddie’s breaths hotly fanning your soaked mouth.

“You’re a bitch.” Like a doe being mortally wounded, you feel that shock ice your blood, pulse beginning to race. It’s easy for your lids to flicker open, letting sunlight and Eddie flood your vision.

He’s so close now that he’s writhing in his panting rage, his borrowed shirt gaped open—scars from battle easily spotted. The deeper ones are still bandaged, kept away. Those dark irises are gone, a black cavern, caving to his animalistic pain, his primal want. Want for you to put an end to this, to be you again so he can find himself, for this not to be lonely as hell, and fuck—yeah, to bury his dick so deep in your pussy he isn’t sure where he ends and you fucking begin. But that road block is stopping him, halting violently to your trembling accusations.

“This is your fucking fault! Fuck you!” You shriek, purposely letting yourself shove at his chest, no other words dubbed appropriate.

You both know it isn’t anyone’s fault. Not human, anyways.

Eddie seems unfazed, sneering. “Oh, baby. If you want me to feel something, then you should try this.” He lifts your wrists into a binding bite, splaying them over his healing wounds, ones you purposely avoided.

You struggle to speak, a rebuttal caught on your tongue. Eddie backs you into a quick swivel, glass shards crunching beneath your feet. You collide into a wooden wall, dust billowing out around your frames, Eddie caging you in. Your hands are unable to escape his hold. You’re battling if you really want to or not.

“What’s wrong? Did I finally get some emotion out of the goddamned robot girl? Hmm?” His nose smudges yours, fingertips—damp with beer—leave your wrist bone to brush over your lips, pushing, pulling, exposing your teeth.

Eddie isn’t sure what the hell he’s doing, but he’s tired of pretending everything is fine. If you’re going to insult him, then he isn’t hanging onto one notion of sanity for this moment. The guy he was before all this—a freak, simply judged, turned into a wanted man that barely survived a demonic underworld, covered in their reminders—that kid would’ve tried to reason with you. But as you don’t make any move to tell him to kiss your ass, to equip a comeback, Eddie knows. You’re different people now.

That languid beat begins to pummel your rib cage with a sharpness, winded air getting trapped inside your lungs. Eddie lets his fingers leave your mouth, wrapping a hand around your throat in a simultaneous drag, his remaining one left to keep your wrists in position, his cool rings leaving a slight imprint behind as he uses his digits to tilt your neck, bending his tall silhouette to meet your flesh. He sinks his milky white teeth in, licking an angry bruise that blooms on the break-away. A hollow snap, a welcomed distraction. You fall, Eddie catches. He nods an out to you—it slips, you drown in acceptance.

Eddie releases you, stepping back, observing you as if you’re prey and he’s about to work a way to keep you. The air is on fire and you’re suffocating, falling over the invisible line, a territory that not even Vecna himself can touch. Silent communication is familiar to you and your bestfriend, and it’s unchanging—even now. Like you’ve just been strung up, Eddie your puppet master, you follow his step-backs.

There isn’t nerves, but the daze of a heart stopping descent. Eddie’s voice is raspy and drenched in that naked need to satiate his appetite and yours, those perfect lips parting to utter off a one word command, “Kneel.”

Like led is poured into your kneecaps, you drop in front of your bestfriend, palms slipping across his sternum, hands colliding at your sides, body burning to the brim, tears on your lashes-cold and sticky, matted. Eddie looks like a showman, the front runner for some contest, in which no others hold a candle. He’s unusually quiet, fingers beckoning your mouth to open. You take them down, his jewelry adorned knuckles bumping your nose. It’s not about worry or wondering anymore, it’s a dedication to need and understanding.

You’re still here. Together.

“Good girl.” Eddie is praising, losing himself beneath all surfaces.

Is he really giving in?

On cue, that shared thought process has him stuttering a barely audible question.

“Say you want an out, Y/N. You have one chance right now, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop if I fucking start…” He looks stressed at his admittance towards the last part, meeting you halfway with a crouch.

Understanding.

You lift sturdy hands, your faded polish, scraped nail beds from cuts that haven’t healed completely—to grip that light blue top Steve Harrington had loaned Eddie—ripping it apart down the middle. He doesn’t flinch from your prying engrossment, simply lets you go, his fingers retreating from your mouth in a ‘pop’. You tap a pathway across his wounds, angry and welted, others layered in gauze that is seeping with red crimson. Neither of you may talk about this again, but nothing else matters other than getting Eddie Munson between your thighs. Your bestfriend’s waist trickles around a quaking scrape, jagged inhalation relinquishing its hold on his diaphragm.

Your gifting indication towards any semblance comes in a gentle flick of your tongue over Eddie’s woven scar on his abdomen. You make sure to give every singular uncovered mark your lewd enclosure. No otherworldly power could bring Eddie’s eyes off your easing torture, his vision blurring through the tears.

You know.

These clothes he’s wearing, not even his own—you’re on the precipice of hyperventilation if they’re not gone within minutes. You fist a white knuckle grip into tattered fabric, inhaling him like some wild animal. Aftershave, antiseptic, freshly laundered Harrington clothing, cigarette smoke, and that perfected spice Eddie is fragranced in.

His brand.

His guitar pick is gone, having been given to his uncle until Eddie can claim it, along with his rightful innocence.

Chrissy, this is for you.

And you’re sucked back into that timeframe, beaten up denim beneath your weapons strapped bosom, next to Dustin Henderson, watching as Eddie Munson—your bestfriend, brings Hell and Heaven to their knees in another dimension, forging his own chaos, dedicating himself to this cause in her name. And you? That guilt over being selfishly jealous in an apocalyptic life or death situation, envy towards a dead girl, whom had done nothing to you but enchant someone you’ve loved before you could even speak a fucking sentence—is eating you alive. Eddie is frozen, a deer in headlights. Are you coming back?

It’s a dandelion to a hurricane, nothing within seconds. That hard resolve builds its way back around you, your fingers finding his belt, unbuckling, mouth over his smooth jawline, soaking and scorched, pleading with him. “Fuck me like you don’t know who I am.”

You need to forget again.

Eddie is having an internal crisis in a fleeting, secondary pausing. Can he really take you like need, like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t? Will it mean to you what it means to him? He does know you, more than anything he’s ever known his entire life. That soulmate shit, it exists inside you, the singular absolution that remains the same.

Time seems to sprinkle its eerie thunder across you, searing your skin with goosebumps that cause a jolting shiver. Eddie makes a fist, using it to push your floral shirt above your naval, the intricate pattern on his rings drawing circles around it, making you arch—gravity to a fault, and you’re crumbling. Eddie doesn’t take you to the blanket covered couch, doesn’t trip over himself in eager earnest to find a bed to lay you on. His knees knock you back onto the hard floor, a rug your only cushioning. It smells like pine, mothballs, Spring rain.

Your bestfriend’s unruly hair cascades around your face, his slim waist slotting between your legs, hands finishing the work he started. Your shirt tears in a rather comedic unraveling. It joins Steve Harrington’s garment beside your head, abandoning you to overlook Eddie’s body.

He must be hurting so badly…

You’re the biggest bitch alive right now, Eddie is right about that new nickname. Asking this of him after everything he’s been through—both physically and mentally.

“Try and get rid of me after I fill your pussy up, Y/N.” Eddie says it out loud, as if it’s a secretive thought he didn’t mean for your ears.

You start to speak, but Eddie traces your hand until it opens, fingers tickling your palms—jerking you up into him in a crushing embrace, relishing in how badly it hurts his bandaged form. He yanks your bra clasp, dipping his hold underneath the thin straps, tugging until it falls apart. Your thin cotton pants and your ridiculous looking panties are all that remain.

“I should make you beg me.” Eddie’s voice is so warm that it sounds like it’s sun kissed, flaming beneath the sun’s finest rays. “Should make you get back on your knees for me until there’s bruises.”

That ache of familiarity sizzles, making you tense, thighs squeezing closed. Eddie notices, a shit eating grin invading. His thumb pad grazes your bottom lip, his facial curvature meeting your own, piecing together. A ghosting whisper, Eddie troubled by his uneven breaths, manages. “I’ve never wanted to do anything as much as I wanna fuck you right now.”

You can do nothing but nod, entering a locked and sealed territory, that tension snapping. Eddie brings your mouth to his, one hand reclining on your throat, applying minimal pressure, the other slithering its way down into your elastic pants, bumping you into a dragging lean back. You whimper into his mouth when his hand cups you through your ruined underwear, hips rolling into his touch. Every word, each breath, it all sounds so goddamned sinful that you’re lost to Eddie Munson. Backing onto his haunches, Eddie has your shoes and pants off, immediately lifting your legs around his denim wrapped thighs, making sure you feel him.

You grind yourself against his thick hardness, veiled by two layers of fabric—a low growl cartwheeling off your tone. Your hands slink across his back—encouraged to skate across his injuries, a welcomed peace—finding purchase on that ass. His muscles clench underneath your vice grip, letting you move him. Eddie’s delicious mouth rewards yours with a sloppy kiss, his tongue working for entrance—acceptance immediate. Those noisy licks of tongues over one another—messy.

You get Eddie’s belt open the rest of the way, shimmying his jeans down to his ankles, his foot pushing one shoe off, ankle shaking to remove the other. His hands join yours, lacing through your own, as they dip beneath his boxers’ waistband, peeling them off. Those unshed tears wrap around your throat when you see his legs and torso in full.

He barely made it…

Before he can hook too long to your stare, you admire his width, the length. Your mouth is practically salivating, hungry. And Eddie knows he has you captive. If you don’t talk about it, he can still do this, right? And if you block out how much your bestfriend truly means to you, you can let him inside, right?

He spits into his hand, wrapping it around the warmth, pupils demolishing any brown hint his irises birth—all dark and wavy. His neck is red, like a vine wrapping around his flesh, screaming his urges to take. To have. Amidst Hawkins burning, amongst the destruction inside your psyches, you are both bursting at the seams, threads from your closed cuts threatening to wiggle free.

You want to get lost.

Eddie Munson wants to destroy you.

~*~

You raise your arms, hands running through your hair, completely enamored by reality.

We’re really going to do this…

You’d hoped, prayed, but never expected your bestfriend to agree to this. You’ve been so foolishly fucking blind, apparently. Eddie’s mouth is slightly agape, spit perching on his lips, fingers working overtime as he looks at you—merciful and willing. You don’t wait for instruction, knees raising to a bunch, pulling off your panties and flinging them somewhere across the room. Your thighs drop open, feet planting into the rug—rough against your back.

Eddie mumbles something inaudible, holding himself at the base, those veins clawed out over his right hand, winding into his knuckles, his silver bracelet dangling across that very wrist. You’re holding your breath, painting your fingers up and down your chest, seething in a trembling aftershock.

“Get up for me.” Your first command.

Eddie cradles the back of your head when you reach him on shaky fours, at his feet.

“Convince me why we should do this, Y/N. Show me how much you fucking need me.”

It’s already decided, but you entertain it, appeasing your mouth watering curiosity, hand laying atop Eddie’s, nails tapping against his rings, your lips parting, curling over your teeth, you take him into your mouth, that first salty taste melting into your tongue. You moan, knocking his hand out of the way, squeezing, feeling, letting Eddie show you how to touch him. Nude and worshipping him, Eddie is having a hard time controlling himself from using your mouth, discarding your unknown limits. You try a further distance, that gag ever-so-present, only to be ignored. Eddie’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging harshly on your hair until it aches to an itch at the roots.

When your eyes meet him through the fog, you make it clear you’ll do anything to get to the other side.

“A lady in waiting…” He babbles that nerdy game speak, head dipping back to bare his jugular. “For a true medieval knight.”

There’s my Eddie.

Your mouth is cherry red, swollen, by the time Eddie has to rear back. He wants to fucking kiss that mouth.

It would be okay, yeah? Fuck it.

He nails you to the floor, jaw bone smashing into yours, nose edging yours into a bend, his lips finding you. It’s a frenzied discombobulation, like all air has been vacuumed from planet earth, leaving only Eddie’s breath matching yours pant for pant. Tired and overwhelmed, flooded with trauma that can no longer be discarded, Eddie pulls away, hand splaying above your abdomen, teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you can taste copper—gaining your focus.

“Ask me again, Y/N. Tell me I’m all you fucking need.” He’s damn near whimpering, lost to the possibility of retreating rejection.

He grips your throat with one hand. You swallow against his palming grip, lust drunk. “You know you’re all I’ve ever needed, Eddie.”

Eddie does let out a mewling. You’re giving more than he was prepared for. More than he’s seen from you in weeks. You tug on his long locks, encouraging, tone honey lathered, floating. “Make me come on your fingers.”

“Dammit, Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His bracelet is cool as it trickles along your inner thigh, his firm hand parting you for his feasting.

His rings move patterns—up and down, shaping, mapping, writing some Morse code shit. When he does give into you, it’s a fingertip gliding along your glistening labia, arousal stringing from you. He marvels.

“The sweetest little pussy has always been mine, and no one is gonna take it from me.” He muses, a possessive strength encasing his words, yet he’s still not doing exactly what your body is begging for.

Your back arches, attempting to help you gain an upper hand. You exert yourself, cries softly dying out when Eddie doesn’t give in.

“You could’ve asked anyone to fuck you, but you didn’t.”

He knows.

Eddie’s lips press against your jaw, his fingers finally opening you—warning obliterated—being accepted with a squelching slide. He pushes a little more on your throat to combine, you practically coo at him. He’s never been this hard before, unable to move without that pattering pain. And as you tighten those slick walls around him, his stomach feels the pressure.

You know…

~*~*~**~*~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @lovelylangdonx

#kristenwrites #my writing #my work #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4

[tempobrucera]

All this madness

Description: If you could see yourself through Thomas’ eyes on a bad day, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 1.6k Warning(s): Mental Health A/N: Didn’t really want to post this, but here we go. Just a few words until I post my Valentines fics which will be happier, I promise.

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

._____.

It has been a while since you’ve been feeling like this. Or since you’ve even felt off, not since that day Thomas banged on your door, stayed, kissed you and never really left again. 

Now the feeling is overbearing. The feeling of being too much, but not enough. Not worth anyone’s time or thought. Of not looking the right way, not being pretty enough. And nothing happening around you helps.

It’s a terrible day on top of it. Outside it’s raining, it’s cold and grey. Usually you would be okay with that, your head leaning against the window, watching the rain, with a warm cup of tea in your hands. On a particularly good day, Thomas would get you to go outside with him, maybe kiss you in the rain, and you would end up in giggles. But today isn’t usually. It’s gloomy, like the thoughts in your head. You felt like freezing to death when outside earlier, and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all, you think. Your socks are wet, the water of the rain seeping through your sneakers. Thomas’ leather jacket not keeping you the warmest but at least it gave you comfort. The umbrella - forgotten on the kitchen table. The train never came - you sob. 

“Hey,” Thomas lays his arms around your waist, “I’m here.”

You smile through the tears that somehow started falling. When you want to wipe them away Thomas stops you. You keep smiling, you don’t want him to worry, you don’t want to explain. You just want him to hold you a little longer - and Thomas loosens his grip on you. Another sob is escaping your throat, before he spins you a little and hugs you closer.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” His heartbeat is loud and goes faster than it normally does, you have your ear against his chest, then bury your face into his shirt before you’re erupting into more sobs. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shiver. The wet socks still on your feet are getting uncomfortable. And not only your tears but also the rain on the leather jacket are soaking through his dress shirt. “It’s stupid … I am stupid.”

“You are not and it’s not stupid, I promise. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He puts his pointer finger on your forehead as if it’s a drill. “And then we’re going to talk about what this mean thing in here is doing to you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Somewhere more important?” You hide your face on his chest again. “With some more important people than me?”

Thomas scoffs: “I’m exactly where I want and have to be.”

When you look at him, his eyes betray him. He should be somewhere else, it probably is important as well, you can see the little bit of guilt for leaving the other’s hanging in his eyes. You know that Vic will call and will be vocal, you don’t want him to deal with it, just because you hate yourself. It’s not worth it. And as if you wouldn’t have known it, his phone starts ringing. 

“Get your ass here, Thomas.” It’s Vic, she’s loud. “Now!”

“Sorry, I won’t be attending.”

“What the fuck? You’re getting your ass here.” You can hear her saying through the phone.

“Sorry, something important came up,” he tries again. “Tho-”

“No.” Now he’s getting loud, “Fuck yourself, Victoria. I am the one who’s always there for shit, for fucking everything, even when some bitch thinks I don’t talk or cuts everything I say or whatever. Every goddamn time, I’m there. My turn to play this bloody card, I am not coming. I can spell it out for you or sent you a letter if that hel-”

“I’m sorry, Vic.” 

Thomas looks at you. You sniff, you don’t want them to fight. Not because of anything, but definitely not because of you. He’s still holding you.

“I … Are you okay?” Vic asks but you’re already sobbing into Thomas’ shirt again. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Bye, Vic. If you’re thinking about calling me again today, think about fucking yourself instead.” Then he hangs up before he talks to you again. “At least she would love to do that a great deal more than annoy me.”

“She loves to annoy you.” You almost giggle and Thomas smiles at you gently.

“Yes, but she loves the other thing even more.”

You aren’t quite sure how you got out of your socks after that, and in some cosy ones. How you got out of your jeans, or how you got out of Thomas’ jacket that you kept wrapped tightly around your body and into one of his warm hoodies, or how you ended up on the couch, Thomas' arms still wrapped around you. You don’t know, but you’re certain that he helped with all of it. There’s a steaming hot cup of tea waiting for you on the table.

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s …,” you cuddle closer to him, “it’s stupid.”

“I guarantee you, it’s not.”

“Do you not want to be with anyone taller sometimes?” 

“What the f-” He catches himself, when he sees your face. “Sorry. It’s not stupid, it just caught me off guard. And the answer is no, no I don’t want that.”

“Are you not tired of leaning down all the time?”

“No, it’s excellent, because it happens to be that I love crouching down a bit.” He presses his lips against your forehead.

“I want to scratch my eyes out.” Thomas furrows his brows, but he isn’t interrupting you. “I hate them. I hate seeing myself through them. And why do they have to be this boring.”

“I happen to love them.” And then he carefully presses his lips to one of your eyelids. “I can’t see anything boring in them.”

“God, I hate myself.” You sob but Thomas isn’t letting go of you - calmly stroking your back. “Why are you even keeping up with me? I’m sure you could get something better instead of sticking around, someone prettier and not as fucked as me, you know?”

You can hear the deep inhale and exhale before he talks again: “I don’t want anything else. You’re more than enough for me and more. There’s nothing I would change that for. I wish you could see that or believe me when I say it. And … I’m sorry, I seem to have done a pretty shit job when you’re thinking that I think this.”

“No, it’s me, I-” 

He kisses you instead.

“I’m sorry, if I did anything to make you believe that,” he looks at you, “I know how it is.”

“But you’re actually pretty.” You kiss the corner of his lips. “So, so pretty.”

“Depends on who you ask,” he sighs, “But your pretty eyes luckily see me like this. Just as much my pretty eyes see you like this.”

“Who do I have to punch?”

He laughs: “I think that line is a bit too long to punch. And before the question comes up, I won’t punch you for thinking any of this. We can … we can do it a bit harder if that … helps. But no punching.”

There’s an adorable blush on his nose, and you blush as well.

“Okay.”

Silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, no one of you has to fill the silence between you to feel comfortable.

“Is there anything else?”

“Don’t you think my hobbies are stupid?” 

“Okay, who’s hobbies aren’t actually stupid though?” He furrows his brows again. “And look at me, my stupid hobby became my job and otherwise my stupid hobbies are, and maybe not in this order, taking naps, eating, going out to dance silly and get kicked out of fancy venues because they can’t handle me. That’s what I call stupid hobbies. But you know the best of them, the best of my silly hobbies? Spending time with you.”

You have to sob again. 

He kisses your cheek, and you know instantly that you will not like what is about to follow.

“I haven’t seen you eating in a few days probably.” Before you can protest, Thomas keeps speaking. “That one salad and one piece of brownie doesn’t count.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That might be the case,” his voice is soft, “but you still have to eat. Which is why we will order pizza now.”

“Thom?”

“You only have to have one slice. I’m not gonna force it. But you need some food, okay? And you can have cake.”

“No, Tho. It’s nine o’clock in the morning. That’s not pizza time.”

“It’s the best time for a pizza.”

Later, when you’re still in his arms, nibbling on the one slice of pizza, watching a silly documentary on Youtube about the mystery of who wrote the Disney Channel theme music, the world is okay for a moment. Thomas isn’t judging when you nibble on your slice or tries to get you to eat more and you’re grateful for it. 

“Don’t you want to be anywhere else right now?”

Thomas looks at you, for a long time. Longer than before, before he answers: “No. I’m exactly where I want to be. You know, that’s the sort of magic all this madness is for. Just having pizza at nine in the morning, with you.”

You wish, you could see what his hazel eyes saw when he just looked at you for the longest time. But the thing is, you can’t. 

._____.

END.

Read something recently that led me to want to scratch my eyes out. Cool how your brain can go not even in this fictional scenario someone would want me, right? So we ended up here. 

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[brailsthesmolgurl]

RAFAYEL HEADCANON

It has been a while since I had made a comeback for writing but since I am into Love and Deepspace and I do not see as much content for Rafayel, I figured I shall take things into my own hands and come up with some headcanons related to me baby boi <3

It shall have both sfw and nsfw version!

Do drop me a message for any Love and Deepspace ideas you have and maybe I might just write one accordingly :,)

SFW

Rafayel definitely puts you as his first priority over everything. Although you are his 'body guard', I think he is still pretty much taking care of you like how a 'body guard' would.

Rafayel would definitely seize the chance to have you in every single one of his paintings, be it the strokes in the sky that reminded him of your outings with him by the beaches, or simply a colour that you bickered with him about. Your traces would be everywhere throughout his paintings.

He is definitely the type to call you out of nowhere just to say hi. His meek smile behind the phone call would be wide when you realise that it wasn't anything urgent. BUT ADMIT THE FACT YOU WOULD SECRETLY LOVE IT!

Sends you Tiktoks and Instagram reels and any short videos about colour differences so that he could 'cure your blindness towards colours'.

Tells you he dislikes cringey videos but would most likely hole up in his bed, under his bedsheets and watch them.

He seems like the type to do colour analysis for you when you ask him for it.

Does not talk about you AT ALL during interviews, because he secretly does not want anyone to know about you, as he would be worried someone else might be head over heels for you.

Given that he is flamboyant, I can see he would be the type of boyfriend to try out different clothing styles just because you asked him to and that you say the keyword 'You would look stunning in it!'.

Brings you on spontaneous trips, dates and etc. Saying it is for 'inspiration' and for 'art' but just wants to spend alone time with you in different parts of the world.

Loves going on long walks with you.

He is the type to hold your hands whenever you guys are out, wipes your lips if there are smudges, would arrange your hair before taking any pictures of you and would kiss you whenever you're least expecting it.

He loves PDA with you but doesn't want paparazzis around.

He prefers candid pictures of you rather than staged ones. Keeps the silly ones for his own record, in a secret album with a passcode on.

Does not really like electronic devices but he knows he has to fit in hence he is somewhat forced to use them.

When he had first gotten a phone, I can see him typing on it like how a boomer would, with one of his hands holding the phone and the index finger would do the screen touching.

Has a huge love for white clothing, and would encourage you to dress in the same colour as him most of the time.

Plays games with you, flaunts how good he is most of the time, but would be a huge loser most of the time. AND, would want you to comfort him because you didn't go 'easy on him'.

NSFW

Rafayel is a huge neck kisser I can see. Would trail down from neck and downwards. His kisses would be slow and featherlike but as time goes by even more his kisses would turn into bite marks and he would be relentless.

Would definitely be the type to fuck you against his canvas, with paint splattered on either parts of you and said that it is 'for art'. He would definitely be keeping that to his own private collection.

I can see Rafayel being the dominant type, but would like to switch every once in a blue moon. This would only happen if you wanna take charge and he allows you to.

Would press you against windows and fuck you, that's for sure. He enjoys the idea of being caught but not ACTUALLY BEING CAUGHT.

He would be the type to drill himself into you HARD, but pulls out slowly and goes FULL ON IN again. He wants you to feel EVERY INCH of him.

I can imagine his dick to be slender and long, perhaps with slight girth. The tip of his dick would definitely have a pinkish hue given his skin colour takes on a rubicund shade.

His fingers indeed aren't for painting only, he would make good use of them, fingering you with his long slender fingers. Foreplay with him would most likely consists of a lot of fingering.

I can tell he would be sensitive around his neck and chest area, if you were to leave a trail of kisses on those parts, you would watch his face slowly turn red, but he would strongly deny that he is blushing or that he actually enjoys what you're doing to him.

His favourite position would most likely be Cowgirl. Something about watching you bouncing on him, while watching the curves of your body move under momentum would turn him on very well. If he were to take control, if would most likely be The Chairman. He would position you on his lap, ofc slamming you onto his dick and fuck you according to his own rhythm.

He does enjoy slow and languid sex often times, but would have dashes of rough moments throughout the process.

In an average week, I can say sex might be on daily basis or at least 3 to 4 times a week if he has art exhibitions and deadlines to tend to.

He is definitely the type to overstimulate you. Something about you calling out his name and begging him to stop while at the edge of tearing up makes him feel proud.

Would make you call him by his name in bed. And only his name. But he would want it to be loud.

Would make you beg for his dick or vice versa, would love you to make him beg. Lord have mercy on me please.

Rafayel would be clean shaven as he does seem like the type to worry about his personal hygiene given he is a public figure himself.

Would most likely have a safe word for when things get a bit too much. No safe word, no stopping whatsoever.

Would come inside if he gets the chance to, but wouldn't do it if you're uncomfortable with it.

Kink: Public Sex.

Dislikes in bed: When you are constantly teasing and degrading him. I can actually imagine his frustration turning in anger and he gets it out on you.

After sex with him would be decent. He would get ready a warm bath and relax in the tub with you. He also would most likely sleep naked with you and would not mind either if you choose to be naked around him all day.

As mentioned above, any ideas for the other boys or want more of Rafayel? Drop me a message and lemme know about your spoicy ideas or non-spoicy ideas :)!

#love and deepspace

[topguncortez]

Have Mercy- B. Floyd 

pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader word count: 800 synopsis: 'If you made up your mind, then make it. Make this fast. If you ever loved me, have mercy'- Brett Young, Mercy warnings: angsty as fuck, mentions of emotional cheating, arguing, yelling, probably won't be a part 2 sowwy

“I want a divorce.” 

Those were four words Bob Floyd never thought he’d hear in his life. But standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, stood the person he loved who was saying those four words. He knew it was coming, the argument of all arguments. The angst and tension had been building for months between you, it was just a matter of time until the bomb dropped, and here it was, taking out everyone in its path. 

“You don’t mean that,” Bob said, his accent thick as he looked up from his shoes. 

“I do, Bob, I really do,” Your voice broke and he felt his heart break even more. You hardly ever called him by his first name. It was usually ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or the occasional ‘Bobby’ but never just ‘Bob’. 

“Why?” 

“Why? Why!? Bob, take a fucking look around! You are never here! And when you are. . . you’re a million miles away.” 

“I am right here!” 

“And I have never felt more alone in our relationship than I do right fucking now!” 

Bob jumped at the tone in your voice. You never yelled or cursed like this. You would let out the occasional curse word if you bumped something or messed up a recipe, but it was never like this or directed towards Bob. He wanted to cower. He never took being yelled at well, it made him feel small, and she knew that. Bob had struggled during boot camp getting over the drill sergeants yelling in his face. It made him nervous, then he would stutter or his accent would come out so thick you can hardly understand him, which just made the drill sergeants yell at him even more. 

“I’m here, baby, I’m here now, and-and let’s fix it! Rooster and his wife went to counseling and it worked! They’ve never been happier!” 

“We aren’t Rooster and his wife, Bob. And Bradley never cheated on her.” 

Bob clenched his jaw and looked away from you. Of course this would come up again. It had been the topic of arguments before. Bob always sensed that you had been jealous of Phoenix. The one time you admitted it, Bob told you you were crazy. He didn’t love Phoenix the way he loved you. Sure, Bob loved Phoenix as a friend, and spent time with her. He trusted his pilot with his life, literally, and Phoenix had become a close friend, a salvation for when he was fighting with you. 

“I am not cheating on you with my fucking pilot!” Now it was your turn to jump at the sound of Bob’s voice. Just like you, he never cursed or yelled. The one time you saw him get mad was when Hangman had pissed him off by saying something stupid. And even then he waited until he got home to yell, that vein in his forehead popping out, like it is now. 

“Not physically,” You said, tears now rolling down your cheeks, “But emotionally? Bob, you are so in love with her. You go to her after every fight, she’s the first person you talk to when you’re having a bad day. If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be and who would it be with?” 

‘At the hard deck. . . with Phoenix’ He thought, but kept quiet, knowing his answer would only make things worse. But his silence was also enough of an answer for you. You buried your head in your hands and let out a sob as Bob watched from the other side. 

No amount of comfort he could give would ever make you feel comforted. But, you were right, and Bob knew it. He had tried to push away the feelings for Phoenix for a while, stating in his head that they were just friends, that everything was platonic. But hearing you admit that you knew. . . was enough for Bob to finally accept them himself. Bob couldn’t stand to listen to you cry anymore, so he walked over to you and pulled you into his arms. You rested your head against his chest, as he placed his chin on top of your head. He had tears running down his own face, but rubbed your back to try and comfort you a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob said softly. 

“I am too,” You whispered. You pulled back from Bob, and placed a hand on his cheek. You wiped a tear from under his eye with your thumb, and leaned into kiss his soft pink lips, “I can’t do this anymore, Bobby. It’s breaking me.” 

“I never meant-” 

“I know,” You shushed him, and looked into his baby blue eyes, “We can’t help who we love. And I know you will never love me the way you love her.” Bob closed his eyes as his lip trembled. Usually the sight in front of her was enough to make her want to hug him and tell him everything was okay, but right now, it just broke her even more, “It’s okay, Bob. I’ll be okay.” 

“I know,” Bob cried, “You’ve always been the strong one out of us.”

Y/N let out a sad laugh and kissed Bob one last time, "I love you, Robert Floyd." Bob didn't have a chance to say it back as she slipped away from his arms, and walked out the door.

-- -- --

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[callsign-bunnie]

Drowning without you PT 1

Graves is revealed to be alive the same day that Rodolfo goes missing. Alejandro immediately sets ghost to find him. Alejandro doesn't know what to do with himself if Rodolfo dies. He's the the closest friend he has. He's even more than that, to him. Losing Rodolfo would be worse than death.

Look, I’m a better writer than I am at making descriptions.

TW: Graphic violence, explosive character, mentions of torture.

Alejandro reasonably knew that Ghost would find Rodolfo. Ghost was a fantastic tracker. Alejandro had seen it many times. But… The back of his mind was screaming that he never would.

Alejandro had been doing his best to track him down on his own, but he knew Ghost would find him first. He knew this.

“Fuck!” He growled and threw his pen across the room, running his hand through his hair.

Kate Laswell, who had been patiently waiting for Alejandro to finish signing a few reports, barely flinched. “Ghost will find him, Alejandro. You don’t need to worry.”

“My best friend is God knows where, having God knows what done to him, and you expect me to not be worried??” He shook his head, leaning back- well more like throwing himself back in his chair. “What if it was your wife missing? Would you just not worry?”

He hoped she wouldn’t question that his first instinct was to compare Rudy to her wife, not Price, her best friend. Fortunately, she hardly seemed fazed. Instead, she sighed and relaxed her shoulders, uncrossing her legs. “You’re right, Colonel. I would be pulling every string aside from Ghost. Probably just as manically as you are.”

“Don’t lecture me to not be worried.” He turned in his chair to look at the window, gripping the arm rests before bringing his hand up to bite at a spot on his finger, a habit he’d developed in his teens to keep himself from saying things he didn’t mean. Kate was one of the few he was comfortable with doing it around.

“I knew, when we discovered Graves was alive, that I needed to be careful. To… hold everyone close but-” He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I thought he would be… weak. Defenseless without any team. I didn’t expect him to be so fucking charismatic that he manages to pull together a whole fucking- Why Rudy?”

Laswell tilted her head to one side. “Alejandro, if you do not mind, perhaps I can look at it from a logical perspective?”

Alejandro waved his hand. “If you feel like it.” He muttered, sure he would only half listen.

“Well, I can look at this through a few lenses. Graves is not in charge of the cartel he managed to convince to help him take you down. Now, Soap and Rodolfo were the ones who tried to kill him. Not to speculate on Ghost’s feelings towards anything, only Ghost can truly know his own feelings, but I feel Graves perhaps thought it would be… dangerous to take Soap. It’s fairly obvious Ghost’s partial to Soap.” Laswell stood and moved to the window that Alejandro was staring out, watching the recruits in the training field do drills. “Besides that, he would have access to Gaz’s file. The kid passed his RTI training with flying colors. He knows holding onto him would be too difficult. And would prove worthless, in the end. With Shepherd taken down, Price is too important to the British Army.”

“Well, that leaves a few people. I never leave the base. Your friend Valeria is… too unreliable to cause havoc. And Ghost is… well, I think you can understand why he was not an option.” She put her hands behind her back, picking at her nails.

“That just leaves Rodolfo.” Alejandro muttered. Laswell was right. Alejandro was still suffering from the havoc caused by Shepherd’s betrayal. It had led to an easier time cleaning up the Las Almas Cartel, but he was still cleaning it up. Thankfully, Britain had sent a few more troops to help, for the trouble.

Likely a desperate “hey please don’t retaliate for this one fuck up” courtesy. Alejandro was grateful, so he had done his best to aid in smoothing things over.

“But, Graves had to know I would turn everything over to find him.” Alejandro straightened in his seat a little, his spine starting to hurt. He was getting old, though just barely pressing on it. Couldn’t sink his shoulders down for too long, anymore without risk of spine damage, apparently. Rodolfo had always been careful in reminding him to sit up when he noticed. Alejandro always pretended to be irritated but he was grateful. “Or that I would employ Ghost. Who, I hope, is turning every stone just as he would for Soap.”

It was an unspoken agreement amongst the 141 crew and Alejandro and Rodolfo to just… not mention anytime Ghost and Soap stared at each other. Or stood too close. But, it didn’t mean it went unacknowledged.

“I don’t think Graves was counting on Ghost actually caring enough to help you. Ghost has a reputation. Graves is… calculated.” Laswell shrugged. “Calculations do not account for organic factors. Or… missing facts.”

“If Soap had been taken, Ghost would have found Rodolfo by now.” Alejandro went back to glaring out the window. He couldn’t help but feel bitter.

“No. Trust that Ghost is putting in the same amount of effort and skill as he would for Soap. Or… anyone else.” She added, trying to likely give Ghost the benefit of the doubt. Laswell was like that.

Alejandro just fell silent. If he talked anymore, he would start to scream. And he couldn’t keep screaming.

Laswell turned to him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Not hearing from Ghost is good news. When he finds him, you will be the first to know.”

Alejandro grunted, doing his best to appear hopeful, but knowing it fell flat. He turned back to his desk, and pulled another pen out, signing the last report. “I feel we use you as a glorified paper runner.”

“I like walking around. Trust me, Alejandro, I wouldn’t if I minded. I find it hard to make myself do things I don’t find pleasant.” Laswell shrugged. “Unless they’re necessary.” She added and then picked up the small stack, sliding them into a manilla envelope to keep them together. “Ghost keeps his radio on. I don’t know if he’ll answer but you can always try to ask him for updates.”

“That is a dangerous can to open, Laswell.” Alejandro shook his head. “I know myself. I will start to ask every ten minutes and he’ll kill me. I may not fear Ghost much, but I keep a healthy… anxiety in my heart towards him.”

“Wise man, Alejandro.”

Alejandro only grunted and turned to the window again. Once Laswell left, the fear retained it’s grip on Alejandro’s heart, squeezing all the blood from it like a wet rag.

He dug his nails into the armrest of the chair, biting back a scream of frustration. He couldn’t stay in this room anymore. He would go insane. He took a deep breath, standing up and leaving.

He walked through the halls, going to the command room. Gaz was on a radio, probably on the current round to monitor Ghost. He went to him, watching his screen.

It was just a map of Mexico where Gaz would input Ghost’s locations and potential points of interest. “Any news?” Alejandro asked, holding his breath without meaning to.

“Nothing… big.” Gaz winced, causing Alejandro to release his breath. “He’s alive. Ghost knows that. He was able to tune into a truck radio where they were discussing moving him.”

“Truck radio?”

“Yeah, apparently this cartel managed to get their hands on old decommissioned trucks from your military.” Gaz nodded. “Ghost has a tracker on two of them, but they mostly run supplies between two insignificant warehouses.”

Alejandro frowned. “How does he know they’re insignificant?”

“Well, they’re barely the size of a small house and he can see completely through them from the rafters so…” Gaz looked up at him. He pointed to the map where the warehouses were marked.

Alejandro shook his head. It had only been a week but… he knew what could be done to a man in a week. “Has Graves reached out to make demands?”

“Nothing but the ones he left when he took him.” Gaz nodded, pulling up a scan of the letter. “Well, demands is putting it loosely. More of a threat. Sorry, mate, I wish I had more for you.”

“It’s alright.” Alejandro pulled over a chair that was empty. “Hand me a headset.”

Gaz seemed reluctant, but eventually did so. “I want to let you know that Price threatened to kick my ass for this but… you scare me just a little more.”

Alejandro couldn’t help his laugh. The kid looked so earnest and even shy about the admission. “Do not fear, Gaz. I will not tell him.”

He knew why Price did not want him on a headset. Alejandro kept himself contained, barely, as it was. “What are we listening to?” He asked as he slipped the headset on.

“Ghost thought it was important. A conversation between two drug runners.” Gaz went to put on the subtitles but turned red halfway through and stopped. “Right, sorry, you don’t need an interpreter. My right headphone interprets into english.”

Alejandro pet his shoulder but focused on their voices.

“Damned Gringo. They put him in a high position for what? All because he’s ex-military from America?”

“He was able to get his hands on vehicles and weapons. Boss trusts him. Who am I to question the Boss?”

“It’s shady.”

“You should watch your mouth. He hears everything.”

“Yeah, whatever. What’s our route again?”

“Eastern Wild Lily.”

“Code name.” Gaz murmured, clarifying. “Ghost has figured out each drug route. They use flower names. The more general, the bigger it is. It’s actually quite interesting.”

“What is Wild Lily? Do you have the routes marked?” Alejandro frowned, looking at the map. Gaz clicked a button and roads lit up, each labeled with their code name.

Alejandro whistled a little. So far, they seemed to only operate right outside of Las Almas. Too close for his liking. “I see.” He frowned but turned his attention back to the conversation.

However, they had stopped talking.

“Gaz- Gaz come in.” Both men immediately straightened at hearing Ghost’s voice.

Gaz put his microphone near his mouth, and pressed his talk button. “Ghost, I’m here.”

“I’m putting another route into the map. It’s an old mineshaft. They transport highly sensitive items through it. I think it’s where they took Rodolfo through. The end of it is right in the mountain where he was grabbed. I’m gonna scout it out, and report back in exactly 12 hours. Who will be on shift, then?”

Gaz looked to Alejandro nervously. “Uh… I think Soap. He’s offered to take night shift.”

“Damn insomniac. Alright. Inform him of everything when you switch- Gaz, listen to me. Write everything I just said down.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, muttering something about “my memory isn’t bad” but he wrote it down all the same. “Old mineshaft, sensitive goods, 12 hours, which lands you at exactly 22 hours, sir.”

“Good job, Sergeant.”

Gaz hesitated, glancing at Alejandro. “Should I inform Alejandro of this news?”

Alejandro already knew Soap’s answer as he heard it.

“Absolutely not, Gaz. I do not want to deal with the consequences of this being nothing.”

“Alright, Sir.” Gaz turned off his microphone and turned to Alejandro. “Please know I risk my bottom with great respect to you, sir.”

Alejandro shook his head. “Thank you, sergeant. When you get off shift, we uncovered a truck load of illegally imported teas. Go talk to the kitchen. They’ll make you a cup.”

Gaz grinned and stuck his thumb up before turning to the map to look at the information Ghost had put on the map.

Alejandro seriously considered staying, but he knew Ghost would not update until exactly 22 hours, so he stood after taking his headset off and finally went to the mess to get lunch. It was early, but they usually kept food on hand for him.

He took it back to his office, deciding to exercise his colonel privileges and eat there. If he could stomach his food.

22 hours did not come fast enough. He went to the command room immediately.

“Alejandro, I’ve been given-”

“Soap, you’re in my base. Besides, I already extorted Gaz. I know what’s going on.” Alejandro didn’t bother asking for the headset, just taking it. “I’m not gonna speak, so don’t worry.”

Soap didn’t seem to like the idea, but Alejandro knew it wasn’t for a regard for the rules. “Just, I’ll be alright, hermano.”

Soap sighed but nodded, turning on Alejandro’s headset. 

The other end was silent, as it was technically 21:56. Ghost was… infuriatingly punctual.

At 22:00 on the dot, Ghost’s voice came in.

“Soap, do you copy?”

“I’m right here, LT.”

“I’m coming back. Did Gaz brief you?”

“Down to every period and comma, sir.”

“Good. I won’t discuss my findings until I get back but.. It’s not good, Soap. Not devastating but… I couldn’t get to Rodolfo himself. This place is swarming. Too crowded for even my skills. But he’s here, Soap. And… I have videos.”

Alejandro tensed and clenched his hands into fists.

Soap’s eyes were closed, probably deeply regretting letting Alejandro listen. But, he didn’t blow Alejandro’s cover. “I will inform the rest.”

“Tell Alejandro as well.”

“I will. I… can you give me a scope of how bad the videos are?”

“They made my bloody stomach churn-”

Alejandro left, immediately, needing out of that room. He couldn’t breathe, his heart being squeezed into a pulp.

All he could think of was “outside” and “air. Air now” and so he all but ran outside, trying to catch his breath. They made my bloody stomach churn. Images flashed through his mind of everything that could possibly be being done to his precious Rodolfo.

Guilt dug into his brain. He should be out there, now! Not sitting here waiting for Ghost to find him! But he knew running out wasn’t the smartest. Hell, it was the stupidest fucking thing he could do.

Alejandro pressed his hand to his heart and tried to catch his breath, his mind screaming “go!” and his heart pressing the alarm button. He fell against the wall, sliding down it and clawing at his chest to get the feeling to stop.

He didn’t know how or when, but Laswell eventually found him, curled up against the wall and still unable to breathe.

“Hey, hey-” She forced him to face her, grabbing his face. “Alejandro, look at me.”

He did his best to breathe, looking at her eyes. They were concerned, but stern.

“You need to breathe. Sitting out here panicking isn’t doing anything.”

“Neither is sitting in there, waiting for Ghost to fucking return!” He growled at her, but tried to relax.

“Alejandro!” She snapped. “Now, I am not afraid to slap you to knock some fucking sense into your ass.”

His irritation at being yelled at paused the sensation of panic, but he barely noticed, shoving her off of him and standing. “The closest person in my life is being tortured so badly that it made Ghost’s stomach turn. I don’t make assumptions, but I am fairly certain that that is quite possibly the worst outcome at this moment!”

Laswell glared at him. “He could be in a fucking box!”

“Don’t start that shit, you and I both know that death is the better alternative to being tortured!” He snarled at her before turning around and hitting the wall, busting his knuckles open.

Kate seemed to soften and touched his arm. “You’re right. I am being… I’m going about this the wrong way. Look, your searches ended up with nothing. Your only option was to rely on Ghost. Now, your only option is to wait for him to get back and then go and rescue Rodolfo, alright? There is no more options.”

Alejandro closed his eyes and then shrugged her hand off of his arm, nodding. “You are right. Let’s go.”

She nodded and led him inside, taking him straight to the command room where everyone was waiting at a table.

Alejandro mostly ignored everyone’s looks of sympathy, sitting and resting his elbows on the table before clenching his hands together, staring at his rings.

He focused on counting each hair on his knuckles, needing to keep himself together.

Waiting was agony. Even with Alejandro’s resolve, each minute put that grip back around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Fortunately, everyone else was silent. Alejandro likely would have cursed at them if they even breathed too loud.

Finally, Ghost came into the command room. From the fact that he still had his headset on, it was likely he had came straight to the command room. 

Alejandro stood immediately before sitting again as he saw… guilt. Ghost’s eyes gave it all away. The remorse for the situation. Rodolfo had to be in a bad state. Alejandro didn’t want to find out how bad but he had to.

“The main operations are conducted in an old store room, located deep in the mining tunnels. Fortunately, there is a lift we could access on the opposite side which is the only other way out, save for the entrance tunnel, which is roughly a mile long.” Ghost put up pictures and a map on the main screen. “I know exactly where Rodolfo is, but it was too closely watched. Graves has it under tight security down there. Unfortunately, stealth was not a viable tactic. We need to blow up the radio tower and cut off communications and then send every man we can.”

He turned back to the table, looking at Alejandro. “I will lay everything out, but this is your mission to lead.”

Alejandro let out a breath and stood, crossing the room to look at the screen. He looked over Ghost’s plan notes. His eyes were caught by a picture of Rodolfo, chained to a wall. Fortunately, all of his body seemed to be intact, if not severely bruised. Systematically beaten, he would guess.

He took in a shaky breath before releasing it and turning to the table, considering each member’s strength like he did before every mission. “Laswell will stay here as an operator.”

Laswell nodded, unsurprised.

Alejandro looked to Gaz and price. “Gaz, you will lead ⅓ of our men to the lift and take that side. Brute force it. Price will take the rest to the other side and flush through the mining tunnels.”

Both also nodded, Price immediately standing and getting on the radio to gather forces, Gaz following him.

“Soap will blow up the radio tower, since he can handle explosives.”

Soap half grinned, sticking both thumbs up.

“Ghost, you and I will sneak in and grab Rodolfo during the chaos.” Alejandro turned to Ghost, who nodded, gravely. He turned to Laswell. “We will need you to keep a listen out for us.”

“Will do, Colonel.” She nodded.

Alejandro dispatched them to prepare before following Ghost to put on stealth armor. “Ghost, be honest. How bad is it?”

Ghost was silent for a while. “I will… be honest. I have had first hand experience with a lot. While it does not come near being the worst it was… more than I expected. And I expected it to be bad.”

Alejandro sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. “Where’s the videos?”

“I had them downloaded to a flash drive. You’ll find them in the mission data.”

Alejandro nodded, putting on his helmet and attaching the night vision goggles. “How difficult is this stealth mission going to be?”

“Difficult but Graves is not in the shaft at the time. He is in the US, likely gathering supplies.”

Alejandro clenched his fists. “So we can’t even kill the bastard?”

“We will. Eventually.” Ghost promised. “After the trouble he has caused me, I will personally end him. Slowly and painfully.”

“I want to.” Alejandro said, immediately. “I will.”

Ghost looked to him, seeming almost impressed, and then deeply concerned. “Alright.”

Alejandro relaxed only slightly before securing his com device.

Once everyone was secure and connected, Soap started his mission to the radio tower with Ghost guiding him to get there.

Alejandro watched his marker move on the map until he made it to a very old radio tower.

“Detonating in 3… 2… 1…” Soap’s microphone went silent before the explosion, thankfully.

“It wasn’t too loud. I only used one pack of C4 to bring down it’s leg and it sort of just crumbled. I am escaping back to the truck now to meet up with Gaz. Gaz, do you copy?”

“Waiting for you, Soap. We see your mohawk.”

“Do I look good?”

“Boys.” Laswell interjected.

Alejandro was grateful. He normally found their banter funny but… not that night.

“Soap is secure, Laswell. We are heading to the location of the lift, now.”

“Team A is surrounding the mineshaft as we speak. Gaz, you give the green light.”

Alejandro and Ghost took that as their cue to take off, Ghost driving the truck as fast as possible. 

They went to the lift’s side, since that was closer.

“Damn, the bloody lift is rusted shut.”

They were cut off by a small explosion noise and Soap laughing. “Not anymore. Good thing I kept a second charge on me.”

Ghost sighed as he got out of the car, shaking his head. “Exactly how many charges did you bring, Mactavish?”

“Only 4 sir. One for each leg of the tower. I didn’t expect it to be so old and decrepit. I likely could have blown on it and it would have crumbled.”

Alejandro took it back. He was grateful for the distraction.

“Team B is secured in the lift, Team A, do you copy?”

“We copy, Team B. Going in on your go ahead.”

“The lift is descending. Go now, Team A.”

Ghost nodded to Alejandro, showing him a small tunnel entrance. “It’s a maintenance tunnel for the lift. It’s how I got out.”

Alejandro swiftly followed him down, able to hear the distance sounds of gunfire. “How deep is this mineshaft?”

“More shallow than you’d expect. I suspect it was abandoned because of cartel activity.”

“Many were.” Alejandro nodded.

“From here you can slide.” Ghost said, after a few minutes and then started to slide down the ladder.

Alejandro followed suit, making sure to keep as slow of a pace as he could to not break his leg, or Ghost’s neck, at the bottom.

Once he hit the ground, he dusted himself off before putting his goggles over his eyes, following Ghost through the tunnels. They wound around dead soldiers and cartel members alike, though the cartel members far outweighed the soldiers. The fight was far from fair, but Alejandro didn’t care.

He would take care of the paperwork once Rudy was back at the base, safe and sound.

Alejandro followed Ghost deep into the minds, trying to keep his mind off the gunfire in the distance.

They finally reached another tunnel, which Ghost swiftly turned down. “There will be people down this way. Heavy guns. Stay close to minimize our target area.”

Alejandro nodded.

Ghost tapped his com device. “Laswell, this is Ghost checking in. We are in the tunnel leading to Parra. Dispatch Soap to follow at a distance.”

“Will do, Lieutenant. Soap-”

She turned to the other radio and cut off. Alejandro knew this was to make sure one of them could carry Rodolfo. He admired Ghost’s ability to think so far ahead in such a tense moment.

Alejandro usually could, but not right now. He ducked behind a minecart that was smashed into the wall as gunfire rang out towards him. He and Ghost both aimed and took out the offenders, before continuing.

They had to duck nearly every ten minutes, but eventually Soap’s gunfire would also fire with theirs, taking out more targets.

Finally, they reached a door and Ghost just shot the lock, yanking the door open.

They walked in to see a man actively putting a lock on a large glass box, rapidly filling with water, Inside, was Alejandro’s Rodolfo, panicking and slamming his fists on the glass as hard as he could.

Ghost started to take out the men surrounding the room, and Alejandro beelined straight for the one locking the box.

That one turned around and grinned at Alejandro, sticking the key in a mouth filled with rotting teeth and swallowing it. Alejandro didn’t waste time as soon as he was near him, knocking him down with the butt of his gun and shooting the glass. All it did was make a small circle of cracks.

“Fuck! Ghost, the box is bullet proof!”

“Where in the fuck did Graves get bullet proof glass?!” Soap shouted behind him.

“Damn it, it’s a key padlock!” Alejandro cursed for several long moments in spanish. He turned to the man, who was laughing on the ground.

He kicked his stomach, causing him to groan and roll over, coughing up blood. But no key. “Fuck!!!” He snarled and kicked him again.

“I’m not gonna puke it up! Fuck you!”

Alejandro stared down at the man who was still coughing. 

Ghost seemed to be looking for a solution.

Alejandro turned to the box, where he saw that the water level was already under Rodolfo’s chin. He started to panic, the weight of the situation pounding down on him.

He looked back down at the man, getting out his knife. “Fine. Then I have no other option.”

The man’s eyes widened and he suddenly started to make a very concerted effort to get away but Alejandro dragged him back, forcing him onto his back and keeping him down with his knee on his chest, crouching to reach.

He ripped the man’s shirt, not hesitating to sink the blade deep into his stomach. He sliced upward with a fluid motion, hearing a gurgle from the man, which almost drowned out the squelch of organs being slide in half.

Alejandro shoved his hand into what he hoped was the man’s intestine. Blood pooled fast, sinking into the top of Alejandro’s glove, but Alejandro continued, finding the key after only a few moment’s of searching.

The man couldn’t scream, but he was trying, clawly at Alejandro’s leg as his strength waned.

Alejandro didn’t waste time to kill him, wiping the key off and forcing it into the padlock.

Once the lock was off, he slammed into the box.

It swayed once before he slammed into it again, sending it tipping over,

Fortunately, Rodolfo fell out with only a soft thud, sliding across the dirt.

Alejandro immediately ran over to him, Soap and Ghost following.

Soap checked his pulse. “He’s not breathing.”

“Move!” Alejandro barked at Soap, shoving him away. He got Rodolfo onto his back and immediately started chest compressions.

1, 2, 3- come on Rudy, come on! He stared at Rodolfo’s face as he did them, before stopping at 30 to force air into his lungs, and then continuing compressions.

Every beat felt like agony, but Alejandro continued.

“Alejandro-” Soap started but Alejandro only glared at him before continuing.

It was the only time Alejandro had seen Soap shrink back.

1, 2, 3- Rudy, wake up! Wake up now!! His heart started to squeeze tighter with each beat.

The hope started to leave his chest and right when the thought of giving up cross his mind, Rodolfo’s body jerked and he gasped, his eyes flashing over.

Relief slammed into Alejandro’s body and he immediately pulled Rodolfo up into a hug. 

He felt Rodolfo’s arms attempt to weakly wrap around his body, confirming he wasn’t brain dead. “Rudy, oh thank god-”

“Commander, I-” Rodolfo rasped before coughing up water right onto Alejandro’s shoulder.

Alejandro wouldn’t have cared if he puked into his hair, because it meant Rodolfo was alive. “Don’t- Just relax, we’re gonna get out of here.”

He stood, tugging Rodolfo up and throwing him over his shoulder, trying not to notice how considerably lighter he was.

Graves was going to regret every scar. Every bruise. Every kilogram that Rodolfo had lost. Every fucking chest compression that Alejandro had to perform. Every moment he had feared for the possibility of Rodolfo never being found alive.

Every single fucking second of it.

Alejandro rushed after Ghost and Soap, trying to comfort Rodolfo who coughed at every jostle.

Soap led them back to the lift and started to force it up, ducking as gunfire sprayed into it.

“Gaz!! It’s us!!” He immediately cried into the coms, trying to force the lift faster.

“That’s not our gunfire! There was an unmarked tunnel, some of the cartel members got away through it. I’m trailing them now! Is Rodolfo secured?”

“I have him Gaz!” Alejandro confirmed, gently setting Rodolfo down where the bullets couldn’t reach.

“Gaz, retreat back to the other entrance, I’m blowing off another pack of C4!” Soap called, getting the C4 ready.

“Soap, are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“Just get to the other fucking entrance! Price, retreat now!!”

Alejandro looked at Soap, about to stop him before setting the sheer number of cartel members pouring out of the secret tunnel.

Even Ghost looked alarmed, shooting what he could.

Soap armed the C4 and waited before pressing the button right as the lift was almost too high. “45, 44, 43,” He counted.

Ghost slammed his fist on the up button for the list. “Faster, you piece of shit!!”

Alejandro immediately went to coms. “C4 blowing in-” he listened as Soap hit 30 seconds, “30 seconds!”

“Jesus fucking christ, Soap!!” Price practically screamed into the coms.

Right as Soap hit 15, the lift made it to the top and Alejandro grabbed Rodolfo, throwing him up onto the dirt.

Soap and Ghost climbed out and dragged Alejandro out, Alejandro barely making it out before the lift slammed right back down, a very muffled explosion ringing up through the shaft of it.

“Fuck-” Soap panted.

“Team A and Team B, do you both copy?”

“Team A and B both secured, retreating to the trucks, now!”

“Soap, I’m gonna kick your ass when this is over.”

“Hey, it worked!!” Soap grinned and helped Alejandro get Rodolfo back to the truck.

Rodolfo was shivering violently, unable to take a step without falling.

Alejandro climbed into the back with him and Soap, who promptly went to work assessing Rodolfo’s injuries and treating what he could.

Alejandro focused on keeping Rudy awake, carding his fingers through his hair and gently asking him to keep his eyes open.

“Commander, I can’t, I’m-”

“Shh, I know…” Alejandro murmured and smiled, looking into Rodolfo’s eyes.

Rodolfo started to cry, likely from exhaustion and stress, begging Alejandro to let him sleep.

“Delirium. Keep him awake. If he’s awake, his brain is working.” Soap commanded Alejandro.

Alejandro just worked on keeping him awake, shaking him when he had to. “Remember the mountains? Cliff jumping?”

Rodolfo hiccuped and cried out in pain before panting a little. “I.. never wanted… to jump, that… was your idea…”

Alejandro laughed softly. Always Rodolfo, reminding Alejandro that he was in fact the trouble maker of the two. “You always did it, though.”

“Would follow… you anywhere, Commander…”

Alejandro felt a pang in his chest. He shook him to wake him when his eyes closed, causing Rodolfo let out another soft sob.

Once they were back at base, he was taken immediately to the infirmary, where Alejandro couldn’t follow.

The medics were competent. He would trust them with his own life. But not Rudy’s.

Rodolfo had barely noticed being moved, just asking the medic if he could sleep now.

Alejandro clenched his hands into fists, taking deep breaths to calm before meeting Price and Gaz and Lazwell.

25 hours. Alejandro counted each minute. Fuck, he counted each breath. 25 hours was how long before he was allowed to see Rodolfo.

Alejandro barely had to think before he was bursting into Alejandro’s room, unable to breathe at the sight that greeted him. “Don’t worry, Commander. He’ll live.” The medic currently tending to Rodolfo informed Alejandro.

Alejandro had a hard time believing it as he looked over Rodolfo. 

Rodolfo had always been nearly 3 inches taller than him. Alejandro had hated it. Each time it was brought up.

Of course, Rodolfo brought it down to 1 inch by always crouching all the time. He always tried to make himself less imposing. Even in the field. Alejandro had scolded him many times for it.

Now, looking at Rodolfo in the bed, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. He looked so small…

Alejandro dragged a chair over to the bed.

Of course, even with the height difference, everything else about Alejandro was bigger. Bigger chest, bigger shoulders, bigger hands, bigger personality.

He took Rodolfo’s hands, which were lightly bandaged. He looked over Rodolfo again. He remembered the last time he was in a hospital bed. The fire… He had been so panicked then, and even still… Rodolfo hadn’t looked this… broken. Just exhausted.

Even with the oxygen mask keeping him breathing, he looked like he was getting to sleep after 3 days of none.

Alejandro looked at Rodolfo’s hand, again, able to completely fold it in his own. He pressed his forehead to Rodolfo’s knuckles. “Rudy…” He murmured, not liking how his voice came out. He sounded as broken as Rodolfo looked.

He looked at his face again, reaching up to straight Rodolfo’s hair, putting it how Rodolfo preferred to keep it. He remembered Rodolfo’s words in the truck. I’d follow you anywhere.

Alejandro would not ask Rodolfo to follow him into death. He couldn’t take it. Watching Rodolfo cling to life was like sucking his own out of him. Each breath had been agony.

He looked up to a soft noise. “Ahem.” Ghost stood in the door, holding a flash drive. “Laswell hit a button and ‘accidentally’ deleted the footage of Rodolfo being tortured. But… I put it on a flash drive for you. She… doesn’t understand that need. To watch it.”

Alejandro looked down at that small little rectangle in Ghost’s hand.

Part of him wanted to curse Ghost out for suggesting he even look at it, but the rest of him needed to see. Needed to understand what Rodolfo had went through.

He stuck his hand out for it, looking away from Ghost.

Ghost placed the drive in his hand. “Graves has been located. He’s on the path back to the border, now. We cannot grab him while he’s in the US.”

“Officially.” Alejandro corrected.

Ghost looked at him for a moment. “What do you want me to do, Alejandro? Say the word, and I am yours to command.”

Alejandro looked down at the flash drive in his fingers. “Is he in them? Does he touch Rodolfo?”

“Graves did most of the interrogating. So, yes.”

“I want him in one of my cells as soon as you can get him there. Faster than even that.” Alejandro growled, clenching the drive in his fist. He was going to do whatever had been done to Rodolfo to Graves. Slowly. He would make sure he felt every minute of it.

Ghost stood and left, immediately.

Alejandro turned back to Rodolfo.

He’d give anything to see his eyes right now. He took Rodolfo’s hand again and then… after a moment, he started to kiss every finger, murmuring an apology with each kiss.

One for not finding him sooner, one for forcing him to stay awake, one for not immediately taking Graves’ reappearance more seriously, and one for not taking the chance to tell Rodolfo every single thing he felt towards him before.

He put his forehead on Rodolfo’s hand again, trying to think through his feelings.

He knew he felt… something romantic towards him. Something strong. It was too big for Alejandro to keep a handle on, sometimes. He took a deep breath, able to perfectly imagine the warmth in his chest that he always felt when Rodolfo smiled at him.

The clench in his heart when Rodolfo said his name or laughed. Even just “commander” caused his heart to flutter.

At first he’d been embarrassed over it, but in time he had settled into just accepting it as part of them. Being in love with Rodolfo felt as inherent as breathing or sleeping.

The sun would rise, flowers would bloom, clouds would rain, and Alejandro would love Rodolfo. It felt baked into the universe, so absolute and so divine, that Alejandro would not fight it, even if he wanted to.

But… Alejandro could not be sure that Rodolfo felt the same towards him.

Being of higher rank brought a concerning power dynamic, and while Alejandro knew in his heart that he would not pressure Rudy into loving him, how did he know Rudy would not feel pressured, anyway?

He couldn’t live with himself if that was revealed to be the case.

And… Alejandro knew his affection was obvious. Valeria had pursued him during their time at a squad, but even she noticed that Alejandro’s heart was already taken. Had been since they were children.

Alejandro’s heart would forever belong at home with Rudy.

If Rudy ached, it ached. If Rudy smiled, so did his heart. Losing Rudy meant losing his heart. And Alejandro feared that more than anything else in this world.

Alejandro looked again to Rodolfo’s face, being greeted with brown eyes, watching him move.

“Commander-” He coughed a little, pulling the intubation tube from his mouth. “I-” He coughed again.

Alejandro gently stopped him, putting the tube back. “You need it to breathe, Rudy.”

“I’m sorry-” It was muffled but Alejandro could make it out.

“Rodolfo, there is nothing to apologize for. I am just… so grateful that you are here and you are alive.” Alejandro sat back down and smiled at Rodolfo.

Rodolfo relaxed and closed his eyes again, looking exhausted. “Chest hurts…”

“You didn’t swallow much water but your body was weak when you swallowed what you did.” A medic replied, stepping in. “But, you’ll live. And you’ll be back in action within the week.”

Alejandro glared at the bed. He’d see about that. After this, he wasn’t sure he wanted Rodolfo back in the field.

Rodolfo seemed relieved.

“I want to do some small tests. You sustained a lot of damage to your spine, Sergeant. Can you hold up two fingers?”

The movement was weak and slow, and his fingers didn’t quite clench properly but two fingers were held up. 

“Perfect, Sergeant. Now, I’m gonna dig my pen into your foot. Nod if you feel anything.”

She moved to Rodolfo’s feet, doing as she said.

He frowned but didn’t nod.

The medic frowned. Alejandro felt his heart being squeezed again. “What does that mean?”

“As I said, he sustained a lot of damage to his spine. And his nervous system due to almost drowning. We’re gonna give him a day to rest some more and test this again.”

Alejandro clenched his hands into fists. “Is he paralyzed?”

“We do not know, commander. We will have to wait to find out.” She smiled, sorry. Then, she left the room.

Alejandro looked to Rodolfo, who had closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath and took Rodolfo’s hand again. “It’s gonna be okay, Rudy.”

Rodolfo nodded a little, his eyes opening and looking at Alejandro.

Alejandro, for a moment, found himself feeling he was being pulled open, every feeling he had towards Rodolfo on bright display. He looked away, wincing as Rodolfo made a frustrated noise.

“Why??”

“Why what, Rodolfo-” He was stopped by a medic coming in. She unhooked everything unnecessary from Rodolfo’s body, leaving him with just the IV and putting a small oxygen hose around his nose, stating it was just a precaution to make sure he was breathing. Then, once she had helped him sit up, she left.

Alejandro waited for her to leave before turning to Rodolfo, being met with him glaring at him. “Rodolfo..” He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“You always look away from me when I can… see on your face that you’re thinking something deep. There’s something you want to say but if you look away, you won’t.” Rodolfo coughed a little but mostly glared. “I am not a child, Alejandro, I can handle whatever you’re about to say.”

Alejandro shook his head. “It’s complicated, Rodolfo. Deeper than just unspoken words.”

“I’m in love with you, commander.”

Alejandro’s heart stopped and he immediately turned to Rodolfo, who was looking away from him. His face was deep red and his hands were in fists.

Alejandro softened and tried to breathe again. “Can you repeat that, Rudy?”

“I. am. in. love. with. you.” He repeated, sounding even more irritated. But, his voice cracked on the last word and he turned back to Alejandro. “And I know you’re in love with me back, so why can’t you just say it?”

Alejandro was unable to breathe again, seeing the intensity in Rodolfo’s eyes. He had stared into them many times, unable to form any other ideas than kissing Rodolfo and even now, that was all his brain could offer.

So, he did. He surged forward and grabbed Rodolfo’s face, kissing him deeply.

Rodolfo at first tensed before just melting into the kiss, reaching and grasping at Alejandro’s shirt with whatever strength he had. Alejandro felt his skin catch fire wherever Rodolfo touched or made an imprint.

Alejandro was gentle as he could be, pulling him close and almost cradling him, careful not to hurt his precious Rodolfo. Finally, he broke away, panting a little, when he needed air.

Rodolfo was panting as well. Too hard. He had to quickly lie down, staring at the ceiling. “I… have fantasized… most of my life about you doing that.” He smiled at Alejandro.

Alejandro pushed his hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to slow his heart. “I have fantasized almost every day since I was 12 years old about doing that.” He grinned and leaned close to Rodolfo again, gently kissing his jaw, and then his cheek, and then the corner of his mouth, mostly doing it to be able to hear his breathing.

“You need to rest, mi sol.” He murmured, smoothing Rodolfo’s hair.

“How can I? You made my heart go so fast I can no longer hear its beats.” He gently grabbed Alejandro’s shirt again, keening into each kiss.

“You have a taste of what your eyes do to me, then.” Alejandro purred into his neck. “I’m… you need to eat and so do I. I haven’t eaten since the morning before we rescued you.”

Rodolfo tsked. “Alejandro-”

“I know, Rudy. I know.” Alejandro laughed softly and stood.

He was swift, not wanting to waste time to be with his Rudy again. He grabbed whatever they gave him, bringing it back to Rudy.

Fortunately, it was molletes, which Rudy liked. Not necessarily loved but he liked them enough.

Alejandro sat by his bed again, helping Rodolfo back up so he could eat. He let Rodolfo eat on his own, knowing he was too proud to accept help. 

And, they ate in silence, neither one willing to break it.

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #angst #comfort #sad stuff #multi part fic #kidnapping #mentions of torture #graphic scene #i love queue #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price

[nevadancitizen]

“apologies”

synopsis: after dying for the nth time, you finally get some alone time with mark to apologize for everything you’ve done. 

word count: 1.6k 

characters: head engineer! mark, captain! reader, doc mitchell from “fallout: new vegas” MWAOICNOV

trigger warnings: guns, infinite time loop, mark and reader being shot and dying but then being not dead

notes: i literally wrote this in two days while high as fuck and still am god bless markipler

The first thing you felt was Mark’s body underneath you, his chest slowly rising and falling. Your close proximity would’ve been very comfortable if not for the second thing you felt: unimaginable pain shooting from the side of your head down into your spine. It was as if lightning had taken up residence in your brain, but was still looking for suitable locations in the rest of your body. 

There were men arguing. Shouldn’t you be able to hear them? Their words were more like boiling water under a pot lid, the muttering of something you can’t quite hear. 

Mark shifted underneath you. You felt the pain start to subside. Don’t misunderstand, the pain was still very real and still very much torturous: it was just that you had started to get used to the feeling of an electric drill being taken to your brain. 

“Captain? Captain, what’s happening?” Mark said. He started to struggle, kicking his feet against the ground in an attempt to sit up. He only stopped when you started cursing at him. 

“Hey, cut the gas!” a voice cut through the fog of pain. “I don’t wanna listen to you whine.”

“Really?” another voice said. “You gonna talk ‘em to death before you shoot ‘em?”

You managed to turn your head just far enough to see who was talking. There were three men, one dressed in a checkered suit, the two others dressed in dirty leather clothes and bandannas. They were talking amongst themselves, but still kept an eye on you and Mark. 

Slowly, you rested your head back on Mark’s body while still facing the men. “Mark, do you know them?”

“No,” Mark said. “I… I don’t.”

“I said to quit talking,” the man in the checkered suit said. 

The man on his left turned to him and fidgeted with his fingernails. “Would you just get it over with?”

Checkered-suit didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder. “Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, dig?”

You looked at him in disbelief. What was this man even trying to say? Were the other two men Khans? What the hell were Khans, anyway? 

Your attention was brought back to checkered-suit when he pulled a shiny poker chip out of his inside breast pocket. Something about that chip was familiar. You felt Mark’s breath hitch underneath you. He must’ve recognized it, too. 

Checkered-suit looked at the chip, turning and looking at it from different angles in his hand. “You’ve made your last delivery, kids. Sorry you both got twisted up in this scene.”

The two other men were almost balking at him, waiting impatiently for something to happen. Checkered-suit put the chip back and pulled out a gun. 

You knew what they were waiting for. 

“From where you’re layin’, it must seem like an eighteen-carat run of bad luck.”

The man on the left looked away. You weakly grasped at Mark’s coveralls. Mark grabbed your wrist back. Checkered-suit readied his aim. 

“The truth is… the game was rigged from the start.” 

You could barely register the shots that rang out before you crashed into the unknown black. 

Waking up, still drunk from dying, wasn’t the best experience. The ceiling swam and your head throbbed even worse than before. The lightning had moved in and created a beautiful little family for itself. 

A hand grasped your own. You hummed at the touch before shooting up, tearing your hand away. 

You were laid in a tiny bed next to Mark. He was between awake and asleep, groaning and screwing up his eyes at the light. His hand was, apparently, searching for yours. It stopped searching after a few seconds. A dirty and bloodied bandage was wrapped around his head. You reached up and touched your own bandage, skimming your fingers over the gauze. 

Had the man really shot you? Had he dared to shoot Mark?

There were footsteps behind you. You turned to see an older man, his hands up, approaching the bed. 

“You’re awake,” the man said. “How about that.”

You looked at him and tried to talk. Your tongue was concrete in your mouth and your teeth were hot, molded-together plastic. 

Your eyes darted around the room frantically. You started to get up, but the man rushed over and pushed you back down. 

“Woah, easy there, easy,” he said. “You both been out cold a couple days now. Why don’t you relax a second, get your bearings? Maybe your friend will wake up too.”

You tried humming words and mouthing them for a second. Eventually, you managed to rasp out a “yeah.” 

Mark would’ve looked peaceful while he slept if not for the excessive bruising and bandaging. How did he survive a bullet to the head? Hell, how did you?

“I’m Doc Mitchell,” the man said. “We’re in a town called Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go rootin’ around in your noggin to get all the bits of lead out. Some animal banged on my window and I nearly lobotomized the other one.”

Doc Mitchell laughed until it seemed like he realized that he actually could’ve lobotomized Mark. It wasn’t funny anymore. 

Still, it didn’t really shock you to hear that you had died. Again. You hummed, tracing Mark’s jaw. He sighed at the touch, leaning into it ever so slightly. You really hoped he would wake up: sure, you had seen him die many times now, but it never gets any easier. Both of you were lucid and awake for every death, fully aware of every second of suffering. It might be labeled selfish, but you didn’t want Mark to die. You didn’t want to die.

“Anyway. I take pride in my needlework, but you better tell me if I left anything outta place,” Doc Mitchell said. There was an unsaid suggestion that said he might’ve stabbed you insane. 

You tapped the palm of your hand with the side of the other in a sign telling him to stop. Mark hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, just writhed so weakly on the bed. Why was this man so eager to get you up and running? So he could say that his operation to bring people back from the dead had a fifty-fifty chance of success? 

“Leave,” you rasped out. “We need… privacy.”

Doc Mitchell looked to the side and sighed. “Well… I guess I could leave you alone for a few minutes. I just need to check in to make sure that you don’t die.”

You nodded and watched him leave the room, which actually wasn’t really a room because the whole house was connected. But still, you appreciated he didn’t mention that. 

Mark huffed in his somewhat-awake-sleep. It seemed like he was trying to wake up, like the jerky movements from his fingers were an attempt to say I’m alive, Captain, don’t mourn me just yet. You laid a hand on his chest and felt him breathe, then took him by his coveralls and shook him as hard as you could. A few pieces might come loose, but that would just make him the same way he was before. 

“Mark, you idiot.” you strained your throat to say. “We die together or we don’t die at all. Wake up!”

Mark’s eyes flew open, then focused on you. He grabbed at your arms, patting them to make sure you were actually there. He tried to talk, but all that came out was strained gibberish. 

“We got shot,” you said over his blubbering.

Mark stopped. He took his arms away from yours, and just sat, looking around at the room. Something was going on in that head of his – besides the slow healing of his brain, of course. 

“We… got shot,” he repeated. His voice was as equally dry and raspy as yours. It almost hurt to hear. “And we’re still here?”

You nodded. “I think we should stay. For a while.”

Mark looked exhausted. He was still bloody and bruised from everything that supposedly happened in the past few days. He closed his eyes and leaned into you. 

Tears started to brim at your eyes. You wrapped your arms around him and let your weight rest against him. Had this reality only come to fruition so you could realize what a shit job you’re doing at protecting your crew? Mark didn’t need to get shot for that. 

“Captain,” Mark whispered, “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Don’t,” you said. A tear slipped down your face and spattered on Mark’s coveralls. “Why are you trying to apologize? I’m sorry. Sorry for… for everything.”

The reasons you wanted to apologize wiggled and squirmed like a tapeworm on a hot skillet in your head. Their mouths were taped, practically glued shut, and yet they were still biting at their rusty-tasting lips, so that maybe they could say something through a little hole. But the tape was wide, and the glue had a grip of iron. Their mouths had grown shut. 

You could apologize for everything in the world, and it still would not be enough. What had happened to you? Why can’t you just apologize?

“I want to go home,” you said instead. “Back on the ship. That’s home.”

Mark sucked in a breath and shuddered as he sobbed. His breath was hot against your neck, tears soaking into your coveralls. “We’re… we’re going home soon. Trust me, Captain.”

“Thank you, Mark.” you squeezed him tighter. “Truly, thank you.”

#riptide writes 🌊 #my friends are getting tired of me talking about markiplier so tumblr is subjected to this torture instead #but i really do just want a hug from tha big man.. #ALSO FUCK MACK!!!!!! MARK SUPREMACY #markiplier #in space with markiplier #iswm #iswm x reader #in space with markiplier x reader #markiplier x reader #engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #space mark #space mark x reader

[channieandhisgoonsquad]

Winter Blunderland (Part Three)

Word Count: 2632

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, some dirty thoughts mentioned, embarrassment.

Comments: I was thinking on what I wanted to say in this part for a long time. It's not much but something is better than nothing. @lyramundana here's another part! :)

Summary: Isn't it such an unfortunate thing when you are stuck somewhere you don't want to be? Like a fucking airport. :(

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

What you had thought was bubbly, your word for champagne or sparkling wine, was actually vodka. It was a shot of straight vodka that this man had poured you. But you were still in the dark on that fact. 

When you were lifting the glass to try it you looked through your eyelashes to see he had taken the whole drink as a shot. Maybe that was a customary thing from where he’s from? Or maybe he was just eager for more. Regardless, you took a sip, and boy were you surprised.

You coughed so hard at the strong burning sip, feeling like you were lied to, but you had just assumed he wouldn’t have grabbed and poured you both actual liquor to share. The surprise was so impactful that you felt like you had been punched in the gut and lost all air in your lungs. As you sat there dying, Minho let out a full blown laugh, the first you had heard from your mysterious new friend. You started trying to laugh too. His laugh was so contagious and, despite being startled, you knew that it was your own stupid mistake and just enjoyed doing something dumb with someone that made you feel comfortable being weird in your skin.

After the failed sip of the shot, you downed the rest, knowing the drill. This wasn’t your first shot, and if the dark bottle sitting on the empty chair between you and your friend was any indication, it wasn’t your last of the night. 

“Can you hold your liquor?” Minho questioned, catching his breath from laughing so hard at how dumb you had just acted. He reached for a bag of chips on the makeshift table between the two of you with a teasing look in his eye. 

“No! I mean, yes! That’s not the problem here, SIR.” You defensively answered with a pout at his guess, “I didn’t think it was actual vodka. Are you trying to get us drunk??” You laughed at his innocent face he made.

Hand on his chest as he clutched his designer shirt, “I am getting drunk. You don’t have to if you cannot keep up.” His smirk was pure EVIL. 

Challenge accepted. 

You poured a second shot for both of you in your designated cups and lifted your own to your lips without hesitation. In one gulp, and with eye contact held with the handsome man, you finished it and set your plastic cup back down on the “table”. 

Now it was your time to smirk. But he still held steady his expression as he smoothly lifted his soft lips to his own cup. The burning sensation made you feel hot in all the right places and you couldn’t stop thinking about what his lips would feel like latched to your neck. 

It’s torturous being so close to such a gorgeous creature. You’re used to social media showing you what you can’t have, but did the world really have to mock you so much to put one of those imaginary men in front of you? 

The way his loose jeans still manage to hug his thighs while he sits? Based off the way his biceps look in his t-shirt, and the large veins cover the back of his arm and wrist, this mans works out. His thighs must look so good without fabric constricting them. 

His purple mane has a gorgeous wave to it and barely touches his nape. My gods, you could see yourself grabbing those ends when you finally managed to slide your arms around his slender neck-

“Y/n?” Minho waved in front of you, fully aware of you zoning out. Was he aware of you literally taking in his pleasing physique? The universe wouldn’t be that cruel, would it? 

With your vision focusing back on Minho and that smug little grin had you thinking otherwise. You could feel yourself getting queasy at the thought of being caught being a horn dog and took evasive action to change the subject. 

“Where are you from, Minho?” You decided getting to know a little more about him would help you do a one-eighty. 

“Seoul. And you?” He beamed at the direction this was going. Y/n was fully unaware of who he was, and it was so refreshing to have a normal conversation with someone that didn’t involve his band. To be asked questions in such a casual manner was making y/n even more attractive in his eyes. 

He already found her look and her demeanor gorgeous, but to be treated like a human being and not just an idol is the icing on the cake. He’s always sought out deeper conversations with individuals but being that his face is recognized in nearly every corner of South Korea, it makes it extremely difficult. 

“I’m from a small city called y/c. It’s nothing special.” She brushed off the idea that anything could be important about her, she is dead wrong. His fascination only grew with her mystery. 

“What do you do for work? And why are you going to Phoenix?” 

This is where it could get tricky. He contemplated the best answer without seeming obvious or full of himself. “I dance.”

You were surprised to find that out about him. Although, you had just been speculating he was a model the past half hour or so, so it’s not the most surprising. He already seemed like he worked out, so the pieces were coming together. Of course, a dancer would have thick thighs. 

As you nodded your head at his answer, he was trying to interpret your thoughts, “I am not special. Everyone in Korea does it,” he jests at himself, “what about you?”

The thought that you would have to talk about yourself had escaped your mind while you were trying to take in this image of Minho in your mind. Not the dirty image of what’s underneath the jeans, but who he is at his home. But now, you can’t seem to get that thought out of your mind too. Those shots were already hitting you since you hadn’t eaten since before the airport. 

How would you explain yourself; you don’t really have a career choice as concrete as him. You just tend to go where the wind blows you next. “Right now, I am a secretary at a tech company. Just answer emails and phone calls.” You shrugged off the seemingly blah-ness of your life compared to him. 

He nodded understandingly at how you felt about your job. In seeing that you weren’t very excited about the change in direction of the conversation, he reached back into the plastic bag for the final treasures. 

“There’s more in that bag? Minho, you didn’t have to buy so much.” You tried to speak to the man, but he seemed too focused on his task. 

“My treat. For using your charger.” He says sincerely with the softest smile as he pulls out two black bowls with lids. You sighed when you saw the size of them, but your curiosity was still piqued. 

As he handed you one of the bowls, you softly thanked him and opened the lid to see what was inside. “Ramyeon?! Are you crazy? You spent way too much money on me for just a charger!” You were shocked at the delicious meal that was now in your face, the aromas kicking your growling stomach into full gear. 

Minho just snickered when he heard your happy guts response. You were surprised but he swore he saw your mouth water too. You were a sight to behold. The bewilderment and joy made you look ten years younger. He just hoped that you liked it. 

“You eat.”

You nodded back at him as you sniffed the food fully. You love ramyeon so much. But usually only got the quick stuff at home. Seeing the pork, egg, and the crunchy seaweed on top looked so decadent. And expensive. 

Minho handed you some chopsticks and you looked spooked, “I’m so bad at chopsticks.” You pulled your lower lip out into the most dramatic sad face you could. Maybe he had a fork hiding in there. 

“Here” is all the man said before he reached for the bowl, but you didn’t want to set it down. He was adamant so you let him set the bowl on your makeshift table. He reached over to you but you were too far away. He scurried off his seat onto the floor and patted the seat next to you. 

Being a little tipsy, you didn’t think about the dirty floor. Just how he beckoned you to sit close to him with yourselves facing the seat where your food and drinks sat. He grabbed your right hand and placed the chopsticks accordingly. His grip was soft, but his hands were so strong and warm. 

You wanted to watch how he put your hold on the pieces of wood, but you were more drawn to the concentration on his face as he tried to teach you something he’s probably done since he could walk. His nose was too perfect; angled sharply and downward. And his full upper lip was tucked away into his lower in an attempt to focus. He took a second to look up while he thought of how he normally holds his. Even his eyelashes were perfect. 

He caught you staring and smirked at you. “Focus.” He sternly nodded at his deft hands making your fingers function in an odd way from what you're used to. His ears were red, and you felt hot at the fact you were caught in the act, so you tried your darndest to watch his hands work. 

They were so detailed with every movement he made your own do. The veins in his hands moved with every attempt he had at getting them perfect. He sighed once he had them where he wanted them. He grabbed his own chopsticks and held them next to your own hand, leaning into you to get your right hands close together. His head was practically on your shoulder when he showed you how to open and close them. 

You imitated him, but you were back to thinking about his lips on your neck. He was so close to just doing it. You would gladly let it happen, even if this setting was not private at all. You were obviously still bad at moving the wooden sticks open and close, but he was still proud at his handy work as he whispered an almost sensual “perfect” in your ear and pulled away to start eating his food. 

You felt so stupid for still trying to use these new utensils, but you didn’t want to let him down. So, as you dropped and splashed broth on yourself, Minho slurped his own, almost choking when he saw you do something really funny. 

You were so God damn hungry you just wanted to food to make its way into your mouth on its own. After getting a few good bites and stabbing one chopstick through the entire egg to eat it, he pulled out a fork. 

You huffed as he howled at your defeated face. “But you look so cute struggling.” He smirked at your pouty face. 

“You might look cute with a chopstick in your eye. “he was back to howling but you were less than amused at his torment as you squinted at the evil grape in front of you. 

You noticed over his shoulder that one of the high-top tables freed up and you set your bowl down to run and claim it. He was surprised by your sudden movements, but quickly got the memo that this meal was about to be consumed more properly. The two of you gathered all of your belongings as you got comfortable at an actual table. Without noticing, you placed yourself in the seat right now to Minho, leaving only half a foot between you two. 

You returned to munching at a much faster rate when you took the fork from him. The two of you were silently chewing for a few minutes on the delicious noodles. 

You mixed one of the drinks he got with the liquor to just help finish off the bottle. Looking over to Minho you raised your eyebrows in a question. He understood and shook his head as you silently offered him the same mix drink. 

The atmosphere was light as you continued asking each other dumb questions about each other. He stared intensely whenever you started talking about something you were passionate about. He may not have understood every word that you were spewing, but you were sparkling and gleaming and that was the best part of it all. 

While you were ranting about jobs not being accepting of colorful hair in your hometown, two younger women approached the two of you from behind. They were giggling and seemed nervous as they interrupted your thought with their proximity. 

“Hi! You’re Lee Know, right? We just wanted to ask if we could get a signature and photo with you?” She stuttered dramatically as she tried to hold eye contact with your handsome friend. You quirked an eyebrow at Minho, who looked back at you blushing profusely. 

“Yeah, sure.” He said quickly as he got into a selfie with the two of them and pulled up a peace sign. Then signed what looked like those girls’ passports and they apologized for interrupting and left quickly. 

“Well, that was unexpected.” You again smirked and laughed at the embarrassed man that hid his face in his arms on the table. You could still see how red his ears were and you just grabbed the top and giggled. ``Lee Know, huh?” 

“It’s my stage name.” He said quickly. “Lee Minho is my name.” 

“I didn’t know dancers were so popular that they’d get recognized in random airports.” You guffawed at the strangeness that just keeps getting more unusual. “I won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about your career, but I am impressed. I feel like I’m talking to someone famous.”

He looked back up at you and had a death glare. The last thing he wanted was for you to start treating him differently because of his popularity back home. “I can tell you if you want.”

“Oh no! I love the whole anonymity.”

“Y/n…”

“Oh shit. The mystery.” You simplified your English to make sure you weren’t misunderstood. He nodded and returned his head to the dark inside his arms to hide his still crimson face. 

“I thought you were dope before we were interrupted by your fans.” You made fun of his groan, and you shook his shoulder as you made fun of the situation light heartedly. Before long, your hand that had been tugging him around had gone to rubbing his upper back. He seemed quite embarrassed and didn’t want to remove himself from his hidey-hole. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Let’s just get back to drinks and dumb questions, yeah?” The red-faced gorgeous human finally came out from hiding and looked directly at you, looking for confirmation that everything was fine and that you still wanted to stay with him. And the warmth of your dorky grin made him fully aware that you were, indeed, being honest.

He grabbed his drink and chugged it, pulling another astonished look from you, but also a guttural laugh as he seemed to have a tad reaction from the alcohol. The look in his eyes seemed to be telling you everything he wanted to say, but also saying too many things as he flipped through so many emotions with just his eyes. “Ok, y/n. What do you think of me?”

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

#skz #look at him #jyp stray kids #stray kids #lee know icons #lee know fanfic #lee minho #stray kids lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee know #i know you know lee know #lee know x reader #skz lee know #lee know fic #stray kids lee know #lee know x you #lee know imagines

[hockeynoses]

Steve having a pretty messy cold and Eddie catching his sneezes?

Listen… this got away from me. I’m going to horny jail for this. I still have to push myself to write and post things like this because it’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really like this community and I have a feeling it will be appreciated!

Length: 2k

Rating: Other than being 18+ due to being a kink fic, it’s not racy in any “below the belt” kinda way.

Tags/Warnings: Very mild D/s, mild bondage (more honor-bondage, really), mess, the sensual application of Vaseline to nostrils. 😅

A note about contagion: I don’t know whether to warn for this or not.  It’s discussed in the beginning and is kind of the impetus for the rest of the fic, but I am very particular about contagion and sometimes when I write, I’m under the assumption that the caretaker (Eddie, in this case) is just automatically immune to things. Because that’s the world I want to live in. But you can think about it however you want!

When I started writing this, I was going to have it be kind of ambiguous if Eddie had the kink or not but uh… I doubt a vanilla would be down with doing all that’s going on in this silly little fic.

---

There are many ways that Steve distances himself from his preppy-boy, jock demeanor of the past, but this isn’t one of them.  Sure, Steve’s parents had made sure his manners were immaculate in all the appropriate social situations, and yet, when he’s home alone, all bets are off. When it came to being sick, shades of the spoiled, only-child brat start to make their way to the surface.

This is the first time since getting together that Eddie has seen Steve sick. And he’s more than a little surprised to come home and find the supposedly well-mannered man wrapped up in a pile of blankets, openly sneezing into the air, not even bothering to cover.

Eddie, who admittedly may have had some similar unhygienic tendencies, had his manners drilled into him by Uncle Wayne from a very young age.

As if able to read his thoughts, Steve’s breath starts hitching from his corner of the couch.  

“Ahh…eh’KSHH! Heh-T’CHHHah!” He finishes off with a thick-sounding sniffle.

“Steve! Cover your fucking mouth, man!  You’re not the only one that lives here, you know,” Eddie says with a glare. “I’m sure your royal subjects at Hawkins High were happy to let you sneeze all over them, but some of us don’t want your nasty germs, King Harrington.”

“Sorry, Jesus,” says Steve lifting his blanket-covered shoulder to wipe his face. “And I did nodt ‘sneeze all over’ everyone.”

“I was there dude, I’ve seen how bad you were at covering.”

“Aww, you were watching bme?” Steve says, teasing. A warm flush covers Steve’s cheeks and the top of his nose, making him look even more adorable than usual. As much as Eddie would love to take credit for that, he knows it’s from the cold, and how bundled up he is in his blanket cocoon.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him and says, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’b… hah…ek’TSSHHHoo! Hih’RSSSHH!” Two more completely uncovered. Steve blinks his glassy eyes, dazed.

“You just don’t care, do you?” Eddie asks, irritated.

“I’mb too tired to care,” he says, nose scrunching up as he sniffs again.  “It’s too mbuch work. And I can’t m’bove under all these blankets anyway.”

“‘Too much work’ he says,” Eddie mimics. “Well, if you’re not going to take care of it, I will,” he says as he grabs the box of tissues from the coffee table, pulling enough out that he now has a handful, and setting the box next to Steve on the couch. In a flash, he straddles Steve’s thighs, the combined tangle of the blankets and the pressure of Eddie’s body pinning Steve’s arms even further.

Gently but firmly, he fists his free hand in Steve’s hair, tugging just enough so Steve’s head is tilted back, his mouth hanging open.

“Eddie, wha-?” Steve gets out, before Eddie moves in with the tissues. He manages an initial swipe under his nose before Steve winces away in embarrassment. He doesn’t get far though, Eddie’s hand in his hair pulling him forward again as he finishes wiping from his pink nostrils down to his cupid’s bow.

“Com’b ond man-” Steve tries again. And now the flush across his face is Eddie’s doing, Eddie notes with no small amount of pride.

“Calm down,” Eddie says, surprisingly stern. His gaze is loaded as he looks down at the man below him. “Just let me take care of you.” He folds the tissues in half, cupping them around Steve’s nose.

“Now blow,” he says. Steve can’t believe he’s serious.

“No! Idt’s too gross,” Steve protests, glaring at Eddie above the tissues but not moving. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Just do it, you big baby.” When it’s apparent that Eddie isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Steve gives in.

“Fin’d. You asked for this,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. Eddie holds the tissues tighter against his nostrils as Steve blows out, keeping his hand firm as Steve leans against one side, then the other. He can hear the shifting of the thick mucus in Steve’s sinuses as the cotton becomes more damp, soaking through the layers until Eddie can feel moisture against his fingers. Giving one final blow, Steve rubs his nose back and forth into Eddie’s hand. When he starts to back away, Eddie pinches the tissues around Steve’s nostrils, capturing anything that might’ve been still clinging to his face.

Steve sniffs, testing his airways.  It seems to have helped, he thinks, at least on one side. Eddie tosses the full tissue away and grabs a few more, just in case.

“See? Doesn’t that feel better?” Eddie asks, smirking. The hand that had been clutching Steve’s hair is now softly scritching the base of his neck.

“I b’mean yeah, but…” Steve sniffs again, eyes crinkling closed as he wiggles his nose, trying to dispel a new itch.  “Ah…I thigk I have t-to….!” he says breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back. Eddie’s ready for him, cups his big, kleenex-covered palm across Steve’s nose and mouth.

“Hah…ha-ATSCHHOO!” His head jerks forward with the strength of the sneeze, but Eddie’s hand never falters. Steve’s eyes are still closed, and Eddie watches him, rapt. “Heh…eh…hh’RRESSSHH! Ha-ESSHHH!” The harsh spray of them soaks the tissues, threatening to escape, but Eddie clamps down firmly. Steve stills for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s done, but then- “uh…huh-gkTSSHHuh!” The last one bursts out, sounding particularly messy.

Steve blinks for a minute, coming back to himself, then sits back a little. When he pulls back, there’s a small, clear string of spit – or snot – Eddie doesn’t know which, that clings to his face from the tissue, and Eddie immediately wipes it up, then tosses the bundle away.

“Oh m’by god,” Steve says, dazed.

“Now wasn’t that better than just spraying the entire room?” Eddie asks.

“Mbaybe.” Steve leans his head back against the couch. It gives Eddie a great view; he can’t help but track his eyes along the other man’s gorgeous neck, Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he speaks. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss against his favorite pair of freckles, right up under Steve’s jaw. “If I tell you yes, are you gonna gloat about it?” Steve asks, and Eddie can feel the low vibrations of his words against his lips.

“Hmm, that depends on how nice I wanna be…” he says, pulling back. Steve keeps his head where it is, and Eddie can pretty much see straight up his nose. His nostrils are so, so pink, and they’re starting to get chapped. He can’t help but lean forward and kiss the side of Steve’s nose, right against the bridge.

“Eddie, stop!” Steve says, squirming away. “Fuck, that ti-hih…tickles…” With his arms still wrapped up in the blanket and half underneath Eddie, he can’t reach up to relieve the itch himself. The best he can do is twitch his nose back and forth and shake his head a bit.

“You gonna go again?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer. He gathers a new bundle of tissues from the box, holding them at the ready.

“Uh….Uh-huh…” Steve manages, eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging open, nostrils flaring. This time, Eddie places his free hand against the side of Steve’s neck, fingers soft against the tense muscles there.  The hitches in Steve’s breath build, and finally hearing one last desperate inhale, he covers the other man’s nose with his kleenex-clad hand as Steve lets loose a powerful- “Ha-ISSSHHoo! Huh…ha-RRSSSHH!  et’ISSHH!  Eh…huh-gshHT’CHuh!”

Once again, the wetness soaks through to Eddie’s hand. He’s just starting to pull back, planning on grabbing a clean batch, when he hears a breathy, “W…wait…” and he freezes as Steve leans forward to nestle his nose back into the crook of Eddie’s hand.

“Ha-ESSSSHHoo! Oh b’my god.  These don’t…hih-… they don’t ever fucging stob- hah-ATCCHHuh!” Eddie holds his hand as best he can against Steve’s angry nose. “Fucgk, I- iiihhh-TISSHH! eh-EESSCHHuh!” The last one scrapes against his throat, and he sits back, exhausted. Eddie cleans him up and tosses the soiled tissues.

“Oh baby, that really took a lot out of you,” he says, cradling Steve’s face in his hands. Steve sniffs and looks up at him through his lashes.

“I told you I was tired,” says Steve, giving Eddie his most pathetic look, the one he knew always worked.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, giving in and kissing him on the forehead. “I forgive you for being gross.” He pulls him in for a hug and feels Steve bury his warm face in the crook of his neck. Eddie’s nerves zing to life where Steve scrubs his nose back and forth briefly to kill the leftover itch from his fit. The minutes float by in a haze as they both relax into the embrace, Eddie rubbing Steve’s back every so often.

After a while, Eddie pulls back and says, “Hey, I know what might help.” He leaps off Steve’s lap, inspired.

“Wha-?” says Steve, groggy and half-asleep. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back!” Eddie says over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom for supplies. Once there, he opens the medicine cabinet, eyes scanning for chapstick and vaseline.

In the midst of his rummaging, he hears an echoing, “ha-TISHHH! Ugh. Hih’RSSSHHoo!” followed by a few frustrated sniffles. As if on cue, his eyes land on what he was looking for. Having successfully pilfered the desired items from the cabinet, he heads back out to his boyfriend.

“Jesus, you can’t even go two minutes without having a fit. Do you need me to sit here all day?” he asks as he settles his weight across Steve’s lap again. This time when Eddie moves in with a tissue to clean him up, Steve lets him.

“You bmight have to,” says Steve, sniffling.

Eddie thinks that sounds like a fucking stellar idea. Trying to play it cool, he says, “Hmm, that could be fun. But first…” he holds up the chapstick and a small tub of vaseline. “I have to fix that pretty face of yours.”

“I’b find’e. You don’t have to,” Steve says, seeing where this is going.

“Well once again, Steve, it looks like you’re not taking care of things, so I’ll have to do it myself,” says Eddie, opening the vaseline. “I don’t want any more damage being done to that beautiful nose of yours.” Covering two tips of his fingers in the gel, his other hand cards through Steve’s hair to gently pull his head back.

A quiet “ah!” of surprise escapes from Steve’s throat, unbidden. “You’re crazy,” he says, eyes on Eddie’s face as the other man’s tongue darts out the side of his mouth in concentration.

“Yeah, we already knew that,” says Eddie, as the first stroke of his finger traces along Steve’s right nostril. It flares under his touch. “It’s so chapped, baby.” He continues smearing the moisturizer under Steve’s nose, running his fingers up the center to the tip. “Looks like it hurts.”

“Itd does, a little.” He sniffs and Eddie feels his nostril scrunch up under his finger as he finishes his application on the other side. “Itd’s sen’dsitive,” Steve says, flushing a little under all the attention.

“I bet,” Eddie says. “Tomorrow I’m buying you fancy tissues with lotion.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em,” Eddie says, smirking. Reaching down, he finds the chapstick and pops the cap off. “Pucker up, big boy.” Warm fingers grip Steve’s jaw, gently tilting his face up and holding him still.  Steve’s so stuffed up that he can’t smell the cherry of the chapstick, just feels Eddie dotting it across his lips. He’s forced to breathe through his mouth, lips parted. Eddie smooths the chapstick in slow swipes across his lips.

Satisfied, he snaps the cap back on and sets it aside. His large hands return to cup Steve’s face, stroking his callused thumbs against the other man’s cheeks. Leaning in, he presses a soft, lingering kiss against Steve’s plush lips. Steve just breathes and watches as Eddie pulls back slowly. He’s staring at Eddie’s lips, now slightly shiny where some of the chapstick has transferred.

Feeling too loved and not knowing what to do with it, Steve says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’b sure I look ridiculous.” It comes out breathier than he intended.

“Something like that…” says Eddie, his warm eyes pinning him with a look that makes Steve’s insides go all gooey.

“Thangks,” is Steve’s low response, accompanied by a soft smile.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie says, unable to stop himself from leaning in for one last quick peck. “Okay now, don’t sneeze and ruin all my handywork.” Steve’s nose seems to interpret that as a personal challenge as a familiar itch springs to life deep in his sinuses.

#snz fic #snzfic #snzblr #Ste/ddie #this was my first and only prompt received so far #and luckily it was....very obviously right up my alley #asks #snz fics #snzfics