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teacupwrites · 2 months

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Vees with a Android Reader

Valentino

Valentino had plenty of servants around, such as Kitty

So he didn’t really need another little assistant

But what he did need was a maid

And Valentino isn’t the biggest fan of actual demons that can make mistakes, so he just went out and bought a cleaning android

You were pretty small, about 4’11 and came with a little maid dress and a feather duster

When Valentino first powered you on, he expected a cute little robot who’d follow his orders and not say a word

But you weren’t normal- far from it actually

The Moth Overlord was greeted with a bubbly little maid who would follow him around like a lost puppy whenever you weren’t deep cleaning the place like a maniac

You were eccentric, though obedient and that was what he mostly cared about

Vox nearly had a heart attack when he first met you as you immediately jumped up onto him to clean some dust upon his flat face

Whenever Vox was gone, and Valentino didn’t have anyone to rant to, he would always make a mess of his quarters whilst screaming his frustrations out to you as you quickly cleaned up his trash

Slowly but surely, Valentino grew fond of you, and even would gift you in new clothes or cleaning supplies whenever he was feeling charitable

He treats you better than his other employees, but he also thinks less of you, like you are an Imp or something like that, but he still likes you

“Darling I’m pretty sure that it’s clean,” he protested, looking down at your skittering figure as you darted from place to place in an attempt to keep everything tidy.

He was elegantly perched on his couch, holding up a drink Kitty had brought over earlier, watching in amusement as you dashed around in a panic. There was a party happening, and you were eager to make sure everything looked nice

“No it isn’t!” you called back, snatching an empty glass and quickly stuffing it into the dishwasher. “Everything’s so dirty!” You crawled around with such speeds that Valentino might have mistaken you for a little bug, which was actually one of his many nicknames for you

“Whatever you say, ladybug,”

Velvette

Long story short, Velvette was running out of patience

She needed models to advertise, and all of them kept dying or were just outright ugly in the outfits she provided

After complaining to Vox for forever, he suggested that she buy a model bot

With some convincing, she actually listened, and went out and purchased one, which happened to be you

Though you were bland, so before powering you on she was quick to pazazz and doll you up

And when you did wake up, and did as your manual said, she was pleased

For once, Velvette was nice to someone, and it was a little robot who was constantly pasted onto billboards, commercials, and magazines all dressed in her products

She was chill with you, and you weren’t complaining about free makeup, perfume and clothing

The only thing was that she was very controlling, and liked to have you as her arm candy basically wherever she went

But it was nice to almost never be on the receiving end of her Cockney accent and British slang

Not many people knew your name outside of the V tower, so people online nicknamed you Dolly,

You didn’t really have a name actually, but Velvette enjoyed calling you things like: ‘Sweetheart’ “Dollface’ and ‘Sugar’

And very…very rarely, she will sometimes listen to your opinions, things you picked up on when working with her

“Ugh! All of this is trash!” Velvette snapped, stomping with a deep glare at the line up of demons who had crafted the clothing you were dressed up in.

They all winced underneath her sharp and furious gaze, recoiling away from her quippy and sassy comments as she scolded the people. Meanwhile, you glanced over at something on the pile of clothing.

“Velvette?” you called, making her whip over to glare at you, to which you shyly pointed over to a black and hot pink crop top that sat atop the pile. “What if I matched that with the skirt?”

She seemed skeptical, but with a snap of your fingers, your sleeveless turtleneck was replaced by the crop top, which magically seemed to match the boots and the fitted skirt you wore

Never before had you seen Velvette so surprised before.

“Sweetheart you’re a genius!” she chirped, her frown switching to a bright smile in a second. Velvette then darted over to you, grabbing you by the side and pulling you into a side hug. “Alright- we’re gonna go get you some upgrades today just because of how smart you are.”

Vox

Vox is a lot different from the others simply because he had built you

Originally, you were going to be an assistant type of bot he was going to sell worldwide, with secret cameras in your optics so he could spy on more of Hell

But mistakes were made, and you, the first prototype, ended up adopting a personality he grew quick to enjoy

Though he did end up selling more advanced models like yourself, he kept you, the first

Instead, you were the main hostess of the News he kept up, as Vox was usually pretty busy

The people adored you, and Vox couldn’t just rid of you

Not that he’d want to- so he kept you

He was very attached to your original model, so you were usually denied when asking for upgrades to your system

Though sometimes, he would give you little things here and there

Switchable hands, Better cameras, cleaner plates, or better wiring

But Vox always refused when you asked for a different model

You would always stay in the same body, and he wasn’t backing out of that

He has a lot of nicknames up his sleeve, and enjoys your reactions when he brings in new ones

“Dearheart, Darling, Sugar, etc”

Overall, he’s probably the best to be owned by

#hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

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fadingdaggerr · 3 months

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hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear.

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap.

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath.

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her.

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.”

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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lovebugism · 4 months

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hi bug! could i have ditsy!reader with eddie with the prompt “we can put up the christmas lights tonight!”

she’s just the clumsiest bean ever and almost falling off the ladder as she leans across to hang up the lights. and eddie is just gripping onto her waist so incredibly tightly as he doesn’t want his girl to get hurt :((

just something incredibly fluffy!!

ah this is so so cute! i hope you like it :D — you, the clumsiest girl on earth, decorate the munson trailer and make a worrier out of your otherwise carefree boyfriend (ditzy!fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The trailer smells entirely of the holiday season — of vanilla and cinnamon and something somehow sweeter. It’s because Eddie’s burning a batch of sugar cookies in the oven. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters as he sits the smoking snowflake pastries on the stove.

They’re not totally black, so that’s a plus. They may be only slightly inedible, though.

He shakes his pale hand from the oven mitt and figures he’ll have to throw them out before you get to them. He knows you’ll pretend to like them just so you don’t hurt his feelings — too sweet for your own good.

Eddie’s contemplating this when he notices how quiet the living room has gone. The television plays a muted static, but the lack of your voice is palpable. You’re rarely ever so silent. It’s like every room you’re in glows with the sound of your voice. You only get this quiet when you’re super concentrated.

His head snaps towards the living room — not totally surprised to find you hanging up Christmas lights by yourself but still a little terrified, anyway. His chocolate eyes widen in time with his heart plummeting to his chest.

“I thought we agreed to take a break?” he shouts, rounding the kitchen counter and rushing over to you.

He plants himself in front of the couch you stand on, slightly unstable on the peeling pleather cushion. His ringed fingers are warm on either side of your hips. They clutch you tight with a worry you don’t seem to have.

You string rainbow-colored lights over Wayne’s collection of mugs, leaning over the arm of the couch to fuss with the dangling bits.

Excitement and clumsiness is a dangerous concotion when it comes to you.

“We did, but these were the last things left in the box, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them,” you explain in a tiny, faraway voice — obviously distracted. Your tongue pokes gently from your lips as you try to string lights over the last mug on the left.

“Babe, c’mon,” Eddie urges, voice wavering as his hands grip you tighter.

He doesn’t know if he’s helping as much as he thought he would, or if you feel more comfortable being less careful because you know he’d never let you fall.

Either way, he breathes out a sigh of relief when you stand upright again.

“They were looking at me funny, Eds, I swear!” you say with all your usual dramatics as you turn away from the wall to face him. You’re still standing upright on the old, rickety couch, and he’s still holding tightly onto you.

Your brows are furrowed, your doe eyes wide and twinkling with innocence, and your petaled mouth softly pouted. He couldn’t be angry with you if he tried. You’re too pretty to do anything but love on.

“I believe you, baby,” Eddie assures you with a soft, pink smile. A small chuckle spills from it as he helps you to the ground again, pale palms clutching the outsides of your elbows.

He keeps holding you like that when you stand in front of him. He gives you a gentle squeeze there and rubs his thumbs over your skin. “Just let me know next time, alright? Before you give me a damn heart attack.”

“But I wasn’t even doing anything,” you insist, still pouting softly but only so he’ll wanna kiss you more.

He pulls you closer by your arms and makes you stumble into his chest. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, sweet thing,” he murmurs lowly to you and with his lips curled into a pretty, lopsided thing.

“It’s just Christmas decorations,” you shrug in a measly voice.

Eddie gives you a hardened look made entirely of melted chocolate.

You cave immediately.

“I’ll be careful,” you promise.

His big, stupid grin returns to him. “Good,” he hums, right before bending softly down and smacking a kiss to your waiting mouth.

It’s a fleeting peck — a slotting of your lips and a leaving. You can taste the sugary icing on him, anyway. It leaves you buzzing for more when he pulls away.

“I’m gonna put some more cookies in the oven, ‘kay? Give me ten minutes, and we’ll finish decorating, alright? Together.”

He walks backward towards the kitchen. You beam in response. “I’ll go get the ladder so we can do the rest of the lights!” you offer, voice coated with excitement and sunshine.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie exclaims with a chuckle. Your smile ebbs instantly. “Wayne's ladder is older than I am, babe— you’ll definitely break your neck on that thing!”

You roll your sparkling eyes at him. “You’re being dramatic,” you say with a smile and shake of your head.

“I’m serious, babe,” he tells you, gentle but still stern. He tilts his chin to his chest and gives you a deep brown and serious glare. “Don’t make me fight you over this,” he cautions, still playful in his way.

Your cheek falls to your shoulder. You shoot him a teasing smile and cross your arms over your chest. “I’d still win,” you insist in a pretty little voice.

Eddie scoffs and walks the short distance back to you. “Obviously. But with the power of distraction, I’d keep you from climbing your pretty ass on that ladder, so… Who’s the real winner?”

“Still me,” you joke, smiling when he plants another kiss to your mouth.

“How about you come in the kitchen with me then, huh?” he suggests, if only to soothe his anxious heart. “You can sit on the counter and look pretty while I destroy another batch of cookies. I won’t even feel bad if you make fun of me for burning them.”

Your lips purse softly to the side as you think on his offer.

“I’ll give you a kiss for it,” Eddie blurts in attempts to persuade you.

He blinks, and your arms are wrapped around his neck — an embrace most pleasantly suffocating. He laughs softly, with his nose smushed against yours, and wraps his arms around your waist. He lets you kiss him like your life depends on it a second later.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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thewritersaddictions · 2 months

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Drabble: (COD) Simon Riley: Permanent Kisses

Simon loves getting tattoos. It's a way to bear even more pain in his life, but you aren't painful. You're sweet and everything that Simon isn't. Everything that he can't be while he is away as Ghost.

Your bright smile has his insides churning whenever he sees you. Your soft and gentle touches are the exact opposite of what he's used to, but he loves it regardless.

When he's with you, he isn't a ghost or the hard exterior shell he has learned to be to survive. Simon is just himself, still a little rough around the edges but loving and endearing. It's shocking to Simon the first time the two of you are out and about, just as you and Simon are normal citizens. You aren't afraid to hold his hand, kiss his cheek, or even grab onto his large forearm and bicep to keep him close to you.

He forgets that to you; he is your protector. You see him as your everything. But that deep, rutted feeling is mutual. He feels it in the bottom of his stomach, and his heart seems to bump just a little bit faster whenever you press yourself closer to his side. Aching for his comfort and protection.

So it's not a surprise to him when one night, when the two of you are sitting on his couch with the lights off and the tv playing some random shitty tv show that your lips land on his neck. He's not in favor of showing off his skin; he still wears his mask out in public and opts for the long sleeve workout shirts and long everything else.

Yet you've got him in a short-sleeved shirt slightly lower on his neckline. Not suffocating him as much, and your legs are perched on each side of his large thighs. Your hands carding through the short blonde hair, and your lips pressing soft kisses into the skin.

Your red lip marks are pressed a dozen times into the tanned skin. Simons hum with every kiss you press into the skin, and he rubs sweet circles into your back, never urging you further than you want to go.

"What are you doing, sugar?" Simons asks when you lean back to admire your work. "Looking at my masterpiece." It makes Simon chuckle, and you shake in his lap. "What?" You say, "Nothing, sugar." He says, pressing a kiss to your still-red lips.

It's a day later, actually on Valentine's Day. You hadn't discussed Valentine's Day as a holiday you two would celebrate, but you still got him a present. Except Simons comes home with the sweetest and hottest gift you've ever received.

"Here's your gift, Si." You say you push the card and a new magazine subscription to some gun club. He smiles and opens the card. Your handwriting is perfect; cursive letters pop out in pink shades. 'To the sweetest guy I know. I love you today, tomorrow, and forever after that.' Simon looks up from the card with glossy eyes, and he brings you in for a warm hug with a tiny kiss and lands at your temple.

"Do you wanna see what I got you?" Simons asks as he pulls away from you. Simon sounds more excited now as he sheds himself off his winter jacket. "Close your eyes." He says softly, and then he brings his hand to meet yours. Dragging your hand up his chest and to where his shoulder and neck meet. You feel a little film and then simon tells you to open yours eyes.

When you do its a red tattoo that you are met with. The perfect impression of your lips on his skin. "What?" You sound like you're on the verge of crying. "I got it a few days ago, after you had a kiss attack on my neck." "Hmm" You hum and run a finger over the fragile skin.

"A permanent kiss from my permanent love." He says, kissing your hand gently, and you just stare at his new tattoo, a show of complete and utter love.

#fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon my beloved

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sailorsenshigifs · 2 years

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nikoruistyping · 1 year

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Better Hold Your Breathe || Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You had hoped to have a nice normal morning but its nothing but normal at the BAU and next thing you know you end up locked in the Evidence Room with none other than Spencer Reid, your coworker and crush. As time passes Spencer starts to have a panic attack and there was only one thing you could think of to help stop it...

TW: Fluff, Coworkers to Lovers Relationship, Kissing, Playful Banter, Jealous Spencer, Derek calling you Babygirl as a joke, Depictions of a Panic Attack due to Claustrophobia

Word Count: 2.5K?

A/N: This fic is my annual bday present for my best friend so happy bday my queen and I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did making it for you. I hope your MGG thirst is quenched with this one even though its not really a smutty piece since I ended up changing my plot/idea last minute because I wasnt happy with my writing at all and I’m rusty so I’m sorry if its not as good as my other pieces. THIS IS ALSO MY FIRST CRIMINAL MINDS/SPENCER FIC SO SORRY IF HE SOUNDS A BIT OUT OF CHARACTER I TRIED YALL. BEFORE ANY ONE COMMENTS AND COMES FOR ME YES THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THE STILES & LYDIA KISS FROM TEEN WOLF 3x11 SO SHUT UP I KNOW!

Coffee holder in hand you used your hip to push the glass double doors to the BAU open. You had purposely gone to the coffee shop early that morning so that you could order not only yourself a cup but to also get one for Spencer, who also happened to be the one guy in the BAU that you had the biggest crush on ever since the first day you joined. By some miracle you had remembered his order by heart and it was stupid that you were remembering such little things about him but that's what you do when you really like someone that much right? You tried to convince yourself that watching him make his coffee step by step every morning in the kitchen wasn't creepy at all but next thing you knew you were taking notes about what milk he used and how many sugars he would put inside his cup.

You shook your head at the silly thought and happily you walked over to your desk with the biggest smile on your face ready to take on the rest of the day. Penelope took notice from across the room as she walked in at the same time as you and she lightly nudged your shoulder.

"Well someone looks extra chipper this morning." She commented pushing up her pink colored glasses.

"Aren't I always happy every time I walk into work?" You question raising your eyebrow at her.

"Usually you are but I'm guessing that it has to do with the fact that you bought two coffees...I'm pretty sure that's not all for you." She says with a sly smirk on her lips since she is clearly the best hacker in the BAU there is, but your crush on Spencer was blatantly obvious that she didn't need to hack into brain to know that information.

"Bold of you to assume that Penelope." You say trying to look away but you weren't always the best at hiding your feelings.

"Oh come on, you know I'm right and I'm pretty sure that coffee is for a special someone that we all know you have the biggest crush on." She says with a small roll of her eyes at how it was pointless for you to deny it at this point.

"Fine! Fine...I did get him a coffee but it's just a coffee and that's it, nothing more I promise." You say as you lie to not only yourself but to Penelope who wasn't believing a word that you were saying at all but she just gave you a look of disbelief as she saw Derek across the room and waved hello to him.

"Whatever you say Y/N. Just promise me that eventually you will make a move or else I'll do it for you." She said with a nudge to your shoulder again which just made you chuckle at her declaration.

"I pinky promise, you happy now Penelope?" You say a bit reluctantly.

"Much better. I'll see you in ten minutes in the meeting room, Hotch gave us a new case so I have to prepare." She says as she parts ways with you and heads to her office as you make your way to your desk which of course happened to be right across from Spencer's and it was extremely hard to focus all day looking at his pretty face twenty four seven.

You were surprised to see another coffee cup on your desk with a little sticky note attached to the lid and it instantly made you smile. The closer you got you set down the holder and looked across to Spencer’s desk but he was nowhere in sight. You carefully took the sticky note off the lid and started to read it to yourself.

Y/N,

Hope I got the order right and enjoy.

- Spencer Reid aka Your Favorite Desk Neighbor

His little note made you smile from ear to ear and you could help but pick up the cup and take a small sip. To your surprise he really did get your order right, you hadn't expected him to be so observant but then again he would have a job if that was the case right?

As you look up you see Spencer walking in your direction and when your eyes met his you tried your best to keep your composure and waved to him, his footsteps getting closer until he seemed to park himself right in front of your desk.

"Morning Spence. I-Um...thanks for the coffee that's really thoughtful of you." You admit taking another sip as you glanced over his beautiful facial features.

"Morning Y/N," His reply a controlled stutter, barely keeping it together while you inched closer to where he was leaning against the desk.

He accepted the pipping hot cup you bought him with a whispered thank you. You were excited to see his reaction and you had your fingers crossed that you remembered every detail of his order.

"Did I get it right?" You asked with an eager attitude and smile on your face while you tried to hide behind your coffee cup.

"Surprisingly enough you-" His words were interrupted by Derek coming up from behind and shaking his shoulders playfully.

"Good Morning you two," He said greeting us as he looked at all the coffee cups on your desk and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Looks like you two decided to throw a coffee party and not invite anyone. I'm taking this as compensation." He says with a laugh and grabbing the cup of coffee you had bought for yourself.

"I-I'll allow that but you owe me next time Derek." You say taking a sip and gritting your teeth a bit in anger but not letting it get the best of you.

"Fine I'll get you one next time babygirl," He said with a smirk and a little playful wink which made you flustered for a quick moment since it was out of character for him to ever call you that, that was always his thing with Penelope. You glanced at Spencer and his gaze seemed frustrated and angry, his knuckles almost turning white as he gripped the coffee cup harder. You couldn't quite read what was on his mind since he never was the best at showing or expressing his emotions. It was clear he was upset maybe jealous even.

"Oh come on now, I'm just playing no need to get all flustered. I'll see you both in the meeting room in ten." He said patting Spencer on the shoulder seeing as he made no comments at all about the interaction.

Before you could try and bounce back from the awkwardness Derek had instilled into your conversation with Spencer this morning felt like it couldn't get any worse until you got a call on your desk phone and you picked up.

"Hey Y/N, I need you to go into the evidence room and bring me a few boxes of evidence. Looks like its so old and outdated that its not in the computer system yet," Penelope explained over the phone.

"Penelope really?! Is it that urgent that it needs to be right now?" You question in a bit of an annoyed tone in your voice being as nothing seemed to be going as planned this morning.

"Yes Y/N it is! Pretty pretty please I won't ask you for any other favors for the whole day I promise," She pleaded and well you couldn't say no to your best friend in the whole department.

"Fine I'll go. Just text me the record box numbers and I'll go get them." You said letting out a breath as you nervously played with phone cord.

"Make sure to bring Spencer or Derek with you. The boxes are pretty heavy and good luck!" She hung up quickly before you could even say another word in protest but you accepted that this was basically defeat at this point.

You put the phone down hanging up and you give Spencer a look that makes him immediately curious. After with whatever just happened with Derek there was no way you were bringing him as a helping hand. You hated to admit it but the evidence room was extremely dark and scary looking to go into by yourself so it put you at ease that maybe Spencer would tag along.

"So...Spencer I need your help to go get some boxes from the evidence room. Are you in?" You ask taking one last sip of the delicious coffee and putting it down.

"Yeah, yeah of course I'll help." He quickly responds without hesitation as he followed your lead around the office and towards the direction of the room.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence between the two of you, he finally broke it the moment you reached your destination.

"I didn't know you and Derek had a 'thing' going on. I just always assumed him and Penelope were more into each other because of that ridiculous petname he calls her which honestly I think is a violation against having a healthy and safe work place environment-" He was fumbling his words as he rambled on about how he just couldn't imagine you and Derek being together.

"If it makes you feel any better Derek and I aren't a 'thing'. We never were. I don't know why he called me babygirl...it felt wrong but I know he was just probably joking with me to get on my nerves or something." You admit as you turn the rusty old doorknob after fussing with the keylock and open the door slowly.

"Wait...really so you aren't into him?" He questions while following your lead into the very lowly lit room that was filled with hundreds of boxes on dusty shelves.

"Make sure to hold the door open or else it will-" You spoke a bit too late because before you knew it you heard the door close and lock behind the both of you.

"-lock us in." You finish your sentence and Spencer looks behind him seeing as the door had really locked you two in there for who knows how long now.

"You should have warned me beforehand."

"How was I suppose to warn you beforehand if you had me distracted with something else?!"

"Jesus now we are stuck in here and Y/N you know how much I hate small dark enclosed spaces! This is literally my worst nightmare right now!" He exclaimed as his breathing seemed to get faster and he put his hand to his chest that was heaving up and down quickly. Spencer was having a panic attack and you weren't sure what to do.

"Hold on Spence, let me just call Penelope I'm sure she can help us." You say quickly fumbling with your phone, trying to put on the flashlight and finding her contact to call her as soon as possible.

"PENELOPE!" You scream into the phone in a panic.

"AH! Y/N why are you screaming into my headpiece right now?!"

"Spencer and I are stuck in the evidence room and he is having a panic attack right now so what do I do?! Can you get us out of here please!" You begged.

"Oh god…ok so this wasn't how this was suppose to go!" She replies back quickly.

"Penelope what are you talking about?! Did you plan this?"

"Well I wasn't planning on the door locking but I wanted to give you the right moment to make your move on Spencer but not like this!"

"Penelope I'm going to seriously unfriend you after this."

"I'm sorry! I'm gonna try and fix this right now just give me a few minutes, I will call you back right away."

"Is everything ok?" Spencer asks in-between quick and heavy breaths now that he has resorted to sitting on the floor while he tries to control his breathing but sadly all the dust and darkness isn't really helping at all and he seemed to be clutching his chest.

"We will get out of here soon, don't worry about that right now, just focus on me Spence." You say sitting in front of him and trying to do something but you didn't know what to do that could help in this situation.

His breathing only got quicker the more he seemed to panic and at that point you got an idea but maybe it was worth the risk of whatever would come afterwards but you decided to just do it anyways.

"Hey! Spencer look at me...just look at me..." Your voice trailed off as you seemed to lean in closer to him, your hands cupping his face, being pricked by his stubble as you made eye contact with him despite the lighting situation.

Without even having to think twice you quickly closed the gap between the both of you and your lips met his. At first he was completely stunned you could tell by his reaction since his teeth seemed to clash with yours but as you both eased into it a wave of relief hit his body and he was completely relaxed. You didn't let go of him only bringing him as close as humanly possible while your lips moved gently against his. Before the both of you almost ran out of breathe you slowly pulled away, his forehead leaning against yours as you were surprised with yourself that you even did something like that to begin with.

Spencer's eyes seemed to be darting everywhere looking at you but then looking all over your entire face, still in shock that you flat out kissed him.

"How...How did you do that?" He whispered out into the small space between you both.

"I-Uh...I read once that holding your breathe can stop a panic attack," You paused for a small moment almost getting lost in his brown eyes as you tried to focus on trying to shamelessly explain yourself.

"So when I kissed you...you held your breathe."

"I-I did?" He asked almost in disbelief that he even had the chance to kiss you.

"Yeah...you did."

"Thanks...you know that's really smart..." His voice trailed off almost echoing but you could help but blush and feeling absolutely flustered by the whole situation.

"Well I just-I read it somewhere and I felt a bit helpless not being able to help you so I thought this must be the only way." You twiddled your thumbs in your lap looking down as you bit your lip, it still tasting of coffee except it seemed more bitter tasting.

"Must be the only way, hmm," He hummed a bit in disbelief at your explanation but he reached his hand out to hold yours and gently squeezed.

"Do you believe now that I definitely don't have a 'thing' with Derek?" You question squeezing his hand right back as you couldn't help but smile at him despite not being able to see him too well in the darkness.

"I don't know I might need you to verify one more time just to make sure." He says with a chuckle coming off his lips.

"Wow you're much cheekier than I thought Spence." You say giggling a bit to yourself.

"You know when we finally get out of here do you maybe want to go to dinner with me sometime? I mean only if you want to-" He was still nervous and somehow stuttered out his sentence but you just pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek in the process.

"Yes, I would love that Spence." You say with a smile on your face as you squeeze him tightly in your arms.

Eventually Penelope came to the rescue with a giant crowbar in hand as she pried the door open, breaking the lock in the process. You had never seen Spencer happier to go into the meeting room and go straight to work in his entire life. Now that you both were finally out of the evidence room the next hurdle to jump over was to finally go on your first date with him knowing that it was confirmed that you two both had feelings for each other and it was a plus that he was a really good kisser too.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff #criminalmindsmaster

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astraxxei · 3 months

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thinking about lovesick corrupted yan venti 🤤

he was nice enough to give his darling their own room to “be nice” but they have a chain attached from thier ankle to the bed and its only long enough to go to the four corners of the room

thinkign ab how he doesnt think its noncon because it brings them clsoer together

thinking ab darling who just gor kidnapped and gets their ass punished for biting his dick mid bj

he would punish them by hurting them back lol

u should totally write ab reader biting his dick ( like as a way of attacking him ) and getting punished for it

yes this is a noncon request 😞

gn!reader possibly?

- :3

Hi :3 anon! OF COURSE I'LL DO TS. THE BITING IS SO FUNNY HELP ME.

✧.° - You belong to me, darling...~ ♡

ft VENTI from Genshin Impact.

WARNINGS : NSFW: SEXUAL THEMES. INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK. DARK CONTENT. ( :NONCON. Sadism/Masochism. Slight blood. Violence. Yandere themes. Character is a yandere. Reader is a victim. Degradation.)

Yandere! Corrupted! Venti. Reader uses they/them pronouns. Reader is gn. AU where corrupted Venti is the ruler of Mondstadt and reader is an innocent citizen. Oneshot: requested.

This is a dark content post. If you do not wish to see this type of content, please block the corresponding tags. I am not responsible for any person reading this. Reader discretion is advised. Any hate will not be tolerated. By proceeding under the cut, you confirm that you wish to see this type of content and you have FULL responsibility of what you're about to read and interact with.

~ ♡ ~

Even ever since you knew about what Barbatos has become, you did not wish to leave your birth nation. Strange, yet endearing, that you had such a strong connection to your homeland that you didn't want to leave even while you knew that your archon had been corrupted with a mind full of malice and power and then... nothing. Destruction and despair, but you preferred to endure than run away. Scared and stunned, you ran and ran like a chased criminal from the wind. You had went out to buy some apples, but suddenly you felt like the breeze has been after you. You felt like this for a while, every single time you stepped foot out of your home, like something was chasing you, a strong desire to make you it's possession filling in it's blood.

But the wind blew so hard this time, it knocked you on a tree and you passed out. About time, because you've been losing sleep lately, you though before blackening out. You suddenly wake up and... You feel strange. Your head hurts, but you're on a soft bed. But you try to get up and...what is that you feel? Restraints? Chains locked in your ankle on the bed.

You realized you could only move to reach the corners of the small room. The chain attached to your ankle was starting to hurt, but you didn't notice that. More importantly, you were scared. You didn't know what was going on. Who was the one that chained you, restrained you, in a place you've never been before? You hear a faint laugh in the distance. Malicious laugh... sending shivers of terror down your spine.

The one climbing up the stairs to the little room you were currently in was no one other than the Anemo archon himself. Your eyes widen. You can't believe you got into this situation.

"B- Barbatos?!"

"Call me Venti, dear~"

His voice is sweet like sugar cubes, but it's scary and intimidating at the same time. He is average heighted, his glowing, pink eyes are staring into yours. His huge smile is spread across his face, and you swear that even in your weak vision you can see blood staining his delicate clothes.

"Look darling. You're mine from now on~ I gave you your own room~ I should be getting rewarded for being so kind and sweet...to my lover. Come here, and I will teach you how to show me your appreciation all day~"

Terrified, you shake your head as he walks towards you. You were scared, so scared, oh, what a monster...

You almost don't notice how swiftly you're being pulled towards him. You try to protest and squirm but his hand is grabbing your hair so hard it hurts and you almost cry out in pain. A malicious laugh is the response you're getting.

"Ahahaha! Look at you, trying to get away from the Anemo archon! This is a way for both of us to bond, you know...you should want it...You should be good to me...or else... I might do something you won't really like...my lovely dearie~"

You stop protesting as his hand on your hair is hurting you too much to handle. Before you realize it you're lowered down to his crotch and as he throws his clothing to the side you see his erection pent up proudly right in front of your face. Your eyes widen at the sudden realization of his size, but you remember, he's a god, so you're not anymore surprised. He looks down at you mischievously and smiles widely as he runs his hand through your hair.

"See that? Well, you better take care of it. I don't have all day."

You sigh in despair of how you got yourself into this situation. You part your lips and start taking it slowly inside your mouth, sucking slowly and looking up at him with a slightly indifferent look. You see his flushed face as he grabs your hair tighter and pulls your head towards himself roughly, the sounds of pleasure escaping his mouth as soon as he feels yours around him.

"Aaah~ Mmph~ Haah~"

He tastes so good. You don't want to admit it to yourself, but you like it. You really like the sensation. But at the same time...you get slightly annoyed. You've been denied freedom and a good life because of this faulty archon, and now he's forcing you to suck on his dick? You feel absolutely degraded. You decide you can't tolerate this, no, for your nation, and your own sake, you can't.

Without even thinking you bring your teeth to bite down. Not too hard, but enough to cause pain. You see Venti's eyes widen and tear up slightly as he lets out a pained squeal and pulls back from you immediately.

You pant and breathe heavily, looking at him as your saliva is connecting your mouth with his tip. Suddenly he looks down at you with a very angry expression and before you know it a hard, sudden slap makes it's way across your face.

"That hurt, you fucking whore!"

Your vision goes foggy. You whimper and place your trembling hand on your cheek. The chain is still tied to your ankle. You look up at him, shaking. He looks down at you, breathing heavily, but seemingly less angry than before. He kneels down and his hand quickly wraps around your neck. It's really hard, and it hurts. You try to whimper out your words.

"..'m sorry..sor- hnn..."

He lets go of your neck and smiles. "This is what you get for being a disobedient slut. Don't worry, I still love you though~ disobedient or not, you're just my adorable little toy..."

He looks down at you with a wide, mischievous smile and caresses your cheek.

"...and I'm going to do anything in my power to make sure you understand that you're mine and mine only. The feeling of me will be implanted in your brain forever. You belong to me, darling...~ "

~ ♡ ~

A/n: I have never written anything more toe curling in my whole life. Also I managed to not laugh while writting the biting part. I did not expect this to happen.

#genshin venti #venti x reader #smut #genshin smut #dark content #gn!reader #genshin x reader #anemo archon #degrading k1nk #yandere #yandere character #mental illness #core #tw noncon #tw bl0od

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kimsohn · 1 year

Note

jay (enha) + giving the other a spoonful of the meal they’re cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls.

sweet . jay x gn!reader about . 646 words, fluff warnings . kissing (?), lots of food mentions

a sharp clatter behind the living room startles you, and you turn around to see jay scratching his head, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"sorry love, i accidentally dropped the pot... again."

you know very well that he's especially stressed today, but it's not because he's your boyfriend and you know him so well, but rather you've heard one too many of his mishaps prior. the two of you were getting ready for a party to celebrate his successful comeback, and while you had conquered the decoration aspect (see: the colorful arrangement of balloons and banners hanging in the living room), jay was not so triumphant in attacking the cooking portion.

your boyfriend is an amazing chef, and the two of you know that. more than often it's hard to plan outside dates with your hectic schedules, so you usually find yourselves sandwiched together and munching on one of jay's delicacies in substitute of a restaurant dinner. the only reason he's having trouble today is because he decided to stray from the comfort of his specialty and tackle something new: desserts. specifically, tiramisu.

however, jay actually seems to be doing pretty well because the smell coming from the kitchen is delectable. his only issue is his nervousness, hence the racket in the kitchen every five minutes.

"are you sure you don't need help?" you ask, knowing very well he's doing just fine on his own and the only real assistance you could give him is a hug.

"actually, c'mere. you can taste this mascarpone filling and see if it's sweet enough."

with quick strides, you make your way over to jay's side, hoping that he can't see the eagerness in your eyes. you've always loved his food, even when he thought he added a little too much salt or burned it, and you know that his filling will be close to perfection.

he tilts your chin up slightly, scooping a spoon of the filling and bringing it to your lips. your heart warms at the gesture, your jay that is always so caring, and as you mouth the mixture he wipes the slight remnants of it that have lingered to the side of your mouth.

but you don't even have a chance to thank him, because the creamy delight that fills your mouth clouds all your senses. it's ridiculous how he even doubted himself, and you're five seconds away from telling him that professional chefs should be glad he chose the idol life. the concoction is as perfect as it can be, and the cook who made it is even more perfect, so much so that you don't even try to hide the smile that crosses your face.

"it's sweet enough. it's actually perfect, and i'm sure i would eat this alone if you gave me a bowl."

"really? are you sure? you know my members have at least one sweet tooth..."

"here, you want to try?"

you don't even give him a chance to respond before pulling down on his collar and engulfing him in a kiss, making sure he can taste the filling on your lips as if it was chapstick. when you pull away, he's bewildered and flustered, and you both have matching blushes scattering across your faces at your boldness.

"you were right, it was pretty sweet," jay says, "but i can't tell if that's because of the sugar or your lips."

it's safe to say the filling is long forgotten when he leans in for another kiss, but at least the other members are content with jay's finished product when they stroll in an hour later as you both try to hide your swollen lips and mussed-up hair.

"what's your secret ingredient to making your food taste good?" jake asks, trying to sneak another bite of the dessert.

jay smiles at you knowingly, your shared secret drifting through the air.

"love."

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Cupcakes

Maybe this will be a thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I've got the Pedro brain rot.

Joel Miller/female reader One shot - 1.1k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of blood, violence, gore. Joel is bad at feelings. Descriptions of explicit sex. Joel doesn't understand you.

He doesn’t understand you. You smile. With your mouth, your pink lips curling above a deep scar on your chin.

“It’s my trophy.” You told him one night. “I got it from a crazy fucker who had a barn fulla clickers.” He’s not sure why any person would be penning up a bunch of those things, but you did say he was crazy. “Killed him though. Was one of my first ones.” He watches your face go dark with the memory, and he tries to imagine what you were like before all this. Soft, sweet. Probably someone’s wife. Maybe you stayed at home. Made dinner, made breakfast. Maybe you were the type that made cupcakes, real ones from scratch, with sweet spun sugar icing. Maybe you took care of someone.

He doesn’t understand the way you think. You’re always telling him to take it slow, take it easy, take his time. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. He has to move fast, quick, easy on his feet. He cannot slow down. You have no problem making pace, but it doesn’t keep you from voicing your opinion.

“You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Don’t the doctors usually start old men on baby aspirin at your age?” He’s not that old, for christ’s sake. He’s not even forty-five yet, he thinks. When you laugh at your own jab, it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

He doesn’t understand the way you fight. You creep around like a god damn cat, brandishing a knife in your hand, another two slipped in your boots. You liked surprise, and you hated guns. The first time he had watched you put a blade in someone’s clavicle, he thought he was going to be sick. He didn’t like you having to get so close, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were fine. And he hates how his head spins when he watches you put that same knife in the side of a clicker’s head, twisting it for good measure, before you’re shoving off of them and bashing their skull in.

“Can’t aim worth a shit.” You complained the day he took you out for practice. You couldn’t hit a single bottle, and he couldn’t fight the grimace that graced his face. When you saw it, your cheeks turned a different color, and guilt burned inside him.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so fucking stubborn. Why you don’t listen when he tells you to do something, when you blatantly ignore him when he tells you not to follow the crying little kid that’s begging for help.

“It’s not like it was life or death.” He turned on you so fast he watched your eyes go wide, his arms pulling your shoulders towards his chest. “It is life or death!” He had yelled. You had run into that building without a care after that kid, and he could hardly keep up. Turns out, the kid’s mom was already infected, and he didn’t understand. He was only five. You covered his eyes while Joel put her down. You had carried him all the way back to camp, even after Joel had offered to take him, arms wrapped tight around his back as he cried. So stubborn. But you let Joel hold you that night, for the first time. In the dark, your hand running up and down his spine, your whispered words repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Joel.”

He doesn’t understand your feelings. The way they shift from one day to the next. He doesn’t like how it feels when he catches you crying, drop of tears webbed in your pillowy lashes.

“What is it?” the words are gruff, and he wishes he was softer for a split second. You sniffle and shake your head. “It’s my dad’s birthday. Or would’ve been.” He gets it, he does. But he doesn’t know how to show you, so he just sits down on the step, his shoulder against yours. You wrap your hand around his knee after you’ve dried your tears, and he holds his breath while you turn your tear-stained face up towards him. “Thanks, Joel.” His name on your lips makes his blood sing.

He doesn’t understand the way you talk to people either. The way you make everyone feel like they’re some ray of sunshine in your life. Like they matter to you. You give everyone your smile, and your eyes, and your touch. You rub Rita on her back when she throws up every second week of the month, like clockwork. You braid the Marshall girl’s hair when her mom isn’t around to do it. You try to arm wrestle John when you both get a free moment, and he can hear your laugh clear across the yard when he lets you win.

“He gets a kick out of it.” You tell him one night. “Makes him feel good. Shitty world we live in, you know?”

He knows.

He wants to make you feel good.

He hasn’t had a woman under him in years. He’s all rough sandpaper, and he can’t imagine that scraping against your porcelain skin. But, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. He dreams about bending you back on one of those shitty mattresses, your skin rippling in goosebumps under the tips of his fingers. He imagines the way your mouth tastes, how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. He thinks about how you’d sound, with his mouth on your cunt, his tongue licking up inside you, pulling an orgasm through your gritted teeth. He’d hold your hip in one hand and fuck his fingers into you with the other, feeling the way the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. He thinks about how he’d push your hips down onto his cock, your back arched in his arms, your mouth pressing into his shoulder as you moan. “Joel.” you’d whine, tongue darting out to lick your lips, hand gripping his forearm. “Fuck, Joel. Please.” He’d bite the skin of your neck, bringing it between his teeth, pulling the blood to the surface to brand you. You’d be his.

These things he wants, they’re just a fantasy. A gentle dream, like the memory of the world before. He knows that, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting. From watching you when you’re on guard, hips swaying with every step you take. Doesn’t stop him from taking himself in his hand when he thinks about the curve of your waist, the prominent dips in your hips, the soft crease where your thigh bends when you sit, legs folded against each other. He wants to pin you beneath him until you’re shaking, wants to hold you to his chest while you sleep. He wants the sweet, soft spun sugar that melts in his mouth, the feeling of you in his arms. He wants the cupcakes, the real ones.

He wants it all. But it’s only a fantasy.

#joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #Joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x oc #peaches writes #female reader #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller

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adrift-in-thyme · 12 days

Text

I've got so many wips rn and what do I do? Start something new. I'm hopeless. But how am I supposed to resist the chance to write more fairy Time? ;)

CW for blood and injury

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He drags himself to the fountain.

The battle would have been difficult for nine heroes. For one — even one as experienced as himself — it had been nearly impossible. A fight hardly even worthy of being called a battle.

No, Time thinks, grim and dizzy, as he digs his fingers into the dirt and attempts to sit up, it had been a pathetic struggle at best. He had barely escaped with his life.

The Shadow, it seems, has a vendetta against him. Not that he doesn’t have one toward all of the Links, but…

Time’s efforts land him back on the ground, shuddering as wet coughs tear through him.

…but it had felt like something beyond his usual distaste for the Heroes of Hyrule. As he had poured monster after monster through those cursed portals, as he had attacked with a sneer on his lips and a glint in his eyes, it had felt personal.

Perhaps, that is not so surprising.

Wavering, Time grits his teeth. Blood trails down his chin. Its warmth is in stark contrast with the icy chill that has taken root in his bones.

The Shadow’s sentiments hardly matter right now. It is not as though he could decipher them correctly if he wanted to.

His thoughts are scattered and panicked, his body failing, his vision going gray. He is mere inches away from salvation, from safety, and his time is running out.

Another stab of pain imprisons him in its steely grip. A muffled cry breaks through his tightly closed lips. His vision whites out for a moment, before returning fuzzy and distorted.

Desperately, he reaches out. Trembling fingers slip, slick with blood and monster gore. He collapses with a small splash.

The effect of the sacred water is instant. A ripple of magic runs through him, warm like a blanket and sweet like the sugar water he offers in hopes of regaining his fairy. In the next second, wings unfold from his back, his body shrinking to fit them.

He slips fully into the embrace of the shallow waters.

Time ends up on his side, liquid seeping in through the chinks in his armor and beading upon his wings. He blinks, slow and agonizing, trying to drag himself back to some semblance of awareness. But whatever delirious strength had born him here has fled and taken everything with it.

The water flows around him, glittering and cool. Gently, it soothes his injuries, carefully, it numbs them. But it’s not enough. He knows that now.

This fountain has been weakened. This fountain has no fairies left — save for himself — to imbue it with blessed strength.

No doubt, the monsters have driven them away. He can feel their distress, can imagine their flight, away from here and the encroaching darkness of evil and night.

Time gazes at the surrounding trees. They are mere shadows now, hazy and grayish. Twilight is long gone, bringing with it its brilliant purples and pinks and oranges. Storm clouds cloak the usual speckling of stars and block out the dismal light of the moon.

Not that Time minds that. Without its depressive glare, he feels calmer.

If he has to fade away, he would rather do so beneath an angry sky, curled in the fountains that have always been his haven, in the form he feels most comfortable in. The form he cannot comprehend, yet treasures all the same.

The waters turn black with his blood, feathery wisps of it floating out and away from him. He watches it with disinterest. Everything feels far away now. Even his need to survive, to return to Malon.

He tries to grasp for it, to bring it back to the forefront of his mind. But his efforts are for naught. And what good would it do him anyway? He is too weak to move. He spent his remaining energy on the desperate gamble of stumbling here. Hoping, praying that the magic he felt calling him was still active. Was still alive.

Something rustles in the bushes. A creature, most likely, scampering about, unperturbed by his wavering presence. He is so small now he would be surprised if anyone could see him. Or hear him.

His blood, however, is another matter altogether. Who knows what beasts have tracked the scent?

He shifts slightly and a groan slips out before he can stop it. It doesn’t matter though. Whatever horrors seek him cannot measure up to the pain he is already enduring. The Shadow has the power to turn one’s own body against them. No wolf or bear has that ability.

Something large and dark emerges from the shadowy foliage. Piercing blue eyes glare into his. Time tries to focus on them, tries to decipher their strange familiarity. But the world seems off-kilter, pain turns everything distant.

I’m sorry, Malon. He thinks as the form moves toward him, looking to his fading eye almost like the clouds that hover above them. I’m sorry that I broke my promise.

And pup…I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.

“Time?” He hears the voice from very, very far away, growled more than spoken, a rumble like thunder before a downpour of rain. It cracks at the end, splintering like his bones when the Shadow had swung his sword too high, too fast for him to evade.

Time wants to drag himself up, wants to comfort this being he is certain he knows. But he lacks the strength to so much as raise a finger.

And when he is lifted with a gentleness he cannot comprehend, when something soft and warm envelopes him, something that murmurs, “safe” in tones he knows — he doesn’t even attempt to break free.

If this is death, it is wonderful. ---------------------------------

He must lose himself soon after that. Because when he opens his eye it is an act of awakening, surfacing from the unfeeling deep.

Time stirs, sighing as that same warmth of before embraces him. The pain that had torn him apart has dulled greatly, leaving behind only a ghost of what it once was. And though he isn’t certain why it’s gone — or even if that is a good omen or bad one — he can’t truly bring himself to care.

He is comfortable here, drifting in this haze of dark, and he doesn’t want to disturb it. It has been so long since he felt like this (perhaps, since the start of the heroes’ journey). It has been so long since he slept, actually slept.

“Old man?”

Something damp and cool nudges at him. His bed of plush fur (fur? His mind questions blearily) quivers at the movement.

“Hey, old man. Can you hear me?”

Time hums, a low sound that grates on his abused throat.

A sigh of relief. His sanctuary shifts again.

“Thank Hylia. I thought we’d…I thought…”

Time frowns. There it is again — that voice he knows, usually so strong and joyful, not shattered like broken panes of glass. The voice that ignites something in him, a protective instinct as strong as he feels toward Malon. The voice that reminds him of their love and the miracle that will come of it.

Reluctantly, he drags his eye open.

At first, he can make out very little. But a few blinks and his vision clears enough that he can see the thick gray fur that surrounds him. He is nestled on Twilight’s back, he realizes, sluggishly, situated so his pup can keep an eye on him, even reach him if he cranes his neck.

Those crystal blue orbs meet his and there is something broken in them. Time has never seen such emotion in a wolf’s eyes before.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

He shouldn’t be able to understand that sorrowful growl, and yet, Time can hear the words as clear as day.

That…is a mystery he will decipher later.

“‘M sorry, pup,” he croaks. His wings flutter gently. “‘M sorry.”

Twilight must have found him lying there in his own blood, hardly clinging to life. To have come upon such a sight…

Guilt wells within him. Time swallows against it.

Twilight shakes his proud head.

“You can’t scare me like that. I can’t even scold ya like you can me.” He narrows his eyes. “Not that that’s gonna stop me from trying.”

Time huffs an attempt at a laugh. “I don’t…don’t doubt that.” He grows somber once more. He feels unconsciousness tugging at him again. But before he falls, he must at least say this. “You saved me. You shouldn’t-shouldn’t have had to. But I thank you for it.”

Twilight gazes at him for a long moment. “Of course. I love you, old man. Malon loves you. I never would’ve left you there. I never even entertained the thought. So, no thanks are necessary.” He cocks his head. “Although, gotta admit I’m a little sore about the fairy secret.”

Time resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You keep your own transformation a secret. Why…why should I not keep mine?”

“Oh, you can keep it from everyone else if you want. Just not from me.”

“What makes you s-so special?”

“I’m your descendant,” Twilight answers drily. “So, how do you do it? This isn’t an after-effect of what they…what happened to you…is it?”

Time shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, struggling to stay alert. “I’ve always been able to do this.”

Twilight is silent for a moment. Then, “I came across a stray fairy when I was trying to get you back to camp. She was the one who healed you. She called you a child of the fairies. Not ‘brother’ like Hyrule. Their child.”

Time stares dazedly at the shrubbery surrounding them. They have always called him that. Even Tatl had. But hearing it now, from Twilight, raises new questions. Questions he supposes have always been there, hovering in the back of his mind. But that he has never bothered to ponder.

The quiet stretches and Time can’t decide how to break it. So, he merely lets it be and snuggles deeper into Twilight’s fur, suddenly immeasurably grateful that his descendant’s secondary form is a wolf.

Powerful and gentle in equal parts. It fits his pup well.

“But never mind that now,” Twilight says, as though sensing Time’s exhaustion. He sighs. “You need your rest. You comfortable up there, old man?”

Time nods. “Soft,” he mumbles, drowsily.

Twilight nuzzles him again and humor is in the movement.

“Good. Go to sleep then. I’ll watch over you.” His tone grows serious, unyielding. “Nothing will touch you while I’m here.”

A slight smile lifts the edges of Time’s mouth, even as a voice cries out within him, protesting this display of weakness, this terrible burden he has put on his descendant. But he is so, so tired. Too tired to rise and be the stalwart leader he knows he should be.

His wings spread flat upon his back, like a shield. Darkness crowds his vision, numbing his thoughts and weighing down his still-sore limbs.

“Thank you, pup,” he whispers, with what little strength he has left.

He is gone before he can hear Twilight’s reply.

#the ending got unexpectedly soft XD #there's something so good about the leader/parental figure getting cared for #especially by someone they usually care for and protect #also #someday i'm gonna have to write about fairy time falling asleep on twi's head #while he's in hylian form #like the fairies do in game #that would be adorable lol #trin writes #fairy time au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linkeduniverse fic #lu time #lu twilight #angst #hurt/comfort

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wildechildwrites · 2 months

Text

Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

Pink Mugs and Painful Expressions Part Two

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut and the softest Captain Price

No use of Y/N

Summary: You invite John over for dinner and he wants to return the favor

Can be read as a stand alone :)

A/N: I swear this was going to be a slow burn but we all deserve to have Johnathan Price hopelessly head over heels romcom love at first sight in love with us honestly.

AO3 Link: Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

You had invited Price over for dinner, and he was raised better than to arrive empty handed. He came bearing flowers and a bottle of sweet wine, and the smile you graced him with when you opened the door could've put a perfect summer day to shame with the way it warmed him, inside and out. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he returns the hug as best he can with his hands full.

"Thanks for coming over," you say. You're nervous, verging on giddy, your flat much neater than he'd seen it last. Something delicious smelling is simmering on the stove, and there are candles on the kitchen table.

John sits while you whirl around him, a tornado of productivity, haphazardly plating food and spilling sauce. He thinks you’re lovely like this, nose scrunched and brow furrowed in concentration, like the salad you’re tossing is a bomb you’re trying to disarm. When you finally sit down, he pours you a glass of wine, and you laugh, settling into yourself.

“I’m always paranoid that I'm going to burn something or use sugar instead of salt when I cook for others,” you say. John quirks an eyebrow, putting a forkful of food in his mouth with an exaggerated amount of cautiousness as you giggle, rolling your eyes at him. The food is delicious, and John proves it by eating two servings.

He starts the dishes without you asking, dodging your attempts to fuss him out of the kitchen. A dishrag thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up showing off sturdy forearms, two hands on his hips as he tells— orders you, really, to get out of the kitchen. You refuse, lingering just out of reach. Warm light bathes you both in a sunset glow. You tell him about your day and ask about his, and when the dishes are done and dry, order restored to your kitchen, you lead him to the couch.

You put on a movie, something John's seen before but can't quite remember, an old classic that reveals your nostalgic side. He wraps a strong arm around you, an action more confident than he feels. He wonders if you can feel his heartbeat pick up when you lean in, warm head against his chest. You smell wonderful, soft and warm.

Halfway through the movie you’re dozing off, head nodding as you curl deeper into his side. John reaches for the remote and turns the movie down, gently pulling you into his lap so he can lay down with you. Your weight on his chest is comforting, and soon he feels himself following you into unconsciousness.

It’s dark and his back hurts. You’ve shifted, your legs wrapped around his, your head on his chest, and John makes a mental note to never tell you that you drool. He sits up, trying not to jostle you, but you open up your eyes, looking up at him sleepily.

“What time s’it?” you murmur. John checks his watch.

“Just past two, love.” He lifts you off his lap, watching you yawn. “I’m goin’ home, you get yourself to bed.”

He stands, and you let him help you to your feet.

“Do you wanna see me again?” You ask, your voice scratchy from sleep. Your eyes are droopy, staring up at him, fingers still intertwined with his own. John wonders if it’s possible for his chest to get any tighter, and briefly considers the possibility that he’s having a heart attack.

He swallows the feeling, instead smiling at you softly. “How about I host next week? I can’t promise I cook as well as you do, but I’ll keep it close to edible.”

You smile back then reach up, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips are soft, your mouth warm, and John places a gentle hand on your face, thumb tracing along your jawline. The night is warm, but the dark street is a painfully lonely contrast to the bright interior of your flat. John keeps an eye on your window until he watches the warm yellow light flicker off.

The night before you're coming over, he gets the call, a mission that needs to be handled by his team immediately. He’s told to report early the next day. It’s late, nearing two in the morning, but his bags are packed and he's got an itch under his skin to see you. John loads up his car and heads to your flat. He can imagine you kicking him out, sending him away, put off by his bizarre behavior and the late hour, but he follows the impulse, letting muscle memory pull him back into your orbit. He knocks firmly on your door, hiding his nerves.

You open the door, your eyes hazy, your hair messy, and John wishes he could take this moment and frame it. Instead he captures it in his fluttering heart, locks it away.

"I know it's late," he says quickly, "but I've just been called out for a mission and I wanted to— I had to say goodbye. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

You say nothing, still half asleep, just yawn and open your arms invitingly. He sweeps you into a tight hug, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. John lifts you off the ground and spins you around, shutting the door.

You let out a happy noise, high in your throat, and mumble against his chest. “You should leave more often if I get hugs like these.”

He laughs, and you giggle with him as he pulls you in tighter, crushing you against him. He wants you to feel his heartbeat, wants to feel yours, to know that you’re real, that there’s blood and bones and you’re not just some lovely dream.

John pulls back and kisses you, harder than the times before, wanting to taste you, to have something to hold onto when he's alone, breathes deep so he can remember the way you smell. You’re minty from your toothpaste, clean from your shower, and he thinks how desperately he wants to be here forever, in your beautiful flat, flowers he bought you sitting on the kitchen table, two sets of dishes in the sink.

You pull back from him, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen. “Come to bed, John,” you say shyly, and Price is certain that he’s dreaming, that he’ll wake up alone in his cold flat, but your soft hand in his own keeps him tethered, an anchor in his stormy sea.

You pull him down with you, tossing his hat away haphazardly, your arms snaking around his neck. He’s desperately trying not to crush you under his weight, trying to hide the lightning bolt of want he feels, hovering over you. You're beautiful like this, too tired to be self conscious, staring up at him like you need him just as bad as he needs you.

“You’re a vision,” he murmurs, just to watch you blush. He kisses along your jaw, nipping at your neck, and you gasp, pulling him closer to you. He feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to touch you everywhere, lets his hands wander, trying to maintain a level head, resisting the urge to pin you down and consume you entirely. He pulls off your shirt, humming lowly when you let him, when you lift your hips so he can pull off your sweatpants. He kisses down your chest, pausing to suck at the soft skin of your breasts before continuing lower. He nips at your hip, using a large hand to hold you down as he sucks a bruise into the stretch of skin next to your hip bones. You squirm and whimper at the sensation. He wants to taste you, wants to feel you cum on his face, so he pulls your legs apart, scraping your sensitive thighs with his facial hair, placing gentle kisses along your legs. He pulls your panties off and you’re suddenly shy again, legs closing slightly.

“You alright, darling?” he asks, and you nod, looking down at him with wide eyes. John moves his hands to your thighs, spreading you open. He eats you out like it’s something he needs, sloppy and slow, wanting to be able to remember the taste of you. Your hands are in his hair, egging him on, and you moan when he slips one thick finger into you, finding a tempo that makes your thighs shake. He pulls you over the edge, keeps licking until you're squirming away from him, weak hands attempting to push his shoulders back as you stutter out a soft "w-wait w-wait."

His beard is soaked when he pulls himself up, kissing you and laughing when you scrunch your nose at the moisture. He reaches down to quickly undo his belt, and you lean up to pepper soft kisses across his nose and cheeks as he awkwardly shoves his pants down and off.

You both let out a breath when the head of his cock bumps against your clit, and he thrusts his hips lightly, dragging himself across your wetness. When he catches against your entrance, he leans down and kisses you passionately. John watches your face as he slowly slides into you, watching you wince at the stretch when he's fully inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust, kissing you softly, tongue moving against yours. He feels you start to squirm, searching for friction, and he thrusts into you.

"Oh sweet girl," he groans, dropping his head into your shoulder. He's fucking you open, soft and slow, noises slipping out of him with ever thrust. John places soft kisses on your shoulders, nipping at your collarbones, making you gasp. You've got your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and for a moment there's nothing but you two, nothing but warm skin against warm skin and the sweet things he whispers, the feeling of you clenching around his cock. John feels himself coming undone and speeds up, making you moan as his hips slam against yours. For just a few moments, he fucks you like he wants to break you, and you feel yourself being pulled over the edge again when he reaches a hand down to rub your clit without losing his punishing rhythm. He calls out your name and you feel his hips stutter, his dick twitching as he cums.

John gets up and gets a towel, cleans you both up. You reach for him, pulling him back into bed and letting him wrap his arms around you. You're still sticky but seem unbothered, exuding contentment as you nuzzle into his chest. He pulls you close, his eyes on the clock near your bed.

When the time comes, John gently shifts you, untangling himself and stepping off the bed quietly. He watches your face as he gets dressed. You look so peaceful, hair a mess and blankets tucked tight around you. Your eyelids flutter softly, and he gently reaches out, placing a hand on your cheek. You nuzzle into him unconsciously, and he feels the iceberg in his chest crack and shift. He picks up his hat from the floor, and quietly lets himself out of your apartment.

#I know he canonically commits war crimes on the reg but doesn't mean you can't be an old fashioned romantic who gives killer head #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price x reader #reader insert #really got y'all with that one two posting punch hm konig and john all in one day???

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