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gildedmuse · 8 months

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Play Pretend (Please Don't)

Part I

[All my writing posts should come with an @jhaernyl credit. She doesn't always have to say much, but what she does makes me want to write something just for her.]

Its Zoro's first ever high school party, but even he knows what it means when someone sets a bottle down in the middle of the floor.

Robin somehow talks Nami into it, and Nami forces the rest of them because she's just bossy like that (and too embarrassed to admit she's only going because Vivi is there.)

Without hesitation, Zoro gives a flat no. He came here to get out of the dojo, the cheap watered down sake, and because his friends wanted to come, that's all. He doesn't see why he should be forced to sit around and watching a bunch of people he only half knows or likes giggling and whispering about who kissed who based all on a random bottle spin.

Then Robin slides up beside him, though before he can her no as well she speaks right passed him.

Robin: Will you be joining in as well, Torao-kun?

Law: Why? Are you going to try you luck, Fluer-ya?

Trafalgar Law is a black haired senior with a wicked smirk that curls around his lips the same way his tattoos curl across his olive skin. Both make him look just a little dangerous. Like a knife, or an unregulated kendo match.

Zoro's ends up standing there at the side trying to look disinterested and too cool and super adult - but in a cool way, not like a lame chaperone or something - sipping from his cup of watered down sake, pretending not to watch as Torao kisses four different people including - oh how gross - that stupid Ero Eyebrow (who of course goes and makes this huge fuss over how he shouldn't have to kiss Torao since he doesn't want to and only even played this game because the beautiful, sweet angel Nami-swan ❤️❤️ ❤️ requested his presence and-) Torao just smirks and grabs him by his stupid tie and drags him across the circle, and even though Zoro wants to gag at the sight, it's also sorta hilarious to watch how fast the waiter shuts up. When Torao lets go, Usoop howls, tears in his eyes, as he points out thats Sanji's face is an exact match for Kid's hair. Though Zoro doesn't actually catch the idiot's embarrassment. His vision gets caught on that hook, the upward turn of Torao's lips.

(After he shakes it off he tries to join in and poke fun at Love-Brow being an homophobic asshole, but all he sees is Black Lung's wrinkled shirt and wet lips and arg, why would someone as cool as Law waste his breath kissing someone so stupid?)

Eventually Hancock declares that this game is for children and they need to go the ante. Who is up for Seven Minutes In Marie Joice? (To no one's surprise this very quick decision comes after she FINALLY manages to get her spin to land "like a love arrow" right at Luffy, who only even sat in the circle, Zoro is sure, because Nami put down a tray of snacks. He doesn't even stop eating his chicken. Just keeps chewing staring up as the senior girl makes annoyingly high pitched baby sounds and wiggles around like a worm before finally going in for the kiss, only to miss when Luffy dives down at the plate. Her lips brush Luffy's hat and she squeals so loud Zoro winces and has to cover his ears. Why are people so weird about something as silly as kissing?)

Zoro: What's Seven Minutes In Marie Joice?

Bonney: Something you'll never get.

Some of the kids snicker, though most just shrug it off as the two of them being siblings (Bonney is older, it's practically her job to taunt him in such a manner). Zoro still doesn't have any clue what it means, so the insult goes entirely unnoted.

Law: That's not fair, Bonney-ya, I've heard Princess-ya's friends all find him very "cute".

Torao flashes Zoro a supportive smile and winks at him, letting him know it's all in good fun, none of which Zoro doesn't know how to react to. Sure, on the one hand, He's certain Torao is trying to stick up for him even if he still isn't sure what it's about. Then again, he brought up Perona's annoying little friends who sit in the backyard giggling when he's trying to practice kendo. Zoro has a feeling he's being teased whenever they come up.

The waiter snorts and lights a cigarette, as if that makes him look older and cooler. Zoro shamelessly smiles when he chokes on his first inhale.

Sanji: Bonney-chan is right, as always. Everyone here has too high of standards to go with someone as brutish as you.

Zoro / Bonney: Oi! What would you know about standards love boy? / Oi! Watch your mouth you stupid eyebrow kid!

Sanji: My apologizes oh Bonney-chan~~❤️ !!! However, you have to admit, your brother is too afraid to even join in a simple kissing game-

Zoro: I am not afraid! Why don't you come outside and say that to my-

Hancock: That's enough! I demand we begin the game!

Zoro is so ready to march off when Torao scoots closer to his classmate Penguin, patting the ground beside him. He seems to have decided that Zoro meant it when he said he wasn't afraid. Which he wasn't!

Law: Come on, Zoro-ya. It will be fun.

Zoro is going to go, but this makes him pause. He can't help but think about about how Hiyori, Smoker, Robin and even old eyebrow all got to kiss Torao. Also, Zoro isn't a coward! That's just as important to prove, so it isn't actually like he wants to kiss anyone at all, it's all about his reputation. With a glower towards the stupid love waiter he goes and takes his spot next Torao.

The second he does Law leans in a little closer, knocking their shoulders together. He leans in until he's close enough that even his whisper knocks the three gold bars hanging from Zoro's ear together.

Law: You'll like it, trust me.

Zoro refuses to shiver. Instead, he hides his reaction in his cup. He takes a sip of sake, making a muttered sound which could be agreement or whatever.

Zoro still doesn't understand the premise of the game. It's like spin the bottle but now pairs of people go back into Basil's downstairs bedroom for a few minutes (not actually seven, but just typically just until Hancock seems to deem it enough time) and people whistle and cheer when they come out. Law goes in with Bonney who looks super annoyed, then with Smoker again.

After that time, Toroa comes out with his shirt half unbuttoned and a smirk that makes Zoro all warm.

The first time it lands on Zoro, it's Nami who spins. He lays on the bed and listens to Nami complaining about "that bitch Hina" . Zoro didn't know Nami hated the pink haired girl so much. From what he gathers it has something to do with Hina and Vivi having been paired up to come in here together earlier. Zoro decides to nap until Hancock lets them out.

He forgets to ask Nami what it is they're supposed to do.

When he comes out Love-Brow nearly attacks him, which Zoro is fine with (he's always happy to kick that blonde pervert's ass) but Nami jumps in and calls him idiot for thinking that anything happened. Eyebrow goes on about Nami's purity (puke) then nicks Zoro for "striking out". Zoro doesn't really care about waiter boy's opinion of him and just shrugs if off as him being an asshole like usual.

Law gives him a sort of smile though and ruffles his hair before patting him on the back.

Law: Bad luck, getting her on your first try. Come on, your spin will go better.

Then it's Zoro's turn to spin...

It comes really close to Sabo and Ace which makes Law tense up next to him - it's barely noticeable except Zoro is hyper focused on Torao the whole time, to the point where the nearly missed when the bottle stops.

Zoro's wondering why Torao had gone all weird when he hears a giggle.

Robin: How fortunate for me, Kenshi-san.

When they get back to the bedroom, Zoro sits at the end of the bed, unsure what else to do. Robin follows suit, sitting suspiciously close to Zoro, who automatically crosses his arms, trying to look ready for whatever. Even though he still doesn't understand the point of this game.

Robin looks at him and giggles.

Robin: Would you like a kiss, Kenshi-san?

Zoro: What! No, of course not woman!

Zoro: ....

Zoro: Is that what we're suppose to be doing?

Robin: I believe it is the "fun" part of this particular game, yes.

Zoro: *frowning* What's the point in switching rooms and calling it something different if it's the same game? Just so people can pretend they're doing something interesting instead of just kissing each other more? Tch. How pointless.

Robin: It does seem rather secretive for just kissing. *Leans in and plants a soft kiss on Zoro, who is too shocked to protest in time* Perhaps you should ask Torao-kun to help explain it's objective?

Robin goes on to say that it's alright if they pretend they did kiss, though Zoro doesn't see the point in pretending such nonsense. Not until they leave the room and Law lights up with this wicked grin, leaning in close when Zoro sits back down.

Law: See, wasn't that way more fun?

Zoro: *Stomach all fluttery* Hmm? Oh yeah. It was.... Great.

For a while neither of them get picked which it turns out is Zoro's favorite part of the game because it's mostly just sitting around drinking and talking with friends. And Torao doesn't get up to disappear with some girl or have a bunch of friends show up and drag him away. He stays next to Zoro the whole time.

Sometimes they'll talk about the couple that goes into the room and Zoro is working on piecing together what is the point of the game is, though it still feels like a waste of time. If you want to kiss someone so much why not just ask them?

He brings this up to Torao, who chuckles and says it's a fair point.

Law: But then why are you playing, Zoro-ya?

Zoro didn't want to admit that he's playing because Torao was there and, honestly, he didn't know what it was, or that he thought of all those other people Torao has kissed and hadn't liked it.

Zoro: I don't know. Bored I guess?

Law studies him and Zoro tries not to squirm under his gaze. Finally, Zoro snaps, demanding to know what he's staring about, when Torao's curious looks blooms into a smile.

Torao leans close again, speaking so no one else can hear.

Law: It's alright, Zoro-ya. I won't tell...

Tell? Tell what?

Law: I think it's cute. *Knowing smile* You want to practice before you ask her out, huh?

Zoro: Eh?

What? Zoro honestly has no idea what Torao is talking about. Not until Torao bumps their shoulders together and nods over to the snack table.

Smoker is over there, having left the game a while back. He looks annoyed but is standing there anyway while Kuina's younger sister - who has been a total brat until Kuina agreed to bring her along - is clearly upset about something. Knowing her it has to do with the Young Marines club since she's always going on about it.

Zoro: What? Tashigi?

Law's meaning taking a moment to sink in. When it does Zoro is ready to get all worked up because why the hell would Torao suggest THAT!?

Zoro is cut off before he can raise the point properly by a bunch of whoops and cheers that he's learned means two popular or attractive people or people already a couple got picked.

Tashigi is the last thing in his mind as Ace saunters over to a pleased looking Law, who takes his hand and pulls himself off the floor in a way that somehow makes Zoro feel dizzy. Can people just standing up be consider attractive? The two of them don't even wait to get back to the room, sharing their first kiss while standing right there next to Zoro.

It is nothing like the short, chaste kiss Robin gave him earlier.

It feels like Hancock waits forever before telling Shachi to knock at the door. Ace comes out with this devilish grin, his jacket and belt tucked under his arm as if he hadn't had the chance to put them back on.

Zoro pointedly looks at the carpet so he doesn't catch what Torao looks like. Though when he sits down next to him Zoro can't help but notice he feels warmer somehow.

If Law notices Zoro isn't purposefully ignoring him he didn't show it . He doesn't really seem to pay any attention to Zoro at all....

This game is stupid, Zoro decides, and it's not like anyone will notice if he just gets up and leaves.

Law: Zoro-ya

He has hardly even begun to move away when Torao calls for him. So maybe Torao had been paying more attention to him than he'd thought. Zoro turns to look at Torao, surprised the older boy had been paying such close attention as to notice the moment Zoro had moved

Law is giving him a weird look that shifts seamlessly into a coy grin. Zoro is vaguely aware of some people giggling and his sister raising a fuss about something or another, really only tuning in to her voice because the way she says "Trafalgar" makes her sound honestly pissed off.

Torao is holding out a hand to help Zoro up off the floor, which Zoro takes without giving it much thought. It's only as Law starts walking then both away that Zoro glances back at the circle if their friends and classmates. And noticed where the bottle is pointing.

Law: Don't look so nervous, Zoro-ya

Torao chuckles as he opens the door, ushering Zoro inside.

Law: I'll be real good practice for you, I promise.

#play Pretend (please don't)#spin the bottle #high school au #one piece au #one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #zolaw #law x zoro #this tumblr might go back to more writing posts #I apologize for that #part one #I know a lot of people find the name coloration thing annoying #I apologize for that too #it's sort of become a habit #also it breaks it up from just being a post of black text

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sprout-fics · 5 months

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Danger Close

(Captain John Soap MacTavish x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI Wordcount: 3.8k Tags: Power imbalances, Unrequited pining, Shy Reader, Stuck in a lift, Dry humping, Dirty talk, Seduction, Praise kink, Vaginal fingering, Secret affair, Pet names Warnings: None (ask to tag) A/N: This is a quick little idea of the OG himself. I'll probably do more headcanon based ideas soon, but for now enjoy the filth

The thing about Captain MacTavish is that he’s…intimidating.

The self proclaimed red-blooded Scot is built like a brick shithouse, as one of your fellow officers once put it. Ruggedly handsome, strong, thick with muscle with coarse hair over his arms and stubble along his jaw. There’s a scar over one of his eyes, a slashing wound that should have blinded him. It crinkles slightly when he offers a lopsided smirk that taunts danger, that bares a reckless nature he hasn’t fully shed despite his years of experience. You tell your bunkmate that he’d make very good money as a bouncer at a nightclub, and her laughter nearly wakes up the whole hallway.

Intimidating.

Which is not necessarily the right word, you think. The Captain has a way around his men and fellow officers, an easy likeability that’s hard to ignore. He commands respect from his troops not in the way of brute posturing or snarling demands, but in the display of capability that has saved their lives many times over. He’s the firm touch on their shoulder as they check their gear before deployment, the firm reminder of level headedness over comms, the sharp, ringing command that cuts through gunfire when everything else has gone wrong.

The man exudes leadership, and you are among those helplessly drawn to it.

Yet there’s something closed off there that you can see in his eyes, an untold story that has drawn the lines of age in the corner of his steely gaze. It feels as if there’s an invisible barrier around him that prevents others from getting danger close. Magnetic, it pulls you in despite yourself, an inextricable attraction towards the nick of a blade you long to taste. Dangerous, like a moth to flame.

Not that you’ll ever do anything about it of course. As much as you daydream about the time you saw the captain’s broad back shiny with sweat on the sparring mats as he trained the other recruits, the low lilt of his accent that clouds your thoughts, you know it’s a terrible idea to develop a crush on your superior.

It’s hard not to, not when you deliver him his daily intelligence report in the afternoon, and he always makes sure to look up and greet you as you hand over the folder, smiling and offering: “Thank you, lass.”

Traitorous, you think, how your stomach devolves into butterflies just at the sight of his pleasant grin.

Worse is the fact that despite his gruff exterior the man is always such a gentleman to you. He gives you his full attention when you speak, ensures his other male officers do not interrupt or speak over you, holds open doors when you walk into the meeting room together, ensures his men don’t harass you just for your status of being a woman. You think it’d be easier if he was just as pompous and arrogant as his fellow officers, but instead Captain MacTavish has the ability to make you feel special, like you’re the only other one in the room with him.

It makes you feel a little guilty, admittedly- that he’s kind and decent and you constantly think about what it would be like to bend the rules so he can bend you over his desk.

Caught in fantasy as you are, you don’t notice the way his eyes watch you out of the corner of his eye, take note of you stretching on your toes to reach something in a filing cabinet, the way your brow scrunches in thought as you scrutinize his paperwork, the slight tremble of your hand when you pass him a cup of coffee in the mess hall, the duck of your head when he offers an amicable thanks.

You don’t notice the way he’s thinking anything but decent thoughts about you.

It’s hard to help. You’re a sweet, shy thing, and Soap is a man not immune to the charm of your bashful nature. He enjoys your wide eyed gaze as he selfishly sneaks gentle touches, a hand on your shoulder as he scoots past you in a crowded hallway, letting his fingers linger a little too long when you pass him a stack of files for him to sign off on, the barest little hitch of breathing he hears when he lets his voice dip an octave as he speaks.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” He tells you this afternoon, and relishes the way you repress a shiver at the endearment.

Later, when he catches you at your desk gazing dreamily into space, he enjoys the glassy tint of your eyes, and imagines you’re thinking of him.

And, secretly, he thinks what it would be like to have you mewling and trembling under his war-worn hands.

For all his decency and charisma, there is one thing you don’t know about the captain, and that is that he’s a wolf.

And you, you’re an adorable bunny waiting for the killing bite of his seduction.

Yet shy as you are, never to act on this, Captain MacTavish decides to take things into his own hands.

He has you move your desk to his office, helping him with his own paperwork, and offers to buy you lunch on the basis of being a good boss, a good superior. He ensures you have everything you need for your space and helps you pick out a better desk chair when you complain about the standard base ones hurting your back.

And if he uses his rank to ensure your colleagues and higher ups don’t complain? Well. That’s his business.

“Good lass.” He tells you in passing when you find a piece of intelligence he requested, offering a small squeeze of your shoulder and feeling you stiffen under him before exhaling unsteadily- unaware of his smug grin just behind your shoulder.

Cute, the way you think he won’t notice your little reactions, your dreamy eyes and the fantasies hidden behind them.

In all places, it comes to a head in a stuck lift.

The meeting is in fifteen minutes, and you insist on taking the lift because of the obstacle course drills you were put through yesterday, whining about your aching thighs. Soap, the good captain that he is, acquiesces and allows it, crossing his arms and watching the doors close-

Only for the lift to give a groan and shudder to a stop.

“Bloody old building.” He gripes, giving the doors a small kick in grumbling protest. “Told maintenance these things needed to be repaired months ago.”

He’s not concerned. Worse comes to worse, he’s crawled up through elevator shafts before. Besides, it’s not as if you’re on the eighth floor, merely stuck between the first and second. It’s an inconvenience, but not an inescapable or deadly one. He’s not as young as he once was, but this shouldn’t be too beyond him.

You, on the other hand, press the call button frantically, trying to ask for help and rescue. The operator is quick to tell you that mechanics and the fire brigade are on the way, and tells you to stay calm.

“How long are we going to be stuck in here?” You ask Soap, fidgeting. A nervous little filly, he thinks, as he eyes you with mild amusement.

“Maybe an hour.” He drawls, watching as your eyes go wide.

“We’ll miss the briefing.” You manage, a little choked, as if that is the gravest of your concerns, and not the thoughts Soap has about taking full advantage of the privacy he has with you.

“Aye.” He replies with a snort. “Shame, that.”

You make a little sound at that, something between petulance and despair, slumping into the wall as your face crumples.

“Hey, easy.” Soap offers, voice gentler now as he approaches you, gloved hands easily balancing you by your elbows across the wall. “It’s alright lass. We’ll be free in no time. Take a breath for me, aye?”

You nod at that, eyes turned towards the ground to avoid his gaze as you suck in a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out slowly.

“Good girl.” He purrs, unable to help himself, and relishes the way your eyes dart up to his, pupils blown wide as you realize for the first time just how close he is.

This is dangerous.

He’s got you crowded into the wall of the lift, all but blocking escape with his brawny frame. The shadow of his figure falls over your smaller form, dwarfing you. His hands cup you by your arms, bare fingers skimming along your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps rising in their wake. Your captain’s expression is calm, but even with the overhead light backlighting his face, you can see the intent, the scarcely concealed fixation there hidden beneath kind eyes and whispered only though a knowing smirk.

Prey in a snare.

“S-sir-” You manage, voice tight as you finally realize the true nature of his intent with the way he hums a low, deep note in his chest that makes you shiver.

“Thought I wouldnae ken you watching me, bonnie?” He asks in a low, rumbling intonation that vibrates at the base of your skull. “Sneaking looks and off with the faeries everytime I called you a good girl?”

“I-” You try, and it’s a useless effort really. You could summon a thousand excuses, but you know none of them would work on him. Captain Mactavish’s eyes are too keen, too knowing for that. If he’s seen this much, if he’s seen the way you daydream while he doesn’t look, the way you try desperately to quell your infatuation with him, then there’s no use trying to pretend otherwise.

"You like being called a good soldier? A good lass?” He goes on, and you bite down hard on a whimper of want that threatens to bubble up your throat. Your captain’s thumbs stroke the inside of your elbow gently, pressing down on the divot of sensitive skin and loosing an unsteady breath from your chest.

“Look at you wobbling like a wee fawn.” He purrs in that low lilt of his. “This isn't because of me, is it? Developing feelings for your superior. Tut tut. Naughty thing."

“Captain-” Your voice is a strangled thing in your throat, choked by the cognitive dissonance of this, of something straight out of your wildest fantasies, a secret you keep to yourself in the dark of your bunk with your fingers buried between your thighs.

John hums, allowing his eyes to roam down your form, gently caged into the wall as you are, eyes glimmering with a hunger you didn’t know he possessed- A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs then, voice serious. “I won’t touch you. I’ll transfer you if that’s what you want.”

“No.” Your answer comes so quickly it surprises even you, and suddenly your fingers are gripping on the inside of his forearms as if trying to keep him from retreating. “...Please.”

He gives you a moment, then another to reconsider, to retract your agreement and shove him off you. When you don’t, your captain grins.

“Shy little bonnie.” He croons. “Didnae have the words to ask for what you wanted from your superior, did you?”

You shudder when his gloved palm cups your cheek, leaning instinctively into it, sweet and willing. His thumb presses down on the plush bed of your bottom lip, and it takes a moment of courage to part your lips, lean forward so it rests on your tongue instead.

The sound your captain makes is carnivorous.

Hungry, wanting, dark as sin as he watches you engulf the digit and make eye contact with him, as if tempting danger. He tastes like the steel like of a sharp blade, cutting through your senses and leaving crimson want dripping against your thoughts.

He removes his thumb so a drip of spit trails after it, and before it can spill your captain bends and kisses you.

It’s dizzying, all consuming, all open lips as he groans into you, one arm snaking around to the small of you back to balance you on wobbly legs, the other gripping your chin and directing you exactly how he wants you, tilting your head just so he can kiss you deeper. You feel unbalanced by the sheer force of it, leaving little choice but to clutch at his uniform, go a little limp in his arms and mewling into his open mouth.

“Aye, that’s it.” He groans between wet, sloppy kisses, dragging his teeth over your bottom lip and feeling you press back into him, eager for more. “Fuckin beautiful, hen.”

His warm breath spills against your open throat, where you think he might bestow a killing bite if you’d let him, groaning in appreciation at the raw, heady taste of you as he takes everything you can bear to give him.

“Sir-” You whine when he wedges a knee between your legs, hands planted firmly on your ass so he drags your clothed cunt over the rise of his thick thigh. “Oh God-”

“No God here, love.” He huffs as your head flops gently to the side, his words fanning across the shell of your ear so you shudder. “Just you an’ me.”

That might be for the best, you think. One less witness to the act of your captain defiling you the way you’ve dreamt of for longer than you care to remember.

Your captain’s hands grasp the fat of your ass as you give an experimental rock onto his thigh, stifling a little whimper as you do. It only makes him chuckle, dark and hungry into your ear as he nibbles on the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.

“C’mon lass, you can do better than that.” He huffs, and you feel him smile against your neck. “Go on, take what you need. Wanna feel you get off just from grinding on my leg like this.”

You’re not sure if you can, honestly, but gods above do you want to try.

You grab at his neck for support, pressing him further as he bows over you, engulfs you with the heat of his frame. Then you allow your knees to fold, letting him support the weight of you as you begin to drag yourself along his thigh.

The friction is delicious, sends your nerve endings alight with sensation as the pleasure of it spills past your lips with an open groan. You wonder if the mere act of this, of humping your superior’s leg like a cat in heat while he purrs praises into your ear, does more for you than the actual motion itself. Either way, you begin to feel a warmth unfurling in your core, cunt clenching down on a needing emptiness that has you bury a whimper into his shoulder.

“Thaaat’s it.” MacTavish- John, you wonder if he’ll let you call him, croons in your ear. “Lemme hear all those pretty noises, hen.”

You do, realizing there’s no one else to hear you. You give in, allow him to hear every hitch in your chest, every shuddering gasp and breathless plea of “S-sir-”

“Feel good?” He asks, hands kneading the swell of your ass as he helps rock you along his thigh. “Just imagine bonnie, could have had this weeks ago if you’d only let me.”

He’s right. If you’d only said something to him, had made a move on him, then you could have been having his low, Scottish lilt purr right in your ear as you try to get off ages ago.

But this is good too.

“Cannae even imagine how much it took for me not to pounce on you.” He huffs, pressing fluttering kisses against the thrum of your pulse. “All those sweet little looks you thought I couldn’t see, the way you were mooning over me like I wouldnae notice-”

“That’s- that’s not-” You try, managing to sound a little indigent despite your heaving breaths.

“Oh I know, bonnie.” He croons with a huff of laughter. “You were just trying to be a good soldier, didn’t want to get caught seducing your superior, aye? What would the other officers think?”

You whimper at that, clutching a little tighter if only out of a remnant pulse of shame. Yet John doesn’t let you stop, drags you more insistently over the bulge of his thigh straining through his pants.

“They don’t get to know.” He tells you, smirking. “They don’t get to know how sweet ye are like this, how pretty you look trying to come all over my leg, aye bonnie?”

You feel it rising inside you, feel your oncoming climax mount with every low rumble of words against your skin, with the way his scent clouds your senses so there’s nothing else but the sensation of him, the pleasure of you grinding your wet, empty cunt against his leg.

“C’mon, little one. Can feel you trying. What’dye need?” He huffs, and you shake your head into his shoulder.

“Empty.” You tell him in a little, shy whisper, face burning as you refuse to look him in the eyes. Yet a hand catches your cheeks, turns you up to his gaze so you have no choice but to look into his bright, glimmering stare.

“What was that?” He asks, and Gods, you think he may eat you alive. “Need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“E-empty.” You tell him a little louder, catching sight of the glassy eyed stare reflected in his eyes, feeling your legs shake with the effort of trying to hold your own weight.

“Oh poor wee lass.” John sighs, bending down to kiss you again, swallowing the little whimper that bubbles up your throat. “Dinnae fash, I’ll take care of you.”

He pulls away so quickly you nearly drop to the floor, were it not for the hand slung across your hip that keeps you upright. You hear the clink of a belt, and for a single hopeful moment you think maybe it’s his, only to groan in disappointment and need as he squirms his hand past your own waistband, slinking his fingers between your folds.

“Christ almighty, lass, you’re soaking wet.” He breathes, bracing his forehead against yours so you feel his warm huff of air on your swollen lips. “Just from this?”

Yeah. This. You want to tell him. As if ‘this’ isn’t something straight out of your wildest wet dreams, him easily handling you in close quarters, treating you with greedy hands and yet touching you as if you’re something prized, a beautiful weapon he’s admired from afar for far too long.

When he sinks a finger into you John groans a deep, resounding noise in his chest, open and appreciating the way your slick heat instantly clenches around his fingers.

“Fuck, the feel of you, hen.” He breathes as he pumps his fingers with deliberate slowness, as you whimper and writhe and try to force yourself down onto his hand to chase your just out of reach climax. “So warm and tight, cannae even imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

“Please.” You gasp desperately, body flushed with want as you grind against his fingers, seeking to angle them just right. “Captain.”

The sound John makes is primal, and you’re given little warning before suddenly he’s plunging a second finger into you, giving you only a moment to adjust to the stretch before he’s setting a rapid pace that has you wail into his chest.

“Is alright lass, I got you. C’mon, wanna feel you cum all over my hand.” He growls, panting, entire body coiled tight as he pushes you further towards your climax. “I’ll fuck you proper after, promise. Just need to feel it when you come, wanna hear how pretty you sound, c’mon-”

It’s that thought, the one of him having you right here in the lift, bending you against the wall and fucking you just like this that makes you arch with a broken little shout, clenching down hard on his fingers as he slowly works you through it, murmuring sweet endearments down at you as you tremble. You feel your walls pulse around his thick digits, coating them in slick and you realize too late he never took his glove off.

You nearly buckle as the last pulse of pleasure pulses bright and powerful through you, clutching at him with a little whimper as you come down slowly. You’re warm all over, muscles flooded with a bright release that has you wobble where you stand. The pulse of your heartbeat echoes in your ears and you try desperately to catch your breath amidst it all.

And, naturally, that’s the moment when the lift starts moving again.

You almost entirely lose your balance when the floor beneath you jolts, squeaking as you lean fully into your captain. He doesn’t seem to be caught off guard at all. If anything, John seems amused at the sudden motion of the elevator, huffing a warm sound of disbelief up towards the ceiling.

“Think we’ll still be late for that meeting, bonnie?” He asks, grinning mischievously, as if he didn’t just make you come so hard your knees wobble.

“No sir.” You breathe, leaning back against the wall as he pulls his hand from your pants, leaning up and licking his fingers free of your wetness.

“Fuck.” You breathe helplessly, head flopping back. “You’re glove-”

He hums, as if just now realizing you stained the palm of his fingerless glove, pulling the velcro strap with his teeth as one hand balances you while you regain your strength.

“Keep it safe for me.” He tells you, jamming it into your front pocket as the lift whines to a halt. “Give it back to me later. After the meeting.”

After can mean a lot of things, you realize.

The lift dings pleasantly, and your captain hauls a brawny arm to keep the door open for you, ever the gentleman.

“Go on then lass,” He smiles, friendly and easygoing despite the knowing, hungry glimmer in his gaze. “Tell them I’ll be a few. Have to give the mechanics a talkin to.”

You nod, still a little shell shocked, a little disheveled, blinking dazedly as you scoot past him, then pause.

Checking the hallway, you twirl around and lean up to kiss him so you hear the little breath of surprise against your lips.

“After, captain?” You ask sweetly, blinking your lashes up at him and watching his pupils blow wide.

“After.” He declares, voice just as sultry, leaning down to nip teasingly in front of your face, fangs and all.

You sway off to the meeting, sneak into the back row and explain the hold up, and nobody looks at you twice, shy as you are. When your captain comes in five minutes later, only you notice the way he struts to the front of the room, smirking wide and assured as he briefs his men on their next target.

“Weapons hot, lads.” He declares, arms crossed, a smile taunting danger. “We’re danger close.”

#john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #captain mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #captain mactavish x you #I saw a gifset and went a little feral apologies #This is also unbetad to hell so sorry for that too

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