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yawnderu · 23 days

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ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

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reticent-writer · 3 months

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Alastor x teen reader (platonic)

@ghostly-one

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Today was one of 'those days'. You woke up feeling better than ever so you decided to enjoy the day and take a little walk outside.

From the moment you stepped onto a sidewalk you were catcalled by some gross-looking thing that you didn't even want to describe. As you continued to walk just trying to enjoy your day when You spotted Mimzy.

You tried to walk away without being noticed but she saw you.

"Oh Y/n dear it's been so long. How have you been? How's Al, he's being. a. little. bitch." She said in a baby voice as she fussed over you.

"I'm good, He's good. I have to go." You talked fast as you backed away from her but she pulled you down into her chest.

"Oh not you trying to avoid me too. I still remember when you were a tot, all small.... living and breathing." She pinched your cheeks.

"That was back when I was alive, Mimzy." You deadpanned.

"Oh, I know darlin' but I still remember it. Come Come, I can only imagine that you don't know your way around seeing as you're always inside."

With that comment you were offically done with her. You rarely use your powers but you did to get away from her.

You hated when anyone mentioned how much time you spend in your room. You like your time alone and find nothing wrong with it.

You poofed away in a puff of smoke into an alleyway. You caught your breath while facing a side wall.

"Down to bone." some Random said as he grabbed your arm and tried to pin you against the wall. You broke his arm causing him to scream in pain.

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Go." You succesfully scared him into running away but once he made it to the edge of the alley he bumped into someone. That someone killed him in an instant.

"Is that Alastor's little assistant?" The sound of a TV voice came from the sidewalk.

"You gotta be FUCKING. KIDDING." You hit the wall in frustration.

"Oooh~ someones mad." He teased as he walked up to you. "What are you doing out, the radio demon gave you permission?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"That's not very nice. I rarely see you without the big man. Can't we just chat."

"N-"

"What are you doing all by yourself, I'm on a walk myself I needed a break from the Vs." He said honestly just wanting to chat but you weren't in the mood, plus you didn't want to get in the middle of his and Al's rivalry.

So you poofed away again, this time going back to the hotel. Your day has been wasted, and you just want to go back to your room.

"Y/n you're back right on time we were just about to do some ex-" Charlie greeted you as cheerful as ever but it just annoyed you.

"Sorry Charlie not in the mood." You moved past her and everyone that was in the main area.

"Damn kid you look like shit." Angel laughed making everyone turn to you. You made eye contact with Alastor who got up at the sight.

"Are you alright? How was your day out." He asked. You tried to brush past him.

"It was a lot and I just want to go to my room now if you'll excuse me." You ran to your room and slammed the door.

---------

Later you got hungry and were about the raid the kitchen but when you opened the door you saw a plate of cookies and notes from everyone in the hotel.

'Maybe hell isn't all that bad'

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff #x child reader #child reader #teen reader #male reader #female reader #gn reader #platonic #reticent writes #reticent writer

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storiesfromgaza · 5 months

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"Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded? Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?"

These are the questions that Reporter Youmna El Sayed began with in her interview conducted by the AJ+ network to document her struggles with her children and the suffering of all the people of Gaza

When my kids ask me, 'Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded? Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?' and I have to tell them, 'No, don't worry. It's not going to hurt.' Their father reassures them, saying, 'Don't worry. It just happens once, and that's it.' In the past, we would comfort our children, saying, 'Don't worry. It's going to be okay. It's going to end soon. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.' Everything is shaking—constantly. But now, every night, we tell them, 'Don't worry. We're together, sticking together. If we die, we die together.' Death has become a looming reality since the Israeli army encircled Gaza city. The bombardments have been relentless—from the land, air, and sea. Our building is in a perpetual state of tremor. Three days ago, we awoke to the smoke of nearby fires filling our homes. We sought refuge in the basement, the best option with the least smoke, but it was still overwhelming. The kids were coughing, suffocating, and their eyes were itching. But when it comes to my children, it just hits me so hard, Dina, and I just feel that I can't control it anymore. I can't be that strong, brave woman who's able to control things or get things under control because they're my weak part. I feel a loss of control, unable to maintain the facade of strength and bravery. Judy, usually full of life, now appears quiet and terrified

She doesn't eat much. She doesn't feel like doing anything. I tried to speak to her about things, you know, bring back some happy memories, and I said, as usual, 'What would you like to do the first thing after this war ends?' She told me, 'Mommy, I don't want to do anything except for this war to end. I just want these bombardments to end, everything—the destruction, the despair, the loss.'

I think they tell you that now—we're just hearing news of people dying every now and then—people that we know, friends, colleagues, everyone around us. And it just, you know, really, like, 'May he rest in peace,' and that's it. I just—we just go on because we were just waiting for our turn. You mentioned to me that food is scarce and supplies are low. What is the water situation? We can starve, right? We can go on without food, even as adults. But without water, I'd rather die from bombardments than die from thirst. I don't want my kids at the end to die from thirst. Are you still thinking to move south, and what would that look like? The last attempt was a couple of days ago, and we found out that to move south, we need to walk for at least 6 to 7 km on foot and not carry anything at all with us—none of our belongings. Basically, walk this distance while we raise our hands to show that we surrender, just holding our IDs in one hand and raising the other. And I think that's just extremely humiliating. And it's not just that, you know?

You remember the massacre that everyone saw on TV screens for the civilians that were bombarded on the road? They're still lying there. Until this day, lying there in the streets, their bodies. The crows and the birds are eating from them, and no one has been able to pick them up. The Israeli army has not allowed anyone or ambulances or any medical teams to come to pick these people up and to bury them. How can I let my kids go through a street while they see other children and other people killed and thrown just like that, lying in the street like that, while birds are eating from them? I think that this is just inhumane and more cruel than anything. This is not to worry about fighting Hamas or Palestinian fighters. This war began by eliminating and wiping out the Palestinian people in Gaza. This isn't a war against Palestinian fighters nor Hamas; it's a genocide against Gaza.

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imbored1201 · 3 months

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Hi. I like your writings. Can I request a Mama Alexia Putellas x Teen! Reader? Where the reader escapes with her girlfriend to a party. Alexia will be very angry. And they will have a big talk. And the next day a painful conversation awaits the reader ( reader is hangover )

Drunken Mess

Alexia Putellas x platonic teen reader

A/N: Motherly Alexia is my most fav thing to write

Warnings: Throwing up, mentions of drug test

Word Count: 1,541

It was 2 a.m., and Alexia was awake; she was tired, pissed, and worried. She had searched for you everywhere on the street for an hour when she noticed you weren't there.

When she woke up, she had an odd feeling in her stomach. She checked around the house to make sure there was no one there, then went to your room to check on you. To say she was surprised when she saw you weren't there wouldn't be true.

You were always sneaky and a huge troublemaker, always getting into altercations on the pitch, and sometimes she got calls from your teachers about you not keeping up with your work.

————

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life. It wasn't the first time you snuck out. Your girlfriend always waited for you outside in her car. She knew a lot of people at school and always got invited to parties.

Something you didn't considering you did online classes. You've never drank or smoked like the other kids. Even your girlfriend never drank or smoked since she was the one that had to get you back home in one piece. She was terrified of Alexia.

When she saw you drinking, she was shocked, even going around telling off people who she thought pressured you to do it.

She kept an eye on you and did tell you to cool it with the drinks; you, of course, did not listen to her. Continuing to drink more.

"Okay, that's enough," your girlfriend said as she took the drink from you and dragged you out of the party. "Inside," she said, opening the passenger door for you.

Your arms were crossed, you were mad that she dragged you out of the party. "Let me see your phone." You gave it to her, and she opened it. "What are you doing?" You questioned, "Calling Alexia" "No!" You yelled, snatching it back.

"Call her," your girlfriend said sternly, you shook your head. "She'll kill me." "I need someone to make sure you choke on your vomit tonight." You stubbornly shook your head and glared at her.

"No," you said again, making her groan and park at a gas station. "Stay here; I'm going to get you a water" "Yes ma'am," you saluted, and leaned your head against the windows.

————

"Come on you drunk," your girlfriend had to drag you out of the car. You didn't want to go through the front door; you knew you would most likely get caught. With the help of your girlfriend, you always climbed back through your open window.

She thought that was too dangerous with the state you were in. "You have to come clean to her." You shook your head and tried pushing her away to run off. She tightened her grip. "HELP!" You yelled now.

She panicked and quickly put her hand over your mouth. "Now I want you to get caught by Alexia," she muttered. You rolled your eyes and gave up.

————

"Shit," you cursed as your girlfriend helped you inside the place. Alexia was sitting on a recliner that was in the corner of the room.

Her eyebrows raised as she looked at your girlfriend. Your girlfriend quickly set you down on the couch and looked at Alexia.

"I—she's drunk; I just came to drop her off." Alexia nodded and looked at you. "Thank you," she told your girlfriend, who just gave you a kiss on the cheek and practically ran out of the apartment. You didn't understand why she was so scared of Alexia.

You were laid out on the couch. "Aw, she left," you mumbled, turning to get more comfortable. Alexia wanted to yell at you, but she knew you wouldn't even remember it. She just walked up to you and made you sit up. She had a disappointed look on her face.

"Alexia I didn't mean to." Your words were slurred, and Alexia could smell the alcohol. She was ready to just ditch you at Ingrid's and Mapi's.

"I can't fucking believe this; this is why I don't want kids; I already have to deal with a big one who doesn't think." Alexia ranted to herself, holding her head as she went to the kitchen to get you water. "I'm not yours!" You yelled, earning you a slipper thrown at your head. You grabbed it and giggled.

"Drink," she simply said, snatching back her slipper and handing you the drink. "You're angry," you mumbled. Alexia looked at you like you were an idiot. "I wonder why," she sarcastically said.

Once you finished your drink, you looked at her and smiled. "I missed you," you said cutely, hugging her. Alexia hugged you back and helped you up. "You're sleeping with me tonight."

"Sleepover!" You cheered and went to the kitchen to get snacks. "No. Your going straight to sleep, no sleepover activities, and no snacks," you huffed and glared at her. "Your no fun." When you tried walking back to her, you tripped. On nothing.

"Oops," you said as you knocked down her mug that was filled with coffee. Alexia didn't even know what to do anymore. She was in between making you sleep on the couch, sending you to someone else's, and even calling your girlfriend to come back to take you again.

"Bed, and brush your teeth," she sternly said, dragging you out of the kitchen. You were quick to comply, and bolted to her room. You were able to successfully brush your teeth, and once your head hit those pillows, you were out.

————

Once Alexia finished cleaning and ranting to Ingrid and Mapi, she went to bed. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw you were already asleep.

Ingrid advised she'd let you settle a little bit first when you woke up before Alexia let you have it; after all, it was going to be your first hangover, that's what she was assuming at least.

————

When you woke up, you felt nauseous. You groaned and moved around to get more comfortable. "Alexia," you called out, and sighed in frustration when she didn't listen.

"Alexia," you whined again, rubbing your eyes as you got up and went to find her, trying to distract yourself from the feeling of throwing up. You found her sitting at the table. "Alexia, my head really hurts," her eyes narrowed. "I wonder why," and then there was a silent awkwardness as she got you food.

"Eat," she told you, breaking the silence. "I can't," you said in a whisper. You were waiting for the scolding, and the fact she hadn't started yet was scaring you more.

"Eat; you'll feel better. Then I'll give you medicine for the hangover." You nodded, taking a bite of your pancakes. You ate slowly and tried to ignore her stare. You sighed, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," you told her, and she just stared blankly at you.

"You know, you always get mad at me for treating you like a child, then you pull stunts like this." You simply nodded, not wanting to piss Alexia off more. "And I can tell it wasn't the first time you snuck out, and I know it isn't going to be your last." Alexia sighed and shook her head.

"I talked to Jonatan; you're going to do a drug test, and you're not playing these two upcoming games" "Bu-" she glared at you.

"Do not speak. You're getting off easy here. You know how much legal trouble you can be in over this. You're 16, you've made it so far already, and you're just going to throw it all away if you keep this up."

You didn't say anything. Just stared at your food in shame. You betrayed Alexia's trust, all because you couldn't control yourself.

"I swear I've never done drugs; yesterday was my first time drinking. I'm sorry, Ale." Alexia didn’t say anything; she just stood up to get you medicine.

————

You talked to your girlfriend, who also gave you a scolding. It's official to say that you two probably won't be going to parties for a long time. Your stomach was starting to hurt more, and your headache got worse.

You know you messed up, but you definitely learned your lesson now that you were on the floor with your head in the toilet as you threw up. Alexia was trying to help by holding back your hair.

You cried as she helped you up and helped you clean up. "I'm sorry," she shushed you as she hugged you tightly. "I know, Bebita, I know."

The rest of the day consisted of you curled up in her arms, occasionally crying because of your upset stomach while she tried to soothe you. Alexia knew she had to be strict with you, but she couldn't handle seeing you in pain. Plus, she knew Marta, Irene, and Lucy would probably yell at you way worse.

————

Thankfully for her, the drug test came out negative. She was still on your ass more than ever now, always checking on you at random points at night. Your poor girlfriend got a bad rep and practically got banned from the apartment, but Alexia eventually got over it and let her come around again.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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chronicdisasterwrites · 8 months

Text

gotta keep these kids on leashes

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - MAJOR FLUFF !! alooot of swearing, smoking, sexual jokes, mention of grandparents doing it (lmao you gotta read it to understand), reader wants to murder the bois, suguru wants to die, everybody is CRAZY!

word count: 3,350 (rip)

summary: OKAY i wrote it. the dynamic quartet is back doing... nothing good. suguru gets hit on, the three losers do crazy stuff and surprisingly no one dies (shocker) :0

enjoy this tomfoolery <3

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the curses are dying and you're not the one doing the killing, your head isn't pounding and your bed is so, so soft. Your window is slightly parted so the cool breeze is making the curtains dance and your skin prick. Nuzzling your head on the plush pillow and pulling your blanket higher so only your head is visible, you open your eyes, check the time, remember you have no classes, smile to yourself and dive back into the warm embrace that is sleep.

Until the tranquil atmosphere is disrespectfully shattered by the idiots you call your ‘friends’.

Your door is kicked open and the sudden sound was enough to make you jump and reach for your katana leaning against the bedside table. Your vision is blurry but your katana is half unsheathed as you contemplate killing the two perpetrators.

“Yeesh, you're hostile in the morning,” Satoru grins as he kneels on the ground and rests his obnoxiously large head on his obnoxiously large palms on the foot of your bed, like some petulant child who broke a vase and is now being their best self to appease their parents. “Nice bedhead,” his grin gets exponentially larger and your hand twitches against the hilt of your katana.

“I told you we should've knocked. You never listen, Satoru,” Suguru sighs as he walks through the gap that used to be your door.

Your morning is thoroughly fucked. The birds are dead, the curses are in your room, your head feels like it will explode and there are tiny fragments of wood all over your bed.

Your jaw clenches and eyes darken as you fully unsheathe your katana with the pure intention of murdering these morons.

“I will give you 10 seconds to run and hide.”

“Aw c’monnn,” Satoru’s obnoxious voice drawls as he attempts to pat your head, but before your blade had the chance to amputate his wrist, Suguru’s hand held Satoru’s away from you; therefore preventing a major bloodshed from occurring. Ever the mediator.

“Okay I think we pissed her off enough, Satoru,” Suguru says calmly as Satoru pouts with a small “Aw man”. Suguru lets go of Satoru’s hand as he slowly takes the katana from your hands and puts it into its scabbard. Releasing a breath he places his hand on your head and gently smooths down your wild mane.

He drawls your name and you look at him with furrowed brows and a deep scowl.

He chuckles, “We’re gonna have a day out and you can get all the mochi and pancakes your heart desires. Our treat, for ruining your sleep and…” he looks at the desecrated door, “…your door.” You hear Satoru whine about why you let Suguru touch your hair and not him and choose to ignore it.

He smiles when he sees the glint in your eyes at the mention of mochi and pancakes and your scowl gets smaller and brows get straighter. You sigh and get up off the bed, “Fine. I have to get dressed so get out.”

“Don’t be late, mochiii~ we’ll be waiting.” He manages to dodge the hairbrush you throw at his head perfectly as he jumps up to run out of the room while giggling like a schoolgirl.

Suguru laughs as he follows his dumbass friend out and you look at your completely fucked door, wondering what you did to deserve this.

—-

“Can you shut up, please? I'm begging at this point,” Your voice is tired and your eyes are glaring holes into the brunette’s head as she laughs and chortles into oblivion.

“They- broke your- they broke your door-” more laughter. “Dude this is a comedy-” more laughter and snorting. “comedy- gold-” Shoko slaps the table and wheezes as various strangers stare at the two of you and mutter among themselves with concerned faces.

You silently poke at your half-eaten cheesecake as you try to forget the events of the morning and ignore the moron sitting before you.

“Why didn't they torment you like that?” you grumble as you cut up the poor cheesecake with your fork and turn it into mush.

Shoko takes heaving breaths and sniffles as she takes a sip of her matcha latte and drags her chair forward. Her voice is light and thoroughly amused, “Because I'm not fun to tease. You, on the other hand, are the best person to tease,” her lips tilt up to a grin as she stirs her drink with her straw.

You stare at her with dead eyes. “I hate you,” you deadpan.

“Yeah, I love you too,” her grin gets wider and a few chuckles escape her as she bites on her straw.

The mall was pretty packed considering it was the weekend. Pretty girls window shopping and checking out people with their pretty friends. Couples walking around holding hands and laughing at each other's jokes. It was fun to watch them live their lives, as you lived yours. You wish you wore one of your cute, normal outfits instead of your uniform, just for today. But as you look down at your uniform, you appreciate it more. This uniform got you through some crazy times. Some near deaths, some deaths, a lot of blood. You feel comfortable in it, and it doesn't look completely awful.

Suddenly, you hear your name and Shoko’s name being yelled at in the distance and you both look at each other apprehensively and look around the little open cafe you were in. You quirk an eyebrow at Shoko and she shrugs, but then the sound of Satoru’s obnoxious voice yelling both of your names cuts through the chatter of the crowd and you both look to the side to see him running toward your table at full-speed screaming like an idiot. The moment he reaches your table he slams both hands down and heaves and wheeze as people stare at you with genuine concern.

“What the hell?! I've been looking everywhere for you two,” Satoru yanks Shoko’s matcha latte from her hands despite her “Hey!” of protest and makes a scrunched-up, disgusted face upon inspecting the bitten straw. He proceeds to open the plastic lid, chug the remaining latte, crumple up the cup into a tiny ball using his Limitless technique and drop it on the table for you and Shoko to gawk at.

He then looks at your cheesecake-turned-paste concoction and makes another face of pure disgust. “Can't you losers eat properly? Jeez,” he complains as he takes your plate and finishes the cheesecake mutation in two bites.

“Satoru…” you sigh for the umpteenth time that day, as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“What do you want?” Shoko completes for you with her nonchalant voice as she rummages her purse for her pack of cigarettes. At this point, you know you need one too.

He makes wild arm gestures like a cheerleader for every word he utters, “Suguru. Is. Getting. Hit. On.”

Your face is unimpressed and Shoko says “Aha” while holding up a pack of cigarettes.

Satoru visibly deflates as a look of pure shock crosses his face at the shameless nonchalance you both are portraying.

“Okay. So?” you shrug as you pick at your nails with your teeth.

Satoru pulls your hand down and holds it there as he leans down and gawks at you with his jaw dropped and furrowed silver brows.

“No, no. This is serious. Suguru is getting hit on and we're wasting time,” he stares into your eyes and you can see your reflection in the dark glass of his sunglasses. You bring up your free hand to fix your hair using his sunglasses as a mirror and something in his head cracks as he jolts up, grabs Shoko’s hand, and pulls you both towards the scene of the crime. You both scramble to take your purse and you leave more than enough money on the table before being dragged away by a tall, crazy man.

“Listen up. We are going to embarrass the shit outta him, okay?” He's walking faster as he makes his way out of the air-conditioned mall towards the outdoor food court. You and Shoko are reluctantly following him as you honestly have nothing better to do and you can't lie; embarrassing Suguru sounds really fun.

“Roger that, sir,” you do a mock salute and hear Satoru chuckle. “What's the plan?”

“You two will attack first. Shoko you gotta be as scary as possible and-” Satoru’s master plan phase-1 was interrupted by Shoko asking a tangible question. Or actually; questions.

“How scary? Can I slap him? Can I throw water on his face? Should I cry?”

Satoru groans and starts walking even faster. “Okay, you can do all of that, but remember your role is the ‘cheated girlfriend’, alright? You're mad but sad. Mad and sad.”

You hear Shoko mutter “okie” right as Satoru says your name, “You can act as the ‘cheated wife’ or something. Cry, latch onto him, beg him. Go crazy,” he throws a sly grin over his shoulder and you're concerned about the evil lilt his voice took when he said the word ‘crazy’.

“And what about you? What's your role?” you ask as you feel him slow down. You look ahead and see Suguru talking with a pretty woman with long, straight black hair. Satoru stops, steps behind you and Shoko, and says with his usual cocky demeanor, “You’ll see, Lil' Mochi,” and doesn't give you the chance to complain about the nickname as he shoves you both towards the victim of ‘Satoru’s Master Plan Phase-1’.

You and Shoko look at each other with devilish grins as you activate your inner drama queens and launch yourselves toward one unaware, unprepared Geto Suguru.

You gasp and squeal with a shaking hand against your open mouth, “Oh my- Geto Suguru?! How dare you! Especially now- how could-” You choke on a fake sob and place your palm on your stomach as Suguru slowly turns back with wide eyes and a bulging vein on his temple.

“While I'm pregnant with YOUR CHILD?! You're inhuman!” you fall to your knees fake crying your heart out as you cover your face with both palms and try your hardest to not break character.

You hear gasps all around you and the sound of Suguru stuttering, and you wonder if you overdid it.

You then feel someone lift you with their hands on your arms. You glance to see Shoko acting all ‘mad and sad’ as you fall into her arms and fake cry some more.

“It's okay, I understand,” she pats your head with her soft hands and spits fake venom at an even more bewildered Geto Suguru. “He tricked me too. He was cheating on you with me first, you know?” You crank up the fake crying upon hearing this and you feel Shoko’s chest shake and you feel your concentration slipping.

Shoko nudges your head and you look at her with completely dry eyes, as you keep clutching your completely baby-less stomach. Shoko pulls out two water bottles and hands you one. She nods at you and you nod at her. You both look at Suguru and he looks like he just watched his dead grandmother have sex with his dead grandfather or something. He looks aghast. You and Shoko walk towards him and Shoko steps ahead of you as you wait your turn.

“This is for cheating on me, you spineless pig! Even though I was cheating on you too!” she declares as she drenches Suguru in cold water. You hear more gasps and you see the woman he was previously talking to blanch with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. Suguru stands completely still as his bangs drip with water and his left eye twitches in pure rage.

Well, it's your turn. You step up and stare him down and fear for your life when Suguru stares back at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. You gulp down your fears and put on the bravest face you can muster, “And this is for breaking my heart and my hymen! And you weren't even that good!” For the added effect you choke on a fake sob after the last sentence and dowse him in some more cold water. You hear a bark of laughter from the crowd and you huff and hold onto Shoko as you both slowly step away from him as his cursed energy slowly grows and grows. Suguru drags his hand down his face and flicks his wrist splattering water by his side when you hear an obnoxiously loud scoff followed by an even louder voice.

“Can you stop your cryin’? It's hurting my ears,”

Satoru stands there looking like a full-on trophy wife, left arm stacked with shopping bags and right hand on his hip. Dazzled in a silver satin shirt; he definitely wasn't wearing before, with the top buttons open and sunglasses perched on his head, giving the crowd a clear view of his glittering sapphire eyes and very open chest.

You and Shoko gape at him in horror and you both look back at Suguru who looks like he might just explode. His uniform is soaked, his front hair is sticking to the side of his face, and his eyes just about look like they do when he’s fighting curses, except now they look unmerciful.

“Sugu, I'm done with my shopping. How about we go look at some furniture now, hm? ” Satoru slings the shopping bags over his shoulder and sends Suguru just about the sultriest look you've ever seen his face make.

You glance at Shoko and she glances back, and you both bite your lips to stop yourselves from spiraling into a peal of uncontrollable laughter.

Suguru seems to have had enough, as his eyes glazed over and he turns around to face the downright terrified lady.

“You seem nice, but I have some…” Suguru pauses, rethinks his sentence, and continues with a curt nod, “Well, take care.”

He gives her the sweetest, fakest smile as she returns a smile that looks more like a grimace and turns away. She looks back again and sees you and Shoko clutching onto each other for dear life, Suguru still smiling at her with a twitching eye and veins popping on his temple and neck, and Satoru spinning around swishing his shopping bags and singing Suguru’s name like a prayer, and quickly walks away.

The crowd slowly dissipates as you, Shoko, and Satoru stand in silence and Suguru slowly turns around, smile gone, and eyes narrowed, “You idiots… are lucky I didn't like her.”

You break first, and then Shoko, and soon the two of you are shaking each other, rolling around and laughing like absolute menaces. Satoru chortles seeing Suguru’s unimpressed poker face and walks up to him, placing the shopping bags down on the floor.

“C’mon it was funny and besides, we saved your ass. She seemed so boooring,” Satoru drawls and gags.

Suguru exhales as he closes his eyes and the muscle in his jaw twitches. Satoru finds a chink in his armor and grins. He's gonna break.

Satoru laughs and throws his arm around his best friend's shoulder and calls out to you and Shoko.

You two wheeze and try to catch a breath as you see Suguru’s serious face on the verge of breaking.

“Suguru, for the record, I thought she was really pretty,”

You voice your opinion with an innocent smile and Satoru facepalms.

Shoko giggles and shoves you, “That doesn't help, you idiot.”

You throw your head back and laugh, “I dunno dude, I think I lost a bunch of brain cells after that performance.”

“Not like you had any to begin with, Mochiii ~” Satoru mocks and you launch yourself at him as you both run around Suguru, you yelling profanities at Satoru and Satoru chanting “Mochi” and laughing like the actual spawn of the devil.

Suguru finally cracks. Resting his hands on his knees, he bends down and laughs freely, uninhibited; like a child. Shoko smiles and takes out two cigarettes from the pack she safely kept in her uniform pocket. She puts one between her strawberry lips and taps Suguru on his drenched head with her knuckles. Suguru looks up, his laughter subsiding, and accepts the outstretched cigarette held between Shoko’s fingers. He places it between his lips as he rummages his pockets for his little orange lighter. Finding it, he lights his cig and holds it in front of Shoko, as she lights her one. They stand next to each other and smoke their cigarettes while watching Satoru teleport behind you as he grabs you by the waist and spins you around. The sound of his cackling and your screaming fades into the background as Shoko asks, “You think they’ll ever tell each other?”

Suguru leans his head back and blows smoke into the sky. As people start filing out of the food court, you and Satoru were the only rambunctious morons making all the noise in the entire area. He looks at the scene unfolding before him; your head is locked between the junction of Satoru’s arm as his knuckles attack you with fierce noogies. You’re giggling while flailing around like a fish out of water as you try to shove him away but to no avail. Suguru huffs a laugh and takes another drag of his half-smoked cigarette, “Maybe, but not without help.” He nudges Shoko’s shoulder with his own and gives her a devilish grin. Shoko chuckles and stubs out her cig on the sole of her shoe, “What were you thinking? Push their faces together or ask Yaga Sensei to assign them on a joint mission?” She snorts, “That’d be something.”

Suguru hums. He stubs the cigarette butt on the ground and puts it in his pocket and says grinning cheekily, “Nah, I was thinking something more ridiculous. Something fit for two morons of their caliber.”

Shoko quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head with a smile, “Alright.”

You manage to escape Satoru's iron-clad grip after much effort. You boot him on his shin and make a run toward Shoko, tackling her in a massive bear hug. Shoko reciprocates the hug and you two waddle around conjoined like two baby penguins.

“Ow! That hurt!” Satoru limps toward Suguru and leans on him with his arm on his shoulder while Suguru does a hand-clapping motion. He receives a flick on the cheek from Satoru for that.

“That was literally the point, stupid,” you flip him off as he returns the very thoughtful gesture. You both chuckle and Suguru and Shoko send each other cheeky looks.

“Don’t think this is over, by the way,” Suguru says with a vengeance as he flicks you and Shoko on the forehead, to which you both reply with a small “ow”.

“I will get you all back for this. And it won't be pretty,” he ends his threat by flicking Satoru on the forehead; to which he replies with a whiny “I'm already injured, maaaan”.

“Bring it on, champ,” you grin and smack him on his back as you finally release Shoko as you pick up the shopping bags and swing them by your sides. Satoru joins you and takes a few off your hands as you all make your way out of the mall. The golden light marks your path with an incandescent glow. Time flies by incredibly fast when you’re with these children. It's scary, but at the same time, it's humbling. Being with them makes you want to live. They inspire you and drive you to reach greatness. They also make you want to store these precious moments into unbreakable vials or freeze time so you never have to leave. Nothing would go wrong, it would just be the four of you, through thick and thin, through blood and dust, through life and death. But you know you’re smarter than that. However, for today, you'll let yourself dream a little.

“So, how about some KFC?”

——————————————————————————-

a/n: not another slow-burn, pining, friends to lovers situation w satoru and reader whoops-

tagged: @porridgesblog, @stray-npc

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killerpancakeburger · 2 months

Text

Being Ghost's BFF Headcanons

(while also dating Soap cause you deserve the best of both worlds)

If you told anyone that Ghost was your favorite person to see in the morning, they'd write you off as clinically insane. Or laugh in your face. It didn't make it any less true though. When you don't want anyone speaking to you before you had your coffee, the Ghost feels heaven-sent. Others might see it as rude, but you're content with him acknowledging your presence with a nod of head or by raising his mug of tea in your direction.

You've never been afraid of him - more like displaying a healthy apprehension towards a guy exceeding 1m90, weighing over 100kg, and hiding his face.

After spending a couple hours with him, you quickly came up to a new conclusion about him: he just had a resting bitch face. Just because he had a deep voice and a monotonous tone didn't mean he was angry 24/7. He treated people how he wanted to be treated. He had high expectations for himself and for others/teammates. All in all, a pretty reasonable guy.

You like to think he started to respect you for your combat skills and experience, but evidence pointed to the fact that he began to look at you differently after seeing you decisively slap Soap in the face to wake him up after he passed out from blood loss.

There had been a few milestones in your relationship: when he told you a bad joke for the first time (you briefly thought you were having an aneurysm), when he told you to call him Simon (in private), when he awkwardly tried to cheer you up by patting you on the shoulder (first time he touched you outside of combat/training).

Outside of missions, the time you spent together was divided between shooting matches on the training grounds and hanging out with a smoke at night when both of you struggled to sleep. He was one of the rare men not pulling any punches against you, allowing to enjoy the competition freely. Soap tried time and time again to stay awake to join you two, but failed systematically.

Acting like a divorced couple with Soap as the kid you have shared custody of. "Yer man escaped medical again" "Before 6 a.m he is YOUR man, Lieutenant"

Frequently finding yourselves shouting both at the same time: "English, MacTavish!" In the same exasperated tone.

You can handle yourself, and Ghost is perfectly aware of that. That doesn't stop him from standing behind you menacingly like the Grim reaper himself when he thinks someone's taking too many liberties with you.

If Soap's a golden retriever when he's in a good mood, Ghost reminds of your parents' cat: silent, deadly, and shows affection by deigning to occasionally hang out in the same room as you.

You always carry a spare mask for him; and he wears spare hair ties on the wrist - plain, black ones. Cannot mess with his vibe.

People keeps asking how you managed to have a relationship with "The Ghost", and your answer is very simple: "learn when to shut the fuck up".

A/N:

Me in the beginning: I'm only gonna write Soap content

Ghost:

Me: Oh FFS

BONUS:

When Ghost told you a bad joke for the first time:

You still remembered the joke incident vividly: you were on a mission together, just the two of you, and as you were focusing more than usual, anxious to disappoint him or to be a liability, you suddenly heard in your com: "Ye heard the rumour 'bout butter?"

If Ghost's voice hadn't been unmistakable, you would have thought he had been killed and replaced by someone else.

"What (the fuck)", you exhaled, not because you wanted to know about butter, but because you had no idea what the hell was happening. The fact that his tone was exactly the same as usual - deadpan, flat - contributed to making you feel insane.

"Nah, I shouldn't be spreadin' it". was the answer. Torn between demanding explanations and not wanting to commit a faux pas, you replied the way you replied to your parents' bad jokes:

"Ha. Ha. Haha...?"

The seasoned killer on the other side of the mic didn't seem to mind, but you texted Soap in panic as soon as your butt touched the helicopter's seat.

“JOHNNY”

"Sup hen"

"Cannae go wan mission without missing me, ae? ;)"

"Did Ghost hit his head recently??"

"Negative Ma'am" "Why? Did something happen??"

"He told me a dad joke. A fucking dad joke."

"😂 Thats kinda his thing"

"thought I was losing it"

"Congrats, ye can consider yerself stamped wit The Ghost seal of approval"

"Ok? Cool???"

"Mah too favourite people gittin along" *trails of smiling emojis and hearts*

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steddiewithachance · 5 months

Text

Vampire Pancakes

A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire

🥞🫐

No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.

Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.

Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.

Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.

"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"

Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.

"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."

So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.

Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.

Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.

Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.

He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.

🥞🫐

It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.

"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.

"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.

Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.

He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.

"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.

"Not even a little."

Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.

"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.

"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"

"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.

"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.

"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."

Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.

"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.

"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

🥞🫐

In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.

The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.

Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.

He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.

"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.

"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.

"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.

Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.

"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.

"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.

"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.

Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."

And it feels like things are gonna be okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #soft steve harrington #steve harrington is a sweetheart #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x steve #writing prompt #steddie microfic

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