#because i know none of you fuckers talk like this

[sapphire-weapon]

Did you see that Stephanie panisello said that she and Matt Mercer didn't even work together in DI?? LOL looks like the cl*on stans are outta luck. Ever since Leon x Ashley has been made 100% canon it looks like Capcom is finally gonna be sinking all those other ships and good riddance. After all these years thos cl*on shippers were SO sure they were gonn a be Leon's second canonical ship but NOPE! It was us! When Leon and Claire have zero real interactions in DI do you think they'll melt down as hard as a*on stans do?

dude what the fuck are you talking about LMAO

like there's so much going on in this ask idek where to start

i'm just gonna go down the list in order, i guess

like... so what's the implication here? that because steph and matt weren't in the sound booth at the same time, leon and claire don't interact in DI? when we've already seen them on screen together in the same scenes? because i'm pretty sure that the CGI movies aren't mocapped by the english cast like the games are -- i'm pretty sure that they're mocapped in japan, and the english cast just provides the voice acting. so, like. yeah. a lot of the time, when you're doing voice work, you don't work with the other actors. it's entirely possible that your scene partner hasn't even recorded their lines yet, and you're just trying to act and react off of text you're reading in a script. that's why voice acting is so hard and why so many film actors struggle to make the transition from film to voice.

leon/ashley is not "100% canon" in the way that you're implying here. leon/ashley is canon in resident evil 4 remake and nothing else. i have said this repeatedly. don't expect capcom to commit to this ship. capcom does not commit to ships in RE. capcom won't even canonize valenfield, and you really think they're going to commit to leshley?? LMAO

even if leon/ashley was "100% canon" in that way, it would only be in the remake verse. death island is OG canon, which means that aeon is still the name of the game there. OG canon has done absolutely nothing to kill the canonicity of aeon, so we need to assume that that whole thing is still going on.

cleon has been dead canonically for a fucking decade, so i have no idea where this sentiment of "finally" is coming from, here. damnation fatally wounded it, RE6 twisted the knife and ripped the hole open further, and the ending of infinite darkness coup-de-grace'd it. anyone who honestly thought cleon was still somehow going to become canon after RE6 is an actual legitimate fucking lunatic. which leads me to my next point...

i haven't seen cleon fandom be insane since about the time of damnation's release -- so, very early 2010s. in fact, i have not met a single cleon fan since then who was operating under any sort of delusion about what the state of their ship was in terms of the canon. cleon fandom lost this war years and years ago, and they all know it.

like. bro, leave cleon fandom alone. they've suffered enough, and they're our friends, besides. i know that there's a decent number of my followers (who are also probably some of my anons) who ship cleon first but still enjoy what RE4make did and are supportive of our ship.

and i also kind of ship cleon, to a certain extent. i've been pretty vocal about this.

i mean, hell, i would even be willing to ship aeon if capcom was ever willing to put at least some thought behind the execution of it, as opposed to none at all.

i just constantly take a shit on aeon fandom because they're a bunch of joyless fucks who can't allow anyone else to have anything ever and always have to chime in on every little thing with some form of "okay but leon loves ada tho" or "don't forget aeon is canon." like, fuck off, dude. aeon fandom is in a constant state of "the best defense is a good offense" as though anyone on the fucking planet is actually trying to take the canonicity of their ship from them.

they're not. we're not. aeon won the OG timeline. they need to stop being such sore winners and trying to rub their victory in everyone else's faces and shout down people who are still trying to have fun with other things.

and they're also a bunch of media illiterate dumbasses who sit around dreaming of happily-ever-afters for leon and ada and come up with headcanons for babies and shit, when all that shit is directly antithetical to the nature of the ship so i don't understand why the fuck they even like the ship to begin with, but that's a separate point.

so like

yeah dude, you need to pull yourself the fuck out of the late aughts. the war is over. it's done. it's time to stop fighting.

#i'm sorry for being so abrasive in this answer but #this ask feels like an aeon fan trying to masquerade as one of us in order to gauge the temperature of where we're at in the fandom #because i know none of you fuckers talk like this #and anyone who was actually familiar with this blog at all would know the reality of leon/ashley being canon and my stance on cleon #AEON FANDOM YOU'RE STILL THE CRAZY ONES #WE DON'T DISLIKE YOU BECAUSE OF YOUR SHIP #WE DISLIKE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE ASSHOLES

[lady-tortilla-chip]

I wish the f/f shipping crowd would realize lots of people are motivated by engagement so if you just ENGAGE with the f/f content that IS available then you’ll naturally bring more people interested in sharing and creating.

#like pls I understand wanting content you didn’t make!!!! #at the same time literally just scrolling the TL I’ll see Fanart for an f/f ship with lots of likes and retweets #but like 2 replies #and ZERO QUOTES #like??? fuckers??? TALK TO THE CREATORS!!! TELL THEM WHAT YOU LOVED!!!!! #MAKE THEM FEEL INCLUDED AND NOT LIKE A MACHINE CHURNING OUT MATERIAL #AND THEN PEOPLE WILL WANT TO STAY/JOIN #speaking as your local woman leaning bisexual #also a LOT of women just like m/m purely because it’s so easy to not project into the characters #I know I was one of those people #when I wasn’t comfortable in my sexuality #so I also think just this convo isn’t fair in that regard #cuz people have all kinds of reasons for their preferences #and it’s fucking fiction #of all the things to do some soul searching over #your fictional preferences is pretty low on that ladder #especially since none yall discuss why so many of y’all are anti masc women

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

[riotinyellow]

"Why hasn't philza said anything?"I think tommy is on Will's side since he hasn't made a statement"

You are insufferable treating the ccs like fucking corporate entities

"Where is the statement ? Where is the statement ? Where is the statement ? Where is the statem-"

Shut up

Not everything has to be handled through a grand public disowning.

"Believe all victims" is a valid statement, but it is also one that can clash with people's emotions, believe it or not human relationships are complex as fuck. Most of these content creators were closer to will than shelby. It is natural to want to hear your friend's side even if they are the accused even if you believe the victim. It is natural to be worried you're taking the wrong side. It is natural to wish these accusations were simply not true. Some people are too afraid to burn bridges too soon, I certainly am. Is that "enabling" ? I can't imagine if my best friend got accused of something like this, how I'd feel, or how i would act.

And when the creators did release statements you fuckers accused them of saving face. You know what? I agree with that. These statements weren't necessarily for shelby they were to shut you up. All their support could've happened privately in the way they am sure wish, but no, you had to start bad mouthing people calling them enablers and such (you need to stop using words and watering down their fucking meanings). Look at how people were talking about niki and are talking about tommy.

Just because some ccs can and will be loud and proud (rightfully so) doesn't mean everyone else is loud about that shit. Aimsey is an example they are obviously closer to shelby, so they obviously released their statement much earlier. It makes sense, but you can't be sitting here calling tommy, philza and niki "enablers" because they didn't shout it from rooftops. How many of them want to keep it private ? How many who did say something publicly wanted to keep private but couldn't because of your harassment ?

I can't hold anything against these ccs, and you shouldn't either. None of them bashed shelby or demonised her in any way publicly. and it is all we need to know. If shelby felt unsupported by the lack of some ccs public announcements, that's for her to decide and dm them about it, not you.

#wilbur soot #shelby grace #shubble #tommyinnit #philza #niki nihachu #aimsey

[ange1ace]

DONT YOU LOVE ME ANYWAY?

tw: slapping, slight breeding kink, smut, dark!luke, corruption kink, daughter of aphrodite!reader

a/n: from your #1 yappist

There was something sacred about it-how he would desecrate-ruin you. Bruises littered your inner thighs, neck, anywhere he could find to mark you. Own you.

And he did.

There was some thrill in it for him, that you'd allow him to fuck with you like this, turn you into something as depraved and corrupt as him. Watching the guilt settle in your eyes when he finishes fucking you, mock disappointment crafting his words.

"should cover those up, yeah?, cant have everyone knowing what a cock dumb slut you are now, can we?"

People began to notice it, slowly. The way your face would burn with embarrassment turning into shame when they pointed out the hickeys. The fact that you were luke's toy to fuck and use as he pleases. And it was, until it became because even after he betrayed you, its his name that falls from your lips when you cum on your fingers.

You shouldve known better. Maybe checked the borders harder, more than twice-brought more weapons. Anything, that would take you back from being here. The metal presses against your throat, sending shocks of fear through you as he tilts your head up, back pressed against the rough bark of the tree.

Clarisse and the others had left camp for some special mission, chiron called it, leaving you and the other year rounders. It was calm for the first few weeks, until it wasnt.

Monsters started attacking more frequently, breaking the borders which you couldve sworn you thought could never happen. And there was only one culprit. The same one that had his head between your thighs-just weeks earlier and now a knife under your chin.

"isnt it past curfew sweetheart?" he asks tilting his head as he smiles "should report you for that"

Like the fucker cares.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, looking for atleast a dagger, seeing most of your weapons discarded too far from arms reach. He sees you, of course, eyes darkening in irritation.

"None of that yeah? just want to talk-"

Something in you clicks, anger that causes you to almost bite at him. "now you want to talk? you fucking left me luke!, no note, not even a simple goodbye-i had to hear about this from annabeth, a-and you want to speak to me with a sword at my throat?!"

He shifts, eyes moving to unreadable, as he backs up only slightly.

"There wasnt enough time-couldnt get you roped up in this shit and risk somethin' happening to you, you wouldnt have understood-"

His words fall on deaf ears, not caring-trusting-what he says anymore. You're quick to move, acknowledging that his sword is now at his side, completely out of the way. The first fist hits and you cant tell when the second one reaches. He lets you hit him, takes it until it actually begins to hurt, grapping your wrists as you attempt to fight his grip. He discards his sword on the ground, moving his other hand to keep you still. "Stop before you hurt yourself" he says sternly, backing you right up against the tree. Theres tears on your face now, he cant tell if they're from sadness or anger, choosing the latter pains him less.

"Just calm the fuck down"

Its the same tone he would use with you before, whenever you'd ask him to stay with you after he'd fuck you for hours on end. Producing the same result, tears brimming along your waterline until his tone changes. "I'm sorry okay? just dont-dont-fuck- stop crying, cant take it when you do that to me"

Your lip stops trembling, soaked eyes looking up at him as his hand cradles your chin. Its silent, none of you knowing what to say anymore and even though, you know better, you kiss him. Your lips are soft against his at first, but when luke gets over his shock? he's all teeth and blood. Violent and angry and so so desperate. Your brains in a fuzz, a high from the way hes kissing you. Maybe you've spent too long alone since he left, maybe you should've moved on. But whatever it is that leads you to do something like this, you're to fucked out of your brain to care.

Fuck elysium, he's got his own little heaven right here, in the way you sculpt your lips into his, letting him find solace in you after everything. His hand reaches to the curve of your waist pulling you into him, as he begs you to let him go further. To fuck out his frustrations onto you once again. He's sick for even asking, and you? you're just as bad for agreeing.

He practically rips of your skirt, ruining the pretty lace hem, muffling your protests with his lips. "I'll but you ten, okay a whole fuckin' set after-"

A promise you know he's not going to keep, but for now, you let him have it. His hand trails over your panties, pressing the damp spot he sees there. "That desperate huh? been waitin' for me princess?"

Somewhere in your stupor, your lips form into a pout.

"Dont be silly"

His lips form into a smirk at that, slapping your clit from your tone as you yelp. "Yeah? you've just been whoring yourself out since ive been gone?-looks like i needa remind her who she belong to hm?"

Another slap connects at your silence.

"Y-yes-fuck-please-n-need it so bad-" you babble out mindlessly, pushing your hips up into his hand-a desperate attempt to get some friction. He chuckles at your neediness, like his cock isnt leaking through his pants right now. He pulls your panties to your knees, fingers teasing at your hole, gathering your slick before he's sliding both inside of you. The sound you make is pathetic, giving him exactly what he wants, to see you pliant and indigent for him again. He's not slow or careful, instead fucking you with his fingers like hes almost enamored with the motion.

"L-luke-!" you whine, when you feel his other finger pinch your clit, the stimulation making your body jolt in pleasure. "I know, baby, I know-'s really abandoned her didnt i? dont even know how much ive missed this pretty pussy"

His words are so sweet, an illusion for how fucked up this all is. He continues to pump his fingers into you, feeling how you tighten up around him as his hand goes back to circle your clit. Your hips buck up into his hand, letting him use it as motivation to move faster. Head falling back, feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach as whimpers emit from you, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Your brain goes white when you cum, thighs trembling as you clamp down on his hand. He pulls out of you, watching the wetness that drips down your thighs.

"theres my girl"

He's quick to pull out his cock, all angry and red, precum dripping along his veins. He rubs his cock along your thighs, shivering at the feeling. He's slow at first, easing himself in, until he fully enters you, a wheeze coming from him.

shitshitshitshitshit-shit-" his thighs quiver, jaw clenching from holding himself back. "g-gotta relax for me, mami-fuck-"

He buries his head into your neck, gritting his teeth as his hands tighten on your hips. It take everything in him not to just rut into you right there.

For your sake, he tries to be slow, be patient as he thrusts into you at an antagonizing, gentle pace. You mumble something under your breath, begging him to go faster, to ruin you again, to break you. And he remembers that really? he was never a patient man.

His hips snap into yours, his movement prompted from that primal need to fill you with him to the hilt. Its disgusting, lewd-almost pornographic sounds that come from you as his curls stick to his forehead from sweat. He fucks you like an rabid animal, harsh, violent and angry-he doesnt understand whats wrong with him-why he needs it so bad. To feel you clench around him, scream out his name as if everythings normal again, as if he's human again. He presses against your stomach, causing a mixture of a moan and a sob to come from you, as he moves against you faster-harder.

He's on cloud nine when you clamp down on him. Hips stuttering, choked out whimpers falling from him as he buries his face back into your neck to try and stifle his sounds. Stars dance across your vision, and you swear you're drowning-mouth formed in a permanent 'o' shape, thighs trembling as you sink deeper. Crash after crash of ecstasy hits you-coming in relentless hard waves that make you see white. Your speech is slurred, rambling about how you love him so much-need him so much, begging him not to leave you again.

And thats what pushes him over the edge. He knows hes gonna leave you again, abandon you like the piece of shit he is, but the reprieve he has is too good to deny. He cums with a fucking sob, your name echoing from him like a solemn prayer, not even recognizing the fact that he just came inside of you as he holds you to him.

He cleans you up, carrying you back to the aphrodite cabin. Lucky for him, its empty. Most of the year rounders being in his old cabin. Laying you down on the bed, as your eyelids flutter, he sits on the side of your sheets, watching your face until you fall asleep.

And whether its guilt or regret, this time he stays and holds you until he disappears in the morning.

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke catsellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo series #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan fanart #just pretend this makes sense #yeah! #zee writes ౨ৎ

[thebibliosphere]

I just saw a baffling tweet on the other blue hellsite (link), and I clicked through to read the rest of the tweet where the agent claims, among other things, that indie authors sell maybe a max of 200 books, if they're lucky.

This was baffling to me because I know indie authors who sell into the thousands, myself included.

Anyway, I went to go check on my sales numbers on Amazon --not including all the other distributors I use -- and Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, a book that no mainstream publisher or agent wanted without drastically altering the story (they wanted to remove the disability and give it a love triangle lmao) outsold the NYT bestseller requirement by several thousand in the first opening week.

For context, to be considered for the NYT bestseller list, you need to sell roughly 5000 copies in a week.

Like, I know I'm Spiders George in this instance, thanks to Tumblr, but the fact that sales have remained consistent even though I do the absolute bare minimum marketing would imply there is something about it that people want to read.

But y'know. No mainstream publisher wants Hunger Pangs. So it must be unsellable, and I should really "look within" and "make the necessary changes."

Like worstie, you're talking about having the "clout" of mainstream publishing, when most of my tradpub friend sales come from gremlins like me reblogging their work at breakneck speed because none of you fuckers bother to do any marketing anymore.

There are many reasons traditional publishing houses don't pick up authors, and sometimes it's because tradpub are fucking idiots.

[thegnomelord]

Alright since 28 is taken Ill do the next best thing 29! Graves and his shadows with M reader, who is a colonel.

I need the wholesome and maybe a bit of the spice ya know. Thank you for soing Shadow company content, i am so starved.

Once again good soup!

Here you go dude, I'm not the best when it comes to writing for a group of people so idk how this turned out :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: Hug from behind

CW: NSFW, subbot Graves, domtop Mreader, Shadow company fluff, hug from behind, fluff, groping, handjob, cumming in pants.

Being a colonel in the Shadow company and Grave's right hand man, you had a lot of responsibilities. From running drills to stitching up wounds to writing reports and drafting contracts when your magpie of a commander sees a new person he wants to recruit; you expected to deal with a lot of shit, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect to become the Shadow Company's emotional support Colonel.

Colonel Care Bear — it was their nickname for you. You'd made the mistake of being annoyed at the name which, of course, made the little fuckers double down on it. Nothing you did made them stop, even Graves joining in their fun and calling you that instead of your name with a smug grin.

You're not even sure when or why it had started.

It wasn't like you were overly paternal, you just took care of your soldiers. In whatever ways they needed you; The first time you'd needed to give emotional support had been after Jenkins had lost his battle buddy. Jenkins was still relatively young compared to the other Shadows, a rising star that Graves had snatched up, but on the flight back to base he'd been no better than a scared kitten, desperately trying to hold in his sobs. You hadn't said a word when you had pulled him close to you, letting him cry his heart out into your shoulder.

None of the others said a word either, and you didn't bring it up after your plane had landed. You'd expected it to be a one off experience but oh — you were so wrong.

Like feral cats learning to trust a human, the Shadows started approaching you, carefully at first, standing just at the edge of your personal space nervous fingers toying with the hem of their shirts and eyes flickering between you and anything else, until you grew annoyed and pulled them close to you, letting them cry or talk or just sit with their head on your shoulder for as long as they needed; a lighthouse in a dark sea.

Then Williams, who'd had one too many bad missions, had come into your office without a word and plopped himself into your lap while you were busy doing paperwork.

You were surprised, but not too much, with how often you'd found yourself with a Shadow near you you figured something like this was bound to happen. Though you hadn't expected it to be this forward. "Bad day?" You asked.

Williams just grunted into your neck, slightly nodding his head.

You shifted to still be able to write with him in your lap. "Want me to talk?"

You felt his hair scratch your neck when he shook his head, a negative grunt leaving his throat.

"Got it." You said and went back to your work, a hand on William's hip to keep him stable.

Safe to say you weren't amused when Graves had walked in and cracked the biggest bloody smirk when he saw you like that. You were even less amused when he'd whipped out his phone and took a photo of it. And you were ready to piss in Grave's beer after that photo had circulated through the entire Shadow Company, leading to many more similar incidents of a Shadow crawling into your lap when you weren't busy.

It really wasn't their fault your embrace just felt so good and comfortable, your arms perfectly sized and muscled to put weight in your hugs, shoulders just broad enough to make them feel small and safe.

Graves knew this because when he'd needed to confiscate Smith's phone after he'd caught him taking pictures of your ass (not that he blamed him, you had a nice ass but they needed to have some professionalism) Graves had found their simp chat.

It took him days to finish reading all the messages. I mean there were hundreds of texts gushing just over you, calendrer times for when which Shadow could go bother you for attention, not to mention the countless pictures they'd taken of you, from mundane to more suggestive when you were in the communal showers (Graves would die before he admitted he'd needed to rub one out at some of the pictures).

Safe to say that when he gave Smith his phone back Graves was. . .curious. He'd never approached you for comfort like the Shadows did, mostly because he knew he couldn't keep his thoughts pure after just a few minutes in your presence, his throat going dry whenever he feels you pat his shoulder when you pass in the hall.

"Care Bear!" Graves calls when he finds you on your way to your room, using that name just so he can see the irritated twitch of your brow.

"Yes commander?" You ask in that same tone of voice you use when you know he's up to something.

"Oh come on, no need for that." Graves grins, "Ah just need you to do something for me," He says, because he wouldn't be your commander if he was straightforward. "Follow along." He motions with his hand like a dog as he passes you.

Like a dog you follow, so close you cast a partial shadow over him. He leads you to a more secluded hallway, stopping abruptly and hearing you stop too. But you're not close enough, so with an annoyed sigh he says "Come closer."

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says, taking a few short steps closer until your chest is almost touching his back. Without a word Graves suddenly grabs your arms and wraps them around his waist, leaning back on his heels until his back is flush with your chest and you're supporting his weight.

You stall for a few moments just trying to convince your head that yes, your commander is doing that. "Really?" You ask.

He tilts his head to meet your eyes, casually resting his head on your shoulder. "Something the matter Colonel Care bear?" He smirks, reminding you of a very content cat.

You give him a blank look before rolling your eyes, "Could have just said you wanted a hug." You huff and move your arms to really hug him, your hands resting comfortably on his hips, your arms caging him in, the heat of your body seeping into his, your chest rumbling as you mutter your annoyance at the damn nickname.

"What fun would that be?" He says, eyes closing.

And, Hell, Graves gets it now.

He could get addicted this. Your scent and cologne clogs his nose, the heat of your body chasing away the lingering chill of the base. You support his weight so easily it's like he's floating on a firm cloud, forgetting about ranks and war and everything for a few blissful seconds. His mind wanders; wonders what it would feel to have your strong arms pin him every day, what it'd be like to be pinned down, the current gentle pressure turned bruising and demanding, bending him in half and shit— he's hard.

And of course you notice, wouldn't be his right hand if you couldn't read him like a book. "I'm getting the impression," You note, your grip increasing just a bit to keep him still, your other hand skirting down. "That you wanted something more than just a hug." You growl and squeeze your hand, groping the bulge in his jeans.

"Shit—" Graves sucks in a breath, legs scrambling for purchase but you hold him still, his weight still on you. "—I wasn't thinking of nothing." He says quickly, the pressure of your hand on his clothed cock too good.

"Uh huh," You hum, keeping a careful eye on his facial expressions as you experimentally move your hand; Short slow brushes of your thumb against his cockhead earn you little whimpers, unable to hide them with his head still resting on your shoulder. Firm squeezes of his entire bulge has his skin turning a nice shade of pink, his ear hot beneath your tongue as you nibble on it. His thighs part as you bully your hand lower, the strong pressure of your fingers against his balls as your palm grinds into his cockhead making him moan, the stuttered attempts at explaining himself dying out as a visible damp spot grows in his jeans.

"Faster-" Graves growls, his hands grabbing purchase in your hair, yanking your head down into a rough kiss, "-mhh, faster, fuck, man-"

You smirk against his lips. "Ask me nicely." You say, purposely pulling your hand away from where he needs it the most, ignoring his disgruntled sounds. "You son of a bitch-" Graves snarls, breathing rapidly in an attempt to get his frazzled brain to work before swallowing his pride. "Please," He says it like the word hurts him.

"Please what commander?" You wonder, undoing his belt and slipping your hand into his jeans, "Please touch my cock? Please get me off? Please fuck me till I can't walk?" You throw suggestions, applying just enough pressure on his twitching cock to leave him dumbly nodding his head.

"Yes, yes, yes- oh fuck- shit yes-" Phill pants, eyes closing and weakly thrusting his hips into your hand with what leverage he has, seeking out the pleasure that comes with your calloused hand stroking his sensitive flesh. "Fuck- just, ahh-" He breathes in through clenched teeth, "-just please."

"Alright, alright," You hum, increasing your pace, the glide of skin on skin eased by the precum he's leaking, swallowing his little moans and rough grunts as you kiss him. You can tell he's nearing his end with how he begins twitching even more in your hold, hips pushing into your hand sporadically, fat tears prickling his eyes. "Come on then Commander, cum already."

He does almost as soon as you tell him to, his moan swallowed down by your lips as he cums in his pants, your thumb rubbing insistently on his tip to milk him of all he's got, strong arm keeping him close to you.

"You did good commander." You coo gently as you pull your hand out of his pants, and without waiting for a response you push your cum covered fingers into his open mouth. "Real good," You smirk when Phill immediately sucks on your fingers, his brain melted into mush and incapable of rousing his pride to feel ashamed of how he moans at the taste of his own spend. "Such a good boy," Your praise does something to him, has his cock making a valiant attempt to get hard all over again.

The air leaves his lungs when you suddenly push your hips against his ass, making him feel your own hard cock trapped in your pants. "I took care of you," You begin, pulling your fingers from his mouth. "Are you prepared to take care of me?"

#Gnome's Prompt Game #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #cod modern warfare #phillip graves x male reader #shadow company #shadow company x reader #top dom reader #x reader #top male reader #phillip graves smut

[yoon-kooks]

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to. 

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?” 

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.” 

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over. 

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings. 

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class. 

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk. 

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten. 

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend. 

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo. 

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with. 

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all. 

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! I'm learning from friends and duolingo lol but I still have a long way to go! Oooh imagine Miguel being furious another parent of another kid on Gabi's team shitalking about her in spanish. About how she's bossy for a girl and that she needs to pipe down and know her place. Mama tries to calm him down but fighting words commence lol

That's a good way to start. Best of lucks ✨

"C'mon Gabi!! Get it baby!!!" You couldn't help but cheer her on as she kicked the ball in between her rival's feet, the ball passing between the kid and Gabi kept on leading with the ball.

A trick you had seen her practicing in the porch with Miguel. Your chest swelled with pride as Gabi passed the ball to another teammate, and they earned a score.

Miguel clapped and cheered her on, mid-time beeped and Gabi's team was called for feedback, some changes and tactic discussion.

Miguel walked towards the team, bottle of water in hand along a towel. Gabi's voice clear as she discussed with her team.

"No, no, pass the ball to Reuben, he is faster and you are injured remember? You are good with passes."

The kid only nodded sheepishly as he held his ankle softly.

Miguel's eyes softened upon hearing her lead, and exchange strategies with her team. She then turned to him and hugged him.

"Esa es mi niña." (That's my girl)

"Pappa, can we go to get some pizza later?"

"Of course." He offered the towel for her, which she used to dry her sweat, and the high pitch whistle rang, announcing the second time of the game.

He was making his way back when a voice made him stop in his tracks.

"¿Esa niña otra vez? ¿Porqué no le dan chance a Víctor?" (That kid again? Why Victor isn't getting a chance instead?)

If he could remember, the man was a parent he often saw at the games, always trash talking other kids in spanish, just because his kid was taking separate training and was doing an improvement on the team. Or so he had said.

He never paid attention to him really, or any other parents except you and of course Gabriela. Who had just been pulled a yellow card as a warning for playing a bit too rough.

"¿Ves? Esa niña es demasiado mandona y agresiva. Tiene que relajarse o si no terminará golpeando a todo el equipo contrario." (See? That girl is too bossy and aggressive. She needs to be tamed down or else she'll end up hitting the whole rival team)

That made his eye twitch in anger.

How dared he speaking about his daughter like this? A blatant disrespect he couldn't allow. He turned on his back and made his way towards the father.

Eyes hardened and fixed on the man that caught his presence a little too late as Miguel loomed over him.

"¿Qué dijiste de mi hija, cabrón?" (What did you just said about my daughter, fucker?)

Even though his tone was calm, each word he spilled were almost biting.

"That she needs to be tamed down." Despite the man's apparent bravado Miguel could hint the crack in his voice.

"¿Porqué no me repites lo que dijiste en mi cara, eh?" (Why don't you repeat what you just said to my face?)

At this point the cheerings had stopped to focus on the exchange between Miguel and the other kid's dad. Your heart leaped to your throat as you saw Miguel almost bearing his teeth at the man as his lips moved angrily.

"Fuck." You approached

"¿Te crees muy chingón para andar insultando a los hijos de los demás, sólo porque crees que nadie te entiende?" (You think you're brave to insult other's kids just cause you think none understands you?)

"Necesitas relajarte, amigo" (You need to relax, man)

The man seemed to hold a hand, creating space between them, the kids had stopped playing as they also focused on what was going on.

You held his hand and tried to pull him away.

"Let's go" You mumbled but his angered self ignored you.

"No soy tu amigo, pendejo. Y escúchame bien, cabrón. Si vuelvo a oir que le estás faltando el respeto a mi hija o a los otros niños te voy a partir la madre." (I'm not your fucking friend. And listen to me very well, you fucker. If I hear you disrespecting my kid or the others, I'll fuck you up.)

The whistle of the referee and other parents had to create more space in between, the tension between the both was palpable enough, you felt his hand gripping yours tighter.

The referee whistled again, resuming the game, cheerings and clapping slowly returned as the kids played.

"What happened?!"

"He was speaking shit of Gabriela. Hopefully he'll know now that I can understand him pretty fucking well. Talvez así se calla el hocico." (Maybe that way he can shut the fuck up)

You sighed and rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him. He threw glances at the man that only recoiled to his own self whenever he caught Miguel staring at him.

#miguel o'hara #Protective Miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #gabi o'hara #short drabble #dad miguel o'hara

[samantha-rae-velcher]

"What I own!"

Mickey milkovich x Fem reader x Ian Gallagher

Requested by: none

Warnings: Polyamerous relationship, over protective Mickey, Mickey being Mickey, Swearing, violence.

A/n: if you don't like the warnings please don't read!

___

Y/n sat on the couch next to lip, all she could hear was Mick bitching upstairs and Ian huffing in the kitchen.

She looked at her ginger and shook her head, he gave her a sideways smile and shrugged. Suddenly Mickey's thundering footsteps came down the stairs.

"I mean am I wrong!?" He yelled, looking back and forth between Ian and Y/n.

"Uh....no." she said.

Mick dropped his arms to his sides.

"You weren't listening were you?"

Y/n stood up and walked towards him, she pulled and straightened his shirt, she reached up and spiked up his hair.

"Uh...no." she said.

"Then why was I even talking?"

Ian chuckled and sat on the couch, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the soft cushions.

"Because you like to talk." Y/n replied with a smiled and gently kissed his lips.

"Alright, if you two will listen....I'm gonna kill a guy."

Y/n's expression changed and Ian tore himself off the couch. He got really close to Mick and made a stern face.

"Who and why?" He asked.

"Some dude at the supermarket, and why do you think."

Y/n gave Ian a confused look, she didn't realize Mick was talking about some guy who made a few suggestive comments about her and what he would do if he got her alone, basically disrespecting the shit out of her.

"Just because some pig doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, doesn't mean you need to kill him." Ian said.

"No no, when some pig talks like that about MY property." Mick pointed between Y/n and Ian. "I'll hand him his ass on a silver fuckin platter!"

Mickey began heading for the door when Ian and Y/n both grabbed his arms and pulled him back. He pushed them away and literally ran out the door. Y/n threw on her shoes and grabbed the car keys, she didn't know what the hell this was about but shits about to go down.

Ian hopped into the car with her and gripped the seat as Y/n pulled out of the driveway at light speed. Mick was no doubt taking back alleys so the two of them couldn't fallow him, bad news was, they didn't know where the supermarket guy lived.

"Where are we even going?" Ian asked.

"The damn market, the fucker worked there, right?"

"Yeah he was like the manager or something."

Just then, Y/n heard sirens and she looked in the rearview mirror. A cop was right up their ass, Ian spun around and gawked out the back. Y/n slammed on the breaks and ripped the keys out of the ignition.

"Get out, and run!" She yelled.

They bolted down a nearby side street and cut through backyards, finally they arrived at the market and saw Mick heading inside. He went to the office in the back and threw the door open, the manager went to stand but was quickly met with a gun.

"Sit your tub of lard ass back down!" Mick yelled.

"Hey hey hey! Let's not get crazy here!"

"Mickey!" Y/n's voice rang through the store.

He poked his head out and went to close the office door when Ian shoved his way in. The manager sat in his chair just staring at the three in front of him.

"What the fuck is this!?" He yelled. "What? Are you sensitive because I said I wanted to fuck this one like a slut?"

Mickey pointed the gun at him again, at this point Y/n swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears.

"Say it again! I fuckin want you to!"

"Mickey! Stop!" Y/n yelled.

"Ian get her out of here!"

"Y/n come on." Ian went to pull her away, but she yanked her arm from his grip.

She stepped in front of the gun and looked Mick dead in the eyes.

"I'm not doing this for him, I don't want you going to prison, Mickey! Beat this fucker into the ground! I don't give a damn! But don't kill him, that's only gonna get you locked away!"

Mickey hesitated and slowly lowered the gun, he put his hand out to her and motioned for her to come to him.

"Come here, baby."

She smiled and allowed him to wrap his arm around her, Mick held her close and kissed her shoulder. Ian thew an arm around Mickey and kissed his head.

"Gallagher, I want you to get her out of here. I'll make this quick, K?"

Ian nodded and took her hand, Y/n gripped the gun until Mick let go of it.

"I'll be quick, alright." He said as he gently caressed her cheek.

She smiled and left the room with Ian.

The two walked out of the store and leaned against the brick wall, Y/n kept a hold on Ian's hand has the thoughts of what Mick could be doing to that son of a bitch, came flooding into her brain.

About five minutes later Mickey came out of the store, he had blood on his knuckles and a scratch by his eyebrow.

"That fat fuck put up a fight in there, I could've used my gun." He said. Mick wrapped both his arms around his lovers and began strutting up the street.

The three heard police sirens and saw flashing blue and red lights in the reflection of a nearby window, Mick turned around to see what was up when he heard running feet heading in the opposite direction. When he turned back he saw Y/n and Ian bolt around the corner into an alleyway.

"Shit!"

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed

#mickey milkovich x reader #fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich #ian Gallagher x reader #ian Gallagher x Fem reader #Mickey milkovich x Fem reader #Mickey milkovich x ian Gallagher

[lundenloves]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

olivia finally wrote smut, the crowd goes wild.

{✧} Summary: After relentless drunken encouragement from 141, Simon Riley decides to take a girl home whom he's caught eyes with a few too many times. What he doesn't expect however, are the unknown feelings in his chest after her simple acts of affection and pleasure he was always deprived of.

{✧} Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

{✧} Word count: 6.3k

{✧} TW: Smut! Oral both M and F receiving. Angst if you squint into his general storyline. A bit fucking devastating on that part. Blunt and true to his character with the issues he was given, although subtlety as he tends to bury everything. Sigh.

part two | masterlist | taglist

{✧} Ok. *Claps hands together* So, I wrote this in just over a week. I do not know how this happened or where the words came from but they certainly... worded. Basically, It's just a mass product of 2am writing. A stab in the dark as long as you act like Ghost has a more Northern voice. Which he fucking doesn't. This fucker grew up in Manchester and got given a Cockney accent. Anyway, I hope this alleviates at least some of the horniness in the cod fandom because fucking hell. Ignore how the pacing is fried. *Salutes* Happy reading, kids.

“Lt. You are a machine, sir.” Soap saluted his lieutenant with a half-drunken snort. “Got all them lassies eyeing you up.” He nodded toward a general direction, taking a short swig of the beer in his hand. 

“That’ll be right, Sergeant.” Ghost grumbled, leaning against the bar with no interest in the women behind him whatsoever. He never was made for women. Well, aside from the obvious things he knew were attractive. Being tall, having muscular thighs, broad shoulders, the voice. Not to mention the plethora of skills he harboured once he occasionally did bed someone, and the whole military idea. People seemed to get off on it. However.

“Naw. I’m serious.” He tried again, leaning on the bar to find Ghost’s eyes. “When’s the last time you got with someone, eh?” His brows wiggled in amusement of his own question. A question that was fucking painfully Johnny. Ghost only looked to him through a sideward glance, swirling the last of his whisky in the short glass his hand dwarfed. 

The thought of taking someone home was nothing but a task. One that made Ghost audibly sigh, tilting his chin up for the last mouthful of drink. “Treat yourself, Sergeant.” His eyes landed on Soap’s, slamming the glass back onto the bar and standing up straight. 

“Aw, come on Lt.” 

“Respectfully, I’m not–” His words were rarely broken, although the way this woman walked right between him and Johnny caused a pause. One he looked down at her for, his palm still splayed on the bartop. Long fingers tapping the surface. “Eighteen anymore.” He finished.

The look Soap gave Ghost behind her back was one easily mistaken for lust itself. His eyes pointed to her momentarily before flicking back to the lieutenant. “No. You’re not.” He nodded  slowly, taking steps backward and mimicking sexual acts with his fingers. Mouthing, “Her.” 

She was none the wiser of the acts behind her. Simply stepping between two men to reach the bar and leaning forward on her forearms, back naturally arched with the action. The broad man to her left shifted on his feet, and a subtle sigh left him with a flex of his square jaw. Johnny was on the other side of the bar, enticing Ghost to make a move. His smirk disappeared to take a swig of the fresh beer he had ordered, flicking his pointer and middle fingers together, gesturing Ghost talk to her. 

Instead, all Soap received was a scowl and two fingers his way. Fuck. Off.

He steeled himself and took a spacing step backward, dead eyes instantly catching the dark ones next to him when she had touched his skin upon her own movement. Had they not moved at the same time, he would have walked away without second thought. But now, her warm smile of apology felt obligatory and he returned it in his own way. A slight raise of his brows. 

“Sorry I’m dead in the way.” Her strong Mancunian accent almost caught Ghost off guard. London hadn’t given him many Northerners, and now, there was one standing in-front of him. Soap was leant forward on the bar opposite, watching their interactions intently. Even Price had joined in, a subtle smirk over his lips, raising his glass when Ghost had turned to them.

He cleared his throat, “Not at all.” The deep-voiced words were accompanied by a shake of his head, directed more to the men on the opposing end.

She turned to him, “Northern?” The smile that bit down on her bottom lip made the side of his own tilt upward ever so slightly with an amused nod. The strong arms that were crossed over his chest loosened, fingers outstretched momentarily in a way of agreement.

“Manchester.” He confirmed and she turned back to the bar, retrieving the multiple drinks for her group. Soap and Price had now recruited Gaz, the three of them all gawking at the scene ahead and sharing words. 

“Figured.” She looked up at him, the tray of drinks held by both her hands. Simon briefly wondered if she was likely to spill it, his eyes cast down toward the shots. “I should take these back.” The words came with another smile, a polite one. 

He absently nodded, eyes following her without turning his head. Soap, Gaz and Price were all grinning on their way over, Johnny failing to miss a flirtatious salute to the group of women. “Thought you were leaving, Lt.” He near-shouted, and Ghost held a finger out for the bartender, requesting the same drink as Price took the seat beside him. 

“What was the chat?” Gaz stood beside Soap, the four of them forming a conversational square shape. “Anything worth sharing?” He nudged Johnny who clapped his hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically like a child.

“Nothing.” He replied bluntly, eyes lazily shifting between the three men.

Price leant an elbow on the bar, looking back to the group of women. The girl from earlier caught his eye, laughing loudly and knocking back shots like there was no tomorrow. He nodded toward her, “She’s certainly one for you, Simon.”

There was zero subtlety between Soap and Gaz who instantly turned. Much to Simon’s joy. “Can you turn around any fuckin' faster?” He berated with a wounded sigh, Johnny’s shoulders bouncing in amusement. 

“Go talk to her.” Instead of replying, he shook his head turning back to the bar and Price stifled a laugh. “Might as well try, no?” The glass of whisky he had finished was pushed from hand-to-hand, looking back up to Ghost who pulled a face. “They’re interested.” His lips downturned in fairness, turning his palm upright and tilting his head in saying so.

Simon cleared his throat, taking a sharp swig of his drink. “Good for them.” 

She had looked toward the bar, locking eyes with Simon who had been caught staring. Much to his own dismay. Although, her smile returned and he found himself shifting his feet once again, unsure of how to react. Lifting his glass an inch or two in recognition of her efforts. “Aw c’mon, she’s so wanting to fuck you Lt.”

“Christ, Johnny.” Price scoffed, the wrinkles by his eyes emphasised with an afterthought laugh. Gaz turned to Simon with a shrug, one that spoke louder than anything else, ‘he’s not wrong’, it said. Not that they would know anything, only projecting their own desire for scoring tonight. Being away for weeks, months, at a time with near-zero female company was sometimes gruelling. For the more sexually active soldiers anyway. Ghost never seemed to care. Permanently focused on the mission at hand or anticipating the next.

Aside from a few late nights.

“I’m leaving.” He announced, sliding his now empty glass to the barhand.

“This guy isn’t real, man.” Soap pointed with his thumb, Price shrugging an amused smirk, arms crossed over his chest. The woman from earlier had caught onto his exit via her diligent staring, grabbing her bag and approaching the four men rather sheepishly. Something about a group of huge men wasn’t exactly inviting, although it was at the same time. 

“Alright?” Gaz was the only one to see her, turning the other three toward the direction. 

“Alright.” She returned with a smile, eyeing up Ghost. “You leaving?”

He nodded blankly, eyes hooded over upon looking down at her. The veins on his hands visible for the low bar light, emphasising each one that created a pulsing feeling between her legs. Ghost wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on, standing straight and rubbing a hand across his brow and down to his jaw where it stayed. 

“I’m Thea.” She said to him, and him only. 

“Simon.” He dropped the hand from his face, holding it out for her to shake. 

Soap was practically fucking bouncing from behind her, drunkenly chuffed for his lieutenant when she had taken his hand for a little too long. “Mind if I leave with you?” Her question couldn’t have meant a whole lot more than the obvious. Simon forgot he hadn’t his mask on when the faintest smirk had tugged the corner of his lip upwards.

His eyes averted toward his unit, “Gents.” He gave them a short nod before gesturing she walked ahead of him with a leading hand, following behind her with one subtle look back. Price raising his glass high once again.

“You lot military or something?” She asked when he had held the door, dipping under his arm.

“Something like that.” 

The somewhat curt responses and deliberate movements were attractive to Thea. Everything was calculated, it was obvious he had a job as such. Not to mention the build. “You live far from here?” He took a deep breath with the question, digging into his pockets for a cigarette.

“A good way away.” She nodded, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Simon produced a carton from his jacket, further patting around his trousers for a lighter. “Mine then?” He mumbled for the cigarette he had stuck to his lip in the meantime, it moved with the words he spoke.

“Yours.” She nodded, watching as he lit it up. 

A cloud of smoke burst from the long exhale he had taken, his eyes dark in the dimly lit street, “You cold?” In question for the three buttons that were only a third done up on her vest top, pierced nipples easily visible through the fabric. “You want my jacket or somethin’?” His lips left parted from the draw, looking down at her. 

“I’m alright.” Her words were unconvincing and he nodded at the fact, holding the cigarette between his teeth while shrugging the thick shelled jacket off. It was heavy when she’d taken it from his arm, pulling it on only to drown in it. But oh, it smelled rich and exposed his arms again. Large muscles and inked forearms only now visible although not done any sense of justice by the loose t-shirt he wore. Her eyes involuntarily drifted lower to his hips, dark jeans clad over wide, seemingly muscular thighs.

“Come on then.” He nodded, killing the cigarette with a twist of his boot. 

Ghost hadn’t taken someone home in months. Fucking months. He dreaded seeing her reaction to his dull flat, expensive enough but sparsely decorated for A: he was never there and B: he didn’t exactly know how to decorate well. 

“You live round these parts?” 

“Mm-hm.” It was a flat response. 

“Expensive, no?” 

“Mh-hm.”

She laughed at that, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye. One he hadn’t seen in years, his own stolen from him years ago. Even still, he watched onward, overlooking training sessions, as new recruits began to slowly lose their shine for the forces on the hardship of war. Loading and unloading guns to save and simultaneously take lives. It was a lot. To someone who perhaps wasn’t as stiffly stuck in their ways.

His flat was just as you’d imagine. Dark colours, simple decoration without much personality involved. Thea handed his jacket back once they had stepped inside, watching as he tossed it to the sofa. “Drink?” 

“Please.” She followed him to the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Just, whatever you have.” 

He looked over his shoulder, “I've only got whisky.” She pulled a face, pushing her forearms further on the counter. “Or shit beer.” 

“The whisky’ll do.” Thea tsked, looking up at him through her lashes when he’d turned around, sliding a glass across the counter toward her. She eyed his tattoos when both of his palms had been placed flat on the marble, standing opposite her. “Why stay in such a nice gaff if you’re never ‘round.” 

“I could be here everyday for all you know.” 

“Yeah,” She swirled the amber liquid around the glass, drawing her finger across the countertop to gather dust. “But you’re not.” 

He didn’t respond, eyes only reading between hers in a long stare. One that ultimately rushed a feeling in her stomach, and slowly created a wetness between her thighs. In his stare came the crude thoughts. The hunger that resides deep within his chest, only freed every few months with someone new each time. “That right?” 

“You tell me.” She competed his silence, taking a small sip of the whisky and Ghost rounded the counter with a grumble. Her eyes drifted to the walls, multiple certifications, photos and memorabilia framed and hung proudly. Just about the only things on show for the type of person he was. 

Lieutenant Simon Riley

“Lieutenant?” 

His chest lifted in a large inhale, followed by a hum of agreement. Eyes following hers to the multiple achievements on the wall. “How do you want this?”

The words came off a drawl, clearly avoiding the topic of his career. 

Thea instead walked closer to the photos littered within the frames. Messily pushed behind the glass, with multiple fold lines and frayed edges. “You’re not even in these.” She pointed, turning back to him with a puzzled expression. Ghost sighed longly, reaching an arm behind his head.

“I am.” His eyes narrowed habitually and she pointed toward his masked self, turning back to him with a quirked brow to which his jaw tightened in answer.

“That almost turns me on.” She snorted and Simon involuntarily relaxed his shoulders.

There was something about her. Maybe it was her boldness, the way she wasn’t daunted by him, or her overall confidence. It wasn’t even like he didn’t know confidence. Fuck, most people in the forces had too much of it. But outside of base, it was near nonexistent around him. Until her. 

“You got the whole getup huh?” She couldn’t help but tease and Ghost shook his head at her relenting smile, hiding his own behind a swig of his drink before discarding it to a side table.

“C’mere.” He said, rubbing his jaw momentarily before taking the glass from her hand, watching her eyes roam the broad expanse of his clothed chest. “I’ll ask again,” The taste of  whisky was hot on Thea’s tongue, looking up at Simon with a sudden lust. “How do you want this?” He reached an arm across her hip, pulling her toward him.

She crossed her arms over her chest in his grip. Her silence forced a growl from him, his hands squeezing at her sides. “However you want.” She purred, reaching upward for his hair and running her fingers through it. 

He grunted in response. An unknown emotion pooling in his chest, drifting down from the feeling of her fingers in his hair straight toward his heart, making it pump just a little faster. The gentle touch of a woman was something he was yet to experience in its full power, leaning forward to subconsciously chase her touch when her hand was taken back. 

Thea looked up at him, the softness in her eyes pushed a movement from him. “Come on.” He stood forward, walking to the bedroom where she followed him. A standard room, tall windows opposite a large bed. No wall decor, or decor at all for that matter save a mirror and a standard lamp on a bedside table that housed a set of dog tags. 

His hand smoothed across her arm, taking her attention back with a pointed stare. 

“Kiss me then.” She caught his solemn eyes, watching them harden as his hand traced upward to her chin, pointing it upward to face him and uncharacteristically planting a soft kiss to her jaw. His thumb swiped across her bottom lip and intruded her mouth, watching expectedly as her tongue welcomed his pointer and middle fingers, swirling around them with heavy eye contact. 

He pushed his impossibly long fingers even further down her throat, provoking a gag from her and a smirk teased his lip. “I know, sweetheart.” The coo was enough for her to moan, reaching a hand for his shoulder, kneading at the fabric of his shirt while surely bruising his tracks. Thea hadn’t ever been with a man this big, she too suspected his lower regions to be just as thick as the large hand he had wrapped around her torso upon taking his fingers back. 

His steps came backwards toward the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the plush mattress and forcing him to sit. Thick thighs at their broadest, his tattoos dark and full under the lack of light in the room. Thea manoeuvred onto his lap, her knees either side of his hips. 

Simon pulled her thighs toward him, shifting so she was flush with his lower abdomen. Her hands roamed his hair once again, caressing behind his ear and down past his jaw. “When was the last time?” She pressed a delicate kiss to his lip, pressing her forehead against his own. 

“A while ago.” He admitted flatly, returning her kiss and silently admiring the smoothness of her lips against his own. 

She hummed against his mouth, the inner corners of her eyebrows raising at his dark eyes. Eyes that were filled with death and fear, the same ones you could expect to find in a therapy waiting room or a likely battlefield. She watched the thoughts run through his head, dipping a glance toward her chest momentarily before averting back up to her swollen lips. 

“I can tell.” She whispered in close proximity and he pulled back, an instant crease in his brow at her words. “Relax.” 

Her hand reached for his, guiding it toward her chest and pushing his palm flat. The gentle thrum of her heartbeat was easily felt although Simon’s eyes remained stiff on hers, only softening when she had placed her palm over his. 

He kissed her in response, a definite difference in pace as his tongue circled her own and his hands guided her against his groin. She lit up at the pressure, fixing to pull her vest-top over her head and wincing at the sharp coldness across her exposed nipples. 

Simon wasn’t surprised by her lack of a bra, although his jaw did tighten at the sight of her. The sensitive beads of her nipples hardened and adorned by piercings that were near teased to him earlier. His hands travelled upward, kneading at the soft flesh and toying with the steel. 

He grunted at the way her lips had connected to his neck, gentle kisses soon turning rough and leaving angry marks. “Take this off.” She rocked on his hips, tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

He compiled without protest, pulling it over his head and holding back the fire within him at the way she hungrily eyed his form. The broad points of his shoulders, collarbones sharp and chest wide, his tattoos expanding upwards just as she had imagined. “You alright?” 

Thea only managed a nod. His hard rippled stomach was flush with her own, a sparse amount of dark hair trailing downward from his navel. She smoothed her hands out over his shoulders, running them softly down his arms. 

His mouth dipped from hers to accomodate her nipple, making lightwork of her perky tits and swirling his tongue around the steel in equal amounts. Thea squirmed at his expert touch, pushing his head back with a moan, dark eyes locking onto his without hesitation. 

Simon stood up with her in his grip. Hands underneath her thighs, creating a deepening need between her legs. A need so vast that she had crashed her lips onto his to forget about it, marvelling at the feeling of his warm skin against hers as he easily placed her down onto her back. 

“I’m taking these off.” His gravelly voice near-growled, kneeling wide between her legs and fidgeting with the fabric of her loose trousers. “That alright?”

“Mmhm.” She provided, leaning up on her arms and looking down at Simon. His hair was a mess from her hands, red marks on his neck deepening with every passing second and his long, thick fingers had succeeded in undressing her bottom half. 

He sat back on his haunches for a brief second, a firm hand pressing himself through his jeans while his other teased at her clit, thumb gathering her slick before rubbing circles into her. The room completely silent if not for her soft whimpers and the passing traffic outside.

His middle and ring finger lapped her pooling arousal, pushing into her with ease and curling immediately. “Fuck. Simon.” He felt his cock twitch at the use of his name, looking up to catch eyes with her. Face flushed beet red, her arms dropped to fall back onto the bed after his head had tilted, the speed of his fingers picking up. 

His thumb continued pressing on her clit, two fingers now three, completely stretching her out before she had been reduced to a whining mess. Hands outstretched to grip on his shoulder, moaning aloud at the sudden loss when he had pulled his hand back. 

Thea sat up immediately, her scorn met with his own look of assurance. Eyes seemingly natural in their advanced expressions, giving way more than words ever could. He pulled her thighs toward him, dipping so they rested over his shoulders and with one fatal lick of his lip she knew. 

Simon’s jeans felt impossibly tight, groaning to himself upon licking a line up her core. “Fuck.” He mumbled against her, and her delicate hand was already gripping on the bed-sheets, knuckles white with his warmth. He’d frankly never seen something so gorgeous in his life. 

A large palm pinned her to the bed. Calloused fingertips grazing just above her navel, fingertips that belonged to a hand strong enough to choke someone to death. “I’m close.” Thea moaned at the pressure, the feeling of his tongue darting in and out of her, sucking on her clit and building a fuzzy warmth in her lower stomach. Never had a man made such light work, reducing her to an embarrassingly short time.

He nodded into her, eyes darting upward when a gush of liquid had released from her cunt in a muffled scream. His chest heaved up and down at the wetness, fingers finishing off the job to create one more cry from her. “Cut the shit,” He spoke, taking the pillow from her grip and throwing it. “I want to fucking hear you.” 

Thea bit her lip, sitting up on shaky legs to push him backward so he was stood by the foot of the bed. “Only if I get to hear you.” She looked up at him with lazy eyes, tracing his v-line and pulling him forward by the belt loops. Face only inches away from his groin. 

Simon ran his thumb along her bottom lip once again, looking down at her with a ragged exhale. His cock hung heavy, twitching as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, allowing him to step out of them. “Shit.” She whined. 

“I know.” He began, releasing himself from his boxers and tilting her chin upward to meet his condescendingly empathetic gaze. “I know, love.”

The words rushed a warmth between her legs all over again.

His cock stood without constriction, too heavy to stand upright but not enough to ignore the twitches that came from his thoughts. A thick vein pulsed on the underside of his length, one Thea ran her tongue along eagerly to push a throaty groan from him. “Fuh-uck.” 

Her thumb ran over the slit of his tip, gathering precome for a few pumps of his girth before stretching her mouth over him. Slow at first. Deliberate. Simon’s hand pushed hair from her face, allowing her to look up at him through thick eyelashes.

It had been long. So, so long since he was allowed to make any noise. Being in confined spaces with upwards of ten men almost full time didn’t exactly allow for much, nevermind time to get worked up. His mind had somehow drifted to the barracks, only pulled back into reality when Thea had gagged against his thick length. Her spit joined them together when she had pulled away, using her hand to pump him multiple times. 

“Fuck—“ He groaned loudly, hand on the back of his neck while the other held her hair up. “Fucking hell.” The lone sounds were enough for him to shut his eyes. 

Thea’s jaw already ached. A heat between her bones at the lock, tongue edging around his girth as she took him the best she could. The course hair at the base of his length was addictive, her nose near touching it with every dive save a few centimetres. 

“You’re doing so good, darlin’.” Simon spoke through his teeth, swallowing thickly at the vibration of her moan against himself. “So good f’me.” Almost too good. Too good to the point where he had nudged her with his thigh, nodding to the bed when she had looked up at him. 

“You close or somethin’?” She teased, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and shifting backward on the bed. Her mascara had smeared over her eyes, cheeks tinted deep red and eyes glossy from his size. 

He ignored her, although the way his cock twitched was an agreement in itself. “I don’t have protec—“

“I’m on the pill.” 

The way his eyes darkened created a pit in her stomach. One that was soon filled when he had joined her on the bed, wandering hands squeezing on her hips in company with continuous kisses that were peppered all across her collarbones. 

His cock dragged against her stomach, thick arms holding himself up above her and exposing defined triceps in the mirror next to his bed. “I want you to watch.” His hand directed her gaze toward the reflection, lowering himself close. “Will you do that for me.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

She watched him in the mirror. The way his shoulder muscles flexed as he leaned forward, prominent veins in his arms only accentuated in the low light. “Mhhm.” 

“Good girl.” His eyes dipping down to where their bodies met, sliding his length up and down her folds before pressing the tip into her. A low groan followed, his eyes cast aside to the mirror where she somehow found solace in his stare. “You alright?”

She nodded tightly, letting go of a breath she wasn’t aware was held. Simon entered her inch by inch, his cock suffocated by her tight walls. “Shit, you’re—“ She swallowed, “Fucking big.” It came out a whine, hand held to her mouth once he had pushed himself flush with her core. 

“None of that.” He spoke curtly, taking her hand and pinning it to her side. Thea nodded slowly, looking between his eyes for the brief moment he had allowed. 

She couldn’t remember who was supposed to be in control anymore when she felt him, thick and warm, hips slowly rocking back and forth. The sound of her arousal against his skin filled the room, head thrown back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets. 

Simon’s mouth reconnected with her soft chest, teeth dragging across the sensitive skin, groaning and cursing in response to her hand in his hair. Touch. Starved. His eyes fell in a heavy-lidded blissful expression, the mirror supplying image of his momentum. Mouth slightly agape, the ends of his hair wet in sweat from the heat between them.

Thea let go entirely, surrendering to the pace Simon had set. Pulling her bare thighs tighter to his groin and craning his neck to see how effortlessly he slid in and out of her, white-hot pleasure streaking down and onto him. “Fuck.” His deep tone had drawn out in pleasure. “Look at you— fucking, dripping.” 

She pressed weak kisses to his throat, lapping up the perspiration that ran down in small beads. Words wouldn’t tumble from her mouth, thighs clenching around his hips when he had angled forward. “God, Simon—“ Her grin lazily bit into her lip, cockdrunk and exhausted from his earlier efforts. 

He let go a feral snarl of a sound, brows knitted together at the feeling of her walls convulsing against him and the flush of pressure against his cock. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, certainly drawing blood and sharp breaths through his teeth. “Look at me.” He ordered, cupping her jaw and boring his eyes into her. 

Thea choked a moan, her mouth agape when her climax had rushed through both of them without warning. His headboard simultaneously slammed into the wall with her moans, gasping for air as her hands blindly reached to find him by her head, grabbing onto his forearms with desperation. 

Simon’s head hung low between his shoulders, sweat from his hair dripping down onto her chest. She could tell he was close, the way his jaw ticked and his chest heaved. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed against her clit, sending her overstimulating pulses through his body and turning them into quiet groans by her ear. 

His rhythm had faltered, shaking his head as his jaw loosened. “Fucking hell,” He breathed out, eyes dazed and heavy, feverishly catching a glimpse of her own euphoria in the mirror. 

She reached for his hair, gripping at the roots tightly when his cock had twitched inside her and he stilled, eyes screwed shut at his release. A long breath left him as the muscles in his arms flexed, each one tightening before letting go and Thea whined. The ridiculous feeling of his pulsing cock deep inside her was new, pleasure breaking across his face as he painted her walls with his seed. 

The mirror reflected the loosening of his body, almost going limp above her for a short second when he had pulled out. Eyes locked onto the way his release spilled out of her and back onto his cock. “What a fucking mess.” He almost laughed, looking back up at her with a hint of a smile that she stared at in stunned awe. 

It had taken all of this to prod a single smile from him. Even at that, it wasn’t anything to shout about. Uneven dimples either side of his cheeks when he had stifled a laugh, his right side notably more prominent than the left.

“What time is it?” 

“Almost one.” His words came breathlessly after a long sigh. Large, bright red military digits by his bedside condensed into a small alarm, the only unnatural light in the room. 

She nodded, covering herself with the duvet as Simon found his discarded boxers. The low light against him created shadows of physical fitness. His rippled abdomen only accentuated much to visual delight. “D’you need anythin’?” His eyes had returned to their dead way, naturally darkened and almost offensive. 

“Maybe that drink from earlier.” 

He nodded, fighting the urge to sigh once out the room. Hands palm down on the kitchen counter, rolling out his shoulder muscles and cracking his neck. “I’ll get going after.” Her voice sounded quietly from behind him causing a sudden flinch. 

“Go back to bed.” He barked, tilting his head to shake away the fright. 

Although, he could hear her footsteps approaching, completely disregarding him and slowly padding across the cold flooring to where he was stood. Thea paused before speaking, “I’m going to touch your back, yeah?” 

Simon looked over his shoulder at her, dressed in only her underwear. Small hands inspecting the damage her nails had inflicted on him, scratch marks and a sparse amount of dried blood. “I got you a good’un.” Her tone was light, smoothing over his shoulders and down to his torso. “Sorry.” 

“S’fine.” He provided shortly. 

She nodded to herself, stepping back from him and taking the glass from earlier with her. Simon rubbed his jaw, turning to catch her shadow in the bedroom, watching as she sunk back onto his bed. 

He traipsed to the bathroom, finding himself in the mirror. His inked forearm leant on the sink, turning to assess the damage to his back. He’d had worse. That was easily determined, the dry blood only made him shrug although he made an effort to wash it off for her visual comfort. His skin adorned in scars and bruises from deployments. All holding their own individual stories, not ones Simon knew though. To him they were just signs of a war. Fighting, death, pain. He ran his fingers across them, locking eyes with his reflection. 

And with a sigh he left his mirror image, pacing back to the bedroom and downing his discarded glass of whisky on the way. 

Thea lay on her side, the dark room only lit by outside traffic and her phone screen. Simon felt a fatigued sigh leave him, rubbing his face before rounding the bed to join her. 

She smiled to herself at the way the mattress dipped significantly, an arm resting behind his head, the other hand on his stomach. Thea slid her phone underneath the pillow, turning to face him. “You alright?” She plucked courage to ask, taking in his side profile. 

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet before clearing his throat. “Are you?” Brow furrowed with the question, his head briefly turning to face her, eyes looking between hers for an answer before she could give one. 

“I’m good.” She replied through a simper. “Tired.” 

Simon nodded, turning back to the ceiling. “I’ve an awful sleep schedule.” The dark circles under his eyes said as much, ones Thea had been trying not to make a point of all night. “Never get much sleep when I’m deployed.” 

“You just got back?”

“Few days ago.” He let go of a long exhale.

Thea narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a sudden pang in her chest. “Maybe you’ll sleep tonight.” Her words weren’t intended to provoke a laugh, although that’s what they did. A genuine one too. 

“Maybe.” 

Morning came and sunlight beat through the room without manner. The curtains hadn’t been drawn last night, resulting in a stiff groan when Simon had woken first. The covers were a mess, his legs predictably tangled between Thea’s and it was only when he stretched that he realised she had ended up on his chest. 

He froze after she had hummed in protest of his movement. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck, small hands clasped together over his chest. 

It felt like his breathing had stopped so as to not interrupt her, craning his neck to check the time. 11:32am. A brief feeling of nausea surged through him at that, possibly the latest he had ever woken up since being a teenager. 

It became an itch to get up. 

Simon's eyes ticked between Thea and the floor beside him, figuring the best possible way to make the move. Years of stealth training would’ve come in handy if it wasn’t for her own stretch, eyes fluttering open momentarily before realising where she was. Who she was on. 

“Oh shit.” She lazily cursed, pulling herself away from him and leaving a confusingly bereft feeling in Simon. “Sorry. I must’ve done that in the night.” Her back now to him, curling herself to be smaller on the opposite side of the bed and he stared at the walls blankly. Fingers smoothing across the warmth she had left on his chest before sitting up, palms flat either side of himself. 

She felt his weight leave the mattress, closing her eyes in knowing. The night was done, it was time to go. Even if he wouldn’t directly say that. She turned to her back, watching as he sifted through the clothes on the floor, instinctively shoving everything of his into a corner while piling hers on a drawer unit. Thea wanted to believe he folded her stuff out of niceness, although she knew it was probably his military subconscious. 

She grounded her feet to the floor, feeling conscious of her half-naked body when standing up in-front of the grandiose window. The view wasn’t too impressive, his flat adjacent to other townhouses across the road, like a mirror image. Simon left the room after haphazardly dressing himself, only shorts and a t-shirt although it made Thea feel more exposed as she slowly slipped back into her vest. 

A family across the road had caught her eye. Seemingly a single mother and two boys, all laughing across their dining table. There was something poignant about it – a stoic man across the road, hosting a one night throw away against a loving home. She wondered if Simon had ever noticed them, rubbing a hand across her face at the thought. 

What she didn’t know was that he was behind her, looming by the door as she stared across the buildings. He cleared his throat, “I can give you money– for an uber or somethin’."

“No, you’re alright.” She buttoned her trousers, turning to him without an ounce of hesitation in her quiet voice. Simon stared bluntly, following her movements as she collected the rest of her stuff. “Thanks for the night, Simon.” Her smile however didn’t quite reach her eyes, taking her bag from the counter where the two whisky glasses from last night sat next to each other. Only one of them a real whisky one, the other a standard small glass. Thea sucked her lips inward at his lost nod, eyes darting down to his lips and then between his eyes.

She reached for the door handle, walking out without a look back for she feared it would ache. 

And Simon hung by the threshold until she was gone. His fingers absently reaching for the whisky, shutting his eyes at the lone glass after closing the door. The flat fell back to its usual silence, and he found a cigarette on his coffee table, sliding the glass to the wood and leaning back. The smoke felt futile, unfulfilling its job to satisfy.

This was why no one came home with Simon Riley. 

i have no idea how to feel about this. i feel lawst *rick grimes*

huge thank you to two people, @mistydeyes for entertaining my late night rambles and encouraging me to finish this, our british class will resume tonight. do not be late. and @fwibblefwobble for letting me break my vocal chords screaming over instagram voice notes, and watching all the ghost band tiktoks that infiltrated my fyp. ur the mvp.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara

if you aren’t tagged and have asked, that’s because i wasn’t able to tag your blog!

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost mw2 #mw2 fanfic #ghost smut #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #cod mw smut #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod smut

[astradreaming]

Please write ares x percy's older sister!reader i have read literally ever fic of him on here

I personally have been reloading the ares tag way too often 😫😫 Sorry the ending is kinda rushed, my duolingo streak nearly finished and then i got distracted 😔

masterlist

Caught.

Percy Jackson had been through a lot.

From quests to prophesies, from Alaska to Greece but he finally thought he'd lost his mind.

He had been having a relatively quiet morning, from having his favourite blue breakfast to having a day off of activities due to the hot summer day.

He was currently walking around the edge of camp for something to do when he froze mid-step in shock at the sight of the God of War standing at the gates of Camp Half-Blood talking to none other than you, his dearest older sister.

At first Percy thought he was offering (demanding) you a quest, it had been known on occasion that Olympians would sought out both you and him for their bidding.

As Percy got closer to you (about to demand that Ares find someone else to bother) he realized that that wasn't the case at all.

Ares stood with crosed arms leaning against the gateway, his head would tilt to match yours as you talked. You were standing close, too close. Everytime you laughed at something he'd said, which Percy doubted was even that funny, your side would brush his.

A werid contrast of orange camp shirt, light blue summer shorts, white sneakers next to his leather jacket and dark blue jeans, black boots.

Percy could now see Ares disgusting face against yours in a heated kiss.

"You know that offer is still on the table" Ares' voice in a playful tone that had Percy involuntarily gagging at.

"Not just yet" To Percy's utter surprise your voice was soft as if you were sadden at the fact you could take whatever offer he'd given you.

"What the actual fuck?" Percy's words slipped before his mind caught up.

You jolted away at the intrusion, your wide eyes meeting Percy's. Ares barely turns his head at the abruption, the only indication he'd even heard Percy was the way his eyes narrowed at him.

"Percy! Why aren't you with Annabeth? You said-"

Percy harshly cut you off, stepping closer to you.

"Why aren't I with Annabeth? Why are you with him!"

Percy watches as you start blubbering trying to figure out what to say, when a hand lands in your shoulder, Ares' hand.

"Get off my sister! You fucker!"

Percy reached out to wack his hand away from you but Ares pushes his shoulder, evading Percy's grasp.

"I fought you once Ares I'll do it again!" He said digging his feet into the ground, reaching into his pocket for Riptide.

Just as Percy was about to uncap Riptide, Ares turned to face you, eyes speaking in a silent conversation, making Percy pause his movements before Ares turned back towards Percy.

"Look kid, as much as I would love to send you on a permanent vacation down with uncle H, I've unfortunately promised a certain someone to not to that" He shrugged as he spoke as if this entire conversation was boring him to an early death.

"Who has made you swear it? My dad? Beacuse when have you ever-"

Ares scoffed quickly dismissing him to face you instead.

"This kid's a fuckin idiot, how's he still alive I mean seriously-"

You glared at Ares as you moved closer to Percy, blocking the two from each other.

"I made him swear it, because you're my little brother and I knew if you found out you'd flip out!"

Percy's heart nearly gave out and if it weren't for years of training to fight he was sure it would have.

"Found out? Oh my gods you're- with him? Him! Ugh, this is the worst day of my life." Percy whined, he knew he sounded like a brat but truthfully the whole thing was making him cringe but one look at your face told him to quickly drop it.

After a moment of painful awkward silence that had Percy's mind running in circles trying to move on.

"How'd you even get him to swear that" Percy said finally finding his voice.

You glanced behind you before quickly looking back at Percy, leaning in as if to tell a secret, Percy leaned in too, not wanting to miss hearing what dirt you had on the Olympian.

"I told him I'd swear I wouldn't speak to him again. He lasted a day" You voice broke off into a fit of giggles.

He found it too funny.

Ares. God of War forever bloodthirsty and always a prick, was whipped for Percy's older sister, who looked after Percy throughout two titan wars and was the same girl who practically raised the younger campers so they wouldn't be lonely. A weird duo.

Percy Jackson looked up to see you shaking your head as you laughed at the memory. He also caught Ares looking at you too.

Although traumatized by the thought you two together he quickly brushed it off. It was unusual and unfortunate for Percy to admit but he and Ares did have two things in common.

Both of them would fight fate for you. And of course, Percy looks at Annabeth the same way Ares looks at you but Percy wouldn't exactly admit that too soon.

#ares x reader #ares pjo x reader #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #ares #pjo ares #ares pjo #ares god of war #book percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (2 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, briefly implied future physical injury, protective / possessive Soap, hand job, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You and Soap might no longer be together, but he is your "safe space", and you need to vent. While raging over the phone about your boyfriend, Soap arrives at your door.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

The anger and hurt in your voice are the only fuel John needs.

You have no idea that he is already on his way to you, that he hooked your phone call up to his helmet. That, even now, John is on his sportbike zooming down roads and weaving around cars in an effort to get to you.

There is a fire under his skin. It burns away all other concerns. Every word you speak is a blown furnace, the destruction mounting until each utterance infuriates him further. This “boyfriend” of yours, the one you started seeing after the two of you broke up, deserves a fucking sharp punch to the jaw. He deserves missing teeth and broken bones.

Men like him aren’t men at all. They’re rubbish, only valuing women as objects, seeing them as their housekeeper and not their partner.

In his ear, you’re hardly taking a breath. Your words are a stream of consciousness, each word angrily pushing into the other until it’s a jumbled mess. John listens to it all, using that as motivation to get to you. It’s doesn’t fucking matter that you’re not his anymore.

John still cares. He still loves you. The need to protect and defend you is innate. One teary-laced word was enough for him to drop everything and head in your direction. Doesn’t matter that you and he ended things a bit messy. It was simply complicated. The two of you needed to work a few things out but broke it off because that was the easy thing to do.

He regrets that. He regrets not fighting. Not getting his shit together.

The engine revs, and John turns onto your street, almost throwing himself off his bike to get to your front door. In one hand he’s holding his helmet. In the other, he’s holding his phone, the device pressed to his ear as you keep talking. Reaching out, he pounds on the door.

You immediately pause on the other side of the phone. “There’s someone at my door,” you murmur, voice slightly distant.

“I know,” he replies. “It’s me.”

Silence on the other end. But then he hears it—the familiar click of a lock. Following that is your front door opening, revealing you.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other. Your momentary shock slips, dipping into confusion.

“What are you—” you begin but promptly stop as John pushes past you and into the flat.

“Is that fucker here?” John strides into the kitchen, placing his helmet down on the counter before ending the phone call and slipping the device into his back pocket.

“John.”

He glances down the hallway and then turns to you. “Is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s not here.”

John’s chest heaves with relief, some of the tension receding.

“John,” you repeat, the concern in your voice enough to smother some of that fire burning beneath his ribcage.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, approaching.

His gaze roams up and down your body, searching for signs of injury. There is none, at least not that he can see. That doesn’t mean there aren’t marks somewhere hiding beneath the clothes. The very thought fans the flames, charging John’s nerves until they crackle like lightening.

“No, Johnny. I’m fine.”

Johnny.

Only two people are allowed to call him that and one of them is standing right in front of him. The use of it, the way it falls from your lips, is enough to slightly quiet the anger. He sighs, expelling some of that smoky frustration. But then his gaze flicks to a spot just over your shoulder, and a new feeling emerges.

There are fist-sized holes in the wall. Four of them. Much too large to be your hands.

“What the fuck are those?” John’s voice drops as he nods toward them.

The sadness that forms on your features nearly rips his lungs from his body. John has never seen you like this. Never this defeated.

“They happened after,” you answer.

“After what?”

“The argument.”

You and John have had your fair share of arguments, but he’s never punched a wall. He’s never thrown anything or threatened you.

Never. Fucking never.

No. Fuck this guy.

“You’re breaking up with him.”

“What?” you ask, flustered by his sudden outburst.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. To kiss your lips. To be in your presence.”

You deserve so much more than whatever this fucker is providing. Which is apparently nothing served alongside fist-sized gapping wounds in the plaster.

Your mouth opens like you’re about to reject the idea, but it’s not a suggestion. You are breaking up with him. You will leave him even if that means John doesn’t get to have you. That’s fine. That’s okay. He can live with that. What he can’t live with is knowing you’re with someone who treats you like rubbish.

He needs to get this off his chest, to make you understand that you are entitled to more.

“I listened the whole way here and you know what I heard?” He pauses and notices the slight quiver in your bottom lip. “That you’re unhappy. Have been for some time.”

You blink and fresh tears form there. John has to bite back the instinct to kiss them away. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

He licks his lips, a large sigh leaving him as he points over your shoulder. “He treats you poorly.” John’s hand slices through the air. “Walks all over you. Doesn’t answer you for hours and then gets angry with you when he finally makes contact.”

As John talks, even he can hear his voice thickening. This always happens when he gets worked up, and you’ve always playfully teased him about it.

“He’s a fucking waste of space.”

“John—”

“Break it off. And—fuck. If you can’t face him, then let me do it.” He places his hand on his chest. “Allow me to defend you.”

Your features soften and John wants to drink it in, to remember the way you’re currently looking at him. He remembers this side of you, the one that easily pierces him like a needle breaks skin. A look like this will put John on his knees if you ask him to.

“Johnny.”

He’s done. Gone. There is no coming back from this. Whenever you say his name like that, you’re either annoyed with him, wanting him to listen, or you’re just about ready to kiss him. It momentarily rips away all the thoughts in his head, leaving him temporarily mute before his brain can catch up again.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping the sides of your face. “Get rid of him. I—I know you don’t want me but fucking hell. Don’t pick him. Don’t—”

John is silenced.

Not by your words leaving your mouth but from your lips pressing to his. It startles him—shocks him that you’re kissing him. Leaning into him. John responds, kisses you back, his tongue exploding with the remembrance of your taste.

But you’re still not his. You belong to someone else still and this isn’t right, no matter how much he fucking hates it.

“Stop, love,” he murmurs, pushing on your shoulders.

John loathes telling you to stop. To move away from him. Doing so is like fish hooks caught in the skin. He wants to reel you right back in, to taste your lips again, and fall into memory.

“I ended it,” you reply softly. “It’s over. That’s why there are holes in the wall.”

John pauses, his gaze growing serious. “What?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t like that I wanted him to leave. That I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Your fingers dig into the back of John’s neck and that one touch is enough to dissolve his resolve about not kissing you into dust.

He closes the distance, and you welcome him in, opening beautifully.

“Am I your rebound?” he teasingly asks between kisses.

You laugh against his lips and kiss him again. “Why did I ever leave you?” Your question is a sad murmur tinged with a regret that leaches off your words and floods into his heart.

“Because I was an asshole.” He believes these words completely but you’re shaking your head.

“No,” you reply. “You weren’t. Never that.”

The kisses between you, which at first were soft, quickly develop into deeper passion, twining like a spool of thread around a bobbin. John drags you against him, tasting over and over until you are imprinted on his memory.

Your arms drape over the back of his neck to pull him even closer, and John snaps. That gentle resolve is gone. He needs you.

Reaching down to cup your ass, John lifts you off the ground until your legs naturally wrap around his waist. He knows where the bedroom is but that’s too fucking far. The desire writhing between and around his bones is a blood-beast. A feral thing that calls out for your skin against his.

Setting you down on the counter, John shoves his helmet out of the way. You’re already reaching for him, undoing the front of his pants, slipping in to palm him. The inhale you make when your fingers wrap around his cock is sweet and John breathes it in as if that one sound makes up his entire lifeblood.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s going to taste you everywhere. His lips and teeth will mark your skin. His tongue will find a home between your legs. You’ll forget this fuckers name. He just needs a few hours and it’ll be his name you’re screaming.

You stroke him again, and John drags you right to the edge of the counter, intending to sink to his knees to worship between your spread thighs.

Your knees lock at his hips and with another stroke of your hand, you tell him what you want. “I need you inside me. I want to feel you.”

You ask so sweetly. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to.

John helps you ease his pants down to his thighs. When he goes to undress you, he only finds underwear under that large, oversized shirt.

“Fuck, love.” John’s finger drags that fabric aside and he groans at the sight.

You’re already wet. Aching. Ready for him. Begging him to bury himself inside.

This one will be quick. It’ll be rough and he’ll probably fucking spill within a minute, but he has the whole night to take you over every surface in this flat, to make you writhe and moan beneath him.

Placing one hand on the counter and one on your thigh, John starts to ease in. Inch by inch, slowly, he disappears until there is nothing left for him to give. He has a perfect view of how you stretch around him. How you slightly clench and unclench, the pleasure of it shooting to the base of his spine.

“Don’t leave me,” you murmur as Soap begins to thrust into you.

“Never,” he replies, nuzzling the side of your face as you pepper him with kisses.

John anchors himself, snapping his hips, chasing the end just so he can get you back into that bedroom to do so much more.

“You’re mine,” he groans as your fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer. “Always have been.”

taglist:

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