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bunnys-kisses · 1 year

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baby trapping - (vol. 2) suguru geto & satoru gojo

rating: e (18+) reader: f summary: being in the presence of two of the most powerful sorcerers in japan and quite possibly the world left you feeling small. a small time curse wielder known mostly for using a small rapier full of cursed energy. you fought almost with a dance like stance, it was like watching a beautiful performance as you slashed your way to victory. to geto and gojo, you were their little doll. tags: baby trapping, smut, multiple sex scenes, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty dirty stuff a/n: if have any other characters to add to the baby trapping collection, please check my pinned post and suggest your own! U・x・U

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being in the presence of two of the most powerful sorcerers in japan and quite possibly the world left you feeling small. a small time curse wielder known mostly for using a small rapier full of cursed energy. you fought almost with a dance like stance, it was like watching a beautiful performance as you slashed your way to victory.

to geto and gojo, you were their little doll. a little ballerina in a jewellery box that did a small dance when you opened it. oh how they adored you, so small compared to them. geto once joked that handling you was like handling a sparrow, grab on a little too tight and he’ll break your delicate little wings.

and as much as you puffed out your chest telling them that you weren’t some weak little thing, you could never beat just one of them in a fight. you always ended up on your knees or on your back with one of your lovers over top of you, lavishly making out with you. the thrill of the fight causing tightness in their pants.

the three of you lived in a large home out in the country, as much as it annoyed you to be away from tokyo. but you found small pleasures in your large garden out back. you always wondered why the three of you needed so many bedrooms if the three of you slept in the main one.

“why not?” gojo asked as he cupped your face, smiling down at you, “guests, friends, family.” his smile grew. what was he talking about, none of you had family.

the snow was starting to come down in late november. the flurries stuck to the fallen leaves of the garden, that was when the sex got a little rougher. both had their sadistic streaks in them, as much as they showered you in affection they also used and abused your poor pussy. fingers, tongues, toys, and large cocks all found home in your wetness.

gojo had gone to the city which left you and geto alone. you whined that you wanted to protect the city but geto looked at you and implied that you didn’t want to spend time with him. and gave a soft frown.

“fine.” you said, “i’ll stay.” before you tightened the robe you wore and padded down to the kitchen to get some coffee. as you walked away you heard the two men murmur to each other, and felt their strong gaze on your back.

you watched the snowflakes fall as the coffee brewed. you heard gojo leave the house and soon geto was in the kitchen with you. his hand on your back as he leaned down to kiss you.

“staring at snowflakes, i see.” he said, his hand lingered down to your ass and gave it a good grope, “i was always more of a spring type of guy. renewal, life, birth.”

you snuggled up closer to him and leaned up for a kiss, “as much as I hate snow, i like when it’s all fallen and there’s that look of untouched snow.” you admitted, then letting out a small sound when his large hand squeezed your cheek.

just like you, geto thought. a virgin before the two men had their way with you that hot summer night after a round of drinking. in your small apartment, both men promising you to hide their little doll away. protecting you in their eyes.

geto flipped up the bottom of your robe and placed his large hand between your thighs, feeling your covered pussy. he smiled, eyes on the window as he continued to grope you.

“you know.” you said, looking to him, “if you want to have sex with me, suguru. ask me.” a smart woman you were, you’d make a fine mother by summer.

he huffed out a laugh and pulled you even closer to him, hand still on your ass, “well, will my fine love. my beloved, beautiful love. the most beautiful woman i have ever laid my eyes on, will she let me fuck her in our kitchen?” the corners of his mouth upturned.

you playfully shoved him, “okay, no need to over do it.” you undid the fasten of your robe and let it fall to the floor. there you stood in a sports bra and panties, a beautiful sight to your boyfriend.

he carefully pressed you up against the counter, face resting against the granite and your ass at perfect level for his cock. he pulled down your panties like he was unwrapping a christmas present and rubbed your ass before with his large hands spread your thighs.

“beautiful.” he dragged a finger across your pussy, feeling the wetness between your thighs. he brought the finger to his mouth and tasted your delightful wetness. “mmm.” he said, “perfect.”

“you better not cum in me as much last time, it got everywhere.” you remarked with your cheek against the counter and hands against the edge. you heard him chuckle behind you.

“i can’t help it, doll. you just bring something out in me.” he rubbed your lower back and smiled at your mostly nude form in front of him. he knew you were fine with both of them finishing inside of you.

you were on the pill for years now, but two months ago switched between gojo’s hand to geto’s then placed in the nightstand at your side of the bed. the sugar pills were good at faking as birth control, geto was surprised they even had the colouring of the pills right and the proper label on the box. he didn’t even want to know where gojo went to get this done.

it wasn’t like he was out of their little mission either, he wanted to see you round with his child as much as geto wanted to see you round with his. they wanted their little doll to be giving them children for a long time.

geto’s hand touched your stomach for a moment, open palm rubbing it which made you giggle a little. always the ticklish little thing. he placed one of his hands back on your hip as he pushed his cock inside of you, hearing the small groan and the tensing up of your pussy around his cock.

“relax, relax, baby girl.” he said softly, “it’s just me, you know this cock as well as you know your own body.” and groaned when you relaxed. he looked down at your body as he placed his other hand on your hip.

he started to push and pull against you, your noises were sweet and soft. it made him only harder. the prospect of you being with him and gojo forever because you’re having their babies made him aroused. the idea of breeding such a lovely sorcerer into a fine mother to create half a dozen even stronger curse users made him lick his lips.

you’d be theirs forever, out in the country. chasing around babies in diapers rather than curses. geto could almost imagine you waiting for them to come home with a nice round belly and a few young kids sporting either black or white hair.

geto was broken out of his train of thought when you started to moan his name and he picked up the pace. his grip tight on your hips, slamming his cock inside of you as he pushed deeper and deeper, he swore that his cock was bullying against your cervix. bruising it as a reminder of him.

yeah c’mon, mama, he thought to himself as he slammed himself further into you. feeling the slick wet sounds of your love making in the kitchen. the sound of the coffee machine went off.

“my coffee is going to get cold.” you whined.

“then cum faster and it’ll be lukewarm.” he panted as he started to go faster, moving your top half up and down the counter, the smell of sex and coffee wafted in the air. your noises got higher pitched, the noises of your body rubbing against the counter and slapping of bodies together.

“fucking beautiful.” he panted, “god you’re beautiful. that’s why gojo and i wanted you so badly. an angel come to earth just for us. you know we love you right?” he moaned as the curl of pleasure in his gut tightened.

“i know! i know you love me!” you whimpered as your legs shook from being up right and the crashing waves of pleasure beat down on you in a wet lust, your pussy slick allowing him to bully your deepest parts even harder. his grip tightened and you whined in lust at the pressure. even if they were rough when it came to sex, you took it like the champ you were.

geto’s pace remained brutal and every loud moan that left your lips was accompanied by a harsh groan from your lover. bodies hitting together in ecstasy as the two of you fucked like rabbits in your home.

“that’s it, doll. fuck, you’re so beautiful. god, you’re so tight. fuck.’ he cursed as he felt himself grow closer to his orgasm. and from the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock he knew you were getting close to.

you two continued to fuck in the kitchen, eventually geto having enough of the position and quickly pulling out and pulling you both down to the tiled floor where he sat you on his lap and started bouncing you on his cock lie a maniac.

your head thrown back as your hands reached for his shoulders as you bounced along, the position hitting even deeper. battering against your g-spot as your mouth hung open in a symphony of moans and whines.

“i love this.” you panted.

“and I love you.” he replied as he kissed your chest. his mouth found your nipple and started to suck on it as he continued to move you up and down. he found it cute that you tried to match his pace but failing to do so. don’t worry, let geto take care of it.

soon you were feeling the highs of pleasure, your rolled back along with your eyes as you remained almost like a perfect sex toy on his cock. letting his cock bruise and mix your insides up with every hard thrust. you moans filled the air as the air got hotter with your activities.

geto kept his eyes gazed up at you as he turned his attention to your other nipple, sucking and nipping on the skin. occasionally biting at the skin around it. leaving dark bruises that’ll last a few hours.

“beautiful, doll.” he growled as he panted against your sweaty flesh. with a few more hard thrusts up into you, you both came at the same time. the house echoed with the sound of your orgasmic moan.

he came as deep as he could inside of you and said a silent pray that it would take while you trembled like a leaf in post orgasmic bliss. he leaned his head down and softly kissed your stomach while you were riding out your high. he’ll take you every day if he had to until it took.

gojo got home mid afternoon, he found you and geto in bed. both naked after a few extra rounds in the softness of your king mattress. geto was awake and reading while you were fast asleep. cum and sweat drying on your naked body.

his hand in your hair, only pulling away to turn the page. his eyes met gojo’s when he entered the room. the dark haired man pulled off his blindfold, finally able to relax for the rest of the day.

the white haired man pulled off his shirt and changed into something more comfortable, grey sweats and fuzzy pink socks that you bought for him the last time you were in the city.

he went over to geto’s side of the bed and kissed him on the cheek before he reached out and brushed strands of hair out of your eyes. he could see the cum stain on the corner of your mouth. he said to the other man, “wrong hole.”

geto’s sharp eyes looked to the man, “i can’t have her catch on. the plan is to play it off like nothing has changed. if we keep filing her full of cum, she might notice.”

gojo chuckled quietly, “that means she has more than two brain cells to rub together. she still hasn’t caught on why we never bring her to tokyo anymore.”

geto’s gaze lingered to your sleeping form, “we didn’t keep her because she’s stupid you know. we could’ve brought any bimbo home with us if we flashed enough cash.”

“none of them were rapier wielders. we wanted a bride that would give us strong children. she’s strong, but a little dumb.” gojo corrected.

it took two extra days before gojo had a day off, and like a man with a mission he had ever intention of slicking your inside with cum. he wanted so much inside of you that a poke to your belly would make it gush out. he was gross like that. he wanted to know that every last drop was inside of you.

all the mini gojo’s were trying to fertilize those eggs of yours, if geto hadn’t already beaten him to it. but he wasn’t one to back down if the odds wee against him. so while you the three of you watched television, gojo rubbed your inner thigh.

he liked when you wore short shorts around the house, but with winter like a looming cloud, you opted for longer relaxing pants. the kind with the stretchy waist, the kind that were easier to get into.

your head rested on gojo’s shoulder as he slipped his hand into your pants. you let out a soft moan as his long fingers touched your clit. geto was on the other side of the couch fast asleep.

he played with your clit over your panties before he whispered, “why don’t you get on my cock. but be quiet, suguru needs his rest.” before he pressed down on your sensitive spot which made you squeak.

gojo loved the sight of you, so small next to him. a perfect woman for both him and geto. even if his lover had impregnated you already, he would just have his turn next. but he was certain that his swimmers were stronger than geto’s.

he couldn’t wait until your belly become round, your breasts tender and leaky and your growing reliance on the two men. waddling around the house, struggling to do things because you’re in such a fragile state. but don’t worry your little head, gojo and geto would take care of you.

after all, you were giving them the most precious gift of all.

he helped you get your sweatpants off, and smiled at the sweet pink panties you were wearing. he playfully ran his finger across your covered slit before with both hands he pulled the underwear down to your ankles, where you got them off onto the floor.

“oh my.” he said quietly, “so beautiful.” he could see your hard nipples through your thin t-shirt and pinched one which caused you to make a semi-loud noise which made him shush you.

slowly he got you onto his lap, and guided his cock through your wet folds, until you were seated on his cock. from his knowledge this was the second best position to breed someone. besides doggy, but he’ll get to that later.

you made a small noise and his large hand covered your mouth before he started to move his hips up inside of you. you tried to match his pace. unlike the coordinated movements of geto, gojo liked to throw you off with his thrusts. moving fast like a rabbit then slow down so you can feel every inch of his cock inside of you.

“i love you.” he said.

“i love you too.” your quiet voice muffled by his hand.

his pace was slow at first. rolling of his hips up inside of you. his cock prodding and poking your innards. nudging against your sweet spot that made feeble little noises exit your mouth.

“beautiful.” he admired as he watched your eyes glaze over in lust. he started to pick up the pace, the squeaking of the couch didn’t wake geto which only encouraged the white haired man to go faster.

geto let out a soft snore as you lifted your hips up and down on gojo’s cock. your hands on his shoulders for leverage as the dark haired man slept soundly beside the both of you.

gojo let go of your mouth and held onto your hips to get a better angle. your both bounced on the couch and you bit your bottom lip to be quiet before the white haired man left a searing kiss on your lips to keep you silent.no need for your needy, whorish noises to wake up the other man.

he had a mission to breed you, impregnate you. he often masturbated in the shower to the idea of you growing life. stoking your middle, being a good little wife to your two men. and becoming a protective mother for your children. you were the right woman for the role, no one else could have what you were getting.

for a moment gojo grabbed you by the middle and started to force you further onto his cock. his thumbs rubbed your side, his eyes gazed down at your middle. praying he was going to be the one to watch it stick out over time. watching your belly button pop and the smile when you felt a kick. not the mention your milky breasts. he was going to have his fair share once it came in.

he continued to fuck you, and quickly you had to cover your mouth with both hands as you came around his cock for the first time. making it more slick and easier to fuck you with. he chuckled quietly as when you pulled your hand away your mouth was hung open and saliva was collecting at the tip of your tongue, dripping down on your clothed breasts.

“that’s it, doll. feel it. like the feeling of my cock inside of you. yeah, i know you do.” his voices were harsh whispers as you continued to ride him you nodded as you breathing became heavy pants, your body moved on its own as you held onto him. the squeaking of the couch enthralled you as you bucked against him. your head felt fuzzy as you rode him.

you felt gojo’s gaze on you as your breasts jiggled in his face. he purred in delight like a cat that caught the canary. his hands went to your breasts and he added his own bites to the lingering ones that geto left.

“beautiful pair you have.” he remarked as he licked his top lip, “can’t get enough of you, doll.” deadly with a sword, but docile as a kitten in his lap. you were going to give him lovely babies. don’t worry, he’ll be your shadow if he has to. just don’t leave the house too often, him and geto will worry too much.

your movements continued until you were clutching onto him tightly, your face in his hair and your breasts in his face. he groaned at the feeling of softness against his cheeks.

your pants grew louder as you buckled your hips and slammed down on his cock. eyes rolled back as you covered your mouth again and orgasm with the same intensity as the first time. the clutch around gojo’s cock made fireworks go off in his brain.

oh, he thought, that felt good.

“i know you love me cock, i know it hits all the right places.” he purred a he watched you nod in orgasmic bliss. he knew how to pull your strings, it involved eight inches pushed inside of you. he might be a bit smaller than geto, but his thickness made up for that.

he watched your breasts bounced as you moved on your own accord, he sat back and let the wash of pleasure come over him before he was biting his lip trying to hold back a loud moan.

it wasn’t long before he was gripping his wrists behind his head, letting you ride him as he shot his seed inside of you. he bounced his hips up, pushing as far as it’ll go and praying the way that geto did that it took.

as he watched you slow down, he could see in your eyes that the wires in your brain weren’t crossing right in that moment. he smiled up at you, a glimmer in those blue eyes.

“ready for another round, doll?” he asked.

in your blissed out state, you did nothing with your tongue out but nod. gojo smirked to himself, you were a dumb whore. addicted to men stronger than you who will breed you like the good girl you were.

too good to be true.

geto’s eyes opened to the sight of gojo fucking you in front of the television. your figure illuminated by the brightness of the screen. he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and you looked at him with an embarrassed expression. (as if he didn’t fuck you in the kitchen only a few days ago).

he chuckled a little, “get a room you too. or at least, let me join.”

fo the rest of the afternoon a the snow piled outside your bedroom window, your body was shared between the two men. both driving their cocks deeper inside of you, in their own little competition to impregnate you without your knowledge.

by the time you passed out on the pillows with both men book ending you, their still hard cocks pressed against you soft form, you were finally and definitely pregnant. large hands rubbed circles on your back and stomach as you snoozed in bed.

you were bred, you were theirs. and there was no leaving.

it was now april, the snow had started to melt around the compound. gojo was sneaking through the house in search of his lovers. he could hear the thud of the bed near by but didn’t know which room they were in.

eventually he slid open one of the doors and found you and geto in bed. oh my, what a sight. a whorish sight to behold. there you were, working on geto’s cock with your hands on your swollen belly, breasts jiggling with the movement of your hips. geto was panting and you were letting out the sweetest moans. even at almost six months pregnant, you took their cocks like a champ and they adored their little pregnant doll in return.

“oh, suguru.” gojo said as he unzipped his pants, “you can’t keep hogging her, it’s not fair. i want to show my baby mama some love too. soon she’ll be too close to popping for us to have fun.” in his underwear he got on the bed behind you, both hands fondling your engorged tits. dribbles of pre-milk beaded at your dark nipples.

“don’t worry satoru. even if this baby is mine, we still have a whole house to fill with the best sorcerers in the world. all thanks to our little angel here.” he patted your baby bump before he leaned up and started to suck at your breasts, tongue tasting the creamy milk which made his cock twitch harder inside of you.

you let out a strong moan as you came for the second time with geto’s cock inside of you and the both men said in unison, “good girl.”

- xoxo, U・x・U

#getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #yandere gojo #yandere getou #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen smut #pregnant reader

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moonstruckme · 17 days

Note

Hellooo, could you do something like protective!sirius??

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 547 words

Sirius takes off his helmet, leaving his motorcycle idling beneath him when he hears your front door open. But when he turns and sees you, he switches off the ignition.

“You’re not getting on here in that,” he says as the rumbling dies out.

You pout like you were prepared for the argument. Sirius is willing to bet you were. “Come on, I like this outfit!”

“Me too, baby.” He cradles his helmet in one hand, reaching for you. You come warily, as eager for a kiss as he is but unwilling to show it. “You look really cute.”

And it’s the truth. You’re kind of driving him crazy. Your tight top hugs your figure, cropped to tease just a sliver of skin above the waistband of your miniskirt. The skirt itself is short enough that the material piles on Sirius’ jeans as you kiss him, and he trails a devilish hand along your backslide, slipping beneath the hem to grab a handful of asscheek. Your squeak turns into a giggle as he pecks you on the lips.

“But we’re gonna have to walk if you want to wear that,” he says. “You know the rules with the bike.” Your sour expression renews, and Sirius kisses you again in hopes of dissipating it. It works, if only slightly. “You can wear my jacket to cover your arms, but you’re gonna need some pants, sweetness.”

“It’s hot,” you complain. “And it’s not like it’s a long ride. Just don’t crash.”

“I never crash.”

“Exactly!”

“But I’d feel like shit if this was the time I did.” Sirius grips you tighter, willing you to look at him and making his expression extra sincere when you do. “C’mon, baby. We can walk if you want to, but I’m not gonna be responsible for flaying the world’s prettiest girl. Think of what the papers would do to me.”

You huff and turn around, and Sirius gives your ass a parting smack as you go back inside. When you emerge a minute later, you’re sulky. You ignore his helping hand, straddling the bike by yourself. Sirius doesn’t feel this is strictly his fault, but he makes a mental note to buy you one of those cookies you like from the shop downtown anyway.

He passes his leather jacket back to you, but when he tries to do the same with his helmet no hands grab it.

“Hey.” He waves it around a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Keep it. I don’t want to ruin my hair.”

Sirius scoffs. “Impossible. You look gorgeous no matter what, but if you want me to fix it once we get there I can do that.” He’s never going to turn down a chance to play with your hair. “You need the helmet.”

“I’m fine. You should use it.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. He twists around and takes your jaw in his hand.

“Pest,” he says lovingly, kisses you on the lips, and plants the helmet on your head.

He can hear you grumbling behind him, but you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing close to his back like he taught you.

“Love you too,” Sirius says, and gives your hands a squeeze as the engine roars back to life. “I’ll try not to crash.”

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fandom-puff · 22 days

Text

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

#tywin lannister fic #tywin lannister smut #Tywin Lannister x reader #Tywin Lannister x you #Tywin Lannister imagine #tywin lannister #tywin lannister fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut

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yjhariani · 1 year

Text

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

“Again, does anybody have a lighter?” Price asked a little louder this time.

Soap gently elbowed Ghost on the side. Ghost only turned to look at him, tilting his head a little to show his annoyance.

They were almost in the middle of nowhere. At least they had electricity and water. What they did not have was a lighter, thus Price’s moaning. He was going to light up a cigar.

Ghost knew why Soap was elbowing him. Soap was referring to that lighter in Ghost’s pocket. The one he held personally for himself and himself only.

So, Ghost ignored the sergeant. Price had arrived in front of them by then.

“Simon, you smoke,” Price brought up.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Ghost said.

“You pray with it every night,” Soap muttered.

Price and Ghost looked at him. Ghost was practically glaring at Soap. Soap looked like he wished he had not said a word.

“Am I missing something?” Price asked.

Ghost said nothing and now Price was also looking at Soap rather intimidatingly.

“I… Ghost has a lighter,” Soap said.

“I don’t,” Ghost insisted.

Price now turned his expecting glare at Ghost. That got Soap a little confident to proceed.

“As I said, he basically prayed with it every night before he sleeps,” Soap continued.

“Just this once, Simon, I will lose my shit if I can’t get this cigar lit up,” Price said.

Ghost did not react at first, but seeing that the two of them were not going to let this go, he shot a final murderous glare at Soap before putting his hand into his pocket. He held the lighter in his palm and pulled it out of his pocket.

Looking at the captain, Ghost almost did not want to hand out the lighter. However, he ended up opening his palm and revealed the lighter that sat on his palm.

It was as if the whole area turned frozen. Gaz had just walked in and saw the reveal. Even he stopped at his track.

The lighter was yours. It used to be yours. It did belong to you. It did not belong to you anymore. It belonged to Ghost now. You gave it to him before your last mission. The mission that got you killed.

Every thing was fine before that—no, every thing was perfect.

Ghost and you were basically a nightmare couple. A nightmare as in badass motherfuckers who got shit done effectively. Sure, there were flaws such as the constant passive-agressive flirting, recklessness, and tense eye contacts, but, damn… the two of you were great at your job together.

That last mission was indeed going to be your last mission because you decided to not renew your military contract and you both were about to get married. Without telling anyone. However, the others just knew. They always knew that the two of you would end up together one way or another.

Then, shit happened. The worst happened. The irony.

You ended up buried under the ground and became a memory. Ghost ended up here, with these three, more bitter than he ever was.

You always had his heart and it was buried with you. Whatever sentimental left in him, it was out of respect of the memory of you. Of the memory you both were about to make and never did.

Price, Gaz, and Soap never brought you up. Not since the funeral. Price tried and Ghost ended up walking out of the room without saying anything, slamming the door on his way out.

This would be the first time anything about you ever came up ever since that incident. Soap had no idea it was the lighter. Ever. So, his heart did not only stop when he saw it, it would blow up if it could. Gaz used to borrow the lighter to do tricks, so he would recognise it from afar. Price had his cigars lit up by the lighter a few times before.

The four of them were frozen there for quite some time.

“So, we don’t have a lighter,” Price concluded before anyone of them started bursting into either anger or tears.

“Yeah, we don’t,” Soap nodded. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“You know, there’s a stove in the kitchen. You can light your cigar up with it,” Gaz brought up. “I’m about to cook something, too.”

“Right, right,” Price nodded before walking away.

“I’ll help make sure no one’s burning anything down and get us compromised,” Soap stated before leaving the area.

Ghost stayed where he stood a while after they left. He stared at the lighter for some time, thinking about what you might say if you were still here. None of them would be this messy. The four of them would likely be laughing right now of some stupid joke you made.

Maybe you were still here. He might be the Ghost, but you were the ghost now. Maybe you were laughing at them right now.

“Would’ve been nice if you’re here,” Ghost said under his breath before pocketing the lighter back.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader

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withacapitalp · 3 months

Text

Hurricane Joy

Written for the STWG Daily Prompt "applesauce". This is just a little snippet of a universe where Steve's parents left him with a little half sister, and he and Eddie are dancing around some feelingsssss

----------------

“Joy, I’ll pay you five bucks to eat. You want five bucks? You can do so many things with five bucks!”

“Careful there, Harrington. Don’t all those parenting books say bargaining with children develops bad habits?” Eddie asked as he entered the kitchen, finding Steve sitting in front of Joy with applesauce absolutely covering both of their faces.

“They’ve never had to take on Hurricane Joy and the applesauce of doom,” Steve groaned, pouting in Eddie’s direction as he walked further into the room, pausing to pat Steve on the back as he approached the two.

“So how is our baby bean today?” Eddie asked, pressing an exaggerated kiss to the top of Joy’s head and listening to her squeal in glee as he did.

Sure, she had been named after Joyce, but a part of Eddie was honestly convinced that Joy had heard her name once and then made it her mission to live up to it every single second of the day. Even her epic meltdown moments ended up being funny to watch.

“Well she’s happy as a clam, but breakfast has taken,” Steve paused to look at his watch, sighing and shaking his head when he saw the time, “Over an hour. Applesauce is my enemy, Eds, I swear to god it is.”

“Well maybe if you stop making faces at her it would go faster,” Eddie suggested, barely holding back his laughter as Steve gave him the world’s bitchiest look before turning back to Joy with renewed vigor.

“I’m not making faces,” Steve said, continuing to make weird faces at the baby as he tried and failed to spoon applesauce into her mouth. Joy cooed at her brother’s antics, smiling a bright gummy smile as the applesauce dribbled out of her mouth.

“C’mon, Joy, work with me,” Steve begged, holding out the spoon, “Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

Joy burbled, grabbing at the spoon and trying to yank it out of Steve’s grip, flinging applesauce everywhere as she did. Eddie dodged the bit that had been heading for his hair, trying not to burst into laughter as he watched a glob land directly in the middle of Steve’s forehead.

“Maybe her favorite babysitter should give it a shot?” Eddie offered, trying to act like he wasn’t dying from laughter inside. Most of the time Steve took things fine, but Eddie knew there was a deeply hidden part of his best friend that took every single ‘failure’ as even more evidence he wasn’t cut out to raise his half-sister on his own.

“Her favorite babysitter is Wayne and you know it,” Steve said with a sigh, voluntarily releasing the spoon and walking over to the sink to wash himself off.

“Yes, but Wayne was the one who used to get me to eat when I was in silly moods too,” Eddie replied, unable to keep from changing his tone to complete babytalk as he sat in front of Joy. It was just impossible to not want to make those chubby cheeks turn up into a big grin, “Yes he was. I was a silly boy just like you’re a silly silly girl!”

Joy wiggled in her high chair, slapping her hands down on the tray table as she babbled.

“And how exactly did he do that?” Steve asked dryly, wiping his face on a clean washcloth and tossing it over his shoulder as he leaned against the sink.

“Usually with pliers and a crowbar,” Eddie immediately shot back.

He waited for a few seconds, watching Steve get paler and paler until he was forced to put the man out of his misery.

“Kidding! Geez, Stevie, lighten up.”

“Sorry I guess I’m just nervous,” Steve said, flapping a hand as he walked closer, reaching down with the washcloth to clean up Joy’s face, “Since it’s the first time…”

He trailed off with a sigh, avoiding eye contact with Eddie and focusing on Joy. Completely unaware, she looked up at her brother, sticking her tongue out and cackling to herself as she did.

She truly was the world’s cutest baby, but Eddie had someone equally cute he needed to focus his attention on.

“Everything’s fine now, I promise.” Eddie said, putting down the cup and spoon and coaxing Steve into a hug. He held Steve tight, feeling the other boy clinging on just as hard, burrowing his face into Eddie’s shoulder as he released the tension that had been holding him hostage since the moment Eddie walked in.

It made sense that Steve was so frazzled. This was the first time he was leaving Joy home without him.

“You’ll go to your shift, you’ll come home with a VHS, we’ll put the baby down, and we’ll celebrate, just you and me” Eddie said, laying the day out in easy to follow steps and hoping that would ease some of Steve’s anxiety, “Me and Joy will stay here the whole day. The only place we’ll go is in the backyard, and I’ll make sure she wears a jacket and shoes if we do,”

“Starting to sound pretty domestic there Munson,” Steve mumbled, but Eddie could hear the smile on his lips.

“I’m a regular Lucy Ricardo,” Eddie declared, pulling away from Steve and gently pushing him towards the door, “Now shoo. Go bring home the bacon, Big Daddy.”

Steve turned red in a second, even the tips of his ears burning a dusty rouge as he shoved Eddie away and spluttered for something to say. It was a lot harder for Steve to think of snappy comebacks now that he had implemented a no cursing rule in the house, and Eddie was planning on taking advantage of that in every way he could.

Joy was amazing for everything she did, even the unintentional things.

“I love you, baby. I’ll be home soon. You be a good girl for Eddie,” Steve crooned, giving Joy a thousand kisses before he turned to leave, pausing for a second before walking back over and pressing a firm kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

“Be home at five, Darling. You better have dinner in the oven and waiting,” Steve ordered, flashing Eddie a tricky little grin before he disappeared out the door. Eddie blinked rapidly at the air in front of him, as if he could will Steve back into existence so he could demand to know exactly what the fuck had just happened.

“Your brother’s trying to kill me, Joy.” Eddie moaned, hiding his face behind his hair as Joy continued to shout nonsense words in his direction

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie #st drabble #steve and eddie #Joy Munson #stwgdailyprompt

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waratah-vroom · 9 months

Text

Good Vibes (ms47)

Liked by yourusername, schumiangel and 485,208 others f1: Haas will not be renewing their contract with Mick Schumacher for the 2023 season. There is currently no word on the German driver's future on the grid for next year.

yourusername: 😇😇😇 ↳ ms47fangirl: gurl what does this mean???

haassucks: Glad to see Schumacher leaving that toxic work environment. Hopefully he finds somewhere better.

guentherhater: FINALLY! He deserves so much more than fucking Steiner.

f1wags: aw I'm going to miss yourusername's petty stories hating on Guenther

mercedesamgf1 and mickschumacher

Liked by georgerussell63, f1 and 1,482,405 others mercedesamgf1: signed ✍️ We are happy to announce our 2023 reserve driver, mickschumacher!

yourusername: Looking good in black baby 🖤 ↳ mickschumacher: 💕

lewishamilton: Welcome to the team, mate!

jackdoohan: Congrats brother 💪

gina_schumacher: We're all so proud Mick

Tagged: mickschumacher Liked by estebanocon, schumiangel and 17,482 others yourusername: Well deserved break with my boy ❄️

jackdoohan: I can't believe you chose snow over coming to the beach with me 😠 ↳ yourusername: we land in Australia next week!

gina_schumacher: Did he manage to get off the lift without faceplanting? ↳ yourusername: 🤐 ↳ mickschumacher: Stop giving her ideas, Hase! That happened once gina_schumacher and I was 12.

“You seem happy.”

Mick sighed contently, his head resting on your lap as the two of you stretched out in front of the fire. Snow was falling outside the large windows, but you were nice and toasty wrapped up in a blanket with your furnace of a boyfriend in your arms.

“I am happy. I’m with you. Alone in the mountains with no one to bother us.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, but that wasn’t what you meant. “I meant in general. You seem happier than you were last month. More relaxed.”

He rolled over so his blue eyes met yours, his lower lip between his teeth. “You mean since Haas fired me.”

“Baby,” you fought off the eye roll. “If they hadn’t fired you, you would have quit.”

“I wouldn’t have-”

“You should have. They treated you like shit.”

“At least I was on the grid.”

“But was it worth it?” He was silent. You’d been having a version of this conversation since 2021. “Was it really worth being blamed for their failure just so you could drive?”

He leant back into your hand that was scratching his head, almost cat-like as his eyes fluttered closed. “I guess not.”

“And if you hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have been given the opportunity that you have now at Mercedes.”

“I know, I just hate when you’re right.”

“I’m right all the time.”

“Yeah and I hate it,” he opened one eye, a grin spreading across his face.

“Fine, if you hate it so much I won’t show you the new things I bought from Agent Provocateur.”

“Wait, don’t they make lingerie?” You didn’t respond, picking your phone up from next to you and opening instagram. “Hase? They make lingerie, right?” You could see the desperation on his face from the corner of your eyes and couldn’t help the small smile edging its way on your lips. “Baby, I’m sorry, you know I was joking. Come on, you have to show me what you bought. Please? I’ll do anything.”

That piqued your interest. He rarely needed to beg you as you usually gave in straight away, so this was a nice change. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Liked by ms47fangirl, schumiangel and 340,274 others mercedesamgf1: Mick's first visit to Brackley as our official reserve driver!

micklover: can't wait to see him do a test drive!

yourusername: I know I shouldn't be thirsting over my boyfriend in his workplace's insta comments but 🥵 ARMS ↳ f1wags: where's the lie tho

yourusername: p.s I'm so happy to have my smiley boy back 🥰 Liked by mercedesamgf1

Liked by gina_schumacher, carmenmmundt and 20,382 others yourusername: It's race week so here's your regularly scheduled wag content ✨ Also thanks Mercedes - this was the first race in a long time I didn't get heartburn!

mercedesamgf1: Glad we could give you a stress free weekend 👍 Liked by yourusername & mickschumacher

mickschumacher: 🐰 Liked by yourusername

schumiangel: it's giving merc girlie ↳ yourusername: nah I'm a mick girlie 💕 ↳ micklover: shut the fuck up that is the cutest answer

read more of my writing here.

Made to order for @alilstressyandlotdepressy for my perfume collection xx

ﾟ｡ ⋆ mags' radio: this one was short and sweet bc i didn't have much inspiration. I was originally intending for this to be a steiner hate piece but i've seen so many of those around that i couldn't think of anything that hadn't already been said. I have plans for a Mick x Wolff!reader miniseries and a Vettel!reader miniseries, as well as a cute little smutty prequel to Green Thumb. If you're interested in my future stuff join my taglist! ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

taglist: @fulla02reads @flowerchild-96 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @azxulaa @booksobsess @formulakay3 @moonvr @chonkybonky @peachiicherries @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @lilacsimps @love4lando @lunnnix @cinderellawithashoe @ferrariloverr @chasing-liberosis @mickslover @noncannonships

#waratah-vroom perfumes #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher x yn #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher instagram #formula 1 #f1 instagram

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padawansuggest · 10 months

Text

Clone Chat

Cody: I’m so tired of these assholes everyone post the dumbest shit ur Jedi does I’ll start: he’s a thumb sucker but not his own thumbs I keep waking up with his mouth attached to my hand it feels so wrong

Fox: I don’t have one but Palpatine asked me to wax his back for him once. I think that’s how he got that infection that killed him.

Cody: wow. Mine lookin better already.

Rex: Anakin keeps crying whenever we watch movies and then expect me to hold him he’s an actual infant, Soka keeps eating raw chicken around me and it makes me gag from smell, sound AND sight

Wolffe: mine forgot to cut the crusts off my sandwich once ☹️😖

Cody: a crime

Wolffe: im so neglected 😭

Bly: Aayla won’t let me parkour anymore it’s really boring around here she thinks I’m gonna hurt myself

Cody: considering you broke your leg like that last year, uhhhhh

Bly: it’s fine now!

Gree: Luminara won’t let me buy a boat. She said there aren’t any large bodies of water around Coruscant so there’s no point. What’s the point of having rights now if we can’t DREAM! Barriss is going though a phase where she keeps showing me ‘interwebs funnies’ and they aren’t actually funny but she laughs so hard so I just nod and say ‘uh-huh’.

Rex: ajfjeodhroebe ur such a dad wtf

Cody: And Rex would know. He’s very daddy shaped. But you got the Home Depot theme song playin around you at all times.

Gree: I don’t get it. This is like the funnies Barriss shows me :/

Cody: great news guys my dumb baby infant Jedi is perfect thanks for renewing my faith in him and his dumb baby infant antics 😌💅

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 05)

MDNI/18+ no exceptions

Link to AO3

THE NEXT MORNING

You were alone. The sun’s thin shafts danced across the empty side of the bed, the sheets crinkled and folded like unfinished origami, bent and twisted by the body you were missing. He was gone. You yawned, stretching, and then you froze in place, suddenly remembering more and more detail from the night before.

Johnny’s touch lingered on your skin like a bruise. You were unmarred, but you could have sworn he had left a tattoo behind with his fingertips so acutely did you feel the memory.

You padded out into the kitchen. It was still closer to dawn than it was to day, but on the counter sat two large coffees; a latte and a chai, for Pidge and for you. There was a note tucked underneath your cup:

Gone for a run. - J.

Chai in hand, you quietly retreated to his room and sat in bed watching the sun wake up. The feel of the smooth sheets on your fingers bring back brief, blurred flashes of Johnny’s affection from the night before, and the guilt hit your stomach like an anvil. You should have stopped him, shouldn’t you? You had plenty of time to. But, said the dark thing inside of you, you didn’t want him to stop, did you?

You wanted him to keep going.

Setting your drink down, you snuggled back into the covers to wallow in your regret. But instead, your body forced you back into the darkness where you and Johnny had been tangled as you slept in that very position. If you shut your eyes, you could almost feel his soft breaths and his hungry jaw as he scented your neck and hair. The heat of his chest radiated through your back, and the prodding…

It was your fingers that dipped into your waistband this time, thinner than his, but warm from the coffee cup, until they found your pink, wet shame. You drew quick circles around your clit, not far from the high you were chasing.

You thought about what would have happened if you hadn’t said his name. Would he have continued? He was caught somewhere between a dream and reality; you were still working on convincing yourself of that.

But, what if he wasn’t?

You moaned softly into the pillow. It smelled of him and you breathed it in. You touched yourself with renewed intensity, your fingers sliding across your slippery skin, sinking into your hole for more of your warm honeyed heat.

Maybe he would have begged you, softly, in that deep voice of his.

Just let me feel it, thief, just for a moment. Just the tip. I’ll pull it right out, lass, I swear it. I just need to feel you.

And all those other saccharine lies that boys like him were good at crafting. But, gods, would you fall for it. You’d nod your head, dumb and cowed, and spread yourself wide for him to find, to fit, to fill. The sound of him wetting his cock in you would have been so loud in his quiet room.

You moaned again, louder this time, unable to hold it back.

“Are you alright, lass?”

Shit!

You pulled yourself together. Two soft knocks on the door and your hand involuntarily jerked back, the snap of the elastic waistband stinging your skin. You fixed yourself and dragged the sheets over you again, panting quietly to hide the deeper gasps trying to crawl out of your lungs.

“Yeah, fine. How was your run?”

Taking the question as an invitation, the door cracked open and his hulking form emerged from behind it. His hair and shirt damp with sweat, smile widening as his eyes wandered across your body in his bed.

“It was good. You ready for your fitting? I’m your ride.”

You ignored that double entendre.

“Sure, just let me get changed,” you smiled, pulling your legs around to stand beside the bed.

“Aye, I’ll shower,” he shut the door behind him.

You let go of a huge sigh of relief and put your head in your hands. If he had walked in…

You shook it off and got changed as quick as you could. You threw your hair into a quick braid and knotted the end with a hair tie. You were still in one of his tee shirts, but you had put some leggings on with a pair of white sneakers. You reminded yourself - over and over and over - that you weren’t there to impress anyone. Especially not Johnny MacTavish.

He was in the kitchen with Hamish and Pidge when you came out, drinking coffee with them over the counter and chatting about their plans. Pidge greeted you, hugging you around the neck,

“Okay, dovie. Remember, I don’t care how the top looks. But, it’s floor length, and it’s glitz and it’s glam and it’s sparkles…”

“I remember! Silver sparkles. Red carpet. Don’t worry, I can handle it,” you tried to sound convincing.

Hamish laughed, trying to make Pidge seem like she was over-reacting, “I’m not worried, lass. I know you’ll pick a brilliant one.”

Pidge cut her eyes at him and said, “I’m not worried . But, she’s like me - we love our comfy clothes. She’s not Cherise who has to be in the latest whatever.”

Hamish pinched Pidge in some unseen place below the kitchen counter and out of your view, teasing her,

“Bet you’d look good in the latest whatever .”

Pidge squealed and smacked him for his insubordination. She turned to you, blushing and trying not to laugh,

“Okay, back here at two, yeah? We’ve got 259 invites to stamp. Fuckin’ postage is gonna break the bank.”

“Back at two. Invites. I am on it. Maid of honor mode is activated, babe. I promise,” you hugged her and turned to Johnny, “Are you ready?”

“For glitz and glam? Always,” his grin was sharp and inviting, as if dress shopping was his one true purpose and pleasure in life, even if it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The dress shop was close, and you noted that Johnny didn’t try to hold your hand in the car as he had yesterday. You didn’t dwell on it. Okay, maybe you did.

“D’ya sleep alright, thief?” He asked over the radio during a lull where he wasn’t signing shamelessly.

His face didn’t give away much. You couldn’t tell whether he was recalling his lurid affections or just making small talk. You decided not to take the bait,

“Just fine. How about you?”

“Slept hard,” he grinned, searching for a parking spot, “Like a rock, aye?”

When he made his last comment, the obvious innuendo, he looked at you through his sunglasses, staring long enough to watch you flush. You avoided his gaze, looking at anything but him, feeling his eyes roaming over you. Your heart beat in your throat.

Johnny killed the engine and walked around to help you down from the Jeep, giving you his hand to steady you. It was warm and sure, none of his rakish commentary or teasing was left in his touch, just comforting sincerity. It was scary how quick your mind was to trust his earnestness and dismiss his roguishness.

The dress shop door knocked a small bell that tinkled as you walked through, announcing your arrival. No one was at the counter, so you looked around for a moment, waiting for someone to appear.

“Hello?” You called out into the store.

“Aye! Coming!” A tower of white lace ruffled and danced as someone moved behind it. Then, a short red woman emerged from the pile, pink-faced and out of breath,

“Och! Thought I’d drown in there.”

She laughed and you smiled with her, explaining your presence,

“I’m here for - ”

“The Hamilton wedding, aye? I’d recognize this rascal anywhere. You can always tell a MacTavish by the eyes. Bluer than the sky, they are.”

“Mrs. Dulvaney! Gonna make me get all sweet on ye, more than I already do,” Johnny pushed his sunglasses up over his mohawk and bent to kiss the woman on her big cheeks, kissing her hand as if she was Guinevere.

Based on her reaction, that was exactly how she felt. She turned to you,

“Better watch out for this one, lovie. Nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t I know it,” you commented wryly, earning a look from Johnny.

The shopkeeper led you past rows of cream and ivory wedding gowns to the bridesmaid section in the back of the store. One of the dressing rooms’ curtains was open, and several gowns were hanging, sparkly and orderly on their rack. The old woman smiled, explaining,

“Bridgette put all of her hens in silver sparkles, right? I pulled a few, but you’re welcome to look around. Don’t fret about the sizes, dearie. We’ll just pin you in.”

Mrs. Dulvaney was gone again, leaving you with Mr. Nothin-But-Trouble. He flipped through the pulled offerings with a discerning eye, looking like he knew exactly what he was doing, giving Michael Kors a run for his money.

You left Johnny behind, wandering through the rows of dresses, pulling one or two more pieces, opting for more conservative necklines.

“No, no, lass,” he furrowed his brow as he inspected your haul, “Sure these are for wee grannies! Shoulder pads, honestly?”

“Okay, fashion police,” you scoffed, “You find a good one, and I promise I’ll try it on.”

“You’re on, thief.”

He dug deep into the stacks, choosing two or three to drape over his thick forearm while you watched, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth at his serious expression.

Turning at the end of the aisle, he came to a sudden stop.

"Och, sin an tè," he said with a sigh.

It was hanging on a mannequin, but he didn’t care. He looked at the mannequin and then back at your body, sizing you up. Then, he put his hands around the plastic girl’s waist, and eyed you up once more before smirking knowingly and reaching for the zipper..

“Johnny, you can’t have the display,” You chastised him, imagining his hands on your ribs as they had been in the small pool in the mountains, imagining him digging into your clothes as they had last night.

“Says who?” He began to undress her, pulling the shining fabric up over her headless form. Smug and satisfied, he handed you the gown.

It fit all the criteria; glittery and slinky, floor-length with a high neckline. But, there was no back. From neck to hip, you’d be bare.

“Johnny,” you protested, holding it up by the shoulders and letting it cascade heavily to the floor, “This might be…distracting.”

“Aye,” he said, giving no further explanation, his eyes glued to the gown in your hands.

You sighed, but you kept your word. Johnny was sat in a plush chair like a king after much doting and prodding from the shopkeeper. He was facing the fitting room, which was little more than a closet with a curtain. You shimmied into the room and tried on the first dress that Mrs. Dulvaney had suggested.

When you emerged, they were both sitting there, appraising you like judges on a game show, their faces reflecting boredom and disappointment.

“So…” you shrugged, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an Elvis impersonator.

Johnny and Mrs. Dulvaney shook their heads in the mirror.

You retreated and tried on the next one. This version had poofy sleeves.

“Oh!” Mrs. Dulvaney couldn’t contain her amusement as you came out of the dressing room.

Johnny did not endeavor to control his disgusted expression,

“Creepin’ Jesus! You look like if 1982 was a person, lass. Back in the room with you, mhèirleach! Christ Almighty.”

You shucked off the offending gown and went through the stack. You decided to try on Johnny’s choice, just to shut him up.

It fit like a glove. You didn’t really have the body for slinky gowns like this, but it was as if someone had cut it just for you. The glittery overlay gleamed across a sheer slip, the same color as your skin, making it seem as if all you were wearing were the sparkles themselves. The high collar sat proudly at the base of your neck, and when you turned to see your back in the mirror, you were stunned by how you looked. Pretty.

You swallowed your nervousness and heard Johnny protest,

“You stuck in there, lass? C’mon. Can’t be that bad. Nothing’s as bad as the last one.”

He was laughing as you came out of the room, but when he saw you, he stopped. It was as if you were controlling time itself, and he was frozen in it. Johnny rose to his feet as if to greet you, and the shopkeeper’s eyebrows raised, looking at him and you with a coy smile on her face.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Mrs. Dulvaney commented,

“My word, lovie. Suits you perfectly, it does.”

“Aye…” Johnny agreed, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes swept down your body and back up again, studying every inch.

You smiled, turning in the larger mirror to view the back again,

“Should probably choose one that doesn’t show quite so much skin, perhaps.”

“The front is modest enough, and you could wear your hair down,” the shopkeeper suggested.

Johnny moved toward you as if compelled. He reached over your shoulder for your braid and, ever so gently, pulled your hair tie from it, letting the locks loosen and tumble across your back.

You thought he might step back to get a better view, but he stayed close, right over your shoulder, even going so far as to put a hand on your hip, standing behind you in the mirror, just like two portraits in a frame, his enormous form shielding you from the room. It was just you and him in the mirror, as if you were the only two people in the world.

He stared into your eyes through the looking glass, and you met him there, waiting for his approval. He smiled, a bit shy and out of character,

“Look at you, mo mhèirleach. Stunning.”

You sighed, relieved,

“Well, if it’s not a thousand pounds, I’ll take it.”

Mrs. Dulvaney looked at Johnny before looking back at you,

“Oh, I’m sorry. He already paid for it. I thought… my mistake.”

“Johnny! How much do I owe you?”

He grinned hard enough to make the skin on his nose wrinkle together,

“Don’t listen to her, Mrs. Dulvaney. She likes to carry on sometimes.”

“Hey! I can’t - I don’t want to owe you,” you protested.

“Why?” He spun you around, still holding your hip, “Think I’ll cash it in? Enough of that, thief. You’re starting to sound like my sister.”

“How much did it cost?” You pressed, staring up into those famed blues as bravely as you dared.

His eyes softened, unwilling to war with you,

“You’ve been takin’ care of Pigeon while I’ve been away, and don’t say you haven’t. I know Hamish didn’t fix that leak in the sink. The man’s keen, but he’s no handyman. I dinnae ken just how much you’ve been doing for her until I was here this summer, but I ken it now. So, pull your fangs out of me, thief. Let me pay my own debt, aye?”

Confidently, his hand came up to cradle your cheek, resting against your jaw, smoothing over your skin like wet clay, molding you just so. You leaned into it, forgetting yourself, forgetting the shop, forgetting your promise.

Mrs. Dulvaney reminded you,

“Ahem, shall I get you a wee box?”

“Aye, thank you, love,” Johnny told her, releasing you to get changed. He followed the older woman to the front desk, tactical black in a sea of white lace.

You couldn’t form a coherent thought; it was only Johnny in all of your senses, but you saw your hair tie wrapped around his wrist, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for it back.

He carried the box for you and put it in the boot, securing it under some of his gear.

“Right,” he slammed the back door and leaned over the edge of his huge tire to stare at you, “That’s sorted. Lunch?”

You smiled,

“Alright, as long as we’re back before two.”

He let out an exasperated sigh,

“Don’t worry, lass. I remember the rules.”

You hopped back in the Jeep for a short drive. Winding roads and arching hills followed you just outside of town. He pulled over into what looked like an empty gravel patch and helped you down again.

He didn’t let go of your hand this time. Able to sense your hesitation through the rigidity of your grip, he grinned down at you, squeezing your palm tighter,

“I said I remembered them, not that I agreed. C’mon, this way.”

There was a small dirt path that led into a small clearing, and just through the tree cover you could see the beginnings of an ancient ruin. Broken stone walls and reinforced edges gave way to a sprawling castle.

You gasped,

“What? Where has this been hiding?”

His wide smile couldn’t be contained,

“Land of Kings, lass. Cannae go twenty paces without trippin’ over a wee castle or two. This place does the best kebabs, I swear.”

“Kebabs?” You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Off to the side of the ancient ruins, a small food cart sat steaming with its owner, waiting (it seemed) just for you and Johnny to arrive.

Johnny ordered for you,

“Two lamb and two Iron Brus, please.”

While he waited for the food, you explored a bit, marveling at the old walls, the hints at life, the old fireplace that had half of its chimney still standing. You dared to touch the stones, wondering how many hands had touched the same one before you, wondering if lovers had read sonnets to each other under the eaves of the windows, wondering how many families were born and lived and died among the masonry under your fingertips.

After a while, Johnny found you and jerked his head for you to follow him, his hands full with your lunch.

He led you to a short wall and sat against it. You sat with him, the grass and clover soft beneath your legs. The view was spectacular. You could see most of the grounds, but you could also see down into the town itself. You watched everyone bustle and hurry along with their lives, driving little cars, carrying little bags, all oblivious to your stolen hour with a man who knew the rules and sought to break them.

The man passed your food to you and cracked open your soda. You commented on his choices, teasing him,

“Bit presumptuous of you. What if I didn’t like lamb?”

He glared playfully,

“But you do.”

You laughed,

“Okay, you got me. But, how’d you know?”

“They pay me to be observant, lass. And of all the observant bastards, I’m the best at it,” his tone has turned a bit sour, and you wondered why. You pried, gently,

“Do you like it? The…army?” You lacked the vocabulary to have this conversation.

He took pity on you, smiling softly as he unwrapped his kebab,

“Yeah, I’m good at it. Really good.”

“But do you like it?”

Silence, then a cutting laugh,

“Mm, that’s a hard question, thief.”

You felt like you should apologize, like you shouldn’t have pressed into a bruise that you had no business knowing about. He ate his kebab unbothered, though, and you took another chance,

“Why don’t you want me to call you Soap? Isn’t that your army name?”

Army name? You were kicking yourself for not coming up with something cooler like alias or even call sign. What was wrong with you?

You thought he might laugh, that he might tease you for calling it something so lame. But, he didn’t. He stopped eating, taking a moment to look out over the vista, the wind blowing through the ends of his hair. He didn’t look at you at first, but he replied,

“I don’t want you to call me that because… well. We were pinned down outside of a warehouse one night. Low on ammo, fuckin’ air strike got held back, out of options, ye ken? We could either hold tight and pray the fuckers didn’t find us, or we could make our way through the building. My mate had taken a goddamn bullet to the thigh, so I knew he wasnae waitin’. Cleaned out the whole warehouse on my own. Called me Soap. Not a speck of dirt left alive.”

It was your turn to be silent. The grass wasn’t as soft. The wind, once a gentle breeze, now overwhelmed you. There was an aimlessness to the quaint movements of the townsfolk down below you, a desperation.

You reached out your hand and found his. Perhaps he would pull away, shying from the salve of your touch, but he didn’t. He clutched at you, and you kissed the top of his shoulder experimentally, suddenly full of pluck in your imaginary little kingdom,

“Johnny it is, then.”

“Thank you,” he nuzzled the crown of your head and planted a kiss of his own.

The guilt was still there, haunting you in the shadows, but Johnny’s abject disregard for it had made it small and dulled its teeth. Selfishly, you ignored it while you were in this dreamscape, these ruins, where you were hidden.

You finished lunch and made it back to the car, holding hands through the castle walls as you walked, a thousand years too late to be its lord and lady. Johnny asked about your writing and your poems, and you told him the simple version. You sang with him on the drive. You made it back before two, untangled your fingers from his, and walked into… a catastrophe.

“Babes! There you are!” Pidge’s face was streaked with tears, “Roger’s got class tomorrow, so we have to finish these bloody invites quickly. We’ve got to get him back to Peggy’s before dark. Och, Christ, if it wasn’t two hours away!”

“Hey,” you grabbed her gently by the arms and glanced up at Johnny, “It’s gonna be okay, Pidge. We’ll take care of it, Johnny and me.”

You hated to see her so distraught. There were only 259 invitations. How hard could it be?

“What?” She looked stunned, “You will? Babes, there’s…”

“Two… hundred… fifty-nine…” Johnny laughed, supporting your decision to swoop in and help, “We know, Pigeon. Take the lad home. Give Peg my love, will ya?”

Hamish came around the corner with two duffel bags,

“What’s going on, love?”

Pidge fought back tears of relief as she filled him in,

“They’re going to do the invites, Hammie.”

“All of them?”

“All of them!” You laughed, interrupting her, “If you need to go, just go. Are you staying the night?”

“Yeah,” Pidge sighed, releasing all of her balled up stress, “We’re going to get her fitted in her dress, pick out jewelry, that sort of thing. Oh, gods! Why do you always save the day?”

She hugged you so tight around your neck that you lost your breath, but you hugged her back and whispered into her hair,

“Because I love you, Pidge.”

“And you know where to drop them off?”

You nodded,

“Yes, go on! We’re fine. Roger,” you shook the boy’s hand, “Nice to see you!”

Roger smiled and Johnny hugged him and Pidge and swept them out the door. All of the bustle and chaos subsided, turning into quiet silence once again. He turned to you with a strange look on his face,

“What have you done, thief?”

“I think I just said we’d address 259 invitations.”

“Aye,” he pulled his hands down his face and shook his head, “Red or white?”

You furrowed your brow,

“What?”

“Wine, love. ‘Cause fuck doin’ this shite sober.”

SIX HOURS LATER

“249! This calls for a celebration, mhèirleach,” Johnny cried out, reaching for the second half-drunk wine bottle, refilling both of your cups.

You raised your glass and smiled, watching the pink of his cheeks reach his eyes as he laughed with buzzed joy.

“Ten left,” you sighed, glancing at the clock, “and it only took us… six hours?”

“Christ,” he chuckled, “You and your charity.”

“Forgive me,” you begged, joking with him.

“Always,” his answer was a little more serious than teasing. There was a muted darkness to it that leaned towards suggestiveness.

You stamped 250 and 251, both shipping all the way to Dublin, apparently. Carefully spelling the names across the top, you stole stray glances at your partner, watching as he licked and sealed the edges of 252 and 253.

You’d talked about everything under the sun with him while your fingers bled from paper cut after paper cut. You had two bandaids already, and he had fawned over you, making sure they weren’t applied too tight.

You’d found out a lot about Johnny MacTavish. You learned about his friends, and their funny names. Ghost was a huge Manc with a penchant for masked theatrics on the battlefield. Gaz was a snarky daredevil, and Price was their fearless leader. Hearing about Gaz shooting terrorists upside down from a helicopter was the highlight of your night, and you couldn’t wait to meet them all.

You’d heard about his father who lost his life in Bosnia doing almost the same job as Johnny, and about how Pidge had taken it very hard. You’d known a little about him, since it was usually difficult conversations about their mom’s lost battle with cancer that was the pressure point. You’d met Pidge two years after her death, so you knew a lot about what the family had been through. But, it was rare for Pidge to bring up her father, and now you knew why.

Now, it was just Brigette and Johnny, still living together in their childhood home, frozen in time and yet moving at light speed toward their own separate lives.

You picked up the conversation where it had dropped off, stamping his sealed 253,

“So, Pidge doesn’t want you in your uniform at the ceremony?”

He shook his head dismissively,

“No, she’d come un-fuckin’-glued, she would. I’ve got my kilt, so I’ll be fit, don’t you worry your wee head, thief.”

“I bet you make the kilt look damn good,” you smiled, making a loopy letter L on the next envelope.

You missed his reaction, focused on your letters, but he had paused and you looked up to watch him. His eyes were wild and bright, staring right at you, caught mid-lick on 255.

He didn’t say anything, but his tight grin was reward enough.

256, 257, and 258 went by in a quiet blur, and then he held up 259, triumphant.

He licked it and passed it over to you. You stamped it and tossed it in the box.

“Holy shit,” you laughed.

“Aye,” he sighed, getting up and stretching a bit from sitting so long. Your eyes caught the hem of his shirt as it rose above his navel, showing off abs and a dusting of dark fur.

“You heading out tonight?” You asked, having heard buzz after buzz of notifications on his phone all night long. It was only around eight o’clock; plenty of time for a pub run.

His eyes narrowed down at you, mid-yawn,

“No, why would I?”

“Oh,” you shrugged, trying to brush it off as casually as you could, “I just saw Cherise had texted you and -”

“Love,” he waited for you to look up at him, his huge arms bulging as he leaned back against the countertop, staring you down with a white-hot intensity, “If I wanted to be out with Cherise, I’d be out with Cherise.”

He left the counter and walked over to you slowly, sitting in the chair closest to you, pulling both of your bandaged hands into his, staring down into them like he was trying to divine some sort of truth,

“I know Pigeon thinks she knows best, and for a while, she did. Maybe she still does, on some things. But, on this,” he squeezed your hands, “She has no right to decide what I want for myself. And look - I know I’m not…” he scoffed, “ boyfriend material, or whatever the shite, but when I saw you in the kitchen, stealin’ my shirt, drinkin’ out of my mug, sleepin’ in my bed… I couldnae say no. I’ve been sayin’ no to myself a lot, lass. Lettin’ my whole life rush by me. You hit me like a punch, so you did. Woke me up.”

You held onto every word like it owed you money, watching his face for any signs of the playboy you’d been warned about, but finding only Johnny. It was hard to protest, but your heart was tearing in two thinking about your friend and her brother. You sighed,

“Johnny, I can’t…”

“I know you cannae betray her. I know that. I know you won’t. But, you’ll let me, won’t you? Let me pretend that I can have you, just for tonight. I’m back in Sakhra tomorrow morning, but tonight I’m here with you. Just once, I’d like to know what that feels like.”

“And what happens to me?” You were whispering for some reason, matching his low voice, telling a secret you didn’t know how to keep, “What happens when you’re in Sakhra and I’m still here? Alone.”

He sighed, rucking his hands through his hair and standing up, pacing in the kitchen like he was waiting on bad news. Johnny shook his head, staring at the floor as he admitted,

“I dinnae ken what to do…”

You stood and joined him in the dimly lit kitchen, following some old recipe without a name, kneading dough that shouldn’t rise, baking bread you shouldn’t be breaking. Your hands found his broad, warm chest and you let him curl his arms around you.

“Just tonight, then,” you whispered again, as low as you could so that the angels might not make it out.

His whole body responded to your concession, lighting up like a fire in a hearth,

“Aye, mo mhèirleach, just tonight. And tomorrow, I’ll be gone, and you can call it a dream.”

He bent to kiss you and you dissolved into him like sugar into hot water, syrupy and sticky, cloying and saccharine. You were engulfed in his scent and his heat; he folded in and out of each of your senses, buttery smooth and suffocating. His hands were everywhere all at once, furious in their grasping, and eager to put skin on skin.

You were lifted, like you weighed nothing, frothy and light, spinning against his body until your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked you to his room, shouldering open the door with a cruel shove, suffering no obstacle. You fell, having been released from him, feeling like you would tumble forever downward before bounding on the soft mattress, the same sheets that held your secret sins holding your brazenness now.

You reached for his shirt and his buttons, and you were stopped. He held you, panting and breathless, shaking his head,

“No, thief, not you. Let me.”

Lost and pliant, you let him take you apart, peeling your clothes away, piece by piece, kissing the skin as he revealed it. Your blood rushed through your body, chasing his mouth, pooling in your lower belly, exciting your flesh, swelling your folds. You felt it tingle, and you reached for him again, trying to pull him on top of you.

That was what he wanted, right? What all men wanted. A sheath for their blade? But, oddly enough, he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he shed his shirt and pants, joining you on the bed, his face lingering by your belly, kissing you softly, licking your thighs and leaving little bruises on your hips with his mouth. Johnny finally found his way to your core, much to your aching relief, planting slick, languid kisses against your mons and lips, sucking at their softness.

He moaned like he was the one feeling the pleasure, looping your legs over his arms and moving your body up the bed with a purposeful shove, still suckling from you like a bee from a flower; as if his life depended on his work. You couldn’t help but run your hands through his hair, the silky smoothness of his mohawk too tempting to tug and scratch at his scalp.

If you did, he rewarded you for it. Every tug of his hair earned you a whining groan, and long gentle scratches on his head meant that he would gaze up at you through those long eyelashes with a heady, feral hunger. He lapped at your slick heat, fucking you with his mouth, eating you in a way you hadn’t imagined possible.

You were sobbing out long, growling cries of pleasure, begging him for more and more. He was all too happy to obey. When you came, he would edge you through it, pulling you along the crest of each wave of your pleasure like a buoy through the tide, keeping you afloat so that you might feel each and every salacious ebb of it.

“That’s it, lass. Come for me. Such a sweet cunt, like honey…”

You lost track of time, of everything. The only thing that existed was Johnny’s mouth on your pussy, and you were his prisoner. He could have told you to light yourself on fire and you would have hurried to do it. You were burning anyway. Your body was aching from the tension of coming over and over, sweating into the sheets from your exertion. Typically, he would have been begging for his turn by now, but Johnny was not a typical man.

You tried to stop him. You pulled his mouth away with some difficulty, making him face you, motioning for him to come and take the position his cock had generously earned between your thighs, but his mouth would hear none of it, shaking his head and returning to his post, dutiful and insatiable.

“Johnny, please…I’m - I can’t…” You couldn’t form words.

He smiled at your plight,

“Want another, mo mhèirleach? I’m so close. Give me another, lass. Please.”

He sucked at your clit with a dedicated fury, his hands pulling you in to his mouth, lapping right at your coiled nerves, fraying them, sparking them like kindling. You cried his name, hoarse from doing so, and you watched as his face contorted with pleasure as he thrust his hips into the bed, shamelessly humping the mattress, coming from your ecstasy and the little friction he could find.

Johnny called out for you and you held his hand, looping your fingers in his as you had in the castle, in his car, helping him come down from his high. He panted, recovering bit by bit, slowing his movements, kissing you chastely in all of the spots he’d been torturing.

He crawled up your body, finally, covering you with his hulking mass, sweating and heavy. You were trapped in his arms, your hands feeling his chest hair for the first time, cradling his face, watching him smile from utter bliss.

“Thank you, love,” he kissed you on your mouth, meaning it.

You chuckled, breathless,

“Me? Goddamn. I should be thanking you. Are you sure you don’t need me to…”

You reached your hand down to peel his ruined boxer briefs away from his softening cock, wet and messy from his orgasm on the bed. He caught your hand in his, stopping you,

“No, you cannae break your promise. You haven’t, thief. Dinnae worry. It was me. Just me. I just…needed to know.”

He curled you close to himself, folding you into him completely, and you slept there with him, naked atop the sheets, not caring who might see you.

DAWN OF THE NEXT DAY

You woke before he did, still curled inside of him, cocooned in his warmth like a reluctant butterfly, your wet wings still remembering his sweet work. Your breathing must have changed, because he woke too, looking down at you pleased yet hungry. He kissed you, soft as could be, and his fingers found your pussy just as they had when he’d been half-dreaming of you. Johnny touched you with confident purpose now, whispering in your ear so that you could feel his warm breath inside of it,

“Morning, mhèirleach.”

You gave him Shakespeare, teasing him for his love of poems. It was too fitting not to,

“Morning? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear…”

He was extremely pleased with your offering, raising his eyebrows, wanting you to continue. You did,

“Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: believe me, love, it was the nightingale.”

He put on his best face for remorse, trying to remember his part,

“It was the lark, the herald of the morn. No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks do lace the…uh…

“Severing…” You helped him, smiling like a fool.

“...severing - um… clouds in yonder east…”

“That was good!” You kissed his cheek, rewarding his attempt, and then, sobering, you asked him, “Do you really have to go?”

He became serious with you, sighing into your skin,

“I do. But, I’ll text you all my mornings until we have another, aye?”

“Another? I thought you said we wouldn't…”

“I know what I said, thief.”

You kissed him until the last moment, and the click of his door as he closed it behind him made your heart ache. You lay there wondering about consequences and lovers and families and their houses until the sun sliced through the glass and into your eyes, glossy and full of uncertainty.

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Chapter 06

#cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish smut #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #johnny soap mactavish #guile and guilt

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