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#don’t really like most of it anymore f
ectoplasmer · 2 years
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i knew the confusing side of the whole ancient-egyptian-spirit thing was gonna catch up to me at some point… should I be listing TKB in the f/o list??
I mean technically I’ve been counting him under Yami Bakura, but even with my own interpretation of him I acknowledge that they’re two different people. I can’t even really interact with him in terms of my current world with my f/os, since. y’know. he’s not exactly alive, and the part of him that is lives on with Bakura. Either way, most of Zorc’s influence on Bakura diminished after getting defeated by Atem, so it’s not like him and thief king would even be that different. By this point, Bakura is him, just with the slightly maniacal undertones and kinda put together manners. But he’s also just… not exactly him if that makes sense?? aaa this is confusing >-< i’m just gonna leave the f/o list as it is now and hope people can insinuate that all bakurae apply since… two of them are already on there lol
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actualtoad · 2 years
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my parents are fighting
#it had been a couple days and now my dad is really pissed#im just tired of all of it#im working on writing thank you cards to my teachers but im not feeling any positive energy anymore#so i think im going to just stop for now? but maybe i can finish before i go to sleep#they could keep this up forever though#im going to turn on some white noise because i don’t think i can deal with music right now but i could really use some sounds#anyway im doing okay i just kind of. have to complain to someone when there starts being screaming in my house?#because otherwise i end up feeling like im making it all up but my dad is SCREAMING at my mom calling her boring and unforgiving and#telling her to leave him the f*ck alone. so. that’s the vibe out here#they moved downstairs but the layer of floor does NOTHING. wait do you know what my dad sounds like#marlin when he’s yelling at nemo like toward the beginning of the movie my dad sounds like him#making the most of a bad situation with movie references#anyway i really want my dad to leave HER the f*ck alone actually. he’s calling her malevolent but he’s the one yelling and intimidating her#it’s not. fair. to decide that she’s a terrible problem when this is what happens whenever he gets upset at her. i just want her to get out#honestly. and i want them to get back divorcing please!!!! why did you guys stop doing that it was a good friggin idea#i told my mom that i didn’t want them to. back when she was first talking about it. but now i really wish she had#we can’t really afford for her to have her own apartment though so idk what would even happen. i just want it to end#anyway im fine but just. yeah. im going to turn on some music i think actually. and i think keep writing#me. my post. mine.#delete later#vent cw#don’t let me kill the mood this is just. a general vent because it’s kind of infuriating having this constantly in the periphery#i want a hug. and im tired. and i want to go home. but. im okay and im going to listen to music and everything’s fine
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kingkonoha · 6 months
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“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”
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Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡
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Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.
The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.
As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.
Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.
“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”
“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.
“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”
“There’s a ring on your finger.”
Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”
“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”
“I am.”
“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.
“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”
“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”
Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.
“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”
“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.
“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.
“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”
“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”
“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.
After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.
“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”
“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”
“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.
“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”
Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.
“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”
“Okay, we-”
“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.
While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.
Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.
He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.
He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.
He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.
And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.
But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.
And he felt loved.
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— PART III —
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drunkhazed · 3 months
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shiny & new (l. hs)
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pairing. heeseung x female reader
genre. stuck under a bed AU(bc why not), very fictional very silly, crack, gamer Heeseung, pw-barely any-p, M/F, one shot
warnings. profanity, unrealistic scenario, size queen y/n, slightly dubious, friends who f***, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 7000
now playing. like a virgin//madonna
smut warnings. teasing, degradation, rimming, spanking, thigh fucking, unprotected rough sex, painful sex but y/n can take it💪
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・
These mangas get more and more ridiculous, not that you really care.
As dumb as these scenarios can get, you can’t deny the smile they put on your face, or how tight your thighs squeeze together as you continue to read.
“Aw come the fuck on!” Heeseung slaps down on his desk, long occupied in a heated game and clearly much too engulfed to pay you much attention. 
Why’d he even invite you over? He’s been gaming for hours now, and sure, maybe you mostly invited yourself but he didn’t have to agree if he had no genuine interest in hanging out.
“Ugh, so annoying..” huffing loudly, you turn to the side, burying against his bed into a cozier position. It’s always like this as of late, despite the effort you put into dressing up in your cutest and most revealing outfits. Heeseung hardly even replies when you text him anymore, never compliments the new clothes you wear, hasn’t even acknowledged once how you’ve been wearing his favorite color more often.
It’s not necessarily his fault that you decided to catch feelings. The sudden realization smacked you across the face out of nowhere one day while you tussled and fought over the last sour punch strip with your best friend, landing on his back beneath you, smiling and laughing while you struggled to push his shoulders down to keep him held in place.
‘You never let me have anything!’ You shrieked, inadvertently sitting your center down on his stomach and groin.
‘Why should I let you have anything?!’ Heeseung laughed, gripping onto your hips, jostling you up as he worked to escape. The shift slid your core back, biting down on your tongue when you felt it, not even hard; limp and girthy lodged between your thighs. 
‘You want it?’ He grinned cockily, red sour punch hanging from between his lips, eyebrow arched suggestively. ‘Come get it!’
Come get it.
He really got in your head from that moment on. Some may say you are the ridiculous one for always comparing your hookups and striving to find someone bigger. It shouldn’t be something you obsess over this much, but everyone told you for years that your first time should be special, because it will never feel that way again. 
While you knew all the warnings and concerns after years of lectures from your parents and your friends sharing their experiences with you, nothing could have prepared you for your first time.
Sunghoon had been more nervous than you, mumbling and stuttering about how he’s not technically a virgin, but he’s never been able to go through with the full act.
‘Why not?’ You asked, continuing to flirt with him and rile up his nerves even more, kissing and sucking along his throat. 
‘I think—‘ he laughed breathily, bushy eyebrows pinched together as he struggled to remain in control of himself. ‘I’m like, too big.’
‘What???’ You remember pulling away stunned, quickly scoffing and shoving at him. ‘Don’t be annoying, if you’re worried about not doing good it’s okay. I have no one to compare you to anyway.’
‘I’m being serious!’ Sunghoon’s fair cheeks grew dark with a pink flush, the blush spiking to his ears, even visible in the dark backseat of his car. ‘I feel so bad too, but they always ask me to pull out before I can finish and—I don’t want to hurt you..’
I don’t want to hurt you.
The memory alone always makes your tummy warm, not because it was sentimental by any means, but because it did hurt. Fuck, it hurt like hell.
It hurt so bad that Sunghoon begged to stop when you refused and wrapped your legs around him tighter, screaming between your teeth as you kicked at the backs of his thighs and dug your nails into his shoulders insisting he keep fucking you.
Yeah it hurt, left you sore for days, had you limping from class to class the next day, but it hurt so damn good.
Your first time wasn’t special because you shared this amazing once in a lifetime special moment with him, it wasn’t special because he was the first love of your life, it wasn’t special for any of the bullshit reasons you hear other girls spew on about. Your first time triggered something in you that you didn’t even know existed, biting at your nails as you sat before your computer screen in the middle of the night searching through various adult videos that ranged from first time taking a big cock to descriptive inches.
Sunghoon had to be at least 7-8 inches hard if you compare to these 9-10-even bigger dicks before you, giggling manically to yourself as you wondered how much you can take.
Park Sunghoon was no small feat for your first time, rounds of gasps passed around you when you mentioned it casually over lunch a few days later. Many of your friends saying you’re a liar, and there’s no way you took that monster your very first time.
‘What? Like it’s hard?’ You said with a smug grin, chin perched on your palm, scanning over the football field.
‘What about Jay? He’s big too, right?’
An appalled round of gasps and disgusted sounds emitted from the group around you, one of your friends exclaiming that you must be clinically insane.
‘It doesn’t even feel good when it’s that big.’
Weak, they’re all just weak.
But you, you’re different, because while the ache and pain had others running away with their tail tucked between their legs out of fear, you only craved for more.
That’s how you ended up in Jay’s bed later that week, eyes rolled up as you mentally marked every inch passing inside of you, every bit of his girth stretching you open.
It was good, it was great, but even so you needed more. The quest for monsterous cock had taken you to places you wouldn’t even enter with a gun- like the nastiest frat house that Jake belonged to. 
Granted, he didn’t make it easy for you by any means, but he was still thicker and longer than your previous conquests, who cares if he insisted on fucking you on the pool table where anyone could watch. 
They’d all been great, making your chest tighten from each stored memory, but little did you know your own best friend had more to offer than any of them.
‘I’m shocked you’ve never gone after Hee, I know that’s your best friend and all, but he’s so your type.’
‘Heeseung doesn’t fuck, he’s too busy gaming.’
‘Oh, Heeseung absolutely fucks. He’s not a guy I’d want to toy around with either, heard he has an actual third leg to walk on.’
‘You’re full of it.’
You had no trouble brushing that conversation aside, until the day you felt it. 
Heeseung managed to throw you down onto your back, biting into the sour punch with a huge accomplished grin, the girth lodged between your thighs beating softly, as if each pulse running through his body had a rush of endorphins passing through. Letting out a tired grunt, he slapped the side of your thigh, tsking and calling you pathetic for giving up that easily.
He didn’t acknowledge the lost look behind your gaze, or even take note of how much longer you laid there on the floor in a daze, brain expanding as every rumor and locker room conversation about your best friend’s cock reemerged, rushing toward you like a ton of arrows shot from Cupid himself. 
With your knees locked together, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, pacing back and forth in disbelief. 
There’s no way he’s bigger than Sunghoon, or Jay, and definitely not bigger than Jake.
Curiosity itched its way throughout your body, returning to your best friend's bedroom just to admire him as if you’d discovered a rare mythical creature.
This whole fucking time, right under your nose, the fattest cock in town? What are the chances.
That only annoyed you further each time you attempted to come onto him hard, brushed aside playfully. He’s never been one to flirt back with you, not even as a joke, but now as you laid on his bed more frustrated than ever, you start to wonder why.
Why the fuck won’t he fuck me!
Letting out a big dramatic sigh, you flop onto your back, rolling your eyes when he continues to scream and shout about whatever stupid game he’s playing.
“Heeeeeeee,” the whiniest tone emits, setting your phone down to twist at your waist, ass perched out knowing your skirts shoved up high enough to unveil your panties. “I’m boredddddd.”
Continuing to yell and shout obscenities, he waves you off, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “There’s no way that stupid game is more important than me!”
“I’m almost done! You’re breaking my focus!” He snaps, the side of face twitching from grinding his teeth together. “Shut up will you?”
Ugh.
Asshole.
Seriously, why did you even bother with this guy.
It’s not as if you have a silent competition going on with yourself that you can take bigger, that you can take more. It’s not as if you daydream about chasing that first time feeling one more time, greedily craving the way your body lit up in flames when your first orgasm from a real cock hit. Desperately trying to recreate it over and over again until you found yourself weeping pathetically, cursing every dildo and bad porn that couldn’t ever match up.
Why would Heeseung be able to help you anyway? So what if his dick is huge? Maybe it’s time to start crashing parties at the next college over, there’s too many dicks in the sea for you to keep swimming around this one, or whatever that saying is your mom would always repeat whenever one of your crushes showed up with a new girlfriend.
Plenty of fish in the sea darling.
Close enough.
Fuck this. Besides, what are you thinking? Heeseung of all people? Your perfect best friend who excels at everything? So oblivious to how attractive he is that you imagine punching the daylights out of him sometimes? Why would you willingly put yourself through the possible heartache that hooking up with your bestie could lead to?
Grabbing your phone, you turn back to face away from him, skirt completely pushed up to your waist; stealing one last look over your shoulder at where he sits hunched over the computer table with a focused look. 
Looking that good and hiding a monsterous cock inside of your sweats should be fucking illegal. That’s why you’d ruin your friendship, because if Heeseung really wanted to, you’d never deny him a thing.
If only you could get stuck under something like the female lead in this silly manga, acting so helpless and sad that she can’t wiggle her way out from under this couch. You have to giggle, wondering how you even ended up on this page, immediately engulfed by the story of two men discovering their step-sister trapped beneath the living room couch.
The two of them had no true intention of helping her, only sharing amused smiles behind her back, petting her butt and taunting her for being dumb enough to land herself in such a predicament. You had to giggle, kicking your feet the more you read on and the more absurd all of the situation became. 
“Now why are her shorts coming off?” You snort, phone flopping from your hand as a loud clap of skin on skin erupts and a stinging pain shoots up from your ass. “Ah!”
“What the hell are you reading? Perv.” Heeseung asks in an amused tone, jumping onto the bed to reach for your phone.
“Hee, what the fuck! No!” In a panic you scramble to sit up, ass shoved back to push him aside and block his chance to get around you. The position could only be something straight out of hentai, bent over with your skirt shoved up over your hips, jutting back to keep him away from your phone. “Stop it asshole!”
A loud boisterous laugh surrounds you, grabbing your phone right as his chest presses to your back and rumbles against you, hand laid over yours. “Is that what gets you off? Fucking animated porn?”
“Oh, because you act like I haven’t seen your collection of big milker hentai dvds that you think you’re doing an amazing job of hiding behind your games!” You retort, failing to elbow him while trying to keep your phone out of his grip.
“You could just let me know that you want to borrow them instead of snooping.” He snickers, fully bending over your back to grab your wrists with both of his hands. “Come on, don’t be such a baby. Let me see what has you desperate enough to be reading porn on my bed.”
“I was bored!!” You whine much too loud, growing embarrassed the more you struggle under his weight and watch as your fingers slowly slip down the screen. “Come on! Stop!”
Heeseung’s always been such an annoying shit when it comes to joking around. He has to have the last laugh, he has to be triumphant, just like he had to eat the last sour punch. The long rod pressed against your ass jumps forward right as he snatches your phone, shouting out a successful ‘ah-hah!’
“Heeseung!” You shout petulantly, twisting under his hips to lunge at his chest, tackle him down onto his back. “You know I don’t like it when you touch my phone!”
He pauses to blink up at you, wide glossy eyes batting slowly, shoving his lips into a pout. “Why? Worried I’ll judge you for flirting with one of those gross frat boys again? Who is it this time?” He hums, swiping the phone screen to open your text messages. “Hopefully not Jake after that shit you let him pull last time.”
“Ugh!” More annoyed at the mention of your last escapade, you growl and move to steal back your phone, inadvertently slapping it away from him onto the bed. “Quit fucking around!”
Jumping off of him, you move to crawl quickly for the device, halted once again by your friend's figure laying on top of you. Two sets of hands slap together, both of you swatting for the phone until it reaches the ledge of his bed and hangs over halfway. “I don’t have a screen protector!”
Right on queue, your phone tumbles off the bed and skids out of sight, turning you both silent and wide eyed as you watch it slide under the bed. “Great!” You scoff, rutting back to get him off of you. “If my phone is broken, you’re paying for it! Jerk!”
Heeseung sighs, mumbling about how dramatic you are as he follows you off the bed and watches you fall to your knees without bothering much to fix your skirt. It’s nothing shocking to see you dressed scantily clad these days, it seems each time you come over as of late you have less and less clothes on than the last time. 
“The least you can do is help me get my phone!”
He chuckles, nodding and squatting down behind you, setting a palm on your lower back. “Don’t think I’m not onto you.”
“What??”
“I saw what you were reading, had a minute to get the idea.” He snickers, pushing against your back. “This must be a turn on for you.”
“What?!” You shriek, banging your head under the bed. “Ah shit!”
Heeseung laughs louder, patting your exposed butt. “Quit fucking around, I gotta log back on for a game soon.”
“I’m not fucking around, jerk.” You groan, reaching for your phone, fingertips a few inches too short to touch it. “It’s too far! Why is your damn bed so huge.”
“Because,” he says, adjusting himself closer behind you, hips flush against your bottom. “I’m huge.”
He didn’t mean it that way. There’s no way he could have meant it that way.
Unless he did.
Taking a long gulp, you huff and try to inch forward. Unable to lift your chest off the floor much between the small space. A loud ripping tear stops your struggle, pausing with wide eyes. “No no no! I love this shirt!”
“What’s taking so long?” Heeseung says annoyed, smacking your hip again. “What did I tell you?”
“Shut up! My shirt just ripped!” Flailing your legs, you fail to kick at him, only further cutting into the fabric of your top. “God damnit!”
The laugh he lets out rings out much more irritated, shaking his head as he grips onto your hips. “Alright alright, you’ve had your fun. Don’t make me kick you out of my room though, hurry up and get out from under there.”
“God Hee, I can’t!” The sudden realization hits you, shimmying back only for your top to constrict around your neck and shoulders. The ripped garment leaves you in an awkward position with your arms stretched forward, neck trapped in a breath stealing chokehold. “I.. I think I’m stuck!”
Heeseung lets out a howling laugh this time, followed by a round of tongue clicks, clapping down on your hips with heavy palms. “You’re really getting on my nerves today. What are you scheming here? Trying to recreate your cartoon porn??”
“I’m being serious! My shirts caught up in the box springs!! Hee, come on, help me! It’s hot under here.” Starting to pant, you sway to press your bottom further against his crotch. Blinking around under the area, noting that it’s at least not a mess, shockingly. Other than your phone and a few old shoe boxes, not much took up the space. 
Heeseung hums, thinking about the smile on your face as he watched you scroll and read about step-siblings seducing each other. What a funny situation to land yourself in now, trapped under his bed, claiming to be stuck just like the girl with tiny shorts on had.
He tries to not judge your behavior, even after all those asshole frat guys spread around videos of that Jake guy fingering you on a pool table. You were fast to change the subject when he’d mentioned it once anyway.
You always steered the conversation away from your sexual endeavors, only catching on over time whenever he’d notice a new dick pic on your phone while snooping over your shoulder. Jay seemed to love sending shots of his cock next to something for reference, a can of shaving cream, a ruler to prove his size, and his flexed veiny forearm. What a douche.
Being your best friend, he never wanted to invade your privacy beyond what you willingly choose to share with him. So if you didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t either. Even if it annoyed him to no end whenever he’d spot you in the hallways flirting with some new guy, even when his other friends asked him if it's true.
‘If what’s true?’
‘There’s been talk going around, she’s a real slut that one.’
‘Yeah a cock slut.’ Another voice spoke up, belonging to Park Sunghoon. ‘Take it from me, I had to the honor of turning her out for the first time. The way that girl takes dick can only be described as pornographic.’
A real cock slut. That’s the type of reputation you’ve earned for yourself around campus from what Heeseung gathered. 
Now with his clothed length twitching against the seam of your ass, he has to shake his head. Unbelievable is what you are, landing yourself on all fours, conveniently stuck under his bed like some type of perverse mastermind. 
“You’re stuck, huh?” He asks, sucking a deep breath between his teeth. What a shame if you truly are stuck, because all he really has to do is lift the bed up, give you space to free yourself. But watching you squirm beneath his large bed tickles a new part of him, one that has always secretly fantasized of all the various vile ways he’d ruin you. Turn you into a real cock loving whore, not whatever bullshit the different guys you’ve fucked think they’ve done.
“Y-yes,” you say full of exasperation, already sounding choked up. “Why—why aren’t you helping me?!”
“Because.” Heeseung hums, looping his fingers beneath the straps of your panties resting along your hips. “That’s not what you want, now is it?”
“Hee, what’re you—ah!”
The thin strings of your underwear snap, stinging much like the slaps landing down on your ass that follow. “I can’t get you out of there so easily, you’re really stuck.” He coo’s, palms sliding from your lower back to your upper thigh. 
“No—no, you have to figure out a way!”
“Hmm,” he agrees silently, cupping under your buttcheeks to squeeze. “Valid point. Tell me something, how do they get her out from under that couch in your little cartoon porn?”
“I—I don’t know! I didn’t get to the end!”
“You read those stories enough.” Heeseung’s thumbs swipe between the dip in your ass, gliding over the thin damp cloth covering your core. “How do you think they would resolve that issue? Give me some ideas here to help you out of there, tell me how they get their baby step-sister free?”
Fuck. He read way more than you realized. 
It’s more embarrassing to know he was reading along with you over your shoulder than the awkward predicament you’ve found yourself in. The level of comfort that's developed between the two of you over years has made scenarios that would be embarrassing around anyone else seem like nothing with Heeseung. 
“It’s not cartoon porn!” You screech, feeling it necessary to add, sighing as you adjust to relieve your shoulders for a minute. “Pleaseee just help me! This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” He chuckles, tongue clicking. “Well if that’s how you want to play, then I really have no reason to help you. This is my fault huh?”
“Don’t be a dick Hee, come onnnn, I’m begging here!”
“What do I get out of this? You know I need an incentive.”
There’s no way he’s pulling this shit right now. Heeseung’s not a guy I’d toy around with. Those words ring throughout your head, shaking them away as a lightbulb switches on and you take a deep breath. 
“An incentive? You want a prize?” You ask coyly, lifting your hips to rock against him. The bulge pressed to your ass feels firmer, warmer, indicating he has to be feeling some type of arousal by now. 
“What type of victory can you provide me in this position?” He drawls out, distracted by the ripple that passes up your ass with each bounce back against him. “I can think of a few.”
Gripping the fleshy meat lining your hips for a minute, he digs in until crescent moon nail indentations appear. “I want something no one’s ever had.” Biting down on his lower lip, he trails back between your buttcheeks, thumb dipping into the space covering your rim. 
The shocked gasp you let out has his chest vibrating with a low quiet laugh, prodding your panties deeper against your tight clenched hole. 
“Y-you can’t just level up that easily!—you h-have to get through the other obstacles f-first.” You stammer, belly tightening up at the thought. If Heeseung is truly the thick long monster you’ve been having wet dreams over- there’s absolutely no way you can take him up the ass like this.
“Touché.” He says amused, tugging your underwear up higher to wedge between your buttcheeks, sucking at the saliva around his tongue loudly. “What’s the highest score so far?”
The highest score. It takes a minute to register what he’s implying, half lost in your arousal and half annoyed that he hasn’t tried to fuck you yet. Jake. Jake’s the highest, right?
“That fuck boy frathead…” you mutter, wiggling when you feel him tug on your panties roughly, chaffing the material against your clit. “9 and a hal—I mean, a score of 9 point 5.”
Heeseung’s breathing grows heavy, drawing your panties further up until they squeeze between your cunt. Taking in a shallow gust of air as he notes how wet you are already, soaking right through the seat of your underwear from teasing alone. “Not even a 10? What a shame.”
“Can you beat that?” You ask snarkily, spreading your knees apart further to arch your back in deeper. “Or are you really all talk?”
The stretch he has your underwear in turns menacing, ripping through the seams as he draws them higher up and watches your folds swell up around the material. “Easily, that’s nothing compared to me.”
A flutter of excitement passes up your limbs, because even if Heeseung’s all talk- boy does he know how to talk. Stupid gamer nerd, turning you on by just sitting at his computer chair shouting at a screen, talking shit through a headset. 
“Trust me,” the warmth pressed to the backs of your thighs disappears, replaced by cool air and a quick tug pulling your panties down to your knees. “I’ve already won.”
Breath blows across your rim, drawing your spine into a deeper bow as you scramble to scratch at the floor and let out a low moan. “Sounds like a bunch of talk to me.”
A strike lands across your ass, roughly landing a succession of slaps that resound throughout the room, jerking your back up to bang against the bed. “Ah! That hurts!”
“You like it when it hurts.” He leers, groping your buttcheeks until the fat seeps between his digits. “That’s what everyone says about you, you have to know that.”
Everyone says about me? Rolling your eyes, you open your mouth to tell him off, losing your balance at the first swipe of tongue circling your hole. “Oh fuck.”
“You’re real fucking wet right now,” he mumbles, voice vibrating against your rim. Suctioning his lips as he kisses at the wrinkled muscle, tongue flicking out between words. “Is that all for me? You’ve heard about me too then, right?”
It’s not often anyone spends this amount of time eating your ass, a few apprehensive licks, a couple curious touches and thumbs pressing just to see if your hole will give. No ones ever bold enough to actually bury their tongue in like this, the new feeling has your thighs shaking, gritting your teeth to not clench up. Heeseung’s mouth deserves as much of a reputation as his dick gets, pushing deep into your asshole without a care in the world. He’s so so so fucking deep, huffing against your neglected cunt, nose pressed against your ass. 
Gurgled moans slip free, resting your head on the floor to feel some relief against your cheek emitting from the cool hardwood. It’s almost more enjoyable than having your pussy ate, if not for how ridiculously horny you feel right now. Biting down on your lip to stop the cries and whimpers from getting louder.
“I always knew we’d end up like this.” Heeseung says, vocals sounding wet and breathy, plastering kisses up and down, teasingly lapping across your rim. “Somehow I always knew you’d get on your knees for me like nothing but a fucking cock slut.”
If you weren’t literally stuck in place you’d find the will to fight back, tussle around and make him pay for speaking to you this way, but in this vulnerable position, you really could care less. He can’t see you nodding your head, or the groveling face you make while sputtering out nonsense and repeated yesyesyes. Something about your best friend talking to you like nothing but a hole to fuck and use, nothing but a source to get him off, really sends strong jolts of pleasure up your spine. “Hee, please—I wanna be your—your slut.”
“Yeah?” He slaps your ass harder, rushing blood up to the surface, tingling stings down to your thighs. “After this, you will be. Nothing but my slut. Mine to fuck and breed whenever I damn please.” 
“Fuck, you’re really—“ the demeaning remark you’re ready the lash back with rolls off your tongue, dropping your head flat to the floor as he wiggles through your butt and adds a finger, stretching your hole more than you’ve ever experienced before.
“I know you real good, you know.” He spits, dropping a wad of saliva down on your wrinkled muscle. Shoving it in knuckle deep to make the glide easier. “I know what you want, don’t think I haven’t noticed how desperate you’ve been acting.”
Heeseung holds your ass apart, running his face up and down shamelessly, tongue hung out like a thirsty dog laving up the residue of his spit left behind. “But this isn’t what you want.” He acknowledges, grabbing onto your hips firmly to set you higher on your knees. Leaving your pussy fully exposed, dripping rivets of arousal down your inner thighs. “This.”
Sitting back up straight on his knees, he presses to your core, clothed hard cock prominent enough to feel through the material of his sweats. “This is what you want.”
“Yeah, that’s,” you breathe out shallowly, pleading wantonly. “That’s what I want.”
He won’t say it, not yet, but it’s what he wants too. Never wanting to be the first to change the dynamic of your relationship, he held himself back, stayed out of your business, kept his opinions to himself. None of those guys would ever be good enough for you in his eyes, because truthfully whenever he tried to imagine a perfect boyfriend for you, he’d always end up envisioning himself. Who better than him, he knows you better than anyone, knows your likes and dislikes, and knows that you’ve always had an obsession with pushing your limits no matter what it may be. 
“I know that’s what you want.” He says earnestly, the sound of a zipper following, met with the warmth of his shaft wedged up against your core. “You like it real big, don’t you baby?”
“Ah, Seungie.. yes, yesyes!” The mere feel of his cock gliding between your thighs has your chest caving in, eyes fluttering shut as you fully realize just how thick he really is. Thick enough to nearly push your knees open if not for his palms sliding down your thighs to encase your legs around his cock. Positioning you perfectly to squeeze and soak around his size, he starts to work a rhythm up between your thighs, thrusting in and out to the fat tip until your folds give and part around him, sandwiching him in a wet heat that has his lower back pinching.
“Fuck!” He growls out from behind you, sounding muffled under his bed where you struggle to catch your breath, feeling closed in. Each moan and grunt he lets slip free drives you closer to the ledge, head hung between your shoulders lazily. Remembering all the times you’ve gotten excited watching him scream and shout while gaming, silently wishing he’d yell at you next.
“Hee, please please, get me out of here. I’m going crazy!” You couldn’t sound more pitiful, strained and watery as you beg. Thighs trembling with each clap slapping against your lower half. He’s relentless, fucking between your thighs until your clit aches, swollen and neglected of what you really want. What you really need. “Wanna see you.. wanna see your pretty face.”
“W-wanna see me?” He sounds more broken than you would have expected. Aiming messily between your clamped thighs as if he’s racing to win something, fixated on the way your ass bounces back against him with each unforgiving collision of his pelvis ramming against you. “Make me c-cum first, and I’ll get you o-out.”
“Fuck oh my god,” you whimper, doing your best to keep your knees locked together. The brink of your release approaches faster with each filthy moan he lets out, shutting your eyes as you picture his face. Head thrown back lost in pure bliss, long neck arched and coated with a thick sheen of sweat, pink lips parted wet with saliva. You needed to see him, watch his face crumple when he first enters you, savor each sound that pours from his lips. “Cum for me, p-please cum on my ass!”
A deep raspy groan cascades down your body, falling limp as he thrusts faster and jackhammers against you. Determined to do exactly that, rushing to reach his orgasm and spill all over your juicy ass. “Yeah? Want my cum marked all over you, claim you like my god damn slut.”
“Yes p-please! Make me your slut, wanna be your slut!” You cry out, eyes rolling up from the friction rocked back and forth across your clit. “N-need your big cock, need it!”
Heeseung shouts, smacking your ass roughly and gripping on hard enough to leave marks of his fingers behind for days. Pulling out he slaps down on your ass, thick wet cock landing heavily on top of your rim. White strings shoot from the tip, painting your lower back and between you butt as he eases back and groans. Stomach twitching hard from breathing heavily, watching with his mouth hung open as thick pools of cum run from your asshole to your entrance, bubbling around the wet slick there. 
“Seungie pleaseeeee get me out!”
He smirks, nodding even though you can’t see, cooing and patting your ass. “I almost want to leave you like this, can use you whenever I wanna get off.”
The idea is tempting, but you just beg too cutely. Sitting up on his knees he moves to pick up the bed frame, watching your upper half lift from where your shirt stays attached to his bed.
“My shirt!” You squeak, kicking your feet.
“Fuck the shirt, come on, get out from under there!” Heeseung demands, arms starting to shake the longer you try to salvage the ripped garment.
“Ugh, I loved that shirt.” You complain, removing yourself and backing away with a pout. Arms crossed over your chest because of course you went braless today, as you do most days when you plan to see your best friend.
“Fuck the shirt.” He repeats, dropping the bed with a loud thud. Moving forward to cup your cheeks and look over the tear stains tracking your cheeks. “Already crying, you really think you can take it?”
“Of course I can.” Confidently you push him down onto the floor, forcing his arms up to get his shirt off and shove your skirt aside. “You seriously think you’re that big?”
“I know I am.” He says with a grin, moving his arms behind his head to watch you straddle his hips.
There’s apprehension running across your face as you pick up his length from the center, lips nervously pulled back tight. 
He’s big, arguably the biggest. If you had time to measure, you’d bet money he’s over 10 inches..
“Scared?” He speaks up, breaking your concentration. Quickly you shake your head and lift your hips to line the tip to your entrance.
“I’ve taken bigger.” Sure, you’re lying, but why would he know that. Maybe the hiss you let out when he first breaches your hole gives you away, more wet than ever it shouldn’t hurt this much. Each inch feels like it’s stretching you to your limits, having to pause and take deep breaths the more you struggle to lower yourself. Shivering, teeth chattering by the time you manage to get past halfway.
He grunts under you, reaching to cup your hips. “Come on.” He encourages with a pinch, gently patting the skin after. “You can do it.”
It shouldn’t make your heart flutter, essentially being told you can take cock, but it does. Another deep breath has you going further down, letting out a loud gasped moan when you finally reach the hilt. Tummy sucked in, arms shaking as you reach for his chest to brace yourself and roll your hips experimentally.
Heeseung gets tired of watching you rock against him slowly, can’t take it anymore when he sees the space between your hips bulging out with each swivel you give. Reaching for your waist, he scoops you up and falls over to the side, turning your bodies without drawing free from your cunt. “That’s not how you take cock.”
Lifting one of your legs up, he changes the angle, leaving the back of your knee perched on his shoulder as he draws free and reaches for your hair to fist a wad at the crown. “Think you can take cock like a real slut?”
The new position has your back arching up, head shaking as you watch him pull out inch by inch until only the very end of his cock remains inside. The long girth throbs, visibly pulsating with a coat of your arousal painted all the way up to his lower stomach. “W-what?” You mutter, unable to even shake your head out of confusion with the firm grip he has on you to make you watch.
“Train you to take nothing but my dick from now on, no one else will ever be good enough for you now.” He means every word, slowly sinking in until half of his length disappears. Kissing the backs of his teeth, he watches your mouth fall open, drool trickle out from the corners. Eyes wide in disbelief as you watch your cunt get stretched out to take the width and length bigger than any you’ve had before.
“S’too—too much!” You stammer out, making a mess of spit roll down your chin. “C-can’t, please!”
“You can.” Heeseung’s breaths come out short, eyebrows furrowed like this is hurting him too, because it is. It’s taking everything in him to not fuck into you fast and hard the way his thoughts are screaming at him to. “Look at how good you’re opening up for me.”
The arm outstretched gripping onto your hair shakes to make sure you’re watching each inch sink in, simultaneously letting out moaned sighs of relief when he reaches balls deep. 
“S-so full, fuck I’m full.” You say incoherently, tongue too heavy in your mouth to properly speak anymore. 
Heeseung attests how full you actually are, sliding his free hand down your stomach to feel the hint of bulge there, thrusting up against his touch and groaning at the way you convulse around him when he does. “Full of me baby, feels good doesn’t it? No one fucks you like this.”
He pulls out completely a few more times to make you really feel every inch, each vein, all the small ridges lining his length before hoisting your other thigh up. 
“S-slow!! Hurts, you’re too big!” You manage to mumble out brokenly, biting on your lip hard enough to draw blood. He folds you up into a mating press easily, limbs limp, feet dangling in the air with each bruising slap of his hips hitting your ass. Filling your insides up enough to rearrange them if he pleased. 
It’s that feeling again, that feeling you’ve been chasing after ever since the first time. That rush of pain and heat that shifts into pleasure, slicking up more around his length, earning a mumbled ‘that’s it’ as you start to moan and your eyes roll back up. You feel out of body and like you’ve lost your mind for a moment, toes curled and unable to breathe. Unable to even focus on anything other than the stretch and fullness between your thighs.
Heeseung finally lets go of your hair, cupping your jaw to take in the lost dreamy glazed look that’s taken over your gaze, licking up the trail of drool from your chin. “Such a good cock sleeve for me baby.” He says raspily, pressing kisses to your lower and upper lip. “Too good, trying to make me cum too fast.”
“Hee..” it’s the wrinkled skin between your eyebrows, the glowing flush staining your cheeks, the tears threatening to spill out with each brutal thrust. Sitting up, he lets your legs flop from his shoulders, curling around your thighs to thrust in hard a few more times without tearing his gaze away from yours.
The tip of his cock hits deep, hitting that spot inside of you better than anyone has ever managed to. Tears river down, mouth hung open in silent scream, reaching for his hands as you both still and savor the wash of pleasure pulsing around him. The wetness that can’t even break out around the fullness that’s plugging you up.
Heeseung’s pretty features contort, holding back his need to cum just to fully enjoy yours. To store every touch, scent, look, each small movement in his memory. He pulls out once you calm, stroking himself over your wrecked cunt until he’s thoroughly painted your mound and folds, dipping his finger in to push and smear the mess between.
“Fuck that was..” he sighs, falling to your side, head shaking from side to side.
“Yeah..” you think you respond, the room still spinning. Even with cum drying on you from front to back, you can’t help but feel new. Shiny and new, like none of those other guys had ever even fucked you before. Heeseung made it feel like the first time again, even better..
“What are you doing?” You ask, eyes squinted as you spot Heeseung coming around from the other side of his bed with your phone in hand. 
“Getting your phone.” He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes playfully before laying back down by your side with a groan. “We should probably move to the bed.”
“Not going to kick me out?”
“Why would I kick you out, you practically live here.” He scoffs, nudging your shoulder while entering your passcode in, not even bothering to hide that he knows it by heart. “Let’s find out how your cartoon porn ends.”
“It’s not—“ huffing, you let out an annoyed sigh, turning to rest your head on his shoulder. “Whatever.”
“Huh, look at that.” He grins, tapping the screen. “They both fucked her ass.”
“At the same time?!?”
“No no, that’d be too much.. even for a cartoon.” With a cocked eyebrow, he turns to look at you inquisitively. “You know what that means.”
“Uh, no?”
He lets out a long drawn out groan, sitting up and slapping your thigh. “Means I have to fuck your ass now.”
“You’re an idiot..”
Delivering a harsher smack, he snaps his fingers, signaling for you to get up. “Get on the bed, now.”
You gawk up at him incredulously, cowering into yourself out of fear of taking his monstrous cock in another hole, let alone one that’s never been penetrated. “Maybe next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah.. you know, when new games come out you have to go discuss them with all your loser gaming friends online. You can’t just go in blindly and expect to be a pro..”
He hums in thought, contemplating what you’re saying for a minute. “That’s a good point.” He squats down, patting your cheek. “But I’m the ace, and I never lose anything.”
The squabble you should have had in the first place kicks in, bouncing onto your feet to get away from him as he chases you around his bedroom, mostly circling the bed. 
“Hee! Come onnnn!” You pant, out of breath and exhausted, slipping on his bed while trying to take a shortcut, only to have your arms trapped behind your back.
“Are you going to let any of those morons treat you like a slut again?” He says in a serious tone, landing a burning slap on your ass. 
“Ah fuck! No! I won’t!”
“You promise?” It comes out a little more desperate and pleading than intended, tugging at something on the left side of your chest. Succumbing to defeat you collapse against his bed, jerking from another slap and nodding. 
“I promise.. only you.”
“Good.” Warm kisses trail up from your shoulder to your neck, nipping at your earlobe. “Friends don’t break promises.”
“And you, do you promise?” You ask shyly, eyes bouncing over the bedding gathered up in front of you.
“Yeah.” He whispers, kissing along your jaw, hips slotting into place on top of your bottom. “It’s all yours. Only for you.”
A small smile creeps onto your face, nodding softly. “So, next time?”
“Next time.”
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・
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the-boy-meets-evil · 13 days
Text
on second thought | jww
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(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)
pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.
authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone
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Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum. 
That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.
“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home. 
“No, I ate earlier,” he answers. 
“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.
“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says. 
“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say. 
“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees. 
“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.” 
This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo? 
“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.
“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer. 
Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.” 
The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure. 
“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.
“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.
“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble. 
“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.
“Uh, what?” you ask.
“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.” 
“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.” 
“Why not?” Wonwoo presses. 
“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious. 
“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks. 
“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.
“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.” 
There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill. 
Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear. 
And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.
“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles. 
“Pretend, sure,” he echoes. 
“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.
“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly. 
A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules. 
So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells. 
Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes. 
“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you. 
“Funny,” you say with an eye roll. 
Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.
“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.
“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.
You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either. 
“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything. 
It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve. 
You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters. 
It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out. 
He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you. 
Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.
Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs. 
With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.
“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine. 
“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy. 
He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before. 
“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.
He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal. 
“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter. 
“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.
You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.
“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”
“Are you sure?” he asks. 
“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel. 
“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply. 
“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too. 
You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now. 
“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns. 
“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back. 
Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs. 
“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.
“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire. 
“I love it when you call me that,” he admits. 
With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust. 
You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you. 
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses. 
“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg. 
“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep. 
“Please,” you beg again. 
“Fuck,” he whispers. 
It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more. 
When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over. 
Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high. 
When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.
“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,”  you assure him
“Thank fuck,” he whispers. 
His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone. 
You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.
“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.
“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.
“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh. 
You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.” 
“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say. 
“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.
You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?” 
“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.
“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time. 
“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.
“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.
“Next time?” you wonder.
“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says. 
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It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place. 
The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page. 
That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around. 
He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.
Until it doesn’t.
One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.
“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started. 
“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment. 
He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?” 
“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear. 
“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand. 
You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.” 
“Of course not,” he says. 
Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed. 
He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you. 
The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning. 
That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked. 
“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble. 
“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan. 
“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.
“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out. 
“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says. 
“I know,” you sigh. 
“So, what’s going on?” he asks. 
Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night. 
None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.
“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.” 
“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised. 
“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says. 
“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.
“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says. 
“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.
“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.
“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.
“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.
“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.
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It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited. 
There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird. 
“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts. 
“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?” 
He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?” 
“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say. 
He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.” 
“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.” 
“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.
“I just thought…” you start.
“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”
“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure. 
The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.
Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings. 
It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.
“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness. 
“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake. 
“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep. 
“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says. 
That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him. 
“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.
“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.
“Why should I?” you challenge. 
“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.
“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.” 
“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”
“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.
“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”
“To avoid me?” you supply. 
“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits. 
“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.” 
“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.
“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say. 
“About what?” he asks. 
“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say. 
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately. 
You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation. 
You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him. 
When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized. 
“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit. 
“What’s that?” he asks.
“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.
“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous. 
“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug. 
“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.
That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?” 
“I don’t know, a while,” he says. 
You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.” 
“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.” 
“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool. 
“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment. 
“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.
“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.
“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.” 
Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”
“Okay,” you agree.
“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.
“Yeah, we’re doing this.” 
Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural. 
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i hope you enjoyed it! 💕
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lemonlover1110 · 6 days
Text
𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀…
Sukuna
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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
Summary: Sukuna comes to terms with the idea of having a daughter with you.
Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, double penetration, creampie, pregnancy, slightly ooc but still a misogynist, fluff at the end
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“What the hell are you doing?” Sukuna squints his eyes, looking down at you as you knit something for your baby girl. There’s no way of actually knowing the sex of your baby, but something tells you that you’re expecting a daughter. Sukuna negates the thought, assuring you that you’re carrying a son. He can’t possibly have a daughter, he’s always saying something along those lines. 
“Just making a little something for our child.” You inform him, and Sukuna frowns. Your child is not going to wear something so pink because they’ll be a boy, Sukuna is sure of it. He snatches the cloth out of your hand and tosses it.
“Why pink? Are you saying we’re having a girl?” Sukuna questions, and you cross your arms. You look up at your husband, mad that he's tossed your hard work to the side. 
“You have pink hair, Suku… Are you a girl?” You cock your eyebrow, and he’s not amused. He crosses both pairs of arms, rolling his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t associate colors with a certain gender because you are right, he does have pink hair… But he also knows that you’re making a pink blanket because you think you’re having a girl.
“Make a blue one.” He orders, and you glare at him. You shake your head in response, you’re not making a blue one. He grits his teeth, grabbing the blanket that he just tossed to the side and shredding your hard work to pieces. 
“Keep an eye open tonight, because when you least expect it, I’ll strangle you.” You warn him, and you’re dead serious. It’s clear that you’re carrying his child, you’ve never threatened to kill him before. 
“If you even come close to it, I think I’ll fall more in love with you.” He chuckles, walking away, leaving you alone with your own anger. You let out a yell, cursing at him because the twinge of fear that you had for him completely faded a couple of months ago. 
He holds no threat to you anymore. Sukuna wouldn’t have done anything to you anyway, since he hates that he loves you so dearly, but the realization that you carry his child and he’ll do no harm to you really gives you much more power and comfort. Sukuna finds humor in a very nonthreatening person, threatening to do something to him; especially when he knows that you can barely lift yourself up anymore.
He knows that you won’t even come close to succeeding in hurting him, and he laughs in amusement at the mere thought. But you’ll get him back, you know you will.
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“I thought we were going to spend the day together?” Sukuna asks as he watches you get ready to go out. You never invited him anywhere, so he was shocked to hear that you weren’t at home. He isn’t well liked in public, there’s just something about being huge, having four arms and being extremely scary that people don’t like. Sukuna can kill anyone without a second thought. 
“I thought so too before someone ruined the blanket that I was making for my daughter… So I had to get the materials to make it again.” You tell him, and Sukuna nearly gasps when you drop the d word. You’ve always refused to call the baby your daughter since you have no idea what the sex is, but it seems like you use it to piss him off. You click your tongue when you notice his reaction, “What? You’re so overdramatic. You’ve killed for fuck’s sake, why is saying daughter so scary to you.”
“Because we’re having a son!” He yells, getting defensive about it. You don’t understand why he gets upset at the mere suggestion that he’s having a daughter. Before you got pregnant, Sukuna never seemed to care about the gender of a hypothetical baby– Although you shouldn’t be shocked since your husband isn’t exactly the most fair when it comes to different sexes… Sukuna is a misogynist, that’s what you’re trying to get at. He treats all humans with the same disdain, but particularly women. It seems that you’ve forgotten because he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats everyone else.
“Sukuna, we’re having a daughter.” You reiterate, and you watch his eye twitch. You’re doing it to piss him off, he knows it, yet it’s working. “You wanted a baby, Sukuna. You knew there was no guarantee that you’d be having a son, but you still decided that you wanted one. You can’t cry about having a daughter.”
Sukuna takes a deep breath, surprisingly managing his anger well. He decides to leave the room, leaving you alone to do whatever the hell you want. You fuel his anger even more, yelling at him, “And don’t come back until you fix your attitude!”
You stare off into the distance, your hand resting on your bump. You begin to wonder what Sukuna will actually do, and you can’t do anything but hope that he’ll come around to the idea because you know Sukuna. He isn’t good whatsoever, he won’t hesitate to hurt her, even if she’s his own flesh and blood. You’re not sure you could stay by his side if he were to do anything, but you wouldn’t really have any other option either.
You decide to go to sleep, because thinking about it further won’t really help you in any way. You delude yourself, thinking that he’ll come around to the idea.
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A large pair of arms wrap around you, waking you up from your slumber. Sukuna does it to try and be romantic, but he nearly suffocates you. You slap his arm, telling him, “Loosen the grip–”
He loosens his grip, which lets you know that he wasn’t trying to kill you. Thankfully. Sukuna would never do anything to harm you, but sometimes you swear you don’t know him much. It’s very rare when you get a heart to heart with Sukuna where he actually talks about him, he usually prefers to listen to listen, and to threaten anyone in the stories that offend you in the slightest.
“Can I say something without you getting mad?” You begin, still half asleep. Sukuna furrows his brows. Due to his lack of answer, you decide to speak, “You’re overreacting.”
“I just don’t know what I’d do with a daughter.” He confesses. He doesn’t know how he’d handle her, how to treat her fairly, how he would– He doesn’t know how he would do anything. He doesn’t know what being a woman entails so he won’t know how to teach her anything. He wants to teach her how to do everything. 
“Everything you’d do with a son.” You reply. You really doubt that your child will be raised to have great morals, so there’s no point in really raising them differently. “Sukuna, how will it be different?”
“How will it not be different?” He sounds offended. There’s nothing similar between men and women. Sukuna’s hands go to your bump, his hand caressing it. “But for my heir, I guess I can make an exception.”
“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t make a fuss over the possibility of having a daughter?” You ask him, and his silence gives you an answer. Yes, Sukuna is fine with it, as fine as he can be at least.
His hand goes under your nightgown, caressing your thighs. You feel Sukuna kiss the back of your neck, and you squeeze your thighs, his large hand stuck between them. The man rarely touches you nowadays, seeing you as fragile as ever. You don’t know about the sudden change, but you certainly don’t mind.
“What changed in you?” You ask him as his hand goes up to your panties. He pushes them to the side because last time he tore something of yours, you got too mad at him so he’d rather not risk it. His fingers run through your folds before going to your clit, and you bite your bottom lip due to pure excitement.
“Was thinking about how I’d be nothing without you.” He confesses, letting you know that he didn’t come to terms with having a daughter– Sukuna is a man that fears nothing, at least that’s what you thought up until now. He fears losing you. It’s your issue… You’ve never paid attention to the love in his eyes when he speaks to you or about you. Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you mean to him. “Then I remembered how gorgeous you look carrying our son.”
“If you say that again I’ll–” You begin but Sukuna is two steps ahead of you. He pushes two large fingers inside of you. You can’t help but moan, covering your mouth immediately. One of his hands pulls your hand away, even in the dark he knows what you do. After all, you’re not just getting to know him, but he’s getting to know you too.
“Did I tell you to be fucking quiet?” He asks through gritted teeth. You have to be quiet at other times, like when the baby gets here and you risk waking them up. Now, if any of the servants hear, that’s their fucking problem. “Be loud, my love. Remind everyone who you belong to.”
“They know.” You tell him, which is quickly cut off by a moan as his fingers move faster. You feel his thumb graze your asshole, teasing you before he pushes it in. “Suku–”
“You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.” He ends up laughing. You never do because he’s just too much for you to handle. He curves his fingers so they hit your sweet spot. You shut your eyes, quickly succumbing to pleasure. You’ve missed this feeling so much, and he refuses to give it to you.
Sukuna loves when you turn into putty by his touch. It takes practically nothing to work you up, and you begin to squeeze around him. He smirks, knowing that it takes nothing for you to be practically screaming his name. Sukuna speaks into your ear, “Already so excited for me? Do you want more?”
“I need more.” Your voice sounds so demanding and Sukuna laughs. Another hand goes under your nightgown, his fingers focusing on your clit. You loudly moan his name as it all gets too much for you to handle. 
“Is it too much?” He mocks you as your orgasm builds up, until you finally reach your peak, your legs shaking. Sukuna takes his fingers out, shoving the fingers that were in your cunt into your mouth, making you gag. 
Sukuna lights a candle, providing some light in the room. You sit up, getting on top of him, undoing his robe. Your body yearns for more, and he smirks since he knows it. You lean down, your lips going on his, your tongue entering his mouth and pressing against his own. When you pull away from the kiss, you mutter, “I’ve missed you.”
You raise yourself, aligning the cock on the top with your pussy before slowly pushing yourself down on it. You take a moment to adjust to him since it’s been a while since the last time you’ve fucked her. You begin to bounce on him, and Sukuna spits in his palm, grabbing the cock on the bottom and teasing your asshole with the tip.
Sukuna holds you down when he begins to push the other tip in your asshole. Even though you’re expecting a child together, you’re still loud when he fills both of your holes. It’s too much for you to handle at first, but throughout the time you get used to it.
“Tight little cunt–” He groans, and he never thought that he of all people would end up touch deprived. But then he got too scared to hurt you in any way when you knew you were expecting, so he stuck to… Nothing. To suppress his dirty thoughts. 
“Move.” You order, too tired to continue. Sukuna begins to move for you, thrusting slowly in and out of you. He continues at the pace you had set. 
“Is it good? You’re making a fucking mess.” He says as he picks up speed. You throw your head back, one hand going down to play with your clit as he thrusts in and out of you.
“It’s so fucking good–” You answer. You’ve been needing this every single fucking night, and you’re lucky to be receiving it now. He’s finally giving into your cravings. 
“You just love being filled up like a little slut, don’t you?” Sukuna’s hand goes up from your bump to your mouth, shoving two fingers into your mouth again. He feels the vibration of your moans through your tongue before you begin to twirl your tongue around his fingers. 
Sukuna loves the way you take in his cocks, smiling at you at how well you take him– Of course he wouldn’t tell you though. Your hands go to his chest, using it for support as well as subconsciously digging your nails into his skin. It stings for him, but he can’t help but love it.
Sukuna does you a favor, his fingers rubbing your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, 
A second orgasm overtaking you. Sukuna feels you squeezing on both of his cocks, feeling himself get weak. 
“Suku–” You loudly moan as you reach your second orgasm. Sukuna mocks you for it.
“What? Can’t handle it?” He asks, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He’s losing control, his thrusts getting sloppy. It’s been so long since the last time he did this– And when he finishes, he fills both of your holes with so much cum, and you swear you’re in heaven because there is no better feeling than this. 
When he takes his cocks out, so much cum drips out of you. You end up falling on his chest, him wrapping a pair of large arms around you while another fixes your clothes. 
“This is a nice way to apologize for misbehaving.” You comment, and Sukuna scoffs.
“Who said I was apologizing?” Sukuna is frowning, and you lightly smack his face which pisses him off more. He holds your hands so you don’t try to do anything more with them.
“I’ll take it as an apology.” You tell him. Sukuna wants to laugh, but he manages to keep a poker face. He grabs you up by your hair, putting his lips on yours. 
“It was not an apology, woman. Shut your mouth.”
Bonus:
You swear that hell is freezing over because what the hell is the scene you’re witnessing. You’ve never seen Sukuna like this… You don’t think you are supposed to see him like this.
“Who’s a headstrong girl?” Sukuna is putting on a baby voice for fuck’s sake. For a daughter that he didn’t want. Your baby girl laughs, and he falls in love all over again. She’s just so fucking perfect– With her little eyes, her little nose, her little mouth, her four little arms, her soft pink hair. She’s everything to him.
“Do you need anything, Sukuna?” You approach them, but Sukuna pays little attention to you. He keeps looking down at his daughter who lays on your bed. She’s in need of a nap but Sukuna doesn’t like putting her to bed because she’s boring then.
“Yeah, how do I order another one of these?” He asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“Of what?” You respond, wondering what the hell he talks about.
“Another daughter.”
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papurgaatika · 18 days
Text
Nothing Fucks With My Baby
Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader
A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k
Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.
(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)
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Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 
But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 
Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 
You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 
“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.
“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 
Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 
You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 
“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 
You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 
The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 
“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 
You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 
And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 
You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.
Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 
Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 
Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 
“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 
The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”
Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 
Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”
You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 
You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”
“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 
“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 
You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 
You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 
You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 
You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 
And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 
A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 
He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 
  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 
He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 
You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 
You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 
A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 
Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 
Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 
His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 
His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 
You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 
You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 
“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 
“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 
“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 
Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 
“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”
Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.
A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine
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sytoran · 8 months
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𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 | barbie!wanda
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Having been a Barbie her whole life, Wanda hasn’t got a clue about how her newly-human body works. Thankfully, you happen to be the best gynecologist in town.
pairing: innocent!barbie!wanda x fem!gynecologist!reader
word count: 2054
warnings: smut (18+), not exactly a dark fic - surprisingly consensual given the circumstances, just barbie!wanda exploring her identity and being corruptibly cute
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Wanda didn’t quite know what to expect when she stepped foot into the gynecology centre. It’s to learn more about your body, Natasha had said, urging her to go. The doctors there will help you. 
She hopes her doctor is nice.
.
“Name?”
“Wanda Barbara Maximoff.”
“Your queue number is 476. Please proceed to Room B when your number is shown on the screen.”
“Okay.”
.
The metal handle of the door is cold.
That’s the first thing Wanda registers when her right hand meets the shiny surface. It’s a contrast to the warm blood that flows within her body, thrumming in her veins and sliding under the surface of her supple skin.
Temperature. Texture. Telltale emotions.
It’s a whole new world, really, with a human body. Wanda certainly isn’t used to existing within one that isn’t Barbie-like. 
She can’t jump out a window and fly two floors down without breaking any bones. (You don’t want to know the story behind that.) 
She can’t walk out of the house in full-body neon pink, either. (That one can be achieved with a severe lack of others’ opinion, but Wanda gets this human thing they call ‘anxiety’.)
Change.
That’s what it’s called, experiencing new things, and that’s what this is about.
Wanda pushes down the door handle. She can do this.
.
“First time?”
“Uhm, yes.”
The doctor’s back is facing Wanda, going clickety-clackety on the computer that actually works and is not made of plastic. It’s a female gynecologist, just like she requested. (Wanda loves women! She’s all for strong and independent women.) 
Wanda probably staring at the back of the doctor’s head a little too hard, but then the doctor swivels in her chair, finally turning to face Wanda, and turns out Wanda actually can’t do this anymore.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Y/N, and I’m your gynecologist.”
.
(This Barbie is going through gay panic, except she doesn’t know it.)
Of all the things that could possibly happen to her, of course Wanda's gynecologist is the most attractive person she’s ever laid her eyes on.
This was not how this was supposed to go. Wanda’s brain is short-circuiting, and she has this new feeling coursing through her body that causes her heart rate to speed up exponentially. It’s new. And different. And oddly nice.
“Wanda? You alright, sweetheart?”
The blonde snaps out of it with a flushed face, snapping her jaw shut. Sweetheart? Vision – a Ken – had tried calling her that once. She didn’t like it.
Sweetheart.
Wanda decides that she likes the way you say it.
“Yep. I’m right here. Sorry.”
You get this side smile on your face for a moment, something flickering in your eyes as you stare at Wanda, and it causes the biggest shiver to run down her spine. 
Wanda’s heart is palpitating uncontrollably. If anyone heard it right now she’d probably die of embarrassment.
You pull out a stethoscope.
F***. (She learnt that word from Tony.)
.
Wanda’s skin burns under your touch, as you place the medical instrument over her chest, listening keenly to her heartbeat. 
The blonde thinks she’s going to pass out, with the way you move your rolling chair over so close your legs could touch hers.
“It’s quite fast,” you murmur, your voice taking on a lower tone, and Wanda has to physically swallow before her heart breaks through the constraints of her ribcage.
“O-oh,” Wanda responds breathily, a lot higher-pitch than she had anticipated, and she swears your eyes darken just a tad bit. (She doesn’t know what that implies. But it’s kind of hot.)
“Turn around,” you continue, moving back slightly to give your patient space. Wanda releases the breath she was holding and steals all the air she can, but when your hands slide up and under the back of her shirt, all that air is lost again.
It takes every cell of Wanda’s existence not to let out a whimper when you apply pressure on the stethoscope, right above the clasp of her bra. 
That new feeling has been amplified by a thousandfold, travelling from your touch to her skin to her heart and right between her legs.
(This Barbie is experiencing lust.)
.
“Alright, I’ve been informed that you’re a rather special case, Wanda,” you comment, not unkindly. “You don’t have any past medical records. So today I just want to check that everything is in good condition. We’ll do a quick pelvic exam to test your sexual and reproductive health, is that alright with you?”
Wanda doesn’t know what a pelvic test is. But she’d do anything you told her to, honestly, so she just nods.
“Okay, so you need to strip and lay down on the bed for me.”
“...Huh?”
(This Barbie is thinking dirty thoughts.)
.
Wanda is clothed in a blue surgical gown. She doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed for that.
All she knows is that the material is scratchy against her chest (or more specifically, her nipples are all tingly — she’s not quite sure what that means yet, but it feels strangely good), and that your gloved hands are spreading her thighs open on the operating bed.
Her feet meet the stirrup supports at the end of the bed, knees falling open, and the way you move your rolling chair between her legs in a swift motion has Wanda questioning how she ever entertained the idea of liking Kens.
Your hands run down the expanse of her thighs — probably a little longer than you should have, not that Wanda’s complaining — and your gaze locks on the pinkish bareness of Wanda’s pussy.
The reaction is instinctive, non-commital, subconscious. “Uhm,” Wanda whines, trying to close her thighs. She squirms under your inspective gaze, biting into her lip and trying to shift away from the grip of your gloved hands.
She’s so bare, so open, so vulnerable. But that’s not what scares her. It’s the fact that she doesn’t mind, not around you.
You seem to catch wind of this, and don’t release your grip on her thighs. 
Wanda stares at you with her heart hammering in her chest. Wide-eyed and flushed. The pulse grows from her chest to between her legs and that’s never happened before.
“Sweetheart,” you murmur, very softly, and Wanda melts like putty in your arms.
Her knees fall open again.
.
The rest of the examination goes somewhat smoothly.
Save for the embarrassing little squeaks Wanda makes when you peer a little too closely at her cunt, it’s not too bad. 
She knows you’re discerning possible signs of swelling and soreness or something along those medical lines Wanda is hardly an expert in, but what’s more concerning is the warm liquid pooling in her lower belly.
Wanda’s never felt like this before, especially not as a Barbie, especially not this vividly.
When that warmth spreads to the tip of her folds, threatening to emerge on its surface, Wanda’s breath catches in her throat. She doesn’t know what it means that she’s going to be wet.
“All done,” you comment, leaning back, and Wanda’s legs snap shut just as her pussy grows damp, for the first time.
Crisis averted.
“Oh, sweetheart,” you say, almost sadistically, watching her reaction with an amused look. “That’s just the external visual exam. The second part of the pelvic exam is where I get down to the real stuff, yeah? I’m going to have to put my fingers inside you.”
(This Barbie is dangerously close to passing out from skyrocketing levels of libido.)
.
“I normally use lubricant on my gloved fingers for my patients, but I have a feeling you won’t need it,” you comment dryly, casually tugging off your surgical gloves and tossing them into the trashcan.
Wanda is too embarrassed to respond. Her face is flushed, her nipples are extra tingly, and her pussy is thoroughly soaked at this point. 
And you’re just there, sitting between her legs with your hands on her thighs, a very badly hidden smirk on your face.
She kind of wants to slap your dirty mouth. Or maybe kiss it.
“This is a speculum,” you announce, pulling out a metal-hinged tool. “And I’m going to use it to keep your pretty pussy open. Make sure you don’t close up on me again.”
Wanda squeals at your choice of words, slapping your arm in embarrassment. At this point, there’s hardly a need for professionalism, but she’s still not used to the whole thing.
You let a laugh slip from your lips, thoroughly enjoying yourself as you put the medical instrument in place. Wanda’s so pretty, so innocent. 
A more sensual look takes over your features when you’re greeted with the sight of her glistening cunt again. Precious.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
.
“Oh!” The high-pitched noise Wanda makes when two of your fingers push inside her pussy is downright filthy. 
The sensations of your warm fingers bounce all around Wanda’s body and the room. It’s only your fingertips, and you’ve barely moved at all, but Wanda’s slick is dripping and she’s already stimulated like she’s never been before.
“More,” Wanda whines, bringing her hips up, urging you to continue. You press her down by the lower belly, your warm spreading out over her skin.
“This is an examination,” you state, no room for question. Your eyes narrow, and Wanda gulps. “We’re doing it how I like it.”
The blonde looks up at you with those doe-green eyes, pouting adorably, before nodding obediently. She’s been so busy ruling Barbieland that relinquishing all that power for once might certainly be pleasant.
You continue to slowly slide your two fingers in her cunt, and Wanda lets out a whimper. Her body moves with your touch like you’re her puppeteer, but maybe she needs it because this feeling is so, so new.
“Feels s’good,” she gasps, and you want to chastise her because it technically isn’t supposed to feel good, but you see the dizzied look on Wanda’s pretty little face and you relent.
It definitely isn’t the first time you’ve had your fingers in a woman, so your practiced fingers curl with expert ease to find her sweet spot. “Oh!” Wanda moans, louder, lithe body arching on the operation bed.
“Shit,” you swear, fingers curling again so you can see that exact reaction. You start to move, faster, harbouring this carnal desire to make Wanda scream and beg.
She’s so innocent, so corruptible, so easy. 
Sooner than later, you’re bent over Wanda’s body on the bed, wrist hammering in and out of her sweet pussy, finding all the spots that make her weak.
“Pretty girl,” you pant, biting hickeys into collarbone and her breasts. Her blonde locks are splayed out on the pillow, body shaking with each thrust, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, and it’s the most breathtaking sight you’ve ever chanced upon.
You memorise every stroke that makes her arch, every spot that makes her whine — perks of being a gynecologist, you supposed — you find your way around her body like it’s child’s play, and all too soon Wanda’s nearing a hypothetical edge.
“I think- I think I’mna pee,” Wanda cries, clawing at your wrist because the feeling is too much. She can hardly think, at the sheer pace and ferocity of which you were taking her cunt.
“Ever heard of a clitoris?” you question breathlessly, still pummeling your wrist into her soaked pussy. Wanda’s dripping, actually dripping. If she thought she was wet before, she was now soaking the sheets.
“Wh-what?” she responds, equally as breathless. Her mind was all fuzzy, barely registering your question.
“It’s this,” you add, bringing your thumb to harshly press against her swollen and puffy clit.
Wanda screams.
(This Barbie reaches another plane of existence with fantastical pleasure.)
.
It turns out Wanda is a ‘squirter’. She doesn’t know what the implications of that are. 
“Do I need to come back next week?” Wanda asks innocently, knowing full well gynecologist visits only needed to be scheduled once a year. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, back in her clothes.
“Definitely,” you respond, scanning over the test results calmly, like you hadn’t just made Wanda squirt twice in less than thirty minutes. 
“Doctor’s orders?” Wanda asks playfully, purposefully batting her lashes when you look up from your computer.
You don’t bother hiding the chuckle that leaves your lips at her antics. “Yeah, doctor’s orders.”
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a/n: you do not want to know how many health sites i visited to learn about pelvic exams and gynecology. | main m.list
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bahablastplz · 23 days
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Best friend's brother: Chan x reader
Thinking about best friend's brother Chan that has always been secretly obsessed with you Content: extremely fluffy, slight hurt/comfort, smut, really vanilla smut but super sweet Warnings: Oral sex (f! receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 2000
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Obviously, you and your best friend were inseparable. You grew up right next door, and her parents considered you to be another one of their children. You and Hannah were, for lack of a better word, siblings. Her older brother, however… that was a situation that you weren’t sure how to explain. 
You had always harbored feelings for the older man, despite the guilt that ate away at you. You could never tell Hannah that, however. Nor would you ever tell Chan or let your desires come to fruition. 
Which is why, once you came home for summer break you had no problem getting ready for your date at Hannah’s house. Though the thought of her brother being there made you gulp, you would just have to hope you wouldn’t run into him and everything would be fine–
“What’s got you dressed all up?” Of course, Chan appears from behind and makes eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. Hannah is sprawled across her bed and scrolling through her phone. 
“She’s got a hot date,” Hannah replies, snarkily. 
“Hot date?” Chan inquires while crossing his arms. He holds a slightly disapproving glare. 
“Yeah, with some guy she met online. He’s a real smokeshow–” 
“Hannah!” You say sharply, willing your best friend to somehow spare you the humility. 
“Where is he taking you, hm?” Chan says with a small, teasing lilt to his voice. 
“We’re going to a club…,” you whisper. 
“On the first date? No no no, that’s just a recipe for disaster, Y/N.” 
“It’ll be fine, Chan!” Hannah says. She doesn’t even bother to look him in the eye, so he bores holes into your own instead. He mutters out something about how he doesn’t like this and that you should really be careful before returning to his room.
As you finish getting ready, you admire yourself in the mirror. Your black dress hugs your body just right, and your makeup brings out just the right contrast to your face. Hannah says out loud exactly what you were thinking: 
“You look hot.” 
As you share your location with her and get ready to leave the house, it is almost 9 p.m. and your uber has arrived. Though you know the night will most likely not end up with you falling head over heels in love, you’re still hoping to have a good time and maybe get to know the guy more. However, before you step out the door you feel a hand grab your wrist. 
Chan is looking at you with a look you don’t recognize in his eye and you pause, waiting for him to speak. 
“Please, be careful. If anything happens, you have my number. I don’t care what time it is, you can reach out. It doesn’t matter if he’s being a creep or if you just don’t want to be there anymore, I will come and get you,” he says. He looks at you softly before adding, “And even if you don’t need me to get you, please text me when you’re home safe.” You could tell he was genuinely worried and this made your heart pang slightly, making it harder to will away the crush you have on the man. 
Your date shows up late, for starters. After twenty minutes you take your first shot, and your second drink arrives when your date does. He is unapologetic and starts touching you the second he sees you–that’s when you realize he is already wasted. Letting out a groan, you humor him with one dance, but when he immediately starts grinding on you you decide you have had enough. 
“I’m not really feeling it,” you say. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.” 
The man scoffs and immediately becomes defensive. “C’mon darling, you’re not going to show up looking like that and then act like a prude, are you?” He spits out some more mean insults that you don’t hear, because you’re already out the door and dialing Chan’s number. 
He picks up on the first ring. 
“Are you okay–” 
“I’m fine, can you please come and get me?” 
“I walked out the door the second I saw your name flash on my screen,” he says. You hear his engine start and know he is telling the truth. 
It’s cold outside, but Chan has the heat pumping in his car when he pulls up. You curl into yourself, feeling embarrassed at the situation you’ve found yourself in. The ride is silent, though it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s playing your favorite music. 
When he pulls up to your driveway, he puts his car into park. 
You start talking before he says anything, even though you know he wasn’t going to force you. 
“He showed up completely trashed and started touching me before I even really talked to him,” you said. Tears start streaming down your face and you hope that Chan won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. He leans over the center console to wipe a tear away. 
“He showed up drunk? Oh, I’m so sorry… you don’t deserve that,” he says. “I knew it was a bad idea.” 
You know he’s trying to console you but you feel so defeated. “Why is it such a bad idea for me to want to go out and have fun?” You practically cry out. “Why does everybody else get to have a normal dating life and get to hook up with people and enjoy college, but when I try to do it it never works out?” Chan just nods along to your words. 
“You just haven’t tried with the right person yet, Y/N…” 
“There will never be a right person, because the one I want is you and that’s never going to happen!” You slap a hand over your mouth and stiffen when you realize what you had said, and when you meet Chan’s gaze you see that he’s staring at you with wide eyes. You’re completely sober now. 
You are out of the car lightning fast, slamming the door behind you and racing to your house. You’re fully sobbing now as you unlock your door, but when you go to slam it behind you Chan sticks his foot in, holding it open. He uses the opportunity to invite himself in and immediately you’re in his arms, in a warm embrace. 
“I’m sorry,” you say against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I–” 
“Don’t say that,” he warns. “Don’t you dare take it back.” 
“Chan, I–” He pulls you away to meet your gaze, placing his hands around your face and using both his thumbs to wipe your tears away. 
“Y/N, I have known you for as long as I’ve remembered and I’ve never seen a part of you that I hate,” he says. “I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you every day, so to hear you say that… Please don’t take it back. Please don’t tell me that you don’t want this,” he trails off, his eyes darting to your lips. 
You crash your lips into his at full force and breathe against him, completely enamored. He picks you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist and carries you to your room, the one he had been in more times than you could count, all while keeping his lips locked against yours. He drops you onto your bed with a flop and you bounce, observing his admiring gaze. His lips are on you again, then they trail to your neck, leaving long burning kisses behind as he trails lower. His thumbs press into your waist. 
“It made me sick,” he confesses. “The thought of you going to the club with some guy that was just going to use you. Some guy you had never met, someone who would never in a million years make you feel the way that I could.” 
He drops to his knees at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to his face by your hips. He pulls your legs apart, slotting his body in between them, and starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs. You watch his every move, your body relying on your elbows to keep you upright so you don’t miss a second of this. 
“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me, that you need me as bad as I need you.” 
“Chan please,” you breathe out. “Wanted you for so long… Thought you’d never like me like that.” 
“Are you kidding?” He chuckles. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” And with that, he lifts your dress up. It bunches against your waist messily and his nose presses into your clothed core. You groan out at the contact and he does as well, placing agonizingly slow kisses and licks against you. He grabs at your waistband and you lift your hips, allowing him to slide them off of your body. He wastes no time before diving back in and your head lolls back at the feeling. 
“Look at me, please,” he begs. “Let me watch you fall apart.” Your eyes snap back to meet his gaze and you immediately feel so comforted and seen from his expression. It allows you to let yourself relax as he flicks and swirls his tongue around your clit. 
He watches your every expression, every hitch of your breath and every buck of your hips, expertly making you fall apart on his tongue. One finger slides inside of your pussy, pumping in and out experimentally, and you feel yourself coming to your peak. 
“God, Chan, please–” 
“I gotcha, baby,” he says. “Come for me.” You fall apart for him completely knowing that he will be right there to put you back together, and he helps you ride out your high, observing the fucked-out look on your face as if it would be the only time he would ever see it. 
You pant and reach for him and he interlocks his hand in yours, coming up to kiss you even more passionately than before. He presses his clothed bulge into your center and you hiss at the contact, still sensitive. 
“Can I?” He asks. 
“Please,” you respond. His pants are slid down and he pushes himself into you in a moment. You feel emotionally overwhelmed, looking down to see where you are completely and utterly connected. The way his breathing becomes shallow, you know he’s thinking the same thing. 
He picks up one of your legs, wrapping around your shoulder and starts pistoning into you, and the change of angle makes you go utterly weak. Your back arches and his lips are against your skin, anywhere they get a chance to meet. 
“All mine,” he grunts. His hips start slamming into yours faster, and one hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises that might be starting to slip. “Say it… say you’re all mine and only I get to… fuck, see you like this.” 
You can tell he’s close, and the hand that reaches down to start rubbing against your clit confirms your suspicions. 
“Chan… so close… I’m all yours, Chan, please, please…” His name releases from your lips like a mantra, and as you feel yourself come to your high once again and clench around his length, he pulls you even closer, releasing himself into you. 
Your arms wrap around him and your fingers run through his hair comfortingly as he collapses on top of you. 
You and Chan have always been relatively close by association, particularly given the situation, but at the moment you and him are so intertwined you aren’t sure you can ever let go. 
He holds you as you fall asleep that night. 
“Do you think Hannah will be mad?” you ask. 
“No way,” he mumbles against you. “She’s been trying to get us together for years.” 
You laugh incredulously against the man. Though you weren’t expecting to find your true love that night, you guess life had other plans.
*** First real ff post on tumblr yay!! Welcome to my skz blog, I wanted to start off with something tame lol...I have a lot of really exciting things planned to post so stay tuned <3 Masterlist Recs
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Cheating Heart
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Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)
Word Count: 20.8k
Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot
A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.
“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”
 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 
Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”
Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.
“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”
“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”
“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”
Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 
The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 
Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.
Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.
It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 
“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”
“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”
“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”
Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.
“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”
Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.
“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”
“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.
“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”
“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”
“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”
The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  
You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.
Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 
“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”
Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.
“--soon?”
You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.
“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”
Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 
You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.
“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 
If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.
“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 
His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.
“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 
Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.
It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.
Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.
Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 
“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 
Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.
Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 
John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 
You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 
As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 
The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 
“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”
“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”
“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”
“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”
You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…
Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 
John. 
“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 
Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 
Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 
Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 
A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.
Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.
“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”
“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”
Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.
The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?
John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 
Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 
For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 
“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.
If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 
It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.
A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 
Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.
Why did you care?
Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 
“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.
John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 
The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 
“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 
Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 
If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.
“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”
“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”
“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”
“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 
Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.
“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”
Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?
Shut the fuck up!
A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.
Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?
That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.
“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.
“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”
Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 
John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 
You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 
“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.
John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 
No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 
That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.
The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!
But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 
Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.
Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.
If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 
You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 
That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 
But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.
“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”
A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.
“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”
“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”
When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.
“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 
As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 
If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 
But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 
He was your Captain. You were working under him. 
You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 
But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.
“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 
John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 
Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 
Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.
You still felt disgusting. 
Nothing you did made sense to him. 
John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 
She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 
I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.
Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 
But he knew that would only make it worse.  
“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”
But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 
Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.
Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 
It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 
You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.
John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 
“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 
The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 
Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.
The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 
You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 
Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.
He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 
Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 
You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.
Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 
“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 
The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.
Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.
“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 
You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.
Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’
John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 
On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 
John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 
“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 
– John”
Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  
More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.
You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 
Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 
It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.
John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 
You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.
“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”
Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 
Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 
But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 
When had this place stopped being home for you?
“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 
You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 
“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”
“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”
Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 
What’s that noise?
“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”
But you weren’t stupid.
A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 
You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  
Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 
Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.
“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 
Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 
“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”
Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 
“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 
Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”
“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 
“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 
Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.
“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 
You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 
“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 
“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 
Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 
Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.
The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.
“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”
Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 
You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.
“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”
Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.
“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”
“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 
“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”
Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”
Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 
A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.
“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”
Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.
“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”
Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 
You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.
Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.
The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 
Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 
Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 
Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 
Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 
John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 
Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.
That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.
“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 
Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 
The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.
John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.
“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”
“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”
When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 
“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”
The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 
Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.
Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 
John looked so sad. 
His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.
“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 
“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 
“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 
“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 
You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 
It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 
You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.
When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 
Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.
Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)
He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.
“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”
Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 
“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 
“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 
Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 
John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 
The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.
After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.
“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.
Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 
“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”
“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”
“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”
“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.
“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”
“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 
To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 
It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 
“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’
Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 
“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 
“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”
John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 
“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 
The bell at the front door jingles. 
Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 
A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 
You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 
“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.
“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”
The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.
“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”
Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”
A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.
Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.
His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.
“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 
“...Two.”
“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”
“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 
A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 
Why were you not saying anything?
John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 
There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 
But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.
Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.
What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…
The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.
Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.
“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 
John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?
He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.
You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.
John’s eyes slowly widen. 
Oh. 
Oh. 
“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”
“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 
“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”
“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”
“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 
A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 
John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”
“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”
Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 
“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 
Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 
The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 
You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.
But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.
Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 
It couldn’t be helped.
When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 
Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 
Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?
You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.
“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 
“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 
Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 
The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 
“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”
You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”
“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 
Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 
Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.
“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”
“...I might have sucker-punched him.”
John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 
“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.
He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 
“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.
“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”
“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.
You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 
…Why was his hand still on your back? 
“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 
John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.
It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.
Leon was gone.
“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”
The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”
John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 
His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.
Stop it.
“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 
“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”
“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.
Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.
Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 
If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 
“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.
“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”
“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 
“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”
You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 
Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.
“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”
Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.
“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 
He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.
“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”
A quiet grunt carries over the space.
You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.
Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”
“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 
“You bet.”
“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Hey–!” 
“What in the–!” 
Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 
“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.
“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”
“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  
You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.
This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 
After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?
Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.
You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.
“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 
His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 
“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 
You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?
“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.
“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 
His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.
“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 
The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.
“...Anytime, Dear.”
Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.
The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 
When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 
Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 
“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.
You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.
“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?
He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 
“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”
“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.
“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 
“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.
“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 
John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 
He’s cute when he’s flustered.
“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”
Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 
Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.
A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  
You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.
“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.
If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.
Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 
Leon was gone.
“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 
Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 
You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 
Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 
“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”
But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.
It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.
But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?
And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 
“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 
So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 
John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 
His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 
“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.
“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 
His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 
Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.
The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.
It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.
Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.
“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”
“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?
His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.
“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 
Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.
“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”
He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.
You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.
That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 
His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”
Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 
God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.
John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 
You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 
“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”
“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 
Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 
“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 
Annoyance swirls.
“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”
A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.
“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 
John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 
He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.
You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 
John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 
“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 
Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 
“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.
Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 
You want him naked. 
“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 
The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.
You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  
When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.
John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 
He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.
You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 
“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.
Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.
John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 
“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”
You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.
A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 
Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”
“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”
Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 
“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”
His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 
John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.
“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.
You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 
“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 
Fuck you were on fire.
Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 
John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 
Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 
“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”
He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.
“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 
The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 
And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.
John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.
“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”
The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 
Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.
John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 
Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.
You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.
His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.
“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 
You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 
“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 
Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.
“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”
“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”
Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Y-yes, Captain.”
John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 
“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”
You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.
Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.
“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 
How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.
But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.
The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.
You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.
Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.
“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 
“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 
John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.
“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 
��John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”
“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”
He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.
“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”
The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.
You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 
“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 
“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”
“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”
Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.
“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 
The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 
“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 
Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 
Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 
“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 
He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.
John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.
A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”
“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 
Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.
“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”
“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 
John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”
He trails.
“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”
Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.
“Easier.” 
It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.
“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.
“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”
You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.
Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 
John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.
There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 
“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 
Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–
“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 
“Wait!” 
But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 
“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 
“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 
“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 
“Out!” 
Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 
John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”
Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.
“Wait till the boys hear about this!”
The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  
Well, secret’s out. 
11K notes · View notes
bettyfrommars · 2 months
Text
Whole Lotta Love
Eddie x fem!Reader
18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.
I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.
a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.
wc: 3.1k
Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed. 
The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.  
Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking.  “Was that…did you…?”
“Um,” you paused.  It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem. 
He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern.  “Did I hurt you or…?”
“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips.  “It felt great.”
At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.
“But, I didn’t cum.  Or at least, I don’t think I did.”
“You’re not sure?” 
You chewed at your top lip.  “No, I am sure.  I didn’t.”
He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger.  “Have you ever? With me?”
Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together.  He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy.  He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.  
His head snapped up.  “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”
“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself.  “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”
“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay.  Can I try that again? Now?”
He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.
You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock.  “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”
You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts.  “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush.  You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room.  “We can watch a movie or something?”
Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”
“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead.  You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this.  It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”
“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered. 
You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight.  I love you.”
—------
You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously.  At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.  
A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen.  No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.
Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.  
“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was.  But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter. 
He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you.   “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”
“You read somewhere?”
“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”
“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it.  His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming.  A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity.  You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.”  You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax?  It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.  
Eddie was nervous.  He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him.  Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever.  A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.
But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?
You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.  
“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat.  “How are you feeling?”
This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird.  He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission.  Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.  
You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead. 
“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe.  “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”
Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.  
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”
There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.  
You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed.  “Are those…rose petals?” 
“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”
You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him. 
He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.
He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan.  He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.  
Suck it up, Munson.
All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly.  “Release the beast,” you cooed.  
He caught your wrist.  “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”
“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”
He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.  
“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.
Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face.  “Fuck, baby, every inch.”
If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.
You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs.  The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state.  He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.  
“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed.  “You’re so wet already.”
“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.
He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.
“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing.  He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.  
“G-good,” you gasped.  “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”
You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself.  If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person.  You wondered if you should tell him that.  
He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.
“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot. 
“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”
The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down  your slit.
“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”
He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone. 
“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”
Well, he wanted that more than anything.  But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity.  His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.  
Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.  
You noticed his hesitation.  “We can keep trying…after.  But I need to feel you.  It’s lonely up here.”
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck.  “My dick can wait until—”
But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.
“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled. 
Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else. 
“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you.  The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place. 
Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around.  Your head went back and  you exposed your throat to him.
Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down.  The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.
But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his.  He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.
One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy.  “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”
He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.
After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been.  “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”
You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair.  “That feels good, keep doing that.”
“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.
You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.  
He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.
You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut. 
Oh sure, he was getting hard again.  The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.  
You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.
His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution.  He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.
“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment.  “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”
He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him.  “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be.  “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”
Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth. 
Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening.  The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go.  Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.
But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away.  “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.  
He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.  
You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins.  “That was—”
He kissed your cunt one two three times.  “That was what?”
He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.
He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.  
“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.
“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”
You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”
“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.  
You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”
“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”
The front door to the trailer burst open.
“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”
It was Wayne.
Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!
Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.
The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.
Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face.  “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh. 
He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.  
You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”
“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”
You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.  
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droolypupboy · 1 month
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tips for solo puppy play!!
pup play doesn’t have to be a partnered activity and solo play can be EXTREMELY fulfilling. you deserve to explore your headspace 🫶🫶 i have another post for more general tips for feeling more puppy, you can check that out here, a lot of things on there are ALSO applicable for solo pups.
warning, this is not for puppy regressors!! this is an nsfw post and probably not safe for u if you regress while online. stay safe, sfw puppies.
i would recommend checking out the above post if you want more details on the following: playing fetch alone, puppy snacks, & oral fixation!! all those things can help a LOT for solo pups but since i already went into so much detail previously, this post will have its own unique set of tips. i’m a puppy & i own a puppy sub so im super smart and you should listen 2 me!!!!
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🐾 eating from a dog bowl can help a lot!! but even if that is inaccessible or not to your taste, you can just sit/lay on your tummy on the ground and eat small snacks from a plate. be careful of choking if you choose to lay!!
🐾 make little pup noises!! if you feel yourself going nonverbal and you’re in a place where you’re safe and comfy and have the time, lean into it. make little “hmph” noises when you’re confused, little squeaks when you’re excited, whine and pant, do all the things!! these can be used both sexually and nonsexually. it should come naturally if it’s gonna happen but there’s nothing wrong with doing it on purpose to get the ball rolling.
🐾 you can either invest in a large dog bed OR you can make a little nest of pillows and blankets.
🐾 being on all fours, sitting on the floor, & laying on your tummy are wonderful. inaccessible?? that’s okay!! these are enhancers, not necessities.
🐾 ALL you need for this is a bedroom and some random items. find some things (bad options are things like keys, lighters, phones, anything you use super frequently) to hide and go find again. the more space you have the better but even in smaller spaces, it can be VERY fun to lean into.
🐾 tilt your head in confusion, nudge and “paw” at things, nip and bite at things (safely, clean things, nothing that could hurt you or that you could choke on).
🐾 if you can afford it, invest in a knot style toy. it can help a lot in feeling like you’re small getting used by a bigger dog if that’s your thing. toys with suction cups are amazing too, the less you have to work, the better!!
🐾 do NOT be afraid to use pup centered asmr. it’s available on many many places but most accessibly, youtube & soundgasm through the site flaru. its not cringe, its not silly, it can be rlly good for the headspace. if you’re not sure if you’ll like it, give it a go!! why not??
🐾 invest in dog toys if you can!! make sure to clean them thoroughly before putting them in your mouth, stored r nasty, don’t use any that an actual dog has used only use fresh ones. if you can’t do that, chewelry, largely available on etsy and marketed for sensory issues (which yes, it does work for as well) is a really nice & discreet option.
🐾 go to town if you have a PRIVATE back yard!! run around!! have the zoomies!! chase toys (do not put them in your mouth if you’re playing outside)!! just have a good time.
🐾 press your nose against the window and watch the birds & squirrels & any other animals outside!!
🐾 overstimulation!! it’s rlly good, lose yourself, don’t stop until you can’t take it anymore. silly pups need to get fucked stupid.
🐾 slobber on toys (of the sfw AND nsfw variety), suck your fingers, get messy eating a popsicle or something similar. spit can be VERY puppy if you can handle the mess
that’s all for now, silly pups!! have fun, play safe, be kind to yourself, and remember that all of us puppies are different and unique. what makes one person feel puppy might not make the next person feel puppy. figure out what works for YOU. being puppy is an independent journey 🐕🦴🐾🎾
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arcadia345 · 2 months
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Sextrology notes🥀
MINORS DNI🔞
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Not a real astrologer this is just my observations and experiences ‼️
Book a reading❤️
Aries/1st house eros composite- could’ve gotten into the bedroom quicker than expected(or at least tried to), if not then regardless the sex is ROUGH. Lots of sweat and friction burns, bruises from the night before 🥴 “Everyone KNOWS that he f*cks you.” Vibe you can’t hide behind the tension with this one lmao. Could be your first time in a way? I had this with the first yt and the first black girl I’ve been with
Taurus mars/eros- kiss/rub their neck and see how quickly they fold😎 they adore nice smells vmuch bad smells turn us off so bad but if you smelll good I swear we’ll remember you and your sent FOREVER. We also love physical touch we love a good body rub we like all our senses to be aroused. I try to at least keep one hand on my lovers/ vice versa😭#clingy we’re also possessive of our partners to a extent
Gemini/3rd house eros esp in composite have the most fun in bed. Usually a short term relationship doesn’t have to be tho. You two will try new things together sexually. They’re very lighthearted and curious and down with whatever😌 they’ll try anything at least once😏. Mental and oral stimulation is a must here. Definitely prone to sex with more than one person at a time
Eros in Aquarius/cancer,4th/11th combination in composite every time I’ve had this with someone they changed my perspective on life/sex I swear😂 the sex was so mind blowing 🤯 just thinking about it got me stuck. Me and the first girl I did it with have this in composite and omg I did not know I was THAT into girls till she popped up(even tho I’m pans)🥴 my first time feeling sparkles during sex ✨(a man could never 👎)you might feel emotionally vulnerable with them and they might not be your type fr that’s why the sex is so shocking like dang I didn’t know you’d have me feeling like this now I’m stuck. Unforgettable. We also used toys
Cancer eros/mars have a creampie obsession or they lovve boobs ofc, they tend to match the same energy as their partner sexually wise but they can get really really freaky if you ask them nicely 🤭
Leo mars/eros- they love to put on a show in bed, they could be really playful/teasing/loungeful before the act. It’s like they love to tease you until you can’t take it anymore forcing you to make the first move( you need to show them how badly you want them) They look so hot all the faces they make🥵 esp when ur taking a quick break in between and they look so effortlessly good, if the chemistry/sex is good they’ll probably ask if they can record cuz they’re not gonna waste storage on some wack 💩 you can definitely learn something from them
I’ve had Leo in Eros in composite with someone and they’re the only person I needed to take a plan b with after the deed🧍🏽‍♀️
Pisces eros- likes to dive into the taboo side of sex, sex for them could cause them confusion instead of clarity most times. They like to fulfill their fantasies I feel like they have more opportunities to do that than others. The only guy I know with this said he had like 20 bodies??😟 but I’m pretty sure it’s only that high cause they never come back for seconds🤣 perfect example he needs to do some healing before he tries to sleep with someone 🧏🏽‍♀️
Neptune aspects to eros like to be under the influence while having sex. They get really sleepy also
Just like Aquarius eros they like to record/ have cybersex/have a audience
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I love how everyone always says scorpios are the freakiest 😂😂😂(they’re up there tho) and us cancers/virgos/taurus just chuckle 🤭
Cancers literally speak to ur soul in the bedroom. We bring out desires that you never knew you had. We’re literally the sign of the motherrr like we really know what’s best for you (us). That’s why they always come back for more🤣🤣 and plz don’t let them have mommy issues they’ll be stuck for life
Virgos😂😂😂😂😂 nobody talks about how the ♍️ symbol looks just like ♏️ (aka they hide their crazy/freaky side very well) they’re adaptable and they aim to please, if you’re satisfied then so are they. And they’re sooo good with their fingers and mouth like Geminis.
Tauruses they need to be satisfied before anything like being fed and taken care of before the deed, but once they see you deserve their time or loyalty they turn into a demon for you😈 drunk and love vibes buss the windows out ur car then have makeup sex yk? But ngl if their underdeveloped they may give ♍️ vibes to their partner instead
Libra Mars/Eros I’ve only had bad experiences with this one but they were sags so plz understand where I’m coming from. They love the IG baddies with the bubble 🍑 and cute aesthetics. They love “plastic barbies”/ dolls . They’re in love with the idea of love. Definitely have more than one person on their roster. They LOVE lingerie and pastel laces esp the men yk they fw it when they don’t take the panties off just pull them to the side🤣Depending on their chart I wouldn’t associate with this eros/mars their standards are unrealistic and problematic :/
Now composite libra in eros is a different experience for me, it feels like a romantic comedy, the head over heels vibes before you even make it to the bed🥰. These two could enjoy being in each other’s presence more than having sex? Like they genuinely enjoy eachothers company sm they kinda skip over that part sometimes lol. Also other people could try to intervene with you two?? In a sense 👀
Also most every Virgo/libra/sag guy (except 3, I think it’s more likely to happen if they’re underdeveloped signs)I’ve fw never liked to give head??? But it was mandatory that they received some???😃 the excuse was always they’re not in the mood/ that’s dirty/ their mouth hurts??💀💀💀 so my 🐱 is too dirty to eat but clean enough to f*ck? but ur 🍆 is clean to do both???🤣🤣🤣 neverrr again this why I’m gay asf now Chile
Sag mars/eros 😂 good luck trying to tie them down. They’re the most promiscuous/adventurous when it comes to sex. They love trying new things really down with whatever! Car sex, or just sex in public in general 😵‍💫 I promise y’all they dgaf. Also these people will change your way of thinking, a catalyst of self development. For me they were always the fboy that made me learn my lesson 😭. They push you to evolve.
Capricorn/10th Eros composite- sex definitely isn’t something you two rush into. Could be more on the reserved side at first. It may be mandatory that you build a deeper connection/commitment before anything sexual happens. It could be a while before anything sexual happens. There could be an age difference here as well. One person could be unexperienced. If you have this with someone and the sex isn’t that great the first time please don’t give up on them 😭 the more you get to understand eachothers bodies the better the sex will be. Bdsm could be a thing here. The type to tie you up/restrain you/ f*ck ur brains out and call you out of ur name but have mini wellness checks in-between. Edging and age play could be a thing. You two could start a OF👀
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🍆 indicators
Look at their mars aspects it’s very important. I’ve seen a lot of 🍆s yall so ik what I’m talking about 😂 the biggest one I’ve ever seen had Mars ☌ Jupiter like HUGE🫣😰 harsher aspects to Jupiter is what you want to look for. Now if he has aspects to Saturn but none to Jupiter…… it’s probably on the smaller scale 😭this could also mean good stamina/ hard to climax.
Mars ☌ Uranus surprised me which is on point 😂 very freaky placement uhm their 🍆s look pretty most of the time usually has a curve, definitely gonna hit you with some unusual positions that all feel weirdly good🥴
Mars ☌ Neptune is a less common aspect I’ve seen could have more length than girth but they’re really long. I feel like this is the unsolicited 🍆 pic sender💀 the ones that think everyone needs to see their🍆🙄/ people could fantasize on how they are in bed
🐱 indicators
Honestly idk any I feel like every 🐱 is good if you know how to please it right😌 but the ones that don’t need any assistance is 8th/12th house placements fs esp Jupiter/Neptune/mars. And prominent water signs in the chart
Pisces/12th house Eros in composite ‼️⚠️‼️ definitely not something to take lightly. The energy you two share is sacred. Very spiritual experience I don’t recommend this placement if you’re not aligned on a spiritual level. Lies/hidden motives could be involved. The f*ck you back to sleep placement. Sex so good you both sleep like you work 3 jobs after. I swear he put me into a meditative state while having sex I had to snap out of it 😭 also he was only person to make me orgasim ever to this day our bodies just blended so well together like water💧also he loved my feet?? Bon appetite!
Just experienced this composite again and it’s literally the samee feeling omg the discreetness and blurred lines/taboo feeling, the way our bodies just work so well together ommmg😩 we love to watch eachother? Sexting/stalking placement. And he loves my feet too💀. Sleep is really prominent here.
That’s all for now💋 just wanted to post for my 3year tumblr anniversary 🥹❤️
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kumawaii · 2 months
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PLAYING THE GAME | PJS
cw - reader can fit into jay’s clothes, a bit of obsession, yandere behavior, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie
∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘
football player!jay is the epitome of perfect. he’s good looking, talented, and popular. from the moment he stepped on campus, he was considered a king among his peers. the star athlete of his college who has it all, except the thing that he wants the most in this world — you.
it’s a complete surprise for football player!jay when he finds himself falling for you. maybe it’s life’s cosmic joke that he has a hallway crush who never looks his way, who directs that pretty smile at every person she sees except him, who doesn’t care that he’s the campus heartthrob. it’s all very devastating to him because he spends so much time pining for you in spite of you not noticing him.
this goes on until football player!jay can’t take it anymore. he boldly takes a seat next to you in class on a random day. the smile he directs at you as he introduces himself to you is charming and attractive. you’re floored by his cute display because he says this to you like you don’t know who he is when of course you do.
football player!jay doesn’t know that, though. because you still just give him a polite smile and then focus on the lesson the rest of the class. for some reason, it just makes him want you more. so for the next few weeks he makes the biggest effort to get close to you.
football player!jay treats you so sweetly and gently. he always gets you coffee in the morning and walks you to all his classes. somewhere along the way, you started to look forward to sitting next to him in class. you two become real friends, but it’s not enough for him. while you’re very friendly and open to spending time with him, you don’t ever respond to him flirting with you. and on one of the mornings he brings you your coffee, he finally figures out why.
it’s really hard not to crush the cup in his hands when he sees you talking to a ta notorious for fucking students. the way you shyly laugh and smile at that sleazy loser makes football player!jay’s blood boil. as he works through his rage and jealousy, you saunter over to him without knowing he’s practically seething.
“you close with that guy?” it’s a casual question that hides the animosity he feels.
“i’m getting to know him.” you say as you take a sip of the coffee he bought for you.
“just be careful, babe.” jay says as he throws an arm around your shoulder. he squeezes you closer to his side, loving how you feel against him. “he fucks around a lot.”
it’s the first doubt he plants in your mind. he can literally see you starting to feel turned off, and he has to hide his smirk. football player!jay’s plan doesn’t end there. it’s fairly easy to convince his slutty ex to fuck the ta under the guise that they might possibly get back together. she didn’t expect it to end with both of them being kicked out of the university after being caught.
football player!jay feels a little bad to see you upset, but he’s ultimately happy that you run into his arms after his plan is complete. that night he spends hours eating you out, licking and sucking on your pretty little pussy until you literally can’t take it anymore. he feels like he’s on top of the world when he asks you to be at his next game and you say yes.
the sight of you adorned in football player!jay’s jersey that has his number and his last name plastered on the back only deepens his feelings for you. after he leads his team to victory, you run down and jump into his arms. he easily catches you and spins you around, his ego more inflated than it ever has been. your sweet voice congratulates him, and it makes his dick throb when you demand to go back to his place so you can give him his prize.
it all feels like a dream when football player!jay has you in his bed, kissing you deeply as your scent and taste invade his senses. he groans into your mouth, slowly teasing your entrance with his leaking tip. his pupils are blown wide as he slowly slides his cock deep inside of you. your moans are so cute that jay has to stop multiple times to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.
“fuck, baby.” jay moans before he starts licks and suck on your neck, leaving his marks on you. “you feel so fucking good.”
you’re whimpering and moaning underneath him, locking your legs around his hips to push him deeper inside you. football player!jay had never felt better than he does now with your sweet pussy sucking him in, clamping down on him and massaging his aching cock with your swollen walls. his thrusts start to pick up speed, chasing the addicting feeling of fucking you.
“harder!” you squeal against jay’s lips. “fuck me harder!”
football player!jay angles your hips up, allowing him to press his leaking head against the soft spot that makes you see starts. you clench down even tighter around him until it feels like you’re suffocating his cock. he swears under his breath, panting heavily against your lips. jay’s thrusts are rough and insatiable, pounding into you as an indescribable pleasure consumes you both.
“so fucking tight — all for me.”
jay’s growl makes the coil in your belly snap. you moan out his name as you cum all over his cock. he groans along with you, sloppily fucking back into you as his own orgasm hits. thick ropes of cum paint your silky walls, effectively marking you as his in the most primal way possible.
football player!jay won’t ever get enough of you clinging to him while you moan his name so prettily. he’s gently rubbing soothing circles on your throbbing clit as you start to come down from your high. the smile he directs at you is so pretty and endearing that you have to pull him down for another kiss.
as you two lay in his bed after, football player!jay presses a sweet kiss to your head. your sleeping form cuddles closer to him, and his heart swells. because now that he’s had you, no one is going to take you away from him. ever.
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netherfeildren · 4 months
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Evermore
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Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.
-OR-
The Thanksgiving AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP
A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]
New Year’s Eve follow up
Word Count: 4.2K
Read on AO3
Ko-fi
“You’re doing so good.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him. 
“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter. 
“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”
You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?” 
“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”
“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother. 
Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done. 
“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers. 
You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine. 
He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.” 
You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”
He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”
The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.
Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad. 
You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has. 
You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside. 
The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there. 
He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust. 
You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot. 
He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it. 
“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass. 
“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.
“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”
“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”
“Baby…”
Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough. 
“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.
“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him. 
“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”
“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him. 
“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”
“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go. 
He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately. 
He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this. 
He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.
He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him. 
He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.
There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that. 
He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.” 
You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby. 
When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you. 
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thevirgincherry · 5 months
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PUPPY LOVE !
ft. leon s. kennedy x f!reader
tags. puppy hybrids, knotting, chris is the owner but he’s like not fucking, virginity loss, vendetta leon, age gap, lots of spit
notes. i write gn reader usually but this is super sickeningly self indulgent so it’s fem reader ughdhfh im so sorry this is crossposted on my ao3 :3 NOT BETA READ If u see a typo no you didn’t!!! I am so humiliated by this fic um this only makes sense with vendetta Leon so keep him in mind
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“C’mon, buddy, ain’t it a cutie?” You’re being held up, some scary man's hands under your armpits, legs dangling in the air as he shows you off to an older dog.
It. How rude. You’re a lady for god's sake. An ill-tempered little lady in fact. This is growing tedious, so you let out a noise of warning, and clamp down on his forearm with your canines. They’re just in. Fresh and white. Had taken a while, you were a bit of a late bloomer, but they're here now, and that’s all that matters.
“Shit,” the man clicks his tongue, “you got some spunk, huh, pup?” He places you down on the ground, and you sink to your knees with a soft huff. “What’d you think, Leon?”
So that’s his name. The older dog, Leon. He looks worn out and mean. Brows furrowed, wrinkled forehead, dark hair that obscures most of his face. What a creep. You’ve been set up, the old lady at the pet shop told you this was going to be fun! She said you were gonna meet someone handsome, a stud who’d give you puppies. This dog looks like he doesn’t even go into rut anymore. His glory days are so over. Ten years past his prime. You stick your nose in the air and refuse to acknowledge him. He does the same.
“Leon, come on, buddy,” the man, well, you guess he’s your owner now, tries to coax him over, ���don't be like this.”
Leon simply rolls onto his side, his ears flopping over so the pink underside is seen. Rude. You’re so pretty any normal mutt would be begging for it. But, you guess he’s just faulty. ‘Cause he’s an old man. Duh. This is so unfair, a pampered pooch like you deserves so much better. A two bedroom apartment with a single bathroom, and an open-plan kitchen is just not classy.
“Fuck, Leon, you always gotta be so damn difficult.” Your owner crouches down, fastens a collar around your neck. It’s pink so that's good at least. You’re a stupid pup, can’t quite make out what’s engraved on the doggy bone charm, but you assume it would be your name. “There you go, girl, you like it?”
You tilt your head to the side, but ultimately nod your head with a forced smile. Getting on your owner’s good side would be ideal. Maybe he’d spoil you a little extra. He’s awfully handsome when you take a moment to really look at him. Why couldn’t he have been the stud?
“That’s a good girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your head, “why don’t you go make yourself comfortable, pup?” He gives you a little smack on the bottom, makes you jump. Gosh. His hands are so big. He’s so big. You felt the way he flexed under your teeth earlier. So much meat to him.
With another huff, you walk around, sniff the couch cushions, press a dainty paw to the wall, admire all the framed photos. They’ve been together for a long time it seems. Your owner and Leon. He used to be perfectly pretty. Sunflower blonde, dopey smile on his slightly rounded face, puppy fat softening all his rough edges. Cute. You wish he still looked like that. His tail looks like more of a blur in the photos, towards the end he starts to mellow out, turning into what you’ve seen of him today. Moody.
“Leon was a military dog,” your owner explains. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s important. Considering all the strange clothes with leather straps and that ugly green print, there’s even a gun in your owner’s hands. “He’s retired now though. I thought you’d cheer him up a little.”
You blink at your owner, pressing your nose into his hand when he offers it, pink tongue licking at his salty fingers. Yeah, you like him. He’s firm and sweet. Smiles at you in a way that’s kind. Leon is the only problem. Whatever. He’ll kick the bucket soon enough, or maybe your owner will get tired of him. After all, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you’ve got plenty up your sleeve to show off. Rolling over, batting your lashes, smiling, looking pretty. You’ve got it handled.
“You know how to speak, pup?” Owner cups your cheeks, “my name is Chris,” he says it slowly, waits till you repeat it back to him.
“Chris…” you’re hesitant to speak, unsure of if you did it right. He pats your head, offers you a paw-shaped treat, that must mean you did well.
“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Gosh. You like him lots ‘n lots. This place ain’t so bad after all.
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“She’s settling in well,” Chris is on the phone with somebody, “no, course not, god, she’s a star.” He’s talking ‘bout you, and you like it. You’re the apple of his eye these days.
He scratches behind your ears as you sit beside him, chewing on a squeaky toy you gnawed at so bad it popped. Leon is laying on the floor as usual, sleeping soundly on a warm spot. You'd given him a shifty kick earlier, but he just grunted through a heavy snore.
It gets lonely when Chris leaves for the day, you often find yourself nesting in his bed, sniffing his pillow, chewing on one of his shirts for comfort. You get scolded for all the pin-sized holes left by your needle-sharp teeth, but you continue to do it. Leon is mean. He bares his teeth when you try to play, kicks you away when you try to curl into him at night, all sorts of things. He’s no fun, it’s why you cling to Chris’ leg, whine and scratch at the door, kick your legs and throw back your head to wail.
The door clicks shut after a short tussle between your teeth and the rough fabric of Chris’ jeans. You sniffle and curl up against the front door. This is so cruel of him. Why can’t he just stay and play all day? You have so many games planned that Leon never wants to partake in. Tug of war, fetch, tummy rubs, kisses, cuddles. It’ll be so much fun! And yet there’s nobody to do it with.
You nose at his cheek as he sleeps in his usual spot. Just by the window, bathed in the warmth of the yolky sunlight, chest rising and falling in tandem with his breaths. His nose scrunches ever so often, his tail mostly still, other than the little flick to the side it makes when you approach him carefully. He smells good. That’s the one thing you like about Leon. His scent. It’s thick and rich and has your gut bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling. However, you welcome it, it feels good to you. Makes you squeeze your thighs together.
“Leon,” your slurring speech makes his brows furrow, his lips downturned, “play with me.”
A low sound rumbles deep in his chest when you continue to prod at him, is he seriously growling at you? This dog has no manners whatsoever. Seriously, who raised him? It can’t have been Chris. “Leon,” you drag it out this time, whining as you clamber on top of him.
Sniffing his neck, you lick at his Adam’s apple, watch as it bobs when he swallows. He opens his eyes, glares at you through light lashes, swats at your face.
“Play with me, Leon,” your bottom lip juts out, giving him those eyes that no one is able to say no to. None of the pet shop workers could, and Chris certainly can’t, so Leon should surely fall for it.
Leon’s eye twitches, his lip curls upwards, flashing those big teeth of his. It’s a warning that you take with a grain of salt. “Leon, ‘m wanna play,” you say again, wriggling on top of him, your hands planted on that firm chest of his.
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You’re a pest. A mutt at best. A bother, a hindrance, all of the above. Leon doesn’t know many other words. He has no clue on whose idea this was, couldn’t have been Chris on his own, must’ve been his sister. Or the lady with the pixie cut, one who brings him treats whenever she visits. ‘Cause Chris knows him well enough. Knows that Leon likes to be alone lately. That a new puppy is just an extra mouth to feed for Chris. He doesn’t need company, doesn’t appreciate a hyperactive pup kneeing him in the gut every hour in an attempt to play some kiddy games.
Total cutie. He’ll give you that. Soft and sweet like all puppies are. Floppy ears, fluffy tail, cute teeth that don’t do much damage. Droopy tits, layer of pudge that puppies tend to have, full hips, and a pert ass.
Now, Leon would never hurt you on purpose. It’s why he sticks to threats he never follows through with. Snarling, baring his teeth, the regular shit. Would get any normal pup scampering away from him, but you’re spoiled rotten. You get what you want at the drop of a hat. He blames that on Chris. Old age has made him sappy. Old age has only made Leon feel like shit. His bones ache on the daily, can’t even get up to bark at the mailman anymore, his walks have been cut down to half an hour once a day, finds it harder to chew on those dental bones Chris tosses him. Stressful times. And the cherry on top of his shit sandwich is you. The little nuisance who insists on bothering him no matter what.
“Leon,” you start again, talking in that high-pitched tone, an excessive amount of spit garbling your speech, “play!”
Christ, you don’t know when to give up. He gives you a light shove, hopes it’s enough to deter you, of course that's just wishful thinking. You bounce back fast. Pressing your forehead to his, you muster up your nastiest glare. Cute. You’re cute when you do that. “Play with me.” Each word is punctuated by your fists smacking down on his chest.
You’re hovering over him, bare bottom on his clothed lap, tits pressed flush to his chest. Every piece of clothing Chris tried to put on you was deemed itchy. Snipping off the labels never helped, you seem to only like cashmere, expensive taste. So he gave up. Lets you wander around in your birthday suit.
“I don’t want to play,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, expression contorting into one of restraint when you rock your hips back and forth absentmindedly. You’re being playful. Trying to get him up, trying to get any sort of reaction from him. But he can feel you. Leon’s been out of business for a long time. He was so damn sure his dick had malfunctioned a couple years back. No seed left to spare. This old dog was dried out.
This is all it took to get him fixed up? Puppy cunt? God. What a sicko. He sits up, hands on your hips to still you. Your brow quirks in confusion, blinking at him dumbly. Poor puppy. Don’t even know how wet you are. How your heady scent is coating the walls, making it unbearable for Leon to even breathe. He’s going fuckin’ crazy.
Leon pins you down, hair hanging in your face as he hovers over you. “Playing?” You ask him, face lighting up at the prospect of getting him to join in on your games.
Oh, he’ll teach you a new game, alright. It’s cute how you act all haughty, get Chris running around like a headless chicken ‘cause you’ve got so many demands, when really you’re just a stupid pup. Can’t even take care of yourself. Walkin’ around with this drippy pussy, an itch so deep in your core you can’t scratch it. Leon can’t lie, he’s cracked open an eye to see you trying your best to get rid of it. The ache in your lower belly. Rubbing yourself all over that pink teddy Chris brought back after a trip. Pressing its wet snout deep into your cunt to get rid of that strange tingle, but to no avail. Leon found it a little funny. He remembers being that way.
The sound you let out when he spreads your fat pussy is adorable. A whine that borders on a yelp. You’re frightened and confused for a moment, until his fingertips find your swollen clit, pushing back the hood, swiping over it again and again. Then you melt into a puddle of goop. That’s right. Must feel so damn good. You’ve got a chubby cunt, pillowy lips that hide your bud from his view, fluffy fur all over your tummy and crotch that’ll shed in a few months time and grow back in a darker shade. Cute little thing. He’s gonna eat you up.
He bullies his way between your thighs. Your scent is so much thicker now. Clinging to his skin in a way he’ll be unable to wash off. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has your hips bucking up, pelvis mashing into his nose a little painfully. Leon makes sure to hold you down. You’re sugary sweet in his mouth, like he’s bitten into a ripe fruit. Your pussy sure is the sweetest peach he’s ever seen.
“Leon…” you grab at his ears, tug on them to combat the immense pleasure that tears through you. Ouch. He’s gotta get Chris to trim those claws of yours down.
His hand is splayed across your tummy, holding you down as he buries his face in your cunt. Leon nips at your inner thighs then goes back to making those obnoxious noises that any lady with dignity would be mortified by. But you’re a stupid puppy that can’t tell left from right. Eyes rolling back into your skull as he slurps away, lips smacking noisily, his tongue fucking in and out of that tight hole.
Your toes curl in your fluffy socks, hips arching up despite his hold on them, pussy gushing like a burst pipe all over him. “There you go, atta girl,” Leon hums, flicking your clit one last time for good measure. He smiles at the sound you let out, a pitchy yap of irritation.
More where that came from. You got him all worked up. That hasn’t happened in years. His cock is dripping, a wet patch forms in the front of his sweats that he’s quick to lower. Your mouth waters at the sight, smiling at him all dopey. It’s instinct, it seems, for you to be a greedy, cock-hungry little pup. Leon’s all for enthusiasm, so he’ll give it to you, reward the spoiled little pup.
He’s sheathed inside of you in no time. You’re made for this sorta thing. Made to be a breeding bitch if he wants to get crude about it. So he doesn’t worry too much ‘bout how you’re adjusting. Just moves his hips forward sharply, fat tip jabbing at your cervix, and watching as you tremble.
“Mmm, Leon,” your nails scratch down his chest, ears flattening against your head as you gaze up at him with starry eyes. This all it takes to calm you down? Some dick? Leon’s willing to give it whenever you get rowdy. Spit pools in your mouth, dribbles down your chin, and he’s quick to lick it up. You don’t know how to kiss him. But you try. It’s clumsy and open-mouthed, your tiny hands cupping his stubbly cheeks as you just kinda slobber all over the lower half of his face. That’s alright. Leon got the hang of it after about five years. He can teach you.
You’re sucking his dick in, pussy tight around him like a vice, his balls slap against your ass. It’s so good. Fuck. He should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve jumped you the moment Chris brought you home. What an idiot. He was basically gifting Leon a living fuckdoll and he missed out on it for a good month or so. You’re so easy, kicking your legs, and digging your nails into his biceps as you cream on his fat cock, leaving a ring of milky white around the base.
He’s old now, can’t help the way his breath is a little ragged as he nears his high, can’t last as long as he used to. Don’t matter anyway. ‘Cause you’re satisfied. He fills you up like a creampuff. There’s a little surprise on your face when his knot begins to swell, stretching your cute hole till it’s gaping.
“Fun.” You tell him with a sleepy smile. Leon’s tongue smooths over your fluffy ears, he remembers his fur being this soft. They’re wet with perspiration, but he likes the taste of you. He grooms you to his heart's content. It’s been a while since he’s done any of that. Makes him feel rather happy actually. Like a weight has lifted from his chest. You’re falling asleep so he manages to roll over, careful not to move too fast and tear you in half while he’s knotted. He has you on top of him, face in his neck as you snore lightly. The warmth is putting him to sleep too.
Leon only stirs when he hears the jingle of keys and a few voices from down the hall. You’re still knocked out and drooling. The front door opens, Chris is talking to someone he tries to pick up on through smell.
“Jesus, buddy, what’d you do to her?” Chris kneels down beside them, pats Leon’s head then yours.
“They do get along well, Chris,” it’s Rebecca, she’s smiling down at Leon, he can sniff out those expensive treats in the pocket of her winter coat. “Guess it’s just when you’re around.”
“No, no, I swear,” he holds his hands up in defence, “Leon’s always being a fuckin’ bastard when it comes to her.”
“You’re just being mean to him,” Rebecca says, cooing as she pinches Leon’s cheek, “hey, there, good boy.”
“Yeah,” Chris lets out an exasperated laugh, “sure, whatever, glad you like your new pal, buddy.”
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