#i have another partner i need to do this with lmfao

[kakuchari]

HELLO ARIIII🤭 could i maybe have first times with kakucho? it doesnt have to be virginity loss, it can be just your first time together but i leave the choice to you🫶 maybe have him a bit on the more vulnerable side/insecure side at first?

-> you’re new to this, aren’t you? | 2,001 words. afab!reader, vulnerable!kakucho, slight angst/hurt + comfort vibes, cunnilingus (reader!receiving), fingering (reader!receiving), reader teaches kakucho how to eat (their) pussy basically, reader calls kakucho "baby, kakucho calls reader "pretty baby", haitani slander bc i can never leave ran and rindou alone ever lmfao

a/n: snow u know i love a good vulnerable big man concept <3 i hope i did this well for u!! i know i like to write kakucho as being experienced but having you be his first real relationship and wanting to teach him is so sexy of him :( god i wanna suck the skin off him jfc

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

You feel Kakucho’s breath still in his chest, his hands freezing on your skin. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, but his white teeth flash as he gnaws at his bottom lip. He doesn’t have to say it, but you can sense what he means. I am new to this. Nobody’s ever wanted me like this before.

It stings in your chest, the realization, and you reach up to cup his cheeks, brushing your thumb across the scar winding along the side of his face. He flinches, but you don’t stop.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

His breath is ragged when he finally sucks oxygen in, and he looks at you pointedly, hands firm on your chest, grasping your breasts tightly as if they’ll keep him from floating away. As if they’ll keep him grounded with whatever he’s about to say.

“S-Sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize, Kaku. It’s okay, baby.”

Another ragged breath. “Thank you. I-I am new to this, just…I’ve done things before but not with someone who- someone who loves me like you love me and I’m…I’m scared of fucking up.”

His voice grows smaller and quieter as he continues on with his confession, and he moves away from you, attempting to cover his face with his hands, leaving you cold from the sudden loss of body heat. You follow him, though, connected to him like a magnet as you grasp his hands, moving them away from his face. There’s a rage within you, aggressively boiling up as his words sink in.

You and Kakucho were relatively new to the whole sex thing. YOu’d had plenty of partners before, and Kakucho had not; there wasn’t exactly a lot of time to get down and dirty when you’re in a gang; although the Haitanis seemed to disprove that statement, but then again, it’s also the Haitanis.

You’d suggested it today, when you were feeling a little frisky, and he’d approached you gently, removing your shirt and bra expertly, but in actually doing anything beyond kissing, he seemed to fumble and be very insecure about his movements. It almost felt like someone had scolded him into telling him he didn’t do anything right; which wasn’t true, he did know what he was doing on a basic level, but he just needed some fine-tuning.

It makes you angry to know there was someone, or multiple someones, who used the man sitting before you; not teaching him how to pleasure someone properly, or not caring about him enough to bother. Or, even worse, not being intimate with him in a way where he had a chance to gain experience in the first place. The man who’d do anything for you, who makes you dinner on a rough day, who covers the chores when all you want to do is rot in bed all day, who is always there to dry your tears and hold you.

You’d do the same for him, of course. That’s what you’re doing now as you drag him into your embrace, pressing his face into your chest. He takes a deep breath again, and you feel something wet against your skin. You can tell he’s crying; you coo at him, running your nails along his buzz cut, pressing kisses against his temple and scalp and anywhere you can reach as you lay back down, refusing to let him go and run off and isolate himself.

“It’s okay, I promise it’s okay,” you repeat over and over, like a mantra in his ear as he silently cries, tears dripping onto your bare chest and sliding down your sternum.

“A-Are you sure?”

You stiffen, digging your nails into his scalp. “Yes. Why would I have said that if I didn’t mean it?”

“Well, other people have—”

You push his head up, cupping his face again so he can look directly at you again. Your eyebrows are furrowed, that anger still bubbling underneath your skin as you stare into him, the glassy red-and-white stare of the man you love so much the only thing stopping you from not leaving right now and finding the addresses of all the people who have slighted him.

He didn’t deserve that, as much as he thinks he does.

“You didn’t deserve that, Kakucho.”

At the mention of his full name, he flinches again, but it’s not out of fear. It’s out of surprise, like he’s shocked you care this much about him, but he nods. He clearly expects you to stop, but your hands are firm against his face as you keep going.

“You didn’t deserve that at all. I love you, okay?” you say, your voice rising slightly in volume, firm and rock solid, giving him something he can cling onto, “I love you so much, and I want this with you, and I want to help you. I want to teach you. I want you, all of you, and I don’t care if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. I’m happy to show you how to do all this, I promise. It’s never a problem.”

You can see another wave of tears rising in his eyes as you speak to him, your words weaving themselves into his brain, imprinting on it. It’ll take him a lot longer to gain that confidence back, of course, but this is a start. The tears are no longer saddening tears; they’re happy, relieved as he pulls you into a tight hug, holding onto you like you’ll slip away.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers shakily into your ear, and you can’t help but giggle at him, rubbing his bare back with your fingers. “Of course, Kaku,” you whisper back, “of course.”

Then, you drag your nails across his back instead, and he lets out a full-body shudder and a growl into your ear. “Fuck, do that again,” he says, his voice low, and as you do, he makes another groaning noise and pushes you back onto the bed, wiping away his tears.

“Fuck, okay, fuck, you’re perfect.”

He breathes it like a prayer as he dives back onto your chest, swirling a nipple around in his mouth, but not exactly correct. It’s a little sloppy, not the level you need him at, and you tap him on the head. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, and you have to collect yourself so you don’t just babble nonsense to him.

“Swirl it like you’re licking a lollipop.”

He swirls his tongue just as you say, and your hips jerk into his own, the motion just right.

Perfect, even.

“God, you pick up on things quickly, huh?” you tease as he moves to the other nipple, your sentence cutting off in a moan as he does the same to the other nipple. You can feel his lips moving into a smirk against you as he breathes against the hardened nipple, gently sucking on it.

“What can I say? I learn fast.”

He makes his way down, his thumbs hooking into your pants and underwear as he pulls them off in one go, and his hot breath against your dripping center has you whining for him, your hips twitching at the feeling of his tongue against you. You need it, you need it so badly—

His tongue takes one long, slow lick from your hole to your clit, flicking against the nub, but it’s not quite where you want it to be. You let him do it again, before you grip his head and tap him, causing him to look up at you in question. His cheeks are bright red with blush, like a puppy. If he’d had a tail, you’d imagine it’d be wagging while he waits for you.

You take a deep breath. “Stick your tongue out.”

He complies, and you push his head against you, allowing the wet tip of his tongue to traverse your lips and crevices, until they land on the one spot that makes you see stars. You jerk up into his mouth when his tongue skirts across it, and it’s like you’re beaming the message into his brain, because he doubles down on that specific spot, swirling across it like he did with your nipples.

Holy shit.

“Do it in a figure eight,” you stammer out, using your finger to draw a figure eight in the air. He blinks at you, before nodding and trying it, and fuck, you could’ve cum right there watching him comply so innocently with your commands. Seeing him so pliant beneath you, learning what gets you off, was such a hot circumstance to be in that the room felt like it’d been raised a few degrees. The coil in your stomach is hot, tight and warm, and—

Suddenly, he stops, and he moves away to look up at you.

“Am I good?”

You stare at him incredulously. “What?”

He repeats the question, his hands gripping the fat of your hips so tightly that it might bruise.

It felt good.

You blink at him. “I—yes, but—”

He smirks at you, although the embarrassment is still strong in his eyes as he dives back into you. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, baby,” he mumbles against you as he takes up his movements again in a faster motion, and you let out a loud moan, nodding. “You’re so good, Kaku, so good for me—”

He murmurs against you. “Can I…can I finger you?”

You laugh at the innocence of the statement, before nodding aggressively as his tongue flicks against you again. “Yes, God, yes,” you breathe, and one of his thick fingers slides in only a beat later. It’s getting more difficult to concentrate on teaching him how to do this, mainly because he is taking to how to pleasure you like a fish to water. It’s insane how fast he’s learning the spots that make you squirm; he’s perceptive, you knew that already, but this is another level. It’s like he’s turned all of his senses up to eleven to detect even the slightest discomfort.

“Up a little bit.”

“There?”

“To the side.”

“How about there?”

“Can you curl your—oh, shit—”

Not only does he add another finger, but he curls his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you and that does it. “Fuck, Kaku, ‘m gonna—”

“You’re gonna cum for me, pretty baby?”

“Fuck!”

At the pet name, the dam bursts, and you cream all over his fingers, shaking and sputtering against him. His mouth is on you in a second, licking and sucking up all of your wetness that dribbles out of you. He doesn’t stop, unknowingly about to fuck you into overstimulation as you cry out, twitching against him as he curls and scissors his fingers inside of you. It’s hitting all the sensitive areas inside of you, and by the time you finally come down and his fingers slide out, his chin is wet with your essence, looking up at you with a reddened face.

“Did I do good?” he whispers, and you pull him up, your gaze softened with the post-climax daze. You pull him close, tucking him underneath your chin, and sighing.

“Yeah, you did good. Great. High marks across the board.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh as he moves to tuck you into his own chest, letting you melt against him, his large hands skating across your back. “Thank you,” he breathes, and you look up at him with a smile, before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Of course, baby,” you respond, and his face gets even more red, bashfulness flooding his eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

You cock your head. “Yeah?”

He looks away from you, as if weighing the consequences of his request he’s about to ask. When he does, heat floods down to your core, turning you on again so fast that you see stars.

“Can I…do that again?”

You giggle against him.

“Of course. Call it an assessment of your skills you’ve learned so far.”

divider credit: @/benkeibear

networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

#📩 ari's got mail! #suyacho #📝 ari's autographs #kakucho x reader #kakucho hitto x reader #hitto kakucho x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #kakucho #tr #spicy #this was so much fun to write LOLOLOLOL i love him i want to give him a cozy blanket and a cup of warm lemon tea :(

[sarrie]

i miss my natural red hair and i'm doing my best to grow it back out but i ALSO MISS VIVIDS JUST UGH

#also that biker babe vibe was immaculate i need to do more of that #i have so much hair lmfao this is also all with me having an undercut #that bleach job took i think 4 hours #and the color took another 2 to 3 #it was a few months into 2020 and my partner did it in our tiny cramped master bathroom two beers in

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

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. 

#john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price #john price x reader #John price x you #captain price #x reader smut #cod #cod x reader #cod smut #cod mw22 #cod x you #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #MW #MW2 #Call Of Duty MW2 #mw2 2022 #x female reader #female reader

[oikasugayama]

He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 3

pt. 1 Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa (I can't keep writing this series, parts 4 and 5 cancelled)

Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. The actions in these stories do not reflect real actions taken in the source material. I do not condone the actions some characters may take in these stories. If you are sensitive to potential non-consensual activity, do not read this series.

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, strangers, sex at work, non-con, Rashomon as bondage!!

Kunikida

He would never participate in something that seems like noncon, even if a partner asked him to so this is a different kind of "stuck"

You're in an elevator with a handsome man you've seen before but never spoken to. With a loud noise and a screech, the elevator stops moving and all but one small emergency light goes out, leaving you in a dim metal box with a hottie.

Kunikida responsibly calls for help, while you focus on not panicking (you fail!)

"I'm sorry that you're in this predicament, but is there something I can do to help?"

"I just need to take my mind off of it," you tell him.

"Okay. Would you like to talk about something?"

"No, no... I need... hey, are you single?"

"Yes..."

"Can we make out? I really need to be focused on something else."

You're appealed to his logic and his need to help people, so he AGREES LMFAO You get to make out with Kunikida in an elevator for what feels like a long time before he finally pulls away and checks his watch. All you can focus on is the broad palm of his hand and his slender fingers. Fuck, you're horny just from making out with him. Every flick of his tongue sent a wave of desire down to your core.

"They should be here by now."

"Maybe there's an issue elsewhere as well," you say, resting your hand on his arm. With a pout of the fluttering of your lashes you ask him to continue, but this time sitting on the floor, and he again agrees.

You manage to climb into his lap. You run your hands through his hair. He holds onto your hips. You grind down on him, and finally he moans softly into your mouth when you manage to brush against his bulge.

He tries to apologize, but you won't let him. You keep grinding on him, kissing on his neck. "I'd really like to keep being distracted," you coo. "Maybe some... rocking back and forth ;) will help the elevator move again."

Sigma

You're a housekeeper at the casino, and today your one task is doing laundry. It comes down a giant chute into the laundry room, and you spend all day putting sheets and pillowcases in washers, in dryers, and folding them up nicely to be taken to guest rooms.

When the chute backs up, the laundry shoots out FAST and creates a huge pile on the floor. If you're not careful you could get hit by the force of the dropping bedding, and depending on how much is there it could crush you.

Well, unfortunately you were called away to help with another task for an hour, and when you came back and opened the chute it was waaaay more full than you expected and boom, it all flies out. You're hit and knocked over, then tons of sheets, blankets, towels, robes, and pillow cases cover you. All together the weight is enough to keep your tired body stuck in the pile, you can't even use your arms to raise yourself up.

You panic a little, but then you give up, realizing that eventually someone will come in and honestly it's kind of comfortable... like a weighted blanket... soft...

You fall asleep. When you wake up, you feel your pants being shimmied down your legs. You try to call out, but you're sleepy and your voice is muffled. Then you get a sense of what's happening without being able to see the scene: It's Sigma, the casino manager, and he wants to have sex with you.

"What in the world?" you think at first. "This can't be real." But then you remember his ability is information exchanging, and well, hell, if he's the manager you can't get in trouble, so... you try your best to give him the vibe that you consent and he must feel it with his ability because he goes for it.

He doesn't give you much prep before his dick is nudging at your hole. He dips it in a couple of times to tease both of you before he finally sinks in and starts thrusting.

He fills you pretty well. You wish you could see him and it wasn't so stuffy trapped under all these blankets. "Man I wish I could get out of here," you think, and you get the idea transferred back to you that Sigma will help you out once you're done.

Might as well settle in and enjoy it. Hey, no one can hear you moan given all the laundry on top muffling you, so you get to moan and whine and mewl all you'd like while Sigma nearly anonymously fucks you

Akutagawa

You're an enemy spy from another organization. You were captured by none other than the hellhound of the Port Mafia, and let's just say his interrogation techniques are...different.

Each of your limbs is being held in a different direction by his ability. "Tell me why they sent you. Are you special? Do you know something? Are you dispensable?"

"I don't know, I was just told to be here."

"What a useless answer. You must mean nothing to them. You got caught so easily; I can't imagine you're one of their best. I'm going to give you a new purpose so your meaningless life matters."

And then he lays you down on a crate and uses his ability to anchor you in place, making it completely impossible for you to move. He walks toward you slowly your heart pounds in your chest.

Akutagawa flicks one finger and a part of Rashomon cuts your pants from your crotch down both legs. He pulls the fabric off and wipes the tiniest bit of blood off of your thigh. "Hmm. I didn't intend to cut you. You must have had forced your legs into those tight pants. Doesn't it feel better to wear nothing at all?"

He pulls your panties down too with no comment, even as Rashomon wraps around your thighs and holds them spread so far apart that it makes your hips sore.

Akutagawa unzips his coat but leaves it on as he gets closer to you, running his cold hands across your inner thighs and close to your warm cunt. "If you can bring me pleasure then your life will be worth something."

You realized as soon as Rashomon grabbed you that fighting wasn't going to work, and now your freeze instinct has kicked in and you don't know how to react as his thin fingers spread your pussy and slide into your hole.

"Anyone who can't pleasure a woman is a waste of space," he says, "so I will be pleasuring you in return. If you wan't me to stop at any point you must tell me what you know about your operation and your organization."

"I don't know anything," you insist, but he tsks and curls his fingers inside of you, making you jump slightly as he brushes your gspot.

He fingers you, plays with your clit, makes Rashomon rip your top open so he can see your tits, and eventually (after like half an hour of playing with you) he fucks you.

He tries to talk to you the whole time, asking you questions and trying to get information but as you get more and more worked up you stop even trying to remember information and instead let yourself go with the pleasure. Who knows if the Port Mafia will even let you go home alive, you might as well enjoy yourself first.

#bungo stray dogs #kunikida x reader #kunikida headcanons #kunikida smut #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa smut #akutagawa headcanons #tw: noncon #mdni #sigma x reader #sigma bsd #sigma headcanons #sigma smut

[ayyy-pee]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Day 1: Exhibitionism

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Cheating, Exhibitionism, Creampie, Profanity bc who do you think I am, Pussy Eating, Masturbation, Exes to Lovers, Jealousy, Wasting food :(, DID NOT PROOFREAD SO SORRY FOR ERRORS LMFAO

Summary: Satoru hates the fact that you've been out of his grasp all this time. He loathes that you’ve been in the arms of another man, that you’ve had someone else warming his side of the bed, let someone else taste you, hold you, feel you the way he used to.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

❥ Gojo NSFW Week Twitter - AO3 Collection ❥

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

“You alright, sweetie?” You ask, peering through the rearview mirror as you put your car in park. The sound of whistles blowing, people cheering and clapping can already be heard from the parking lot. The nervous little face of your nine year old son behind you stares out the window. He looks about ready to ask you to turn around and go home. His stark white brows lift, his messy, just as stark white tresses swing wildly when he turns his attention to you. 

“Hmm?”

You unclick your seatbelt to turn in your seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he sighs, fidgeting with the collar of his uniform. “I just…wanna win today.”

Bright blue eyes stare into yours, searching for reassurance. Those same blue eyes that remind you too much of the one person you’d like to avoid as much as possible today. Even so, you grin, nodding.

“Honey, you’re going to do great. You’ll win the game and Daddy and I will take you out after. We’ll take you even if you don’t win.” You wink.

“Dad’s coming?!” He beams, unbuckling his seatbelt excitedly. You knew the mention of his father would help.

“Yep, he should be here soon. I’m sure you’ll see him while I’m getting your snacks together.”

“Cool!” He scoots forward, throwing his small arms around you and your seat. “I’ll see you after the game, Mom. Gotta go warm up.” Your son swings the backdoor open and leaps out.

“Good luck!”

With a sigh, you climb out of the vehicle, popping the trunk open to grab your snack cooler. It’s your son’s last soccer game of the season. He wants his dad to watch him win, wants to make him happy. It’s cute. Though there’s not much he really needs to do to make his father proud. He could do anything and he’d be happy. Because the one good thing about Satoru Gojo is that he’s incredible at being a dad.

You and Satoru have separated for a while now, per your request. Satoru is an incredible father. You’ll never argue that. But as far as being a husband goes? Well, there were a few things about him that rubbed you the wrong way during your marriage that prompted you to ask for a separation. The main issue being that he just really gets on your fucking nerves. It’s almost like he goes out of his way to get under your skin. Satoru’s always been that way. At one point in time, it was endearing, exciting.

But your personalities began to clash and Satoru began to feel more like dead weight than your partner. It was just a matter of growing apart. The decision to leave Satoru was easy. It was staying away that was hard.

That’s why you’d jumped at the chance to do snacks for the boy’s team today. You and Satoru rarely enjoyed family events together. Not because you didn’t get along. You got along fine, whether Satoru was annoying or not. More for the fact that being in the same room with each other usually led to such thick sexual tension that you’d end up texting him to sneak over in the dead of night. 

And you were seeing someone else now. Satoru knew it. You knew it, obviously. And yet, you still worried that whatever insane hold Satoru still had on you would ruin your relationship.

But this event meant a lot to your son. He wanted his father here for this and you couldn’t say no to him. Besides, Satoru would be on the sidelines, cheering far, far away from you while you prepped the fruit slices and sandwiches in the small snack shed at the end of the field.

Halfway to the shed, you set the cooler down on the grass just when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. A small smirk graces your features seeing the name flicker across the screen with a text.

Baby: I’m running a little behind, but I’ll be heading out soon! Baby: Wish him good luck for me! You: Drive safe babe. No rush!

You’ve been dating your current boyfriend for a few months now. Things are going well…slow. But it’s fine. You don’t need the constant rush or excitement that you had with Satoru. That’s what you like about him anyway. That he’s not Satoru. And your son likes him well enough. That’s the most important thing.

You’d let Satoru know ahead of time that your boyfriend was coming and he didn’t seem to have an issue with it. At least, as far as you could tell. Satoru never was good at being honest about his feelings.

“Ohhh, is that your new future husband?” A familiar, grating voice sings into your ear and you roll your eyes because you know exactly who it is. Next to you stands Satoru, in all of his irritating glory.

He’s got that stupid grin that you know so well on his face, cocky as ever because he knows he looks good. He’s already basking in the way the soccer mom’s heads nearly fly off their necks spinning around just to look at him. Too damn tall for his own good and conceited as hell because he’s not a fucking idiot, Satoru knows he’s attractive. Top it off with those eyes he likes to wear sunglasses over just so he can relish in the gasps he receives when people see his aggressively blue eyes?

Satoru is a walking red flag if you’ve ever seen one.

He’s obnoxious. And yet your body still tosses all common sense out the window whenever you’re near him. Your heart stutters, your cheeks warm, your palms fucking sweat. It’s pathetic.

You scowl, tucking your phone away. “Mind your own business for once, Satoru.”

Satoru blinks, stunned for all of two seconds…and then throws his head back with raucous laughter. He slips his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "Well, I still pay the phone bill so it's not like I can't check to see who you're texting anyway."

Asshole. Your eyes narrow. "...Do you?"

There’s not a second of silence between you two before Satoru laughs again and points to the cooler, asking, "What's in there?"

His sudden redirection works, your eyes falling on to the cooler. “Oh, I’m on snack duty this week so everything’s in here.”

Satoru’s not paying much attention anymore, eyes scanning the soccer field until they land on your son. He waves, calling out “good luck!” across the field. You take advantage of his brief distraction and grab the cooler, moving toward the shed hurriedly. 

You feel Satoru’s presence trailing behind you within seconds, following you because of course he is.

“I can give you a hand with those if you want,” Satoru offers, long legs carrying him to stride next to you. You shake your head.

“I don’t want. Go watch the game and enjoy.”

You need distance. Being within a small, enclosed space with Satoru sounds like hell. Because you know it will take no time at all for him to talk you out of your pants. Satoru jogs ahead anyway, opening the door to the dingy shed for you and you move inside, setting the cooler down gently. 

“I insist.”

- - - - -

Satoru thinks it’s cute how stubborn you are. You’ve always been like that, bullheaded and impossible to move when you’re set in your ways. You always say Satoru has never changed and never will, but it’s really you. It’s one of the many things that made Satoru fall in love with you in the first place.

After your little proposal to separate, Satoru was heartbroken. He let you go, though. He was certain you’d come to senses, ask for him back eventually. It’s just been a waiting game for him. But now the game is taking too long. The more he waits, the further away you seem to be drifting from him. And now you’ve brought another man into the picture.

That’s the last thing he wants.

Satoru’s eyes track your movements across the shed. It’s fairly well maintained, albeit tiny. There’s a long table facing a small window and a single chair to sit on that you wave at Satoru to sit in. He doesn’t mind. He likes the view as he watches you bend over to open the cooler and rummage through the contents.

It reminds him of how things used to be. Reminds him of the times you’d brought your son to his games together, as a family. Reminds him of home.

The painful squeeze of his heart no longer catches him by surprise. He always feels it whenever he’s near you, whenever he hears your name, whenever he thinks of you. And he’s always thinking of you. 

It’s sick, really. Sometimes Satoru thinks he’s obsessed with you with how often he thinks of you, how often he checks his phone for a message or missed call from you, how often he fucks his hand to the thought of you. He’s not too prideful to admit it. He fucking daydreams about you, goes to sleep hoping you’ll be waiting for him when sleep carries him away.

You’d up and left him out of the blue, asking for a separation, your only reasoning being that you just don’t see a future with him anymore. Then you had the nerve to invite Satoru over only for the occasional booty call, have him damn near fuck you through the bed and slip out the door before sunrise. He didn’t mind the arrangement at first…

…But now you’ve moved on. And Satoru hates the fact that you've been out of his grasp all this time. He loathes that you’ve been in the arms of another man, that you’ve had someone else warming his side of the bed, let someone else taste you, hold you, feel you the way he used to.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

“You ever think about giving us another shot?” Satoru asks suddenly. He watches with amusement as you stand, back facing him and shoulders tense.

“Absolutely not,” you answer after a beat.

Satoru’s smile widens. “Why not? I’ve thought about it. Too much, probably.”

"Of course you've thought about it. You didn't leave me, I left you."

"And yet that still didn’t stop you from texting me to come over at 2 in the morning for months after.” Satoru leans forward in his seat, reaching one of his long fingers forward to run along the back of your thigh.

You swiftly slap his hand away and he chuckles. “Yeah, thankfully I don’t need to do that anymore.”

Satoru frowns. So easy to forget you’re seeing someone else when he has you right in front of him. Not that he gives a fuck.

Satoru’s been patient, he thinks, kind even. He’s let you have your fun and date around despite the way his blood boils listening to his son tell him what mommy's been up to lately. Lots of sleepovers with your little friend who's on his way now, apparently. Satoru can't fucking stand it. 

He rises from his seat, closing the gap between you when he slips his arms around your waist. And like always, you melt into his touch, even when you whisper “Satoru” as a warning. You inhale sharply, but don’t move his hands. You let him hold you even when he sits his chin atop your head, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo.

“What?”

“This is…it’s– this is just inappropriate,” you stammer. Your body is betraying you already, giving in so easily to Satoru’s touch like it always does. “You know I have a boyfriend.” You continue moving the fruit around, just to keep yourself busy to try to hide the way your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

Satoru hums, the vibrations from his chest zipping through your body, igniting goosebumps along your skin. “Yeah, but I know it’s not serious.”

You scoff, a hand coming up to grip Satoru’s wrist when you feel his warm breath ghost across your skin.

“Is it serious?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. He wants to know. He’ll back off if you tell him you’re really into this guy. Well, he might back off. Really depends on his mood.

“It’s…I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, then it’s not that serious.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss just below your ear and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Satoru…” You try to chide, but it comes out as more of a pathetic whimper.

Satoru answers with a groan. “You don’t know what it does to me when you say my name like that.” He pushes closer to you, evidence of exactly what you saying his name like that pressed against your back. 

He’s so incredibly hard just from being this close to you again, inhaling your scent, feeling your soft body against his. God, it’s hard to not shove you down onto the table and fuck you now. But, he doesn’t want to scare you off because he knows at any moment you could change your mi–

His thoughts are cut off, a deep groan ripped from his throat when you roll your hips back, grinding your ass against his length.

“Shit…” Satoru sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck the way he knows you like. “Can you feel how much I want you?” He kisses your neck, nipping lightly at the smooth skin and you thrust your hips back harder. “You want me too, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan. You won’t even deny it. You couldn’t if you wanted to. You’re putty in Satoru’s hands and your body moves of its own accord. Satoru rolls his hips into your ass again, groaning loudly as his cock throbs within the confines of his pants. He wants you so bad, it fucking hurts.

“Let me taste you, baby,” Satoru pleads, hands slipping down to play with the waistband of your pants. “I haven’t had you in so long. I miss that pussy more than any–”

“God, you talk so fucking much. Just do it, Satoru,” you whine impatiently. Satoru laughs, kissing your cheek before he’s on his knees.

“Aaaalright.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your pants and underwear and pulls them down in one swift motion.

Satoru leans back, admiring the view from his spot on his knees. Stunning is the only word appropriate to describe you. Bent over the table with your beautiful bare ass and dripping core exposed for him. His dick throbs painfully in his pants as his eyes focus on exactly where he’s been dreaming of seeing up close and personally for months now. 

And now that he has you for the moment, Satoru wants to enjoy you. He wants to savor you before his time is up. But he can’t help but want to make you squirm before he does, remind you that there will never be another man who can fuck you the way Satoru does. The thoughts only intensify as Satoru palms your ass, kneading the soft flesh just before he leans forward and places soft kisses to the backs of your thighs. He can feel the way your legs tremble in anticipation, how your breath hitches every time he inches a bit closer to where you want him the most. 

Then he’s pulling you back by your thighs, meeting you halfway to latch his hot mouth directly onto your pussy. He doesn’t waste a second, flicking his tongue over your clit right before he sucks the sensitive nub harshly, just the way he knows you like, a broken cry of his name falling from your lips.

A blend of your moans fill the room – yours from finally getting the touch you’ve been craving. Satoru’s from getting to taste you after all this time. The vibrations of Satoru’s moans shoot straight to your core, but the feeling doesn’t last long. He’s gone before you can fully enjoy his touch. You roll your hips back as you desperately search for Satoru’s mouth. You want him to do that again. You want him to devour you right where you stand. But Satoru won’t give that to you just yet. He leans back on his heels again, watching you whine needily, wiggling your ass in his face. 

“You know I love when you scream my name…” he leans forward again, kissing the soft skin of your bottom. “But you don’t want your little boyfriend to hear us, do you?”

Your eyes snap up, peering out of the small, now fogged window of the shed. Sure enough, your boyfriend is standing at the edge of the field. How the fuck did Satoru know he was here? God, he’s so annoying. It’s like he can see through walls or some shit. 

Just when you’re about to speak up, tell Satoru that this is a mistake, you find the only thing leaving your mouth is another desperate whine when Satoru gives your clit a small lick before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly. It has your head spinning, mouth falling open with a silent cry as he works his tongue back and forth between your folds.

“Oh my fucking godddd,” you mewl quietly, trying to roll your hips back, find more friction. But Satoru halts your movements with his hands. He runs his tongue, long and slow, over your clit. Your legs shake with every lick. Your heart races with every groan. Satoru is trying to take his time, trying to enjoy the sweet taste of your essence on his tongue. You’ve always tasted like a dream and having you again has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he buries himself as deep as he can in your cunt and consumes you. 

“Make sure he doesn’t come over here,” Satoru mutters into your pussy. He brings a hand down to hurriedly work his pants open. He pulls his cock out, hissing into your core the moment the cool air touches it. His fingers spread his precum over his swollen length before he wraps hand around himself, stroking slowly. “Fuck.”

You stare outside the window, eyes half-lidded as Satoru absolutely loses himself in you. Your boyfriend scans the field, probably for you since you’re nowhere to be seen. You watch as he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving across the screen. Not even three seconds after he pockets his phone, yours vibrates, but you can’t focus on that when Satoru nips your clit hard and you damn near shriek his name as your orgasm tears through you.

You can hear Satoru panting, hear the way his fist pumps his cock as he drinks up every bit of your release. And then he’s on his feet, his free hand coming up to hold you by your jaw, holding your attention to your boyfriend.

You can barely make him out through the tears forming in your eyes. Satoru places sweet kisses along your face. He presses his cheek to yours, eyes locked on your boyfriend and you whimper when you feel his cock nudge your entrance.

“Be a good girl and keep an eye on him for me,” Satoru requests. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you gasp as Satoru pushes forward. 

He pushes forward, filling you so painfully slow. This is Satoru’s favorite part. He loves feeling the way your walls stretch deliciously to accommodate him, hug him so snugly inside of you. The weight of his cock inside you has you absolutely reeling, thighs shaking as you take all of him, just the way you used to.

You bite your lip, soft whimpers filling the small space as your eyes flutter shut. But Satoru nudges your cheek with his, your eyes snapping open again.

“Ah, ah. Watch him,” he commands through gritted teeth. “Need you to watch your boyfriend while I fuck what’s mine.”

Satoru kisses your cheek sweetly, then gives you about three seconds to adjust to the way he absolutely fills your pussy before he’s moving, bottoming out on every thrust that follows. 

“I could live in your pussy forever,” he groans, cock hardening as he watches you boyfriend wander like a fucking idiot around the sidelines. Satoru holds your face in his hands, squeezing your cheeks a little tighter. “Take me back. I know that fucker doesn’t make you feel the way I do.”

You whine, trying so hard to keep your eyes open while Satoru fucks into you with reckless abandon. The table bangs against the wall loudly and you hope that the noise of the game is enough to cover it up. 

“Take me back, baby,” Satoru begs. “I’ll be good this time.”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. It’s so easy to lose yourself in him, to give him all of you. You want to believe him when he says he’ll change, but history has always proven you wrong. You just don’t work anymore.

Satoru pistons his hips, his cock nudging against a part of your walls that makes you keen.

“I’m so much better for you and you know it.” His hips pick up speed, his hand coming down to grip your hip so tightly you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. “Look at him.” He thrusts into you deeply, grunting in pleasure at the feel of you getting tighter around him as you watch your helpless partner. “He’ll never be able to give you this.” 

Your fingers find your clit and you rub in time with his thrusts and your mouths fall open together, moans escaping the both of you. It’s so hard to keep it down when it feels this fucking good.

Satoru can see your eyes have closed. It’s fine. He’s watching. He sees your boyfriend glance over to the shed, body turning as he makes his way over. His hips slam harder into yours and you bite your lip to hold in yet another scream. 

A part of him regrets asking you to keep it down. On the one hand, he'd love for your new man to hear you screaming his name while he empties his balls inside of you. But on the other hand, an all out brawl at his son's soccer game probably wouldn't look good. Not that he couldn’t take him anyway.

Your boyfriend’s about halfway to the shed when he stops in his tracks, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone. He taps the screen, presses the phone to his ear and turns back around. He’ll probably be back soon, Satoru thinks. 

“As much as I love this,” Satoru thrusts into you hard, hitting that delicious spot again and making you whimper. “Need to wrap it up before your loser man comes back.”

You moan, fingers still working your clit as Satoru fucks you with everything he has to offer.  

“I’m never letting you go, you hear me?” He mutters between thrusts. “Your little boyfriend can’t fuck you like this, can’t give you what I can, baby.” It’s less dirty talk and more Satoru whimpering into your ear. “I love you and that’s never gonna change. You’re my wife. My wife. Mine.” 

His declaration of love shocks you, has your eyes rolling back as your orgasm shoots through you, a broken cry of his name ripping from your throat. 

Satoru turns your head, slamming his lips into yours to smother your cries as he pumps into you harder, faster. He grunts loudly into your mouth as he feels his cock pulse hard inside you, a guttural groan emerging from deep within his chest as hot spurts of cum shoot from his cock and paint your walls white with his seed.

You’re both gasping for air, desperately trying to catch your breath as reality sets in.

You just cheated on your boyfriend. You just fucked your ex-husband over a plate of fruit inside of a fucking shed.

That’s how strong of a hold this fucker has on you. You want to say you don’t work together, that Satoru irritates you to the point that you can’t stand to be in the same vicinity as him. In reality, you just have no power when it comes to Satoru. You don’t know why you fight it. It’s stupid to try because you know you wouldn’t be able to resist if you tried.

You sigh, pushing back against Satoru who gently pulls himself out of you with a soft hiss. You pull your pants back up and clear your throat. Outside the window, your boyfriend has returned to the soccer field, still gazing around the area for you.

“I have to go out there.” You tell Satoru. He hums, buttoning his pants.

“Yeah…”

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Satoru takes his seat again. Would it be worth trying with him again? You don’t know, but you do know one thing. Your body calls for him, becomes weak when he’s near. Maybe you’re not actually ready to move on because it doesn’t seem like you can.

Satoru catches you watching him and he beams, running his fingers through his snowy tresses.

“Can I expect to hear from you later tonight?” He questions. He knows the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it. But his eyes widen when you give him the answer he least expected.

“Come home with us after the game. We can talk about…us.”

#jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #anime x reader #anime smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x geto #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #GojoNSFWWeek2023 #dad gojo #dad gojo satoru #dad satoru gojo #daddy gojo #ex husband gojo #ex gojo #ex boyfriend gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : calling hamzah your “friend”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannons/blurb based on the tiktok trend of calling your partner “friend”

mickey speaks : since ppl really liked my first lil blurb imma just play out all my tt fantasies with our fake bf :D also pls send me any hamzah reqs my brain is very empty lmfao!!!!

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you prop your phone up against the vase of flowers on your dining room table, capturing both you and hamzah in frame.

“guysss!! look my friend brought me takeout hibachi for dinner tonight!” you squeal and lift the styrofoam box to show off your meal.

hamzah doesn’t catch it the first time, he’s honestly tweaking because he stopped to get you both dinner right after the gym.

he feels starved but maintains composure and a smile for your tiktok bit

“i just got the basic fried rice, veggies, and chicken. i think my friend got the same, hamzah what’d you get?”

his eyebrows pinch in confusion for a second, “uh yeah, i got the same as you.”

“okay first bites! i’ll have my friend go first” you can’t help but smile when you grab the phone and start to record hamzah, but he’s paused holding his fork in the air.

“why do you keep saying that?” he softly asks through a laugh.

“what?”

“callin’ me your friend?”

“are we not friends...?" "i mean yeah sure but like not just that?" "you're confusing me, just take your bite please we’re gonna run out of time on this”

he nods his head compliantly and exaggerates a hum of “mmm!” after his bite before taking your phone to film yours.

“okay friend, your turn!” he loudly mocks with a wide grin.

you try not to laugh while taking a bite yourself

“it's actually so good, i needed this right now.”

you now record the both of you, “okay my friend and i are gonna finish this and then we’ll be back with more bestie activities!”

as soon as you say 'friend' again hamzah leaves the frame to chuckle through the amount of food in his mouth.

“right, best friend?” you urge some more

he swallows and pettily glances from side to side, “where's the best friend at???”

“okay he’s trippin’ but we’ll be back”

you're both in your bathroom now, hamzah reads over the packaging of two sheet face masks while you pull your hair away from your face with a fuzzy cat-eared headband.

"'kay, now we're gonna do these face masks together, because hamzah’s such a good friend!” you hold and rub his arm.

he puffs his lips and closes his eyes in defeat while shaking his head, “stop,” he looks down at you, noticing your headband, “that’s cute,” he flicks one of the cat ears on your headband.

“you look like one of those get ready with me girls; you'd be like,” he mockingly pretends to push his hair back, “‘get ready with me to lie on the internet!’”

you laugh with him and add to the joke as well, "get ready with me to kill my boy-friend! my friend!" your eyes widen and you try hide the embarrassment.

hamzah quite literally points and laughs, "look at you! even you know you're a damn lie! girl, get outta here!"

cuts to a clip where it’s just hamzah talking to your phone as he shifts the mask around on his face, “i don’t even know if i’m doin’ this right, bruh.” he looks into the camera, “oh hell nah, i look crazy!”

“it feels so weird…” he taps at the slick, cold mask some more before coming close to the camera again, “guys im having a fucking identity crisis. why’s my girlfriend gaslighting me right now?"

“like, i didn’t even know that girls knew how to do that…comment down below right now and give me tips on how to understand women.”

“okay i found one, look how cute!” you’re back and holding another fuzzy headband with a bow in the middle.

hamzah laughs, “i love you, but im not wearing that.”

in the next clip of course he’s wearing it, “aw don't we look so cute?”

finally cuts to a clip of you later that night throwing yourself next to him in bed and flipping the camera to record him as he plays candy crush, curled under the comforter. “hi babbyyyyy! i was joking about the friend thing i know you’re my boyfriend.”

“i know you know i’m your boyfriend,” he distractedly mumbles, laying on his side while continuing to move his thumb around his phone screen.

you flip the camera once more as you wrap an arm around him and squish your face on top of his hooded head. he looks into the camera and smirks to himself when he sees your sweet face.

he sticks his tongue out obnoxiously, yells “goodnight vlog!!!” and covers your phone's camera with his hand forcing a loud cackle out of you.

#theyre so cutie #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah #thatmartinkid #slushy noobz #slushynoobz #slushy virus #slushy noobz virus

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”

#you guys would not BELIEVE the amount of googling i did for this fic lmao #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #i have a newfound respect for poets #because even writing up a trash mock poem for this fic was HARD #listen if you see any incorrectly used terms please look away

[ventismacchiato]

🎬 stuck with you !

a social media idol au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

Idols Inferno

Finding love in itself is a rollercoaster on its own, but it’s even harder when you’re an idol. How do idols find the time to perform and find a lifelong partner? The short answer is they don’t!

We bring you an exclusive dating show with your favorite top idols, including Y/N, Scaramouche, Barbatos, Lumine, Aether, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Ajax, and Alatus to name a few!

All your favorite top idols will be shipped off to a private island, where they’ll partake in many challenges and have the opportunity to woo one another. Amongst this they will be left with limited amenities and must fend for themselves.

Hosted by Yae Miko! New Episodes every Friday on Netflix

genre enemies to lovers, celebrity au, fake dating, dating show inspired by singles inferno

status ongoing, no update schedule

warnings time stamps don’t matter, alcohol consumption, mommy issues, eventual smut

taglist OPEN! comment on the masterlist to be added pls

extra might need usernames for the fans so lmk if i can use yours!

↳ playlist

NOW PLAYING!

starring…

↳ y/n and windblume | scaramouche and delusi❖n

ACT ONE: never settle!

PROLOGUE

O1. stay slaying

O2. biting my lips

O3. trip and fall

O4. am i cancelled

O5. i can fix him

O6. jumps off the plane

O7. forced smiles

O8. im a hater

O9. see you in hell

1O. tba

ACT TWO: fake it till you make it!

11. wikihow making fires

12. chef era

13. pick me choose me

14. sand in my ass

15. pass a note

16. jealousy, jealousy

17. see you in paradise

18. poolside shenanigans

19. ride home was silent

20. you’re a symphony, i’m just a sour note

ACT TWO: i choose you!

21.

tba

ROLL THE CREDITS!

author's notes: the title card came out sick i’m ngl and have you guys seen singles inferno i’m a whore for that show 🤭 there’s gonna be two soloists added into the show later to spice things up but i won’t say who yet! update: kinda wanna write this to get the scara out of my system so i opened the tag list again cus idk if everyone on it from last year still wants to be on it lmfao

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche fics #scaramouche drabbles #kunikuzushi smau #kunikuzushi x you #wanderer gi smau #genshin x reader #genshin fics #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin drabbles #scaramouche idol #idol yn #scaramouche celebrity #stuck with you smau

[derangedanomaly]

so, what if you do a Comedian reader x Classic, Nightmare, Cross, Dust, and Killer?

(You can add horror if you want, I just would've guessed he'd be delusional to the jokes the reader makes)

AU SANSES X COMEDIAN READER

(Classic, Nightmare, Cross, Dust, Killer)

Classic:

Oh, looks like Sans found his soulmate!

The first time you told him a joke, he swore that he fell in love. Even more when you told him more.

There's never a dull moment between you two! Always cracking up jokes. (Papyrus might be going a little crazy from your puns 💀)

Is going on all of your comedy shows. Every. single. one. Don't worry, he wouldn't miss this, EVER. In return for him going on your shows, you're going to his! :)

Slowly, but surely, becomes your fan. He has your jokes memorized at this point.

No matter how much he's heard your jokes, he'll always laugh.

You give each other tips for jokes. (Each one more ridiculous, but you guys find it funny 💀)

Well, what else can I say? You're just two cuties.

Nightmare:

Rolls his eyes at your jokes. Is really not all that impressed...

Nightmare's more of a fan of dark humor, so the right way to get to him, is by telling him a dark joke.

Trust me, it'll take EVERYTHING in him to not laugh at that joke.

You decided to take on the challenge. Beginning your plan to make the king of darkness laugh.

You send many dark jokes his way, which cracked him up. But he was still holding back.

After this, he got curious and decided to go to see your comedy show. It wasn't really for him, since he doesn't share the same sense of humor, but it wasn't that bad. (Bro's actually complimenting you? 😯)

From this day forward, he'll be going to your shows undercover. (Doesn't want to get caught lacking 💀)

Cross:

Bros a lil emo, so he'll probably act like your puns are not growing on him. (They are)

You once offered to take him to see your comedy show. He denied. 🙄

After you left to your show, Cross literally LEAPED from the couch and ran to see your show! He just needed to know if your jokes are as hilarious on stage as it is in real life.

He can't lie...but he laughed his ass off over there.

He immediately paid for the next show, with you not finding out he was even there!

He can't let you know that he's really not all that mysterious! That would be embarrassing.. ;)

Loves your puns! But you'll never find out.

Killer:

He's that one type of monster to yell; "LMAO, LMFAO, LOL" out loud. His cringe ass always gets you💀🙏🏻

He'll be so proud of you! Look at you, running your own shows, bringing people joy. He's so supportive.

"YOU SEE THAT HUMAN UP THERE!? THAT'S MY HUMAN!"

You would often find yourself embarrassed on stage cause of him...

The first time he found out about you having a show, he immediately wanted to see! (Even after you denied him multiple times)

He never stops encouraging you after that. It's always one praise after another. (I need him in my life bro 😭)

Is willing to punch someone just for you, so if there would be someone creepy, trying to get a feel of you, he won't hesitate to kill him.

Dust:

He's probably the one that encouraged you to start your own show.

Look, maybe he's a little emo...but he's not that big of an emo to not at least let out laughs at your jokes.

Out of all the bad sanses, Dust is probably the one that's the most closest to his original self. (Classic) So it's not a big surprise when he starts saying his own jokes back to you.

He was the one that also helped you make your dream into reality. (Since it was his idea.)

Truly proud of you when you're on stage. Also compliments you, but not as much as Killer. Look, he doesn't wanna embarrass you. 🤷‍♀️

"Hey, you see that human up there, on the stage? The star of the show??" "Uhm...yeah?" "Heh.. that's my partner.." Cue the scene of Dust looking up at you, with a dorky look on his face. "WHAT?!"

Your fans were never the same after that. You and Dust became the targets of what's called, shipping.

Not like Dust wasn't enjoying the thought of you two being a thing ;)

#sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #undertale fandom #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #cross sans x reader

[wasawattpadkid]

just another billy and stu lover sliding into the ask box, LMFAO. anyway, please could you write a little something where it’s cold/flu season and the reader has to take care of sick billy and stu? I JUST THINK THEY’D BE SO FUCKING CUTE SNUGGLED IN BED WITH A TISSUE IN ONE HAND, THERMOMETER IN THE MOUTH, AND BURYING THEMSELVES INTO THE COVERS😭😭 (why is it always the psychopaths i fall for, why..)

Anon you got me kicking my feet and giggling with this one. Hope you like it 💕

Flu season

Pairing: Poly!ghostface x reader

Warnings: Foul language, really just sick Billy and Stu

They weren't sure who got them sick but Billy swore to kill them if he found out. The two boys lay bedridden by your orders. You swore to take care of them, it's what you did best. "You don't have to do this. You're going to catch it eventually." Billy coughed his lungs starting to burn. "Well if I do you got to promise to take care of me." You smiled at the boys as you sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm dying here!" Stu whined hiding his face in Billy's side.

"Open up." You told Billy as you held the thermometer. He raised his tounge letting you sit the stick down. His lips locked around the thermometer holding it in place. "Alright Stu pull down your pants." Stu lifted his head with worry. "What, I figured you'd want the rectal thermometer?" Billy started to laugh which ended in a coughing fit. "What did I do to deserve you?" Stu said rolling his eyes. "We may never know. Come on put this in your mouth." You held out the thermometer. "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that- ow!"

"I'm not too sick to beat your ass." Billy mumbled after he smacked his partner. Stu grabbed the thermometer putting it under his tounge. "Alright you first." You grabbed the device from Billy's mouth reading the screen. "Yep you've still got a bad fever." Billy groaned throwing his arm over his eyes. "What about me doc?" You looked at Stu pulling the thermometer from his mouth. "Wow. Your fever has actually gone down." Stu rolled over pointing at the boy next to him. "Haha mother fucker!" Billy sighed before he grabbed Stu's shirt pulling him close to him. You watched as he pressed his lips on Stu's. "Ew!" Stu coughed as you crinkled your nose with a laugh. "You spit in my mouth!" Stu cried wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

Billy closed his eyes with a grin on his face. "You two are something else." You shook your head sitting the thermometers on the nightstand. "I'm going to go get some water do you need anything else?" Billy pulled the covers up over his shoulders trying to combat the chills. "Get over here fuck rag." Billy grabbed Stu pulling him underneath the covers. "Help! He's got me! I'm drowning!" Stu yelled being over dramatic as always. You got up heading towards the kitchen.

You made both the boys some ice water bringing it back to the bedroom. The room was silent save for a few breathless snores. "Guys?" You whispered getting an answer from Stu. "Shh he's asleep." He whispered as Billy's arms were locked around him. You sat the glasses down as quietly as possible. Billy's hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and you could barley see Stu from where you were standing.

"Do you have room for one more?" You asked as you crept over to Stu's side. "We always do." He lifted the blanket letting you slide in next to him. Stu let you cuddle into his chest where you could hear his ragged breath. "You're going to get sick." He mumbled letting sleep overcome him. "It's worth it." You said putting a smile on Stu's face before he finally fell asleep.

#scream #billy loomis #ghostface #scream 1996 #scream fanfic #ask #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #stu macher #stu macher imagine #stu macher fluff #stu ghostface #stu macher x reader #poly!ghostface #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #ghostface x female reader #billy loomis ghostface #billy loomis x stu matcher #billy loomis masterlist

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello! Can I request a caitvi x reader where the reader is really clingy due to some...unforseen event in their past? Sorry if it's a bit too vague😓😓.

BTW I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING. ITS AMAZING KEEP IT UPP 💯 👌

Hola hola!! It's not that vague at all! Thank you so much for your kind words! Here's your request, Anon! Also, do you guys mind if I reuse gifs? I try to find different ones each time, but there are only so many LMFAO

Cling Onto the Words You Say | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Every morning it's the same thing: Vi and Caitlyn get ready for work and you cry about them leaving. It's not like they didn't come back. Vi didn't understand your being upset. After a conversation with Caitlyn, Vi realizes she has some maturing to do and an apology to curate.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: F-Bomb, Hurt/Comfort(?), Comedy, Cheesy Costumes, Dramatic Use Of Rain and Water, No Use of Y/n

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"You can't go," you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. It was around 5 in the morning. Soft pellets of rain hit and ran down the glass window while the orange haze of the light strained your eyes. This morning was cold, the air nicking your skin and rattling your bones.

Your socks, thick comforter, and heater were doing nothing to keep you warm. Only your partners can keep you warm.

"Muffin," Vi sighed. She tore your hand off her sleeve. It was too early for this. Every morning you cling to her and Caitlyn as if you'll never see them again. She didn't get it. Every morning they'd leave and every night they'd return. It was like you had some sort of separation anxiety.

"We'll be back before you know it," Caitlyn's voice soothed the heartache in your chest. Vi's thick boots sloshed together as she met Caitlyn near the en suite's bathroom. You sat in the middle of the comically large and now empty bed.

"I just-- I don't understand why you have to go so early. Can't you go at a later time?"

Vi closed her eyes to suppress an eye roll and a groan. You warned them before you three started dating that you were clingy, but she never thought it would be this much. It annoyed her how much you thought of the worst. She's proved herself over and over that she'll come back; Caitlyn too, so why can't you ever believe them?

Caitlyn put a patient hand on Vi's shoulder. "You know we can't. We're going to be okay, darling. I'll check in at lunch." She then leaned over to Vi's ear. "Come on," she whispered, "let's go."

The two of them left the room, giving you soft smiles.

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally do. The hot liquid rolls down your cheeks and the strain of the light is no longer.

You're now alone in your room, sitting in the dark while the rain clatters down your windows.

-

"I just don't get it," Vi huffed, throwing her hoodie over her head. Caitlyn offered her umbrella, but Vi pushed her hand away. "Every morning it's the same exact thing. The tears, the clinging. It's getting too much for me."

"Vi, now come on. You don't know what they went through."

"Oh, what, and you do?" Vi scoffed. She sharply turned her body towards Caitlyn, blocking the woman from walking. Caitlyn sighed. With the readjusting grip of her umbrella, she vaguely moved her shoulders.

"That's not what I meant."

Vi rolled her eyes. "Wow, okay. What a morning for me, huh, Cupcake? I'm not already annoyed that I have to come in early, but then I have to find out my partners are keeping secrets from me!"

Caitlyn thinks this could've been due to the weather, but she swore she saw Vi's eyes darken in color.

"Vi, let me explain--"

"And it's fucking raining too!" Vi barked. She stormed to the curb to violently kick her foot through the puddle of water. The disturbed water further soaked the concrete underneath the two women. "I fucking hate the rain."

"Violet!" Caitlyn shouted. Another eye roll came from the pinkette. She squared her shoulders to Caitlyn and gestured, saying "Now what?" with her body.

"You need to calm down," Caitlyn's voice calmed down as she eased towards Vi. "It's nothing personal and no one is keeping secrets. You also wouldn't be soaking wet if you got under the umbrella."

"I don't need no umbrella."

"Right. I'll be sure to remember that when you're ill on the couch, claiming you're dying when you have the common cold." Caitlyn motioned to the spot beside her. "Come on."

Vi huffed. "There's no point of me being under the umbrella anyone. I'm soaking wet," the woman complained, yet found herself beside the taller woman.

Caitlyn's face lit up with a warm smile and squinted eyes. "We'll get you fresh clothes back at the office. For now, listen to me with your head, not your heart."

On the walk to work, Caitlyn explained to Vi the reasons behind your clinginess. At first, Caitlyn was hesitant. It wasn't her business to tell, but your lack of storytelling was putting a wedge between you and Vi. Caitlyn didn't want her partners to hate each other. You were meant to love each other and her.

Throughout the work day, Vi spent most of her time processing the information Caitlyn told her and reflected on her actions. God, I'm an asshole.

Honestly, Vi should've known. She went through something similarly traumatic with her parents and even her sister. You would think going through such events would make her more emphatic, but nope. Instead, the past created a hothead with a big head and thick skull.

As Caitlyn promised, she checked in at lunch, but in a different way than she was planning...

"This is ridiculous," Caitlyn pouted at Vi. They were at your shared doorstep dressed in cheesy costumes they found at various stores.

Caitlyn was dressed in a red and shiny halter top with a Barbie pink mini skirt. She had black straps around her shoulders that held up white angel wings. She also wore a headband halo, white garters, white and lacy thigh highs, and finally, oh finally, cheesy ass face paint with hearts and "I love you" plastered all over her face.

Vi grinned. "I think you look hot, Cupcake."

Vi herself was wearing a red tank top, a doctor's coat, and black jeans. She also wore "hipster" glasses. Whatever the hell that meant.

"Of course you do," Caitlyn scoffed. "What is the point of this? We're supposed to be delivering lunch and we have," she stopped to check her watch, "30 minutes until our lunch is over."

"Oh, come on! That's plenty of time!" the pinkette beamed.

Caitlyn sighed, fixing the hold of the basket she was carrying. At least Vi had the smart to pick up lunch before forcing Caitlyn into this ridiculous costume and painting her face with childlike mischief. "What the hell are we supposed to be anyways?"

Vi's grin hasn't left her face once. She was enjoying this so much, the joy she felt overlapped the pain she was feeling in her cheeks. "I'm glad you asked. We're Dr. Love," Vi gestured to herself, "and his Cupid! Tada!" She gestured to Caitlyn who wore a stoneface.

"Who the hell is Dr. Love?!"

"I don't know!" Vi pouted, bringing her shoulders to her ears. "Look, I only had a few minutes to put this together and I really want to make it up to Muffin for being an ass, so, if you won't do this for me, do this for Muffin. Please?"

Vi's gray eyes stared into Caitlyn's blue. Her pupils were large and her bottom lip protruding from her mouth. At work, Vi was distant and closed-off like her mind was somewhere else. She had a permanent frown on her face and this was the first time all day Caitlyn saw joy in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Caitlyn pressed the doorbell to the house.

"Yes! Oh, yes, yes!" Vi grabbed Caitlyn's face, careful to mind the paint, and pressed a big kiss to her cheek. "I owe you one."

Caitlyn shrugged with a bashful smile, her cheeks matching the color of her top. "Oh, well..."

The dark wood door creaked open, revealing your frame. You didn't look much better from this morning, but at least you were dressed. "Hello--?" you blink at Caitlyn and Vi. Vi grinned proudly, holding her hands in front of her while Caitlyn shyly smiled.

"We brought you lunch," Caitlyn said.

With your eyes shifting between the two of them, your heart couldn't help but skip a few beats at the gesture. You had no clue what the hell they were dressed as, but the colors hinted towards something with love. "Okay," you said dragging out the word. You stepped aside and invited Vi and Cait into their own home.

"Why the getup?" You finally ask them once they settle themselves on the couch. Caitlyn was peacefully sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle. With her perfect posture and angel wings, she looked something short of ethereal. With her outfit, however, she looked like a drunken college student on Halloween night.

"I wanted to do something special for you," Vi explained. She was setting up the arrangement of your favorite treats and lunch foods on the coffee table. She was comfortable sitting on the floor while she did this. "Especially after this morning."

"Oh," you pursed your lips to the side. You sat on the opposite side of Caitlyn. "That? I don't even remember," you say as if you didn't cry for 2 hours after they left.

"Yeah, you do," Vi and Caitlyn said in unison.

You shrugged. "Who's to say?"

With a soft chuckle, Vi turned herself around to look you in the eye. "Muffin," she took ahold of your hands. "I love you. I love you more than I can put into words. Never, ever, in my life, will I abandon you. Never will I say one thing yet mean the other. Never will I say one thing and do another.

"You," she pulled herself off the floor. She situated herself between you and Caitlyn. "are my life," she continued. She turned to place a hand on Caitlyn's knee. "You both are."

Just like this morning, tears stung your eyes. Your heart ached and wept, yet unlike this morning, for a happy reason. Someone took the time to understand you, to get you, and to apologize for what they've done to you.

You don't know how Vi came to this realization, but you're thankful to any force that helped her along the way.

"I love you," Vi said, her eyes on you again "and I'm sorry."

A sob broke past your chest as you threw yourself onto Vi. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, sobbing into the nape of her neck.

"Oh, hey now," Vi whispered, wrapping her arms around you. Her heavy and comforting hand rubbed your back. She closed her eyes, taking in your scent and feeling you sob and break down against her chest. "It's okay. It's alright."

Caitlyn frowned at the sight though her heart was smiling. You were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with them, something she knew was hard for you given your past with your family. You trusted them. Finally, your heart knew you were safe with them.

Caitlyn reached to wipe away any tears she could see.

Snotty and emotional, you pulled yourself off of Vi. "I forgive you. Th-Thank you for apologizing to me."

"Hey, don't thank me for the bare minimum. I upset you and apologizing should naturally be the next step. I don't want to lose you, Muff." Vi held your face between her hands.

Her eyes danced around your face, taking in your features as her heart broke to see tears. She kissed them away, licking off the saltiness left on her lips. "Now, tell me," she whispered, a smirk showing on her lips. "How hot does Cupcake look right now?"

"Hm?" you peered from behind Vi. There, you see Caitlyn with her legs still crossed at the ankle. Her posture was still perfect, her wings and halo standing tall, and you didn't notice it before, but her top had a heart-shaped boob window. You snickered. "Very," you whispered back to Vi.

Seeing your lips move but not hearing you, Caitlyn raised a brow. "Hey," she pouted. "What are you talking about? Why is Vi laughing? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Cupcake!" Vi laughed. "Let's just eat lunch, okay?"

Caitlyn pouted but complied nonetheless. They're running out of time to be with you anyway and she's hungry. She grabbed a tea sandwich and nibbled on it.

Vi grinned at you. "We good?"

"We're great."

WC: 1,989

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #lesbian #arcane fanfiction #caitlyn x reader #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn fanfic #cait x vi #caitvi #caitlyn x vi #caitlyn arcane #violyn #vi #vi x you #vi arcane #caitlyn x you

[dorims]

What kinks do u think Roman has?

I just know they’re weird (and I’d still be into them)

so if i have to be honest, ive never really thought about roman's kinks 🥲 HOWEVER you know how he shamed tom for swallowing back his cum after tabs sucked him off?? yeah he's definitely into that and you can't tell me otherwise.

and without further ado! a little brainstorm under the cut <3

tags. VERY SUGGESTIVE, MDNI, an overall masochistic vibe, degradation/praise, allusions to cheating, impact play, mentions of roman's low self-esteem

a/n. psa im not familiar with writing smut and if i gotta be honest im pretty vanilla myself so...do with that what you will LMFAO

masochism

hes a masochist, we been knew

its pretty much the central theme of these hcs too

degradation/praise

so definitely degradation bc its roman, cmon. but for some reason i cant help but think that he's really into being praised too?

could be wrong but i feel like he'd only let himself be praised after he's developed a solid bond with his partner, and it'd probably go from being degraded to a mix of degradation and praise to full praise in some occasions.

if theres not a smooth transition i feel like he would panic and shut himself out. like it feels too intimate or smth.

cuckolding (controversial)

i think he would like it bc it hurts. like his partner sleeping with someone else is kind of like a slap to the face

a situation that has him constantly thinking 'I'm not enough' and that kind of hurt i think he gets off on bc masochism <3

but thats only maybe with the condition he somehow gets the chance to prove to himself and to you that he is better than the person you're sleeping with

OR he's into 'pseudo-cuckolding' so he likes the idea that you COULD go and sleep with someone but you dont, kinda like what happened with grace and the server

SO MAYBE IM WRONG and he would actually hate this but you know, im trynna brainstorm

phone sex (is this even a kink?)

only the sound of your voice and his,

kinda like the romangerri situation LMFAO

because think about it, this way you dont have to actually see him. that would comfort him in some way because of his low self-esteem and self-image issues. that way you can picture anything you want and not be disappointed with the real thing, you know?

i also think that phone sex (or bathroom door sex????) would help him open up until he grows comfortable enough in the intimacy the two of you are building

love how this are supposed to be smut hcs yet im making them slightly angsty

impact play

i think this might be a little self-explanatory, but yes, getting hit in a sexual context turns him on

only when he is receiving ofc

dom/sub dynamics

he's a massive sub and no one can tell me otherwise

its literally on the show TT

ANYWAY, he's probably bratty at first but then just gives in to your every demand because he aims to please

still likes to get on your nerves though, like a lot and i think thats because even when he's been an annoying piece of shit in bed you still take care of him and that reinforces, in his head, that, sure he's being unbearable but that doesn't take away the fact that you care for him and love him, ya know?

also, he would probably call you mommy/daddy at first jokingly but the it kinda sticks??

freud would have a field day with roman roy

OOC BUT FUN TO THINK ABOUT: vanilla sex

hear me out, ik roman's character is pretty much the personification of the words 'kinky mf' but idk

i think vanilla sex would suit roman SOO much. i think for roman to reach the point of having sex with ANYONE there needs to be a established foundation of trust and respect and perhaps love too

and i know sex doesn't necessarily mean love, but we are talking about a man who's definition of love is pain - like love HAS to hurt for it to be love - and undoubtedly he would twist his perception of sex to fit that same definition of love because love is a branch of intimacy and so is sex, you feel me?

i just feel like it would show roman another side of intimacy. all gentle and kind and giggly sex and intimacy doesn't necessarily have to hurt for it to feel good.

like imagine just plain vanilla sex and its banter and laughter and quips and help me lol

vanilla sex and aftercare would solve all his problems, i said what i said /hj

#roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy smut #succession fanfiction #succession imagine #succession #roman roy #smut #asks !!

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Hey can I request something with judd birch I don't really have a prompt can you just make something fluffy and cute I need some soft love in my life lol

I literally had a dream about this last night, so here you go lol sorry it’s not like super soft, it’s just school hc’s

Tags: gn! Reader, kinda?, leaning towards fem, mentions of s e x 🫣, and alcohol, Judd’s driving, school should be an actual warning tbh

Summary: the one day a month when Judd show’s up to school.

Author’s note: I skipped my math class to write this,, 🤷🏻‍♀️ yk you gotta think like your characters when you write about them lmfao

Surviving a day in school with Judd

Word count; 1,1K

so, let’s say your boyfriend has one of those rare days where he decides to actually show up to school

He’s so, so tired in the morning

I’m talking slow blinking, yawning and constantly leaning his forehead on stuff to try and catch a quick nap in class or while standing up

He’s also constantly complaining, acts like it’s your fault he has to be there

He will be following you around the entire time too

No one will talk to you willingly the whole day because Judd is just always standing broodingly behind you

You’re getting something from your locker? Judd is standing there, scowling and leaning against the lockers besides yours so no one except you can get to their stuff

You’re talking to your friends? Judd will still just stand there a bit behind you, glaring at your friends or using his whole body weight to lean on you

Even if you’re talking to his friends, he’s not that talkative, he prefers just to let you lead the conversation

He does actually have those, friends I mean, like people he can hang out with if you’re not available, or people who host parties

You’re definitely getting initiated into his friend group as soon as you start dating, they’re all kinda like him anyways so you’d fit right in lol

But omg he’s so clingy at school

He just misses you between classes, yk? ),:

After the first classes, he’ll be more awake

You can’t tell if that’s good or bad tbh

It’s not like he actively goes out of his way to disturb classes or anything, but he’s definitely not an ideal student either

Like, he’s not one of those annoying kids who purposely talk really loudly or throw stuff or whatever

but he will sit with his feet up on his desk if he feels like it, doesn’t respond when he gets called on, will call the teacher a colourful variety of curse words and ends up getting kicked out and send to the office

Maybe just don’t call on him and he won’t insult you? 🤷🏻‍♀️

(He’s also literally the worst partner for assignments ever)

That’s in his own classes at least,, let’s say you share a PE class with him and it will very quickly turn into “hey let’s skip and go fuck in the bathroom”

The days were Judd shows up to school is definitely the days you get in trouble/ and/ or detention

Okay but that’s another thing, the other half of the day he will just show up outside of your classes

Either because he got kicked out of his or he has a break or something, he’ll just stand outside and wait for you to come out so he can drag you somewhere and yk,, get all the horny out of his system

Maury also straight up refuses to deal with Judd’s school, as soon as he enters he’s doing his best to convince Judd to find you and have sex or something instead

Omg,, the many, many, poor people you’ve traumatised in the school bathroom or parking lot

(He will also fuck you in his car in front of the school lmfao)

You usually eat lunch with Leah or your respective group of friends, but when Judd’s there you’ll eat with him

(You probably have to pay for his lunch🧍🏻)

Sometimes, though, he’ll drive you two out to get McDonald’s or something

Leah will sit with you at lunch too, so she can bully Judd for showing up or rant to him about something or whatever

Also if anyone’s bothering her, Judd is the best way for her to get out of talking to them

After lunch, you have a class with Leah so he’s once again left to his own devices

He reluctantly goes to his own class because he doesn’t have anything else to do lol

Unless it’s a teacher that’s really really nice, he gets kicked out again

The man literally spends the entire school day just roaming around because he keeps getting send to the office lmfao

He would probably try to get into the school’s vents as well? He’ll crawl over to where your class is and bother you by throwing paper or something through the vent

You’re just sitting in class, and suddenly a bunch of small paper scraps falls from the ceiling and lands in your hair

You look up, only to see your boyfriend grinning and gesturing with his head for you to leave the room

Leah sees it too and has to do her best not to burst out laughing 🫣

Surprisingly, he shows up to after school detention

Definitely not because you dragged him there and told him it was his fault for getting you roped into it as well—

You two sit in the back, and you try to do your homework while Judd naps

Sometimes you’ll share headphones or Judd will steal some of your notebook paper and draw on it

Judd is super distracting literally by just existing, he’s the loudest quiet person ever if that makes sense

When you’re finally out of school, Judd is by default expecting yet another rendezvous in the back of his van

It’s actually kinda fascinating how much the guy can go in just one day—

But anyways, he’ll drive you home or to his house or wherever you wanna go

Sometimes you come with him to pick up Nick from school

Okay so here’s one of Judd’s secrets

He can actually drive like a normal person 😮

I mean, sure he’s always a bit above the speed limit and a bit too close to hitting ppl walking close to the road, but he almost only drives like a race car driver when Nick’s in the car

Because he knows Nick hates it lol

You would have gotten used to it by now, because you know he isn’t actually gonna hit someone

But Nick doesn’t know that

Driving really, really fast is probably also a way for Judd to destress or wind down after a long, and boring, school day

He’ll pass the fuck out when he gets home from school

Well, he’ll knock back half a Jack daniels and raid the fridge and then pass out

You’re more than welcome to anything in the birches fridge yourself, so if you’re feeling particularly nice pls make him something sustainable

His idea of a proper meal is literally a bag of chips— I’m so stressed

Anyways, congrats. You made it through a whole school day with Judd lol

Don’t expect him to show up again tomorrow, though 🤷🏻‍♀️

I love doing Judd headcannons 🤭🤭

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

#big mouth #judd birch #judd birch x reader #big mouth x reader #headcannons #judd birch smut

[shadowdaddies]

Can I please request a bit of fluff and a bit of smut where Cassian and reader are each others firsts? 💜

okay I had to think about how I wanted to write this. I’ve seen people write first times as amazing, some as painful. This is more like my first time. You’re learning how to communicate what you want, and let’s be honest. Cassian is for sure packing, but Mr. “quick off the mark”’s first time wasn’t anything to write home about performance wise and that’s normal. Just listen to each other, it’s a learning experience (I thought of the movie “The First Time”, would recommend)

The First Time

Cassian x Reader

A/N: this is heavy on the fluff, and is sexually explicit but it's on the more humorous side. I laughed out loud writing the end because it's what happened to me lmfao. hope y'all enjoy

Warnings: smut, (very brief) p in v sex, not proofread, minors dni

You looked around the table where you were gathered with your friends, each of them coupled off with their males. Sighing, you rested your chin in your hand and scanned the tavern. Whether you were searching for something to do or an excuse to leave, you couldn’t say. You just knew you were sick of the relentless teasing from your friends about being inexperienced and needing to find yourself a male. You told yourself you were waiting for the right one, and while that made sense to you, you also found yourself wanting whoever the right one was more and more. 

As you looked around, a friendly wave from the bar caught your eye. It was an effort to stifle your excitement as you realized it was your friend, Cassian, who beckoned you over. You quickly excused yourself from the table and made your way to the bar where you practically jumped into Cass’s arms. He was so big and warm that you looked for an excuse to hug him anytime you saw him. He smiled brightly down at you, and your heart leapt in your chest, grateful to have another single friend around. 

“How is my favorite girl tonight?” Cass asked you as he flagged the bartender for drinks for the both of you. You sighed, glancing back to the table of your friends who were all over each other. You wanted to scream at them to get a room, but instead turned back to Cassian, linking your arm through his as you grabbed your drink and made your way to a smaller table for just the two of you. “I’m better now,” you admitted to your best friend with a content smile. You felt so relaxed as the two of you talked for hours, likely an effect of the beer you’d been drinking. You watched Cassian’s eyes light up as he told you about how well he was doing in training, inviting you to watch him the next time he fought someone in the ring. The image of him shirtless and sweaty in training flashed in your mind, and the drink, you’re sure, caused a flush to creep over your cheeks. Pushing the beer away, you decided one drink was enough for the evening.

Your eyes drifted back to your other friends, who were now leaving with their respective partners to continue their nights together. Unsure what propelled you to do so, you abruptly turned to Cassian and asked, “Cass, how many females have you been with?” Cassian choked on his drink as you gave you a wild look. “Wh-what do you mean?” You leveled him with a stare. “You know what I mean. How many people have you had sex with? Everyone is so obsessed with having sex, like it’s such a big deal that I haven’t-“ you froze, eyes widening as you realized you’d shared too much. You tried to recover, “I mean, people make a big deal if others haven’t done it, and I feel bad for them, you know?” 

You nervously looked up at Cassian, who was looking at you as though he was seeing you for the first time. He leaned closer across the table as he gently grabbed your hand and whispered, “you’ve never been with anyone?” You didn’t think you could turn any more flushed than you were at that moment as you stared at Cassian, desperately trying to find a way out of this mortifying situation. You were about to bolt for the door when Cassian held your hand firmly. “I’ve never been with anyone in that way.” He looked to you, and the vulnerability in his eyes made you melt into your chair. You always assumed that as confident as Cassian was, he was far more experienced than you.

You gaped at him, unsure of what to say when he murmured, “I’ve just been waiting for the right person,” and squeezed your hand. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as every emotion possible passed through you while you attempted to process what he was saying. Cassian, your best friend, the one person who you felt the most yourself around. Were you crazy to think those feelings went beyond friendship? 

In a moment of bravery, you looked Cassian straight in his eyes, squeezing his hand back as you responded, “I’ve been waiting for the right person, too.” Cassian’s eyes went wide for only a moment before he stood, not releasing his hold on your conjoined hands as he led you out the tavern doors. He scooped you up in the bridal position as he flew to your home and set you down in front of the door. Tracing his hand along your jawline, Cassian looked deeply in your eyes, nervously searching for any sign of apprehension. You opened the door, leading Cassian in as you turned to him, biting your lip as you whispered, “Cassian, do you think I’m the right person?” He grabbed your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours as he said with unwavering certainty, “You are the right person, the one I’ve been waiting for,” and leaned in to kiss you. 

You expected Cassian to be rough and eager, but his kiss was gentle. You could feel the emotion behind every movement. This was what you were waiting for; someone who cared about you, who made you feel like you were more than seeking pleasure. You moaned into the kiss, moulding your body to his in confirmation that this was what you wanted. You took Cassian’s hand once more and led him towards your bedroom, where you guided him to sit on the bed as you undressed in front of him.

He was transfixed, the strong scent of his arousal drifting through the room as his eyes remained glued to your bare figure. You slowly moved towards him, kissing him as you tugged on the hem of his shirt. He eagerly yanked it over his head before drawing you back to kiss him. Cassian pulled back just enough to whisper, “are you sure this is what you want?” 

You had never been more sure of anything, pushing him back on the bed, only pausing to answer him with a definitive “yes,” before moving to kiss his neck, occasionally leaving marks as you ground against him. Cassian gasped against you at the feeling, grabbing your hips as he ground against you, releasing moans from both of you. 

He lifted you off of him, and you both reached for the laces on his pants, working in tandem to untie them before yanking them down. You laid down on the mattress, Cassian climbing on top of you as you let out a nervous breath. Cassian sensed your nerves, pulling back as he readied himself for you to have changed your mind. Instead, you let out a soft laugh as you gently tugged him closer with one hand around his neck. “I’m not sure what to do,” you admitted with another giggle. 

Cassian sighed with relief, answering you. “If you can guide... me” he said, looking down at his hard cock, “to you, I know what to do.” Your cheeks turned pink at the realization, but you brought your hand to his shaft, Cassian groaning at the contact, and brought it to your core, gently tipping your hips towards him to guide him further in. You both gasped at the contact, Cass slowly inching himself deeper into you. You could feel the stretch of him, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as you had heard from your friends. Cassian bottomed out inside of you while you both grew accustomed to the feeling, and you quickly wanted more. Of what, you weren’t sure, but the feeling of Cassian inside of you made you want to move your hips, and you began rolling against him. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his tip moving inside of you, quickly covering your mouth at the shock of the sound you’d made. 

Cassian looked at you hungrily, moving your hand from your mouth. “Don’t cover up those noises, please,” he pleaded. You nodded as you clenched around the feeling of him, so full inside of you. “Please, Cassian, I need to feel you.” He grunted, drawing back his hips and moving himself back into you. He repeated the action, and you felt euphoric at the sensation when he was fully inside of you. After a few moments of Cassian thrusting inside you, he let out a loud groan, and you felt a warm wetness inside of you. 

Cassian panted as he rested his forehead against yours. “Was that good for you?” He asked. You stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what happened. “That felt great. Is it over?” you questioned, as Cassian’s face turned bright red.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian smut #cassian imagine #cassian #cassian x you #cassian fluff #cassian x reader fluff #cassian x reader smut #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acosf #acotar fic #acotar imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian x f!reader fluff #cassian x f!reader #cassian x reader angst #cassian angst #cassian fic #cassian drabble #acotar fluff #acotar x you #cassian acosf #Cassian acotar x you

[theromcommotel]

LOVE LANGUAGES !!

ENCANTO KIDS !!

characters included: mirabell madrigal, camilo madrigal, luisa madrigal, dolores madrigal, isabela madrigal

this is in terms of RECEIVING, not GIVING, if this is liked enough i might do another :)

MIRABELL MADRIGAL: quality time

most may think mirabell’s love language would be words of affirmation - considering her family didn’t give her that for most of the movie,

but imo she puts her family and lover into two separate categories, and she doesn’t expect the same thing from each.

and plus, she does like affirmations like “i’m proud of you” not so much “you’re stunning” (as much as she does appreciate it, she would just explode lmfao)

she likes living in the moment with her partner, and it doesn’t matter what they’re talking about, or what they’re doing. it’s a breathe of fresh air - and she needs a lot of it sometimes - especially when she’s stressed.

she loves any kind of love her partner gives, but quality time means the most to her :)

overall rating:

quality time: 10/10

words of affirmation: 9.5/10

gift giving: 7.5/10

acts of service: 6/10

physical touch: 5.5/10

CAMILO MADRIGAL: physical touch

i think the main reason camilo is so into physical touch is becuz this boy CANNOT keep his hands to himself (well, he can, but only if he has to.)

i feel like he’s not a huge fan of words of affirmation and acts of service, he’ll enjoy them coming from u, but there not his favorites.

he doesn’t need words of affirmations becuz he already thinks he’s amazing lol. like you’d go “camilo, ur awesome.” and he’d be like “ik sweetheart, ty for the reminder.”

he also wants to show you how manly he is so he is big on doing acts of service for u, but not so much the other way around. XD

gift giving (or ig receiving in this case) and quality time are something he loves, but physical touch still is at the top.

this bitch is a damn love machine, so he’ll take from u and give anything to u.

overall rating:

quality time: 8.5/10

words of affirmation: 7/10

gift giving: 9/10

acts of service: 6/10

physical touch: 10/10

LUSIA MADRIGAL: words of affirmation

lusia goes through a lot of stress - even after the events of the movie (imo.)

so hearing a simple “your doing great today!” or a “i’m proud of you” makes her cheeks swell from smiling.

she also really appreciated acts of service becuz of this!

she loves gifts, but she feels bad about u spending money on her😭🥹

on top of all this, she loooves physical touch. she loves giving headpats lol. and she loves receiving hugs and kisses, hand kisses will be the death of her heheheheheh

overall rating:

quality time: 7.5/10

words of affirmation: 11/10 !! lol

gift giving: 7/10

acts of service: 10/10

physical touch: 9/10

DOLORES MADRIGAL: receiving gifts

gifts - big or small, mean the absolute world to dolores! to her, it shows you cared enough to 1: buy her something and 2: pay attention to what she likes. and she’s all for it!

your family doesn’t have much money? no biggie! she love’s physical touch too. hand kisses, holding her hips, and playing with her hair are her favorites :) are this things small? yes. but does she love small gestures? also yes.

words of affirmation she also loves, but the appearance based one’s rllyyyy get to her. “you look like stunning today.” or “i love your smile.” are the kind of things she loves :)

quality time doesn’t mean to much to her - as she can always hear her partner anyway. but don’t take that as she doesn’t wanna see you at all, because it’s quite the opposite!

she likes doing acts of service for her partner, and not so much the other way around, just becuz she likes having the feeling of doing something and crossing it off a list.

overall rating:

quality time: 6.5/10

words of affirmation: 9.5/10

gift giving: 10/10

acts of service: 5/10

physical touch: 9/10

ISABELA MADRIGAL: acts of service

home girl can get stressed out - just like the rest of her family, and she really appreciates when it’s taken off of her shoulders.

she really enjoys massages - so physical touch is smth she enjoys.

words of affirmation are sorta different for her, she wants to hear “you’re not perfect, but that’s what i love about u.” or “trying your best is all u can do, don’t push urself.” yk?

isabela enjoys receiving gifts, but it’s not always the way she likes to feel loved, but she cherishes everything u can give her like a diamond🫶

she likes quality time as well - but i can imagine her being busy a lot so sometimes it isn’t always so easy.

overall rating:

quality time: 7/10

words of affirmation: 8.5/10

gift giving: 6.5/10

acts of service: 10/10

physical touch: 8/10

hey heyyy

i hope y’all enjoyed!

if u wanna request smth go for it!!

if there’s anything offensive/inaccurate here feel free to lmk🫶

love yaaa!! <3

-hermy

#fanfics #encanto #headcanon #mirabel x reader #camilo x reader #dolores x reader #isabela x reader #lusia x reader #mirabel madrigal #camilo madrigal #lusia madrigal #dolores madrigal #isabela madrigal #camilo my beloved #encanto x reader #encanto headcanons #love language #love langauges #felix madrigal #pepa madrigal #pepa my beloved #julietta madrigal #bruno madrigal #alma madrigal #madrigal family #love language headcanons #x reader #canon x reader #Fanfiction #augustin madrigal

[viharbinger]

Hi okay I have a really really cute ask So in the 3.2 trailer, it’s shows Haypasia lying down and Scara watching over her. If you don’t know, he’s doing this because she is his only follower, so he’s taking care of her/looking after her (bc she’s his ONLY follower) What I’m asking is if it’s literally just that concept, but Haypasia is replaced by us, aka, the reader. So it’s basically just Scaramouche watching over us whilst we’re lying down and then we wake up and see him and it’s all just generally cute stuffIt can be seen as platonic or romantic, I’d personally prefer romantic

pairings: scaramouche x gn!reader

warnings: hurt/comfort? Reader is a heavy sleeper lol — I wrote half of this when 3.2 archon quest was not out yet so therefore I'm writing everything blindly so this is either gonna be completely inaccurate or I just predicted the future B-)

a/n: LMFAO I find it funny af that scaramouche's only follower/worshiper is his PARTNER HAHAHA imagine having no fans 🤭

masterlists

Way before the Balladeer even became a God, you, his life partner stayed by his side the whole way. You hadn't ever renounced him after all he's done and been through but instead comforted him through it all.

You both lived in an isolated home somewhere in Inazuma's Narukami island, alone yet a long way from the city. Living like that has its advantages of course, mainly to protect yourselves against whatever meddling business the 6th fatui harbinger had gotten himself in.

Now that he's finally gotten the Raiden Shogun's electro gnosis from a certain shrine maiden, he's on foot again to archons-knows-where. And he tells you the news when you're both sitting on the porch of your tiny and cozy home.

"You're leaving already when you just got back?" Maybe it was the Gods playing favourites but the sun kissing your skin and the wind blowing against your hair certainly made you glow.

The sun was shining over the horizon, and the birds were barely awake. You were in your comfortable pyjamas and he on the other hand, was adorning his beautiful silk navy blue and white kimono that morning, rather than his usual fatui harbinger attire. Your eyes are struggling to keep open as you woke up a mere 10 minutes before.

Scaramouche brings himself closer to you as he sets his baggage down, the one that he needed to bring along as he was going to go out on yet another journey alone. He cups your hands together and brings it to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

"It's just some unfinished business I need to take care of. I'll come back for good. I promise." He whispered, brushing the stray hair that was over your eyes. He kept his palm on your left cheek whilst rubbing his thumb under your eye gently. His touch was delicate, like as if handling you too much could break you like porcelain glass. He was almost too afraid to leave you.

Several weeks passed.

You barely heard a word from him, but you have heard such news of an eccentric wanderer roaming around the lands of Sumeru. It wasn't much to go by but alas, at least you're aware he's living and breathing.

Now after achieving the power of the gods, his mission was almost complete. The power allowed him to do all things necessary. He was about to make his next move when his ears perked up in alert; as if someone was calling for him.

He doesn't mistake it's your voice. The voice he's been trying to replay in his head for weeks. He's afraid that if he doesn't, he'll forget how you sound like, how your voice could make him feel like a bed of roses.

You were repeating his name, like you were begging him for something. His usually hardened gaze softened in guilt at the thought of you in despair of his absence. He wishes he could just teleport straight to you right then and there, but even gods have their limits.

By nightfall, Scaramouche was still adjusting to his powers. He wanted to try and do anything within his power to attempt to even be closer to you. That is, until he found himself in a dream-like state.

He felt he could move freely, almost as if he were a ghost. He prompted himself to take this to his advantage and visit you in your sleep. And there you were, cuddled up on your bed.

The home that was once cozy and sweet felt uncomfortable. The room you were in was unkept and the bed was undone, some pillows are on the floor and the blanket was dishevelled. He notices of course, that you were sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours. And the tears that were continuously flowing from your eyes were hard not to notice.

He called out your name. You couldn't hear him. He was right next to you, within arms reach, yet you couldn't hear or even see him.

The puppet wasted no time in at least trying to comfort you. He kneeled down besides you and pushed the hair sticking to your face from the tears. He cupped your cheek, wiping the falling tears with his gloved thumb. He was like a guardian angel.

You were far too deep asleep to notice a thing, but he didn't want to wake you. All though it was very dark out, the dark eyebags were clear as day to prove to him that you needed the rest.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, he whispers sweet nothings and an "I'll be back soon." It's not like you could've heard him but you definitely felt the breath of air onto your ear like as if someone was whispering a secret to you.

By the time you woke up you were met not with your partner, but his scent was in the air. Like it was when he was still around in the house. He visited you.

Just days later, you heard a rushed knock on your front door. It was dawn again and your hair was a mess. You walked to your door barefoot, mumbling incoherent words that could be insults as you were woken up from your beauty sleep.

When you opened it, it was your partner. He was there, in the flesh. His breathing was haggard, yet he smiles anyway. His hat was held on his hands like he took it off when running so much.

Your eyes tricked with tears, and hugged him tightly. "You were there, right? That night!" You wailed and your head was on his chest. "Yes, and I'm sorry for not coming sooner." He rested his chin to your head and brushed your messy hair gently, careful enough not to tug on it.

You finally came to your senses and picked your head up from his chest. You backed up from him and pushed him in anger. But not in a way that could definitely hurt him or make him fall. "Just who do you think you are, waltzing back home like as if you didn't disappear after weeks and didn't even bother to send a letter!" You cried, yet he remained his composure from calling you stupid things. He knows what you've been through during his absence and just wants to be with you.

He cups your cheeks and rubbed the tears off with his thumb, as he's done many times before. His eyes wore a gentle glow and the sweet smile on his face was blinding. It's not often you see a man so in love.

"I'm done with everything. I took care of it, I promise I'll be here for as long as I live." He tells you, with genuine and charm in his tone. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. And another on your cheek. And then another on your temple. And again and again in every other place and you couldn't stop yourself from cry laughing.

You stopped giggling when he makes sure to stop and leave a kiss on your lips. A long, tasteful and blissful kiss. You could still feel the warmth on your lips even after he pulled away. He ends it by just leaning his forehead to yours till the only thing you could hear from each other was your breathing. Even when he's away for so long, he'll always count on you to wait for him.

I hope u like this dear requester because I don't think I'm that good in writing actual fanfics LOL I'm only good at headcannons

#. bee writes #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #kunikuzushi x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact