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sylveon-and-velveon · 2 months

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How to Butcher a Twink

A oneshot I originally put on both my Wattpad and AO3 account in 2023, but I realised I never put it here on my Tumblr somehow-

C/TW: Sexual themes {18+ only}, themes of implying abuse, death, murder, themes of implying murder, threats of murder, belt strapped around John's mouth {non-sexual}

Maison Talo x John Doe x Tate Frost

Scampering away from the person he once called his lover, John continued to run down the dark streets; not even bothering to scream for help thanks to the leather belt tightly strapped around his mouth. He tried to gnaw at the belt as he ran away from the fucked up person, but it was no use. Even with the inhuman amount of teeth he had, John couldn't even scratch enough of the leather off to break it.

He felt like crying so badly, but couldn't since his body made it impossible for him to even produce tears. He'd melt otherwise - a painful way to die. With his eyes blurry and spuratic, it was hard to make out where he fully was. It didn't help in the slightest with the fact it was night: the only sources of outside light being that from the streetlamps and the sun's own reflecting off the moon.

John's body froze up as he heard them scream bloody murder for him to come back to them. Twisting his head 'round to come face to face with the psychotic ex-lover of his, storming closer to him with their fist slowly rising in the air. His knees quickly weakened, pupils shrinking even more than they possibly could've before, as he noticed the blade of their knife in position to strike his face. John was frozen in place, begging through his eyes for them to not disfigure his face.

Covering his face with his arms, he hoped that they would be able to cover most of the brute force. A muffled, yet somehow deafening, cry for help screeched from him, hoping for at least someone to come save him. Waiting for the inevitable, John kept his eyes consciously shut, not daring to open them until it was over. Yet, instead, he heard a clang of metal smash against the pavement. Opening his eyes to a small, yet see-able, squint, John looked to see what was going on. They'd paused mid-swing, ready to plunge, yet for some reason had stopped.

Lowering his arms, he watched in shock as they were picked up into the air like a ragdoll and tossed to the side. Where, finally, John could see why they'd stopped. The back of their head had been split open, pieces of brain spilling out as they were lobbed to the side without a care in the world. John's eyes locked onto whoever had saved him; two men towered over his short figure. One glared down at him, while the other was looking at his bloodied hand in disgust.

"Ugh, give me your apron Frost," The disgusted man demanded, grabbing the apron that Frost had untied around his waist. "Humans have so much blood in them, it disgusts me."

"And your flesh tentacles are okay?" Frost raised an eyebrow as he glared at the fashionable man, watching as he finished cleaning up his blood-soaked fingers before handing back the man's apron. He glared back at Frost, his calm, wide smile unnerving John a bit.

"Well, hello there- ma'am? Sir? Which are you?" The taller man asked John, his smile no longer unnerving to the smaller male. Frost smacked him across the head. "Ow! What the fuck?!"

"There's a belt covering Sha's mouth," Frost informed the other man, walking over to John to get a closer look at his face. His fingers caressed across John's face, sending a chill down his spine. The man found the edges of the belt, digging his fingers underneath the leather to pull at it slightly. Using the butcher's knife in his other hand, Frost took his time to cut through the belt the psycho had wrapped around the Regular's mouth. "There ya go. Now can you tell us?"

"I'm a sir! Oh, my name's-" The two taller men looked at one another as John began to speak an inhuman language to them. With what sounded like a demonic scream that could rival a banshee's. "-but you can just call me John Doe."

"Ah, that helps a lot," Frost nodded his head, a charming smile appearing on his face. His hand still caressing the smaller's face, a faint tint of blush warming on John's cheeks. "The name's Tate; Tate Frost. And that one over there is Maison Talo."

"Hello down there," Maison chuckled as he bent down to be properly face to face with John, patting the sentient black hair that began to curl around the taller's fingers. "How interesting... you're not particularly human yourself, are you?"

"Not really," He shrugged a little, beginning to smile at the two that had saved him. "I'm just a Regular Guy!"

Maison removed his hand from John's hair, taking note of the species he was with much interest, while Tate looked down to the corpse they had both just murdered mere minutes ago. Picking the corpse up by their neck, he brought it over to the two that were still having a small conversation.

"So, why were you getting chased by them; don't mind me asking," He asked, his strong grip almost crushing their neck entirely. "If it's too sensitive, you don't need to say."

"They were chasing me, in all honesty," John explained, trying his hardest to figure out why they'd even changed in the first place. "It was all so sudden. One minute we were in love, the next they were trying to cut off my head!"

Hearing those words, Tate's grip tightened more, crushing the spine inside of their neck like it were flimsy wood. His purple eyes locking onto John as he tossed their corpse to the side one last time. Before either of them could do anything, John twitched from, seemingly, nothing. Craning his neck up to the sky, a second passed before it happened again; this time the two men noticing the reason why. It was beginning to snow.

"Regular's don't like water," Maison informed the other, looking over to the creature himself that was slowly becoming distressed. "Let's get you inside before the snow gets any worse. Okay?"

With a small nod in return, the Realtor took his hand, bringing him inside the small store the two men were originally in before the sudden cry for help had been called. Tate was the one to close the glass doors, making sure it was locked tightly before turning around to face the other two, much skinnier, men. Walking over to them, his eyes glanced around the semi-small building. Though he knew nobody else but them three were within its walls, he still wanted to make sure that he was correct. To which he was.

"Now Sha," He began speaking to the short man, coming to a halt when there was barely any space between the two. Leaning down a bit, Tate smiled towards the other, noticing John's face barely flush a shade of pink. "We've saved your life, you've got a debt towards us now. Understand that?"

"A little bit," John hummed out, glancing to Maison before looking back at Tate himself. His back now straight, his eyes looking down to keep contact with the shorter male. "But... what kind of debt am I in? What do I need to do?"

The two men looked at one another; Maison's calm grin now laced with something else, sending chills down John's spine as he noticed the same thing with Tate. Maison's eyes averted back to John, his sickly sweet smile even more on show for the Regular to witness. He flinched a little, feeling his wrist be grabbed by Tate. Though, somehow, it was gentle, despite the fact he had just crushed a neck not long ago. Specks of blood splattered onto his scarred arms, now finally noticing his jacket was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, sorry about that Sha~" Tate's voice soothed John, calming the tense and fear he had in his veins. Removing his hand from the Regular's wrist, he wiped the remaining blood onto his apron. More of the thick liquid just staining it. "I'll clean that up for you if you'd like~?"

Getting a small nod in return, Tate rose John's wrist to his mouth. His slightly scarred lips curled into a smile as he placed a gentle kiss on the back of John's hand. That pink shade of blush now becoming more prominent on his cheeks; his eyes staying locked onto the butcher's purple ones that held a form of hunger John couldn't fully understand. Tate's tongue slithered across his thin wrist, slowly removing the blood and replacing it with a layer of fresh saliva. John's eyes averted from Tate's eyes, now locking onto his tongue that licked away his ex-lover's blood. The Regular was too frozen in place to even react to the feeling of two hands that carefully rested on his shoulders; one hand massaging the shoulder it stayed on.

"Fuck, you're so cute Sha~" The butcher chuckled, licking away the last bit of blood. Though he didn't let go of, or even lower, John's hand, instead keeping it near his lips. The blush on John's face not daring to fade away, but actually deepen in colour to blood red itself. "We could just eat. You. Up."

John could only whimper in response, feeling teeth graze his neck as he continued to stare at Tate. This was one of those times that John wished he could close his mouth like a normal human, but alas he couldn't. Instead having to deal with his teeth on show no matter what. Whimpers continued to slip past his lips with ease, feeling Maison's lips venture his neck. Finally letting go of his hand, Tate continued to smile at John, noticing the deep blush that had permanently settled on the Regular's cheeks.

"How'd you get the scars on your arms?" He frowned, eyeing John's arms. Maison stopped what he was doing, glancing down to check the smaller man's arms before looking back up at him. Lips not leaving his neck. "I hope it wasn't them."

"No, it wasn't them," John shook their head, using his free hand to cover his blushing face as best he could. Blushing even more at the sound of Maison chuckling at his action. "I do it to myself- and I'm not sad!"

"Oh~? A person of painful pleasure?" Tate chuckled alongside the Realtor, leaning down so his and John's faces were almost touching. Removing his hand from his face, the butcher eyed the Regular's lips. Not smiling, just having his lips parted, seeing how close the two of them were to him now. "I like that~"

John squeaked out, feeling Maison nip at his neck, slipping out a moan as he began to create more hickies. John's moan was cut short by Tate's lips landing on his own, kissing him deeply instantaneously. He felt Maison leave his neck alone, though Tate didn't stop their make out session; his tongue suffocating the top of Regular's throat. Something slowly slithered up John's legs, trapping the two together so he couldn't even tiptoe a step. He couldn't look down to check what it was though, with Tate holding onto his jaw. Keeping his head held up.

"Such a cutie pie," Tate laughed, pulling apart from their kiss. He kept ahold of John's jaw, smiling at the Regular who was gasping for breath. His eyes glanced down to see whatever was wrapping itself around his legs, glaring back at Maison in return once noticing. "Really Maison? Your tentacles?"

"I thought that was understandable," He shrugged, keeping the tentacles grip wrapped around the Regular's legs. His fingers caressed John's arms, slowly moving across his torso and stopping at his waist. The tip of the fleshy red tentacle hooked underneath the hem of his trousers, earning a shiver from John. His body tensed up, not fully knowing how to react to this new feeling. He noticed Maison and Tate glance at one another, nodding towards the other before looking back at the Regular inbetween them. "Are you sure you want us to continue?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want us to go any further John?" Maison asked again, making sure he was just as clear like the first time. Understanding what he was implying, John continued to blush, nodding in return to them both. With his smile becoming more caring and loving, Maison's tentacle began to slither further underneath John's trousers, opening the hem of his boxers and earning another shiver from him. His skin finally coming into contact with the flesh-covered tentacle was something he knew was coming, but even then it wasn't what he was expecting. It felt squishy, soft yet also hard, and enticing. It was hard for John to explain. He felt fingers carefully trace the scars he'd happily inflicted upon his arms, a near quiet whistle slipping past one of the men's lips.

"You're doing well, don't worry," Tate assured him, moving a hand of his underneath John's forever changing t-shirt. John held in a hiss, the tentacle now wrapping around his cock; his body stuck inbetween the two men like blood within flesh. "You look so needy Sha. Don't try to hide it. We'd love to see you beg for us~"

The Regular slammed his face into Tate's torso, loud whimpers and quiet moans slipped out of him as the tentacle began to pump his cock. Maison rested his chin on the inhuman man's shoulder, smiling the entire time as he savoured the embarrassed moans that John let out. Sitting on the tiled floor, Maison pulled him down with him, letting the smaller man rest on his lap. His body leaning into the Realtor's own as he continued letting the tentacle play with John's dick. Was John slowly becoming a writhing moaning mess? Yes. Was it because of the uncomfortable situation his dick was in? Also yes.

A gasp escaped his mouth as he felt his trousers be ripped away from his legs, boxers leaving not far behind. With his legs pulled into the air by strong hands, Tate chuckled at the blushing mess of a state John was in.

"Now... I bet you've never done anything like this before. Am I right Sha~?"

John could only nod in response, not knowing how to properly speak with the tentacle teasing his tip. Another tentacle began to slither near him, the tip of it slowly entering his ass. John's back arched, a rogue moan echoing the store as the tentacle slipped inside. The tentacle continued to pump his cock, while his insides felt like they were turning to mush. Maison smiled as his tentacles did their work, knowing that John would be prepped by the time he was done on his side.

"Don't worry Frost," Maison continued to smile, eyeing up at the man. Watching him stare down at John's moaning self; full of lust, a need to pounce and claim the small man. "By the time I'm done with him, he'll be all ready for whateveryou have in store for him."

Tate knelt on his knee, his deep chuckles echoing throughout the store as he lifted the chin of the blushing Regular. His mind was in a haze, vision completely blurred as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the butcher right in front of him. It was a challenge though; the tentacles continued to play with his body - around and inside - like a sex doll, all for them two. And only for them.

"Fucking hell Sha, I can't keep waiting like this any longer," Tate growled out, his eyes glaring at the vulnerable man. His prey was sending just the right pheromones to send him over the edge. He bent John's legs down to where his knees touched the sides of his head, another tentacle coming out to wrap around his ankles. Trapping him in place. Maison moved away from John, standing up to walk over to a nearby counter to lean on as if nothing had happened. As the tentacle inside of him slipped back out of him, it left a pool of its cum in its wake, angering the butcher even more. "I deserve to claim you! Take what's mine! Got it?"

Not even waiting for a reply Tate slammed inside of John, his petite figure being wrecked almost immediately by the muscular butcher. When had he even removed his clothes? Was John so much in a haze he hadn't even noticed? At this point he couldn't bother to think of a straight answer, instead giving into the temptations that corrupted the back of his mind. Begging him to just give in to the two men that had saved his life. Wanting nothing more than to be their fuck machine. Even if it was for one night. John let out all the moans he could muster through his already hoarse throat, begging Tate not to stop. To continue going. To go harder {if he pleased}.

"That's what I like to hear!"

Tate laughed as he continued to fuck the twink underneath him {which, compared to the other two men, couldn't be far from a lie}. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he breathed heavily through each pounding. Not giving a single break. Not a single moment to pause. Not a single chance to come back to reality. Tate wouldn't stop; wouldn't slow down. He had savoured enough of John, now he was demanding to claim him. To keep him.

Maison continued to watch everything play out, smiling at the Regular that was loving every second of it. The Realtor knew that, if possible, he'd definitely be hard right now. But alas he couldn't, it was impossible for him. His clothes were his flesh, he didn't have a single reproductive organ on or in him. Which was why he was glad for flesh-coated tentacles, they worked like a charm on John after all. So why shouldn't he be proud of them?

"It appears he's enjoying this quite a bit. Don't you think Frost?" He asked with a wicked smile, walking a bit closer to the two on the tiled floor.

"Fucking understatement," Tate huffed out, slamming deep inside the Regular again. Savouring how tight he was despite the tentacle's prepping; how John had covered his mouth to try and lower the volume of his moans and cries of pleasure. It didn't work: each time Tate fucked him deep, every nerve in his body felt like it was struck by a lightning of pleasure, preoccupying his hands to gripping the tiled floor instead. Maison knelt down beside John's head, caressing his face with such delicate touches. Keeping his tentacle wrapped around his ankles, the Realtor leaned down to kiss him. Savouring his taste as he kissed back almost instantaneously.

Tate wafted some of his hair out the way, quickening his pace as he felt the urge coming closer to him. He wanted to continue, he dearly wanted to, but his body wasn't allowing him to. He despised it. Maison parted from the kiss, glancing over to Tate as his growls slowly became louder.

"Fuck!"

The butcher yelled as he came. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he looked down to see that John had climaxed as well. Covering nearly his entire face with his hands out of embarrassment, the cum splattered across his red tinted body. Peaking between his fingers, John took a peak at Tate Frost. His body dripping beads of sweat, not even bothering to pull out and instead letting the cum fill the insides of his petite body up. Watching the tentacle unwrap around his ankles, he picked John up. Wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling him up on his lap, all the while his dick was still inside him.

"You did so well Sha," Tate applauded the Regular, caressing his face as he noticed Maison sit closer to the two. "Taking Talo and I so well. You filled up your end of the debt quite well."

"Thank you," John mumbled out, barely able to say a word without his throat becoming dry, hoarse, or even scratchy. He leaned into Tate's chest, smiling the entire time as he allowed his eyes to close. The blush on his face now a rosy red.

"How cute, he wants to cuddle now," Maison awed at him, giving a small kiss to his forehead as John let out a small, near inaudible yawn. Tate could only smile as he watched it happen, knowing that he could never play with this one. Never torture him. Kill him. He couldn't. John was an interesting guy, that lead all three of them to have quite an interesting experience they would never forget...

♡~◇~♡♡~◇~♡♡~◇~♡♡~◇~♡

I may turn this into an actual fanfiction, but due to the fact I've got 2 other fanfic WIPs rn I may write this one in the background to not feel rushed and have it perfectly fleshed out!

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baxndaid · 1 year

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he would act as some sort of weird, glorified fairy godmother, though even with his innocent exterior, he knew that what he was doing would be frowned upon if exposed to the world around him. he likes to think of himself as some sort of saviour, caretaker, taking care and protecting those he sees beneath him (which, in his eyes, was everyone that wasn’t an archon)

though of course there’s a lot of things he thinks about that aren’t all “protective” like, mostly targeted at you. his thoughts were filthy and intrusive, so much so that the wind carried a faint sweet smell of roses and a stronger scent of bitterness. an interesting smell that most people wouldn’t notice, or instead they’d believe that their God was particularly pleased that day for whatever reason. you never paid attention to the wind’s bipolar mood, it never effected you anyway

girl i am literally stuck in a room with limited internet for 4 hours u get this and this only !!!

i’ll write more i promise, i’m moving into my john doe, sundrop/moondrop, zexal phases again so i’ll probably write for them as well AND when scarachoochie comes out, i’ll probably do smth for him too idk where he like steps on you or smth idk

#genshin impact #genshin #venti #venti x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #reader insert #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #john doe #venti one shot #oneshot #venti x reader oneshot #KMS

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phoenixdragon5411 · 2 years

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Bruce, John, and holding hands

"Please don't me let down" John pleaded, nervously fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves. Bruce opened his mouth to try and decline, but his voice caught as he looked over at John. He was leaned over in his chair, looking up at Bruce with wide hoping eyes. "P-please" John attempted again. Bruce sighed lightly in defeat, he berated himself internally, he barely knew this man, yet John wore down his resolve so quickly.

Bruce smiled fondly, the small niceness made Johns face perk up slightly, "I'd be happy to meet your friends, John. Just say when and where" he finally agreed. John shifted suddenly in his seat, sitting up straighter, putting the back of him palm against the pew cushion. "Oh, I was hoping you would say that" John nearly squealed giggling softly he bounced in his seat, with the same poorly covered excitement of child who found out he was about to go to Disney land. Bruce glanced warily at a man several rows ahead, who had turned around to give them a look of disgust.

"Oh this is going to be so much fun" John exclaimed, clapping his hands together, still unable to sit still in his seat. Bruce glanced back over, shifting uncomfortably at the ever-growing number of glares. As a last resort to quell his newfound friend, Bruce gently, but quickly, grabbed John’s hand. “funeral, remember” Bruce whispered, looking dead ahead at the reception, partially afraid of seeing John’s reaction.

John stilled immediately, his voice breaking off mid giggle, more in shock then anything else. He looked over, glancing rapidly between Bruce’s face and their hands. Bruce tensed after several uncharacteristic moments of almost no reaction from came from John. Fearing he made a decision that made his friend uncomfortably, he started pulling his hand away. John instantly grabbed Bruce’s retreating hand, hesitantly moving it back on his own. Bruce finally looked over at John, who was staring intently on their hands, a light dust of pink on his pale face.

Carefully watching John’s reaction, Bruce made a bold move, interlocking their fingers together. John leaned down, just a small bit, but it was enough of a change to notice, he looked up at Bruce through his lashes hopefully, “if I’m good, promise not to let me go?” he pleaded softly, voice quivering.

Bruce couldn’t hold back the quiet chuckle that came from John’s obvious – yet adorable – attempt at manipulating Bruce into saying yes to him. Unfortunately for Bruce, despite how obvious the attempt was, it was still working on him. Bruce cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, before sighing lightly in defeat, “okay John, I promise”

John smiled brightly, shifting slightly in his seat, gnawing on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, “I’ve never held anyone’s hand before” he admitted softly, squeezing Bruce’s hand, experimentally.

Bruce glanced at their hands, before looking up at John. There was a brief moment where protective urge came over Bruce. A moment where, Bruce thought how he could give John all the affection, time, and love he had missed out on, how much he wanted to do for his new friend. Show his everything beautiful and bright, and protect him from anything that would bring him harm. Bruce closed his eyes, mentally trying to will any affectionate thoughts away. He settled on giving John’s hand a comforting squeeze in return, a part of him hoped it would show John the thoughts Bruce both couldn’t and wouldn’t put into words.

John sniffled, looking up at Bruce with childlike amazement, “it make me feel better…” John trailed off, nervous giggling starting again. Bruce repeated to himself that his actions were to make John quiet down, and nothing more, before he stroked his thumb against the back of John’s hand soothingly. John quieted down again, staring briefly at their hands before meeting Bruce’s eyes again, “I almost never want it too end” he whispered, tears brimming his eyes.

Bruce swallowed hard, John suddenly sounded to helpless and meek, he sighed, and in what he would call a moment of weakness, smiled at John and made him a promise. “If you’re quiet, I’ll let you hold my hand anytime”

John’s face lit up, and suddenly Bruce knew, he was fucked… but in John’s defense, he did keep quiet.

#telltale batman #telltale batjokes #telltale joker #bruce wayne x john doe #oneshot #fluff #handholding #im touch starved #can you tell?#Phoenixdragon54 rambles

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skelezen · 2 months

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Hibiscus spice gives the room a sense of warmth as he walked past the gently placed vases with withered roses in. A faded piano key rushed the room as it grows in volume to the step of his foot until all he could hear was a familiar tune; “Faroe get off that bloody thing!” He yelled with a seemingly angry tone as he slammed the once peacefully still door causing a disruption to the warm room.

The atmosphere turned cold with a stiff breeze as the mood drastically changed. “Faroe?” He yelled his voice quieter as he realized there was no one there - not a single soul played that tune he found familiar. It was just him and him alone.

Suddenly, the piano tune churned into an accurately rotting voice marinating the room in a sweet poison, “And now you call it madness…” the music drifted off its tone distorted to his ears. “But I call it love…”

The messy man woke up to an eerily silent surrounding realizing it was all a dream except he swore the song was still playing somewhere in the corner of his brain. “Good morning Arthur.”

#malevolent #rusty quill #oneshot #arthur lester #john doe

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nrdmssgs · 8 months

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Sharing one bed with your friend from 141

Masterlist Little oneshots. Sharing a bed, because there is only one left free.

TW: Please note, that in every situation, a reader is an old friend of one of the four and there is a bit of sympathy beyond friendship between them!! So I wasn't trying to make TF 141 a bunch of awkward scary guys, that hug you without any reason and consent!! Don't worry, none of them would ever harm you, guys!!!

Simon Ghost Riley

"I warn you, I'm used to sleeping alone, so I may hog the blankets. If it happens so - don't hesitate to wake me up, ok?"

Ghost glares at you and chuckles briefly. "I get to sleep in a normal bed only once every few months. Don't think you can steal anything from me."

You sigh and turn away: well, at least you warned him. He may be some kind of super-soldier, but he is yet to discover, how fury an inveterate solo-sleeper can be. "Nighty." But he doesn't answer you - must have fallen asleep immediately.

You wake up in a tight, warm cocoon of blankets: obviously yours and his. But when you try to move - it appears harder than it seemed at first. Something, or rather someone, presses all these blankets down to you. So you turn your head only to meet Simons menacing, unblinking gaze.

"You saw nothing." His hand guides you by your chin to lay back down on a pillow, facing away from him. Then he goes back to wrapping you in a tight embrace. "I got cold, and you refused to give my blanket back."

Captain John Price

"Lemme know if it gets too warm. I got feedback about being a human furnace for a couple of times." Despite the fact, that he just laid down beside you - Johns voice is already sleepy.

"I believe, you have to hug another person to get such a comment." You answer and laugh at Johns immediate 'oh, shi... sorry' and a friendly pat on your back, covered with blanket.

"Sleep well," wishes you Price. And that was... exactly, what you planned, if the man hadn't start snoring in ten minutes.

At first, you tried to be gentle, touching lightly his shoulder to make him go quiet. But when he woke you up for the fifth time in a row - you punched him so hard - you must have left a bruise on his back. But John Price could sleep on a military base. He could sleep in a flying helli between the missions, being surrounded by shouting soldiers. Even your punches feel like a tender caresses in comparison to the chaos, in which he sometimes has to fall asleep.

He wakes up only when you almost throw him off the bed. "John! You snore like a freakin bear!" You are out of energy and already consider going to sleep on a floor in another room, only to get away from this nightmare.

He blinks a couple of times, obviously not waking up fully, then scoops you up, nuzzles your neck and whispers in a sleepy ruffle voice "M`sorry, love. You should let me know right away, if I wake you up again."

Perfect: now he's mistaken you for someone in his sleep! Well, at least, he really stays quiet, as he is hugging you. So you decide to let him do it, as long as it grants you sound sleep.

On the next morning, Price inspects his back in the mirror, when you walk past him. "Never considered enlisting in the military? I could use a furious little beast like you..."

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Soap, for f sake, you are a grown man, what are you doing?" You grunt, as yet another decorative pillow hits your back.

"Building a wall, lass. Otherwise, you'll end up on my side of bed as usual!" He isn't even thinking of stopping, so the next pillow hits your head.

"Johnny, Hadrians Wall took less time to be built up! And I repeat for the hundredth time: I don't have a single idea, how does it happen, but I swear, it's not me! I don't tend to move in my sleep. When I'm alone - I always wake up in the exact same pose, I've fallen asleep!" You try to grab a pillow to throw it away, but he doesn't let you.

"Well, then it's my natural charm, that just drawn you to my side every time." Soap finally places the last pillow up on his 'wall' between yours and his sides of the bed.

You wake up in the same place you've fallen asleep. Only this time you are buried under the remains of Johnnys 'masterpiece' from yesterday. Grunting, you try to get out from under a pile of pillows, but you feel Johnny's whole body pressing against you from behind with a displeased rumbling. And only then it hits you.

You turn to him and whisper in his sleeping face. "It was you all this time. You grabbed me and pulled to your side of the bed, you sneaky bastard..." Johnny mumbles something incoherent in his sleep and only presses you closer to him.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Ok, good night." Kyle turns the light down and goes silent.

You lie awake for some time, listening to the sounds outside the window, but gradually you fall asleep. However, very soon, you startle and open your eyes: there is someone in the room, you two are no more alone. You hear the wooden floor crackling closer. Someone's shadow falls on the wall. You are frightened, but you lie quietly, blaming it all on your imagination. And then you feel the mattress sag under someone's weight at your feet.

At that moment you understand, you had enough and in one swift motion dart to Kyle, ending up on top of him. It wakes him up and for a few moments, he looks confused as his eyes adjust to the darkness. But when he understands, it's you, he relaxes. "Ahem, hi?"

"There is someone in this bed. Someone besides us!" You whisper, shifting your weight to the side, so that Kyle is left to defend you from the mysterious threat.

He turns the bedside lamp on and starts laughing almost immediately. Your friends dog, that apparently freaked you out so badly, now curled up all cozy on your side of the bed.

"Hi buddy! You were feeling lonely, so you came to us, yeah?" Kyle scratches the dog behind the ear, and it happily beats the blanket with its tail. You breathe a sigh of relief, a little embarrassed at being so scared. However, you don't give Kyle a chance to start joking about this and push him closer to the center of the bed, settling in where he just slept.

"Okay, congratulations, now that buddy is your problem. I'm going to sleep!" You try to ignore Kyle's soft laugh.

"You're going to fall out of bed at night and scare the poor dog." He pulls you closer to him. "That's better. Sleep. And I'll protect you from this 'dire wolf'."

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blingblong55 · 7 months

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Under the moon -John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a requests: -Your local Johnny slut requests thee a oneshot or longfic (however you choose) for 23 + 5 for Kinktober: Monster AU and Breeding because we all know and love that Johnny's a fucking werewolf. You can sprinkle a bit of pet play and praise here and there. Please and thank you for your consideration 😘 -Idk how to request for the kinktober, but I would like to request Fem Reader x Soap for no.15 & no.23, please? Tq!! --- F!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, praise, pet play, breeding, monster au, werewolf au, established!relationship, doggy style ----

Ever since he told you that he is a werewolf, he has been loving to fuck your tight pussy when he knows it's time to rub his scent on you again. He knows so much about your body with just one sniff, he can feel when you are about to start ovulating, which makes him feral, and he turns into his werewolf self for it. You are cooking in the kitchen? He walks behind you and dry humps you until you turn around and that's when he tears your clothes apart, revealing your perfect pussy lips to him.

His cock is already hard from just watching you whimper. "Johnny-" You want to stop it but it is too good to be stopped. His hand travel all over your thighs, he sits you on the countertop and fucks his fingers into you. Wants to open your pretty cunt up for his massive cock. The veiny and throbbing length is already eager to fill you with his seed. He spreads your legs open and kisses your neck, you're wet and aching cunt fucking yourself into his fingers. He growls, "Don't move," he demands. You pout and he grins, cupping your chin and bringing your lips closer to his. His spit well into your mouth.

When the moon is full, he can't resist, all day he stays home and tries to fuck you atlas a few times. He is so horny he begins to whimper and get needy when you don't touch him or don't acknowledge him. "My love, I've been a good boy, why can't you just touch me?" His hand caressing your thighs and ass. "I promise to make you come more," he pouts and kisses your lips, trying to convince you with his big blue eyes. "All I want is to fuck you," he kisses your neck.

And once you finally give in, he has you bending over the sofa, panties to the side as he licks his slick-coated fingers. "You are the sweetest little thing ever, my love," he pulls his trousers down and tubs the tip of his cock on your entrance. He lets out a moan. He wanted to tease you until you begged for it but he, himself needed to be buried deep inside your pussy. Making you into the perfect toy for him. His beast-like hands gripping your hips, you squirm and he growls. This was the perfect position to have you in. His fat cock barely fits inside your small cunt.

He growls anytime you whimper and does care for your pleasure but his. Your back arches and he grins, your hands holding onto the edges as he pounds himself deep inside of you. You let out a gasp when he bites your shoulder from behind, he grunts and chuckles deeply. "fuck, fuck...J-...shit," you say between moans. "J-johnny!....fuck," he leaves trails of bite marks on your back. "You're my good girl, such a pretty good girl," he whispers and kisses the bite marks. "I love you," he says and rubs his hands on your bare ass and thighs, his cock still being thrust into you.

He stops, "can I fill you up? Please, Bonnie, I want to fuck my pups into your pussy. Fill you to the brim." His thrusts are rare but slow, and he caresses your back. "Fill me, Johnny," you answer and he smirks. His veiny cock reaches orgasm as your tight pussy milks him for all he's worth. He moans, head thrown back, his mohawk brushed back as he grows excited. You roll your eyes back, and loud moans escape your lips. His drool-soaked fingers fucking your tight ass. "Tell me, darling, who's my good girl," he kisses your back. His cum soon leaks inside of you. His seed filling you full, your body taking a good reaction to this.

You pull on the leash that held his collar, "I'm your good girl~" you whimper. His cum falls down so gracefully and then he turns you over. "That's right, you're my good girl, no one else's." He looks at his leash and smirks. "If my mam saw me like this, her little boy leashed like the animal he is," he chuckles, "oh she'd be disappointed." he kisses your neck. "But so as long as I'm your good pup, huh, my love," he kisses your lips so carefully. His big arms embrace you warmly, and he rubs his scent on you again this way. You know it and he does too.

"Say you love me, R/N," he whispers as his head is buried in your breasts. "I love you, Johnny," you whisper back and scratch the back of his head. He smiles, "I love you too," he kisses your chest and takes in your intoxicating scent.

Tags :@anonymuslydumb @liyanahelena @vampsquerade @sevvygirl1995 @sleepydang @amygaster004 @alxexhearts

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 8 months

Note

WAIT I HAVE A THOUGHT! ok i have two i think it could turn into more but price using his military rank to either a) get someone to back off of sunshine!reader and marissa OR b) sunshine calls him captain during sex OR c) HE USES IT IN BOTH OF THOSE SITUATIONS IN THE SAME FIC 👀👀 …are those weird? idk but if you feel up to it this is a request for you to work your magic on this please and thank you

A/N: uhm, don't look at me nonnie, I got too carried away🫣

Rank me

Summary; As a Captain, Price has an air of authority not everyone does. One day when he returns from base, he finally makes you admit why you find that trait of his particular attractive

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word count; 9.3k

Warnings; smut (18+, no minors please), captain!kink, vaginal fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight edging, d/s themes,

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

You sit opposite John, elbow resting against the armrest, head propped up by your fingers. He's seated in one of the two armchairs on the other side of your coffee table while you're sitting on your couch. A folder rests partly on the armrest of his seat and the unoccupied armchair beside him. A few more maps, although closed, were placed on the table.

You're not nosy with John's work, so the seemingly inconspicuous folders aren't what's gotten your attention. The man reading through them does.

John's elbow relaxes on the armrest while his lower back is curved, sunken into his seat, legs spread with feet planted firmly on the ground.

You'd tried to remind him of his posture, knowing he probably would complain about his back if he sat like that for too long. When you had, those blue eyes had flickered to yours with an appreciative look as he repositioned himself straight. However, he didn't last like that for long before slowly melting downwards again, retaking his 'I have a bad back but won't do anything about it pose'.

Although, as you now watch him working, it isn't a chide resting on your tongue.

John has returned to active duty, the past week being his first one back since he extended his issued downtime by a week after his most recent deployment, the one during late summer. You learned there's a big difference between active duty and deployed, never even coming close to either despite that martial course you took a few years back. The former meant you often were stationed on your home base, able to go back and forth home if you desired, much like ordinary work. The latter entailed 'a little field trip' as John worded it.

Today, John came to your place as soon as he got off from base, much like he'd done a few times during the week.

You didn't fuss about spending less time with him than when he was on leave. Not only was it John's job, but there were no regulations for contacting him, so he called the days you didn't meet. Often, the description of his day was brief, only defined somewhat if anything varied from his typical routine. John was usually more interested in how you were and whether you'd done something interesting. If your day had been equally bland, he enjoyed just listening to whatever was on your mind. Today, however, no phone call replaced his absence.

You and John planned to spend the weekend together at your place, and much like he'd promised, he called you once on his way. But, rather than a simple heads-up, he also informed you he would bring some paperwork, his superiors pushing a last-minute request upon him as he was about to leave. You suspected he was permitted to leave base with the documents through his involvement in the 141, not solely because his response ideally -another word for required- would be reported back tonight.

You've learned a great deal about how John likes to work, even if you've been fortunate to develop your relationship with him in a particularly deployment-free time window of his.

He prefers keeping work and home separate, not wanting the two words to bleed together in favour of your relationship. John explained why when you didn't understand his frustration about bringing some work with him back home during your earlier call.

Deployments cut into your shared time as it fits, the two of you having to work around it rather than the other way around. Therefore, he intends to limit work to base to savour your time while on active duty or ahead of a leave. If that meant staying a day or so longer after returning from a mission where logistics needed to be taken care of, as he'd done during the summer and your first extended period apart, he said he would make that choice. And if there's an increased load of executive planning and paperwork due to an upcoming operation, his approach is the same.

He explained that, in the past, he'd very much blurred the lines, seeing how being alone and doing nothing for long periods left him restless. But with you in the picture, John tried to balance it. And just like that, you understood his dilemma tonight. He didn't want to make it a habit: filling the time he spent with you working.

You'd tried to compromise, not that you technically could, as he needed to finish his report no matter what. But, you tried to ease John's mind, telling him that sometimes it happened, just like it probably would for you. That was why you also proposed spending time in each other's company by working on your separate stuff, so he didn't feel like he took time away from you.

For you, that was just fine. It had already been an informal workday for you, meaning no meetings and no contact with clients, simply organising stuff and getting ahead on projects for the upcoming week. Continuing with that for a bit longer was no problem.

Your sluggish day of labour was apparent, as you hadn't even changed out of your sleeping shirt. Neither had you scampered to get a pair of pants when John knocked on your door, favouring to simply greeting him as you were.

He'd been surprised at seeing your state of undressed, rather bare-legged with only underwear beneath his black t-shirt, one of those he left behind earlier during the week.

Though not surprised like him, you were as delighted as all the other days he'd stopped by, spoiled rotten with seeing him dressed like this.

Like most days this week, that implied some getup per military standard. Today, John wore fitted cargo pants and an army sweater that got the quarter-zip open, offering a view of the tight-fitted shirt beneath it.

He'd greeted you in his same old fashion, a 'hello, love' as he stepped forward and over the threshold to meet you with a kiss. What followed, however, was a hummed 'can get used to bein' greeted like this' against your lips as he parted from you.

He'd ushered you backwards to let him enter and hide you from any potential neighbours passing by your entrance to see your scantily clad figure.

You didn't object as he closed the door behind him and put down his bag before kneeling to unlace his heavy boots. Instead, your eyes had flittered over his haunched form as he rucked loose his laces before standing straight again, hooking the back of his shoes beneath his toes and stepping out of them.

He'd followed you into your living room then, deciding to sit opposite you to avoid disturbing the corner you'd set up on the couch, where your computer and blue-light glasses waited.

Currently, your laptop rests on a pillow in your lap. The glasses you'd invested in, purely because of the copious amount of time you spent before a screen through work, resting on the bridge of your nose. Yet, you're currently using neither as you should.

The same black standby screen stares at you now as when you'd gone to greet John when he arrived two hours ago. And, your glasses don't serve their purpose of shielding your vision from electronic lights, concerning your attention is directed towards the burly figure of a man sitting so leisurely opposite you.

You hadn't seen John in his work clothes many times. Technically, you'd never seen him geared up and probably never would. So, the closest thing you would get was the standard dressing code he needed to adhere to on base. Up until this week, you'd barely even seen that.

Whereas now and for a few months ahead, the military would cling to him whenever he came around straight from work and spent the night, leaving in a similar-styled fashion in the morning concerning active duty often meant early mornings on base for John, either for a workout regime, meetings or supervising cadets. Between those instances, while unwinding with you, he changed into something more comfortable.

That was why your time of admiring John in these clothes was brief. And yet today, you got to indulge in one of the considerably fewer instances when he didn't immediately change after greeting you and borrowing your shower. In fact, this night was a total break in the routine.

Your eyes drop to the bag beside the armchair John occupies.

He'd said he would take his usual post-work-freshening-up shower after finishing the most pressing report. But, he'd gotten stuck in the typical workflow that was difficult to break, reaching for another map of documents rather than the bag resting by his feet. Maybe you should've reminded him, but you didn't.

The honourable reason? You didn't want to disturb John when noting the pile of documents to read had staggered to a measly two compared to the stack he'd brought. The selfish reason making your attention stray considerably more than his laser-focused one? You wanted to savour his appearance a bit longer.

You knew the visible neckline of the shirt beneath his sweater teased about what was underneath, namely a compression shirt fitted to accentuate John's muscled torso rather than hide it, a sight drool-worthy by itself. But the jumper wasn't a villain for hiding it. In your opinion, it added to it, making the blue-eyed man appear even broader than he already was, as if he could envelop you simply with his frame, tucking you within the expanse of his shoulders.

Despite how John managed to look so good in clothes produced for durability rather than fashion, it wasn't necessarily the clothes making you unable to rip your eyes off of him.

As always, your eyes drag over John's body until your gaze latches onto the embroiders littered over the sweater.

On the upper part of his chest, in an easily read, nothing fancy, standard military font, the precise writing of Price is visible. The lettering, placed square in sight on his right pectoral, stands out in a lighter blue text rather than the dark navy composing the sweater. On the opposite side, in the same-letter style, SAS. Sewn onto the right arm of his jumper is a badge-like British flag, so his unit's emblem. Symbols stating his rank also adorn his clothing, marks that your civilian eye probably wouldn't be able to interpret if you didn't already know he was a Captain.

That is why you like seeing John in his work attire.

The air around him changes. His typical calm stoicism tenfolds, acting as a reminder that his presence demands respect.

It wasn't a shift that screamed for attention, not hollered as a command to notice. You believe it's because it simply blends with John's personality at home so well. Either his work-life had engrained it into his DNA, so it always was a part of him no matter where he went. Or those traits had always been his fortes, even before serving in the military. You didn't know for sure which was correct.

Nonetheless, John's calm, secure and disciplined persona reached new heights. He looked like a man in charge.

It was almost mortifying how affected you got when he dressed like this. And yet, it was just something about John in dark blue or army green attires, with his rank so underwhelmingly stated but so evidently sensed, that made a part of you quiver in excitement.

Yeah, that Captain John Price was a weakness of yours was clear as fucking day.

"You doing good over there, Captain?" Blue eyes shift from the papers he held over his lap to meet your gaze.

You always revel in how swiftly his attention shifts to you when you use his rank. You didn't do it often. After all, at home, he wasn't Captain. But sometimes, even you used the alias.

"Mm, all good, love". John's answer was slow, eyes flickering over you before nodding, his eyes falling to the paper before him again.

"The Captain fancying a cup of tea?"

This time, John didn't move his head. He only glanced up, almost watching you through his eyebrows. "Wouldn't mind". The reply was short, his voice rough. Not grumpy, annoyed or anything like that. Simply profound.

You flash him a smile, pushing your computer aside and setting your glasses on the keyboard. As you stand from the couch, you stretch your legs.

You catch John's eyes lowering and you bet he didn't abstain from trailing them down your bare legs as you jostle the tingles out of them. Smiling to yourself, you head into the kitchen.

Fine, sometimes you may use his rank solely for his reaction.

You argue he shouldn't react like that. It's understandable he barely reacts to it when the boys of 141 use it just as much as his government name when addressing him. He must be used to it. So sure, surprise could be the reason in your instance. At the same time, it shouldn't, regarding it holds no value, no substance, when you use his rank.

Still, you've noticed it seemingly carries some weight.

The most common reaction you'd gathered was how swiftly you earned his attention. Nearly every time, you suppressed a grin at how it worked like clockwork. A sharp flicker of his eyes, gaze intense. You've also noticed how his head cock, eyes seemingly searching yours before they often slipped down your figure as he returned to whatever had his attention previously. And then it was how John eventually answered you. Sometimes, he cleared his throat before speaking, others not. Both choices provide a reply of comparable nature. Without exceptions, his voice was deep.

John's smokey, baritone voice was always pleasant to listen to. There were no edges, even though he wasn't afraid to remain silent between his sentences. And when he filled those with the occasional hum, a purr threatened to spill from your lips to how the low cord melted like liquid gold into your ears. And yet, his voice usually became gruffer when he spoke as a Captain in a professional setting.

You'd registered it when he once had taken a phone-call to book a time for a meeting with someone named Laswell or when he reprimanded one of the guys in a borderline-serious manner when you met them at a pub during one of their parallel leaves. The firmness in those deeply spoken sentences wasn't present when you dropped a 'Captain' while talking to him.

But there was something else. Something under your skin just begging you to consider it's awfully close to a particular lustful drawl of John's. The one you regard as utterly and painfully arousing. If not for the truth, then for your lustful desires.

You lean against the counter as you wait for the water to boil, arms crossed over your chest.

Facing the living room, you watch the only fascinating thing there.

John just about placed the stack of papers he'd been reading back into its corresponding map, leaning forward to position it on top of the rest. Leaning back again, you notice how he sighs from the quick movement of his chest while opening the last lacklustre folder beside him. Leaving it open, John takes out the reports by gripping its stapled corner, swiftly picking up the reading again. As he does, he notches his thumb beneath his jaw, index finger swiping back and forth over his lower lip, brows pulling together.

If not for the kettle signalling it's ready, you would've gotten stuck there, rooted in place as you take in the sight of the incredibly handsome man, your handsome man, so engrossed in his work.

Preparing your respective beverages is easy. The task is something you've done countless times by now. So, within minutes, you're heading towards the seating arrangement with your respective mugs.

John notices your presence before his attention shifts to you, noticeable from how he pulls his stretched-out leg back towards him so you can step between his seat and the coffee table. Yet those blues flicker to you with an appreciative look right before you turn to settle his cup of tea on the tabletop.

You set the mug down momentarily, reaching for a protective coaster. Placing the circular piece of wood close to the cup, you rearrange it to rest atop it instead.

That could've been it. You could've just wandered back to your seat, either in an attempt to work or admire the view again. But no.

"There you go, Captain". You shift to face John with an innocent smile, gesturing to the cup from where steam curls upwards, filling the closest proximity of air with a spicy but soft scent of herbs. His hand has fallen from his jaw. Now, it rests on top of the folder at the armrest as he gazes at you, blues-eyes truly observing you.

You don't know why the seemingly innocent eye contact makes you squirm. But from how John watches you, a feverish sensation rushes through your body, heating you from the inside under the scrutiny of his gaze.

The concoction of having John dressed like he is, watching you as he does and your lecherous imagination does wonders to lighten your belly on fire. You bite your lip, about to return to your seat, when John sits up, abruptly halting your attempt.

The swift thought of 'he's reaching for his mug' is wiped away immediately as he instead reaches for you.

He circles the back of your neck with his big hand and tugs you down enough to meet him in a kiss. A soft, surprised noise vibrates against his lips, your eyes widening in reaction to his unexpected action, as opposed to his, which slips close.

"Such a darlin' to me, you know that?" John hums the word against your lips. And even if you like doing these small things for him because you see how much he enjoys them, your breath hitches, making John's eyes flutter open.

When meeting your still wide-eyed expression, his lips bow upwards beneath his beard before his hand falls from your neck. This time, he reaches for the mug.

As you straighten, your cup clutched against your stomach, John slouches backwards again.

"It's nothing", you reply to the man who looks too fucking indecent for still being fully dressed from the way his thighs fall outwards.

"It's everythin'", John insists. Your heart makes a dangerous leap as his baritone voice travels straight down.

The way he's watching you doesn't help at fucking all as you feel a surging need to squeeze your legs together, something that would be embarrassingly noticeable from John's position.

Rather than answering, mouth incredibly dry all of a sudden, you only return his appreciation with a small smile.

That his eyes follow you when you head back to your seat is apparent, your heart continuing its elevated rhythm with each step you take and his attention on your back. But when you sit down, facing him again, he's back to reading, the mug resting against his thigh.

Much like John, you should go back to work. But you don't need to look at your computer to know your last sliver of motivation has disappeared. Your attention undividedly on something else entirely.

You shuffle in your seat, one leg bent and resting on the cushioned seat beneath you, the other pulled close to your body with your foot planted on the couch. It makes you lean slightly to the side and the pillows you'd stacked for a makeshift edge towards the couch's middle.

Unable not to, your eyes flitter over John's form as you nurse your drink.

His legs spread wide, trapping your gaze to glide over his crotch more than once, especially as he readjusts his position, hips doing that slight upwards jut as he makes himself more comfortable. You also follow his action of occasionally raising the mug to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the paper as he does.

You watch as he sets down the documents on his leg to switch to the next side with the same hand, not desiring to go through the action of leaning forward, putting down the cup of tea, only to retrieve it to situate himself again.

Eyes remaining on the cup, you remark how John's big hand wraps around it, having no trouble encasing more than half of it. You compare it to how you hold your cup. One hand grabs the ear while your other hand curves along the opposing side.

When he raises the mug to his mouth, you follow the move, gaze lingering on his face even though he lowers it not soon after.

You map the line of his beard, the purse of his lips, and how his eyes move from the left to the right as he follows the sentences on the paper.

And then, John's eyes flicker upwards, catching your blatant staring. Amusement flickers to life in those blues when you don't even try to play it off before he adverts his gaze down to the paper.

"You're starin', love". John remarks. The cup of tea is brought to his lips as his attention remains on the document.

"Just enjoying the view", you shrug. Not untrue.

John's brows arch. Not much later, as if wanting to finish a sentence, his head tilts upwards to look at you. "That so?"

"Mhm", you flash him a brief smile before you raise your mug to your lips, sipping its contents. His eyes narrow briefly.

Even though you can't think of anything odd in your reaction, John apparently does.

"Is there somethin' more?"

Your heart jumps. "No, you're free to continue working", you try deflecting John's attempt at making you explain what's on your mind. Apparently, you only succeeded in catching his attention more.

"I'm done". John states, making your brows jump and eyes flicker downwards, not having noticed he was on the last page of a considerably thinner stack of papers, unlike the previous ones.

"Weren't you instructed to report back?" Your gaze shifts back to his face.

"Taken some notes. I'll send a mail later before goin' to bed". John replies promptly, meanwhile restoring the papers in their proper order. As he places the stack back in its map and drops it on top of the other finished ones on the table, he speaks. "Now I want to hear about what you're tip-toein' around 'cause it doesn't seem like nothin'".

"No, really, it's nothing important".

John cocks his head, brows raising in a silent inquiry.

You refuse to believe it's the 'men in uniform' curse amongst civilians. You know that's not the case, seeing how you don't find all soldiers good-looking just because, only John. Even so, you detest the thought of seeming disrespectful, fearing you reduced his career path to a mere point of attraction. It was one thing allowing it to fuel your imagination. But to admit it aloud? To John? Yeah, no.

You reach for the case of your glasses, popping it open with ease and inserting the specs. Placing them on top of your now closed laptop, you scoop them up and stand, about to discard the items in your bedroom.

The action was not impulsive. You always put your device on charge once John arrives. Today, it understandably changed to when he finished the reports he'd brought. Yet you didn't get that far, stopped unexpectedly by his voice.

"Sit". Your body stalls, brows raising. When you don't do as John says, his head cocks, fingers rapping against the armrest as he motions to the seat you just stood from with a nod. This time, you follow his request. "Talk to me, love. What's on your mind?"

Your fingers clutch your computer briefly before you reluctantly set it down on your coffee table. You sip your tea, searching for your words.

Upon your silence, stalling, an urging 'hm?' stems from John.

"I just, you know, think you look good today".

"Do I look any different today than otherwise?" He inquires. You don't think he means to interrogate you, but it feels just like that from how he watches you closely from his seat. It makes you squirm, raising your mug to your lips again before you answer.

"Well, you got those on".

John hums softly, a sound of acknowledgement. And, ever as keen, he figures out what your haphazard motions to his attire imply. "You like the clothes". It's more of a statement than a question, but you give him a nod anyway.

"They look good on you".

"That's what got you so worked up?"

"I'm not-"

"You are", he muses, cutting off your sentence as he leans forward, forearms resting on his knees as he places his mug on the coaster. "Those glasses you're religiously stubborn about using have been more off your face than not despite that laptop of yours being right in front of your face", he points out.

Your brows pull together, lips parting as a protest isn't far away. But John beats you to it.

"No need denyin', I've noticed you starin' at me more than that screen of yours. Then we can't forge 'bout your teasin'".

This time, your brows genuinely furrow. "I haven't teased you?".

His head tilts to the side. "No? Could think I never left base with how much you've used my rank tonight, love".

Oh, oh. John thinks your use of his rank is teasing. So it must mean something different when you use it. Not just in your imagination, then. Regardless of discovering this, you don't know how to react to John's admittance. You still feel like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

He watches you expectantly as if waiting for you to speak up. Instead, your fingers only rap against your mug before raising it again.

You tip your cup, yet no liquid reaches your lips. Your eyes flicker downwards as you lower it, noticing its emptiness.

The nervous sips you'd taken off your tea have apparently drained it quicker than you anticipated.

Much like a mouse making a break for it each time the cat releases it, you don't hesitate to stand and head into the kitchen to discard your mug, seizing the chance to escape John's heavy gaze and probing for enough time you don't fumble for an answer.

What you don't expect is the footsteps following you into the kitchen. But you should've. The cat never lets its prey get too far away.

Naturally, you look over your shoulder.

John moves so assuredly. There's a slight sway to his hips, strides not hurried despite covering the same distance as you in a much more rapid fashion. Confidence, he oozes it from the very way he carries himself.

There's no denying that such a mass moving with such practised ease is on the verge of terrifying. But the thrill harbours an indisputable excitement, especially as your eyes briefly meet John's blue ones, calm but bright with intrigue.

You turn forward as you reach the kitchen counter, putting your mug in the sink, attempting to hide how he affects you. But believing you could hide from an elite soldier in plain sight is foolish.

The hairs on your neck stand when John steps up behind you.

He sets his mug beside yours before his hands settle on the counter. With one hand at either side of you, his shoulders haunch to eclipse yours, making your heart thump in your chest.

"Indulge me. What about the clothes you like so much it got you behavin' like this?"

"Uhm-". Your thoughts screech to a halt as you flail for something to say. Admitting just how much John in these clothes affects you brushes on mortifying. "The way it fits you, I guess", you settle on in the end.

"You guess?". John repeats close to your ear.

Pride and a certain level of amusement roll off of him in waves, seeping right through your back, worming itself to your front only to nestle in your chest. Rather than installing the same emotions in you, they fuel your desire and jittery nerves.

"Love?" He gently encourages you to detail your answer, causing you to bite your inner cheek, rolling the meat between your molars. You may be tentative to admit your inner thoughts. But, it's still John with his incredibly calm and soothing self that puts you at ease and finally makes you relent.

"They just make you feel stronger, more authoritative-"

"Authoritative?" If you would've faced John, his inquisitive look would've met you. And yet, you don't even need to, feeling it burn into the side of your head as his ducked head angles towards you. You see it out of your peripheral, how he gazes at you, but you persistently stare directly forward as you give him a slight nod.

You swallow, worrying that you overstepped as you tried explaining the indecent thoughts wrecking your brain without spewing their true nature as blatantly as they arise.

Assuming that's the reason for John's momentary silence, he surprises you when he finally speaks.

"You know, love", he hums, airy and amused. Your eyes drop, following his hands as they trail up the stone counter until they settle on top of yours. His fingers worms in between your slender ones. "I have noticed how remarkably much you've been staring, how handsy you've been when I come home like this".

Body lightening on fire, a warm rush sweeps through you, the sound of blood suddenly pounding noticeably in your ears as you duck your head. Had you? You hadn't even thought so.

"Nothing to fluster about".

"Well, I do", you bite back, but there's no venom to your words, only embarrassment that you hadn't hidden your desire well enough, even if it was to an elite soldier you'd lost to. The mouse would forever lose to the cat.

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong, John. Just because you fit too bloody good dressed like a Captain, it shouldn't turn me on this fucking much". Thank god you're not looking at him. You would've sunken through the floor.

"I remember you mentioned somethin' like that the night we met".

"I said that you suit being a Captain, not that it turns me on". John's exhale borders on a groan and your brows knit together when you catch it.

"Remember you called me that as well". John brushes past the admittance in your sentence as if it's nothing. "Caught me off-guard the first time". He nudges your head from the side, hands tightening over yours.

"Why?" You breathe, realising his voice has dropped into a husky depth. It only did that when his arousal stirred, which sparked your curiosity enough to repress your humiliation.

"Sounded so wrong from you, a civvie callin' me by rank. But I couldn't deny I liked it". John's face falls into your neck, placing a kiss beneath your ear as he drops a fraction of his weight against your back. Still, it's enough to cage you to the counter and feel his hardening cock against your rear. Your eyes widen. "And then you said it while I was stuffin' that cunt of yours. Bloody hell, I almost lost my head when you called me Captain all stunningly dishevelled beneath me". A surprised gasp rips from your throat at John's words curl along the shell of your ear while he shoves his growing erection against you.

"What are you saying?" Your chest heaves at the end of your sentence as John rubs himself against the plush swell of your ass from behind.

"I'm tellin' you, despite how wrong it is, that I like when you call me Captain". He husks into your ear, using your wording from earlier.

John steadily grinds against you, pressing you further into the counter's edge. Instinctually, you arch against him, but one of his hands swiftly grabs your hip, forcing you down.

"Love, I wanna try somethin' out", he hums. "Tell me if it gets too much. Understood?" There's no hesitancy in John's voice, only an alluring reassurance and passion that pikes your interest.

"Yeah, alright".

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, John, I understand". You whine, curiosity eating you from the inside, yet he only tsks at you.

"You know what to call me". You inhale sharply. Fuck, could he be talking about? He is. You swallow, mind reeling as you realise John's alluding to something you've only entertained as fantasy. And yet, his rank solely remains a heavy, dirty thought. "Come on, love, know you want to".

You swallow, eyes wide and staring forward. John must sense your hesitancy as his hand rucks the shirt you're wearing upwards, baring your ass. Attempting to coax you, he shoves his bulge straight into your scantily covered pussy.

"I want you to say it, m'not goin' any further until you do. Both of us must want this". That does the trick. You wouldn't pass up on this chance.

"C-Captain".

"Whole sentence, love".

"I understand, Captain".

"Good girl". He praises you. "Now, you'll take what I give".

"Oh", you breathe out as a violent shiver runs down your spine and the muscles attaching to the back of your head quiver.

John's not only igniting something so perfectly inside your body. He also flips a switch in your head with his commanding voice, precisely the one that made his authoritative nature as a Captain so attractive.

"From your reaction, it seems you don't mind bein' ordered around". John breathes into your ear. "Is that correct?"

"Don't mind".

The man behind you releases a hum as he tests your reply by nudging his foot against your right ankle. You can feel him smirk at how you react, widening your stance one foot at a time without any resistance. Even when John presses himself against your back and continues forward by bending over you until you're flat against the kitchen counter, you don't resist him.

"So pliant, aren't you?" One of his hands releases yours, yet you continue pressing it against the stone. His fingers trail up your now bent arm, over your shoulder and along the curve of your body until his fingers curl around your waist.

You nod swiftly, only catching the faintest reflection of the movement even though your cheek rests against the polished stone surface. He chuckles at your hasty reply, the sound cracking up the length of your spine.

"Mhm, stay like that now". John instructs, standing straight with a squeeze to your hand that, up until now, remained intertwined with his.

His fingers run along your clothed spine until it reaches your bared lower vertebral, then your ass until it dips between your legs from behind, pressing into the seam of your underwear.

"Fuckin' hell, you've gotten this wet already? So desperate for your Captain, eh?" You whimper as he pushes against the damp fabric, the material pressing into your folds.

"Yes, John-Captain!" You correct yourself as he slaps your pussy upon the slip-up. The tap of his palm doesn't hurt but acts as a reminder. Nevertheless, it sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, making you squirm.

"Two rules, love", he remarks. "One, for now, it's Captain. Two, if you don't keep still, I'll stop touchin' you, leavin' you all pent up, just like this, right here", he makes clear. As if daring you to obey, a gentle test calculating how much you really want this, his thumb shallowly probes against your core. Your eyes snap shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip, a forced exhale escaping your lungs as you concentrate on not rocking backwards while fabricating a reply.

"Y-yes, Captain".

As if content with your words and actions, John steps away. Despite the loss of contact, you remain in your position.

Your pulse thrums as you listen to John, picking up on the shift of clothes and the sound of a zipper. Your anticipation skyrockets as he doesn't hurry his movements, taking his sweet time before he touches you again. When he does, he pulls down your panties until the elastic band digs into the middle of your thighs.

A shuddering breath escapes your lungs when nothing separates John's fingers from your exposed wetness. He runs two fingers up and down almost leisurely until one digit firmly pushes against your clit in a circular sweep. The sudden attention to your throbbing bundle of nerves sends neurons flying.

You don't even know on what scientific level it's possible to stop an involuntary reaction, but just as you feel your lower back muscles tightening, you slam the flatness of your palm against the counter with a 'shit' as you try.

You wouldn't count it as moving, but you did twitch upon the surprising pressure against your clit. And as John pulls away, placing his hand on the small of your back, you whine in defeat, knowing he caught it too.

"What was that?".

"Nothing, nothing, please, Captain, I'll be good". You don't even realise what you say yourself as you plead with John. He couldn't leave you there. You would possibly explode.

He only tuts, hand pressing firmer against your spine. Your heart drops for a second until he speaks. "I'll let you of this once".

"Thank you". John groans behind you, curse breathed beneath his breath as his character breaks for a moment, caught off guard by your rushed response. It's not long, but it's a reminder that it's still John behind you.

A swift pressure change against your spine indicates he's gathered himself again before he picks up where he left off.

His finger starts trailing up and down your folds again, but you remain in your position in spite of how your legs quiver in want, a desire for more.

Your wet, sopping, John's digit coated swiftly in your slick as he teases you.

He toys back and forth before his finger slips down. This time you've already braced yourself when he circles your clit. You force yourself to hold still as you whine at the contact, wanting nothing more than to rock backwards.

Noticing your struggle and stubbornness, John's free hand grabs your hip, kneading the flash with gentle squeezes. "Mhm, just like that, love, doin' so good for me".

His baritone rolls over your back, making you shudder, skin knotting with goosebumps. He never once stops the slow movement of his finger, causing you to clench around nothing continuously, especially as he starts flicking the tip of his finger.

You press your forehead against the counter upon the small, sharp jolts of electricity firing pleasure through your nervous system. But it's so fleeting it doesn't have an opportunity to build into anything damning as John pulls away from your clit, falling back to running his digit along your folds.

John stays clear from your throbbing bundle of nerves, rotating his hand as he teasingly concentrates more and more attention on your entrance. You release an anticipated breath as he brushes over it repeatedly until you bite your lip. You want to tilt your hips to make him slip inside. But you withhold the urge, thankfully reaping the rewards before you get desperate enough that your body acts on instinct.

John puts the slightest pressure behind the dragging motion. At first, only the tip of his finger enters you before he pulls it back, doing the same thing a few times until he pushes its entirety inside.

You moan even though it's not nearly enough to stretch you so deliciously you feel full. But it just feels good having something sliding in and out of you. Though one soon turns to two when John pulls out, a second finger prodding your pussy before both slip inside.

Squelching noises fill the air as he fingers you, his other digits pressing against your ass. You pant, unable to keep your noises at bay as he finally relents somewhat in his fleeting touches and indulges you with some relief. But it's not nearly enough.

The pace remains slow, his fingers imitating a stroking motion even inside you rather than plunging deep and fast or wriggling forcefully to spur an orgasm. Now, you only feel your high building oh so slowly that it's frustrating how flat the exponential curve is.

And yet, as if projected from your body, you can see the scene you're a part of and find it unbelievably arousing.

John, with his cock freed from his pants and occasionally brushing against your rear, otherwise fully clothed, almost lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your hole as you bend over the counter, panties around your legs, doing your damnedest to keep fucking still.

You moan at the image, hands pressing flat against the counter before curling into fists. It's so fucking erotic that you feel John's fingers suddenly sliding more easily in and out despite the way you clench around them.

"You're practically drippin', love", he teases you, fingers leaving your entrance for a few seconds, not hovering far from your pussy, until they return with a press against your clit, a new chillier slickness coating them. The acknowledgement that you're wet enough it nearly dribbles from you wears your patience to the breaking point.

"Captain, I can't take it, fuck me already". John doesn't reprimand you for your demand, only chuckles as he steps close, cock pressing against your asscheek.

His fingers have dropped from your clit, but his touch is soon replaced with the head of his cock as he guides it to your folds, running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

You let out a shuddering moan as John pushes slightly against your entrance, tip breaching your hole, only to slip out and repeat the movement. Regardless that he's in charge, your frustrated cry is all it takes for him to push into you properly with an amused huff that sharply pivots into a grunt.

"Yeah, just like that- arch for me… good girl…". John groans, and you take his urge to meet his thrust that you're finally free to move as you wish.

You gape as he bottoms out in one slow press, hips pressed flush against your ass. You feel his legs tremble, his hands flexing on your hips, but he stays still for your sake of accustoming to his girth.

"So good for your Captain". You whimper at his words, making him chuckle breathily. "Oh, you like that, eh?" He feigns ignorance of what he'd learnt: that you absolutely do. He grabs a fistful of your ass. "Dirty girl…". You gasp as he spanks your rear, the smacking sound making you clench around him.

"Need you to move". You whine as you wriggle your hips. But John bends over you, burly frame forcing your upper body flush to the cool tabletop.

"Come on, love". He scolds huskily against the shell of your ear, warm breath cascading past your cheek. Parts of his hands grip your ass while the rest cover your hips, the meat spilling between his fingers. But he remains still, deep inside you, not moving until the proper phrase falls from your lips.

It's easier to give in this time, having been shoved over the edge previously, ignoring the immorality of using his rank in this setting and whatever pride left in your body. Mentally, at least.

Physically, it takes you a few seconds, preoccupied with basking in what's happening. Bent over the counter with the biting kiss from the cold stone dulled from the shirt you borrowed from John. Yet the harshness from the unmoving material doesn't fail to make itself reminded against your soft body despite the shielding material. Effortlessly sandwiching you is the similarly firm body of John, considerably warmer but still effective in immobilising you.

"Captain, please". His rank is honey, saccharine and dripping effortlessly from your tongue once you find your voice through the arousal. "Please move".

"Mm, that's it", he croons, granting you the movement you want as he straightens, not before kissing your clothed shoulder. Exegrated to make up for the fabric separating you.

It starts with calculated thrusts that make you keen and almost roll back and forth on your feet from the steady and slow pace. Then John picks up the speed, rutting against you with powerful snaps of his hips. Your fingers scramble, finding purchase on the counter's edge, curling over the side to have some semblance of grounding force.

It doesn't take long before you moan unabashedly at each stroke, fluttering around his cock as he works his length in and out of you, driving his hips forward and back in a steady beat. Along the erotic sound of skin slapping and wet noises is the filth spewing from his lips.

"This what you wanted, eh?" He gruffs. "With all those looks?" He gets a moan in response as you turn your head so your cheeks rest against the counter, watching him through the corner of your eye.

John's jaw hangs slack, hair falling along his forehead as he must be staring at where the two of you connect. He looks raptured, almost dazed. He said he wanted this as well and by the looks of it... yeah, he really did. You don't know how you haven't noticed. But, fortunately, John sets your knack of reading people to shame compared to his skill.

You're snapped out of your thoughts as one of his hands leaves your hips and you see him raise it at an angle. You whine, arching towards it as much as possible with the unbudging surface beneath you. It drags his eyes upwards, noticing how you're watching him.

His lips tug upwards, eyes never leaving you as his palm swats your ass. A reactionary moan spills from your lip as your legs press against the outer side of his thighs at the sensation, brows knitting together from the stinging pleasure.

It spurs John to rut harder, causing your body to fucking sing as your head gets steadily dizzier.

He releases a breathless chuckle at your inability to conjure anything apart from keening sounds and guttural moans as your body goes lax, eyes fluttering close, body jolting at the new pace he sets.

But he doesn't appear much more put together as he witnesses how you allow yourself to let go, giving the reins entirely to him.

You catch how John's sentence breaks into fractions, groans and heady sounds spilling from his lips between sentences to rile you up even further. In the end he can't release much more than growling sounds as he folds, resting his chest against your back, using his weight to forcefully push his hips against yours, making his balls tap against your clit each time.

John barely pulls himself back enough to push forwards again, but it's enough to repeatedly batter the head of his cock against the spot making your legs tingly and toes flex before curling.

Once again, your hands search for something to grasp upon the pleasure coursing through your body. One manages to bend backwards over your shoulder, catching the lapel of John's jumper, and the other slides feebly across the smooth countertop.

Your orgasm is building, breaths turning stunted, muscles seizing.

You feel John's rhythm stutter as you clench more frequently and reactionary in response to his ruts as you near your release. His head ducks to rest between your shoulder-blades, warm puffs of air seeping through the oversized shirt you're wearing. His teeth bite down on the excess fabric, grunts vibrating against you.

John's getting close, throbbing violently inside you, hands digging into your hips even further. When he angles his thrusts downwards, a dirty grind at the end of each penetration, he hits so many pleasurable spots that you release an unprompted cry.

You don't need much, so close to your edge that your head thrash that you wedge your hand beneath your forehead to not knock yourself out cold. So when John grits a heady sentence through his teeth and the fabric trapped between them, that's it.

"Come on, love, be a good girl to your Captain. Wanna feel you squeeze 'round me".

Your eyes snap close as you jerk against him, ass pressing upwards before involuntarily trying to escape his persistent thrusts as the pleasure explodes. But your hipbones are already aching from the counter and you can't flee how John continues to cram his girthy cock into your twitching hole, so you just let him extend your orgasm until he reaches his with a growl.

John curls around you, hips pressing snuggly against your rear as he spurts his release deep. You feel his warm spend inside you, releasing a shattered moan as your eyelids flutter but, in the end, remain closed.

The stone isn't as cold against your forehead anymore, the surface likely warming from your panting exhales.

John's chest rises and falls against your back. He massages your hips almost unconsciously, small flexes of his fingers. Your hand, previously fisting his jumper, falls to your left hip, squeezing his wrist before your fingers graze over his knuckles and card between digits, easing his grip. It seems to bring him out of his post-orgasmic rouse as he softens the action until he stills completely, now cradling the likely-to-be-discoloured area.

"Fuck", he exhales as he releases your shirt from his teeth. The wet spot where his saliva has sept into the fabric is significant as it falls back against your skin.

You reply with a soft confirming sound, craning your neck to glance at John.

His face has risen and is now close to yours. However, what catches you off-guard isn't the proximity but his gaze. It's dark and glittering, a spent smile noticeable through his facial hair.

He kisses you despite the awkward angle. The hair that's

fallen out of place and endearingly covers his forehead brushes yours.

The interaction is brief before he rises, bringing you with him from the forwards-bent position that's not as comfortable for either of you when the lust-driven haze fades. In the movement, John slips out of you before stepping back. Not soon after, he pulls your underwear into place.

The hem of his shirt drops around your thighs once you stand again and it doesn't catch on John's hand. You run a hand through your hair, letting it fall to the kitchen counters, noticing your balance is still wobbly. Your other hand assist your balance by resting on the kitchen counter as you take a moment to collect yourself.

You take a moment to collect yourself before you turn to face John with a sigh. He's just popped the button on his cargos back in place but doesn't care about tucking his t-shirt into the waistband of his pants again.

As John runs a hand through his hair, the other naturally falls to your hip to steady you as his gaze locks with yours.

"All good?" His voice is gritty, pleasure still intertwined with the soft check-in.

"Mm, yeah", you smile sluggishly, your voice breathy. "You?"

"All good. I wasn't too much?" There's a glimmer of concern in his eyes, one you shoo away immediately.

"No, god, you were not too much, John, you were... really good". You reach out to touch John, hands slipping between the layers of fabric on his torso. He melts under your touch, relaxing the arm that had raised so he could tame his hair, letting it curve around your neck. With the back of your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm, he tugs you closer to him.

"Didn't know you had such a thing for men in uniform, love". He chuckles, lightening the mood as he looks down at you.

"You in uniform".

"Compliments your take on a gallantry medal?"

"Mhm", you hum against his lips. "My Captain deserves them". You cheekily use the nickname you'd moaned shamelessly only minutes prior, making him huff an amused laugh that puffs against your mouth.

"Not gonna hear the end of that, eh?"

"At ease, soldier, I'm only gonna use it when I wanna get a rile out of you". You press a kiss against John's lips and he reciprocates it. In the end, a smile splits yours open, one you greet him with as you lean away, creating a bit of space between you. "But what would they think of that? Esteemed Captain Price with a captain kink". He pinches your rear, and you squeal, a sound that fades into a giggle as the hand previously on the counter settles on your hip.

"Watch it". The edges of John's eyes are still creased in the corners as he says it, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just curious", you defend yourself with a shrug. "But I can't say I'm surprised you like the power-trip". You give the blue-eyed man a playful purse of your lips.

He cock his head, brows arching. "Why?"

"Being a good Captain must come from somewhere. You like ordering people around", you muse.

"Delighted to be your entertainment". John exhales through his nose.

You try to lean up to kiss his furrowed expression away, but by tightening his arm around your head and leaning backwards, he avoids your attempt.

"Don't be pouty. You seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did. Admitted you do". You chide John lightly and he drops the faux offence, delight and piked interest present in his eyes.

"Mm, 'bout that. Didn't know you liked bein' ordered around that much". You smile shyly, head notching forwards, not far from resting against his chest from your closeness.

"We all have our moments of something, don't we?" You look up at John through your lashes.

His arms slide down until his hand envelops your neck. A hum fills the air before he leans down, pressing his lips against yours briefly, soothing any possible apprehension in your answer framed as a question rather than a statement.

"Would you like me to do it more?" You crack into a smile at his question, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I would like to. I-I adore when you're sweet on me, John, but I also like when you're rough. Just, you know, take what you want sometimes, do as you please". You shrug, catching how John releases the air from his lungs in something akin to wonder and desire.

"You trust me enough?"

"If your men trust you on the field, I think I can trust you in this situation".

John lets out a long groan, head tipping backwards as his eyes shut tightly. "Don't bring the lads into this, don't want that association".

You chuckle in earnest. "What? You're their Captain first and foremost".

"Not this type", he huffs, head falling forward. Looking at you again, the hand on the side of your neck slides to your hip, both hands now anchored there.

"Alright, alright. Only want you to myself anyways". You lean up, planting a series of kisses against John's lips until he reciprocates, the frown disappearing from his brows.

"Already got me, love". His voice softens, making you smile in return.

Just as you're about to reply, the sensation of fluids flowing out of you makes you reactively twitch and clamp your legs together, hands flexing on his stomach. John notices, suppressing a smirk as he fishes your hands from beneath his jumper.

"Let's get you cleaned up." John enlaces his hand with one of yours, tugging you along as he heads towards your bathroom. "Still need to have that shower".

"You like seeing me wet, don't you?"

"Never said we would shower". John sends you a humoured look over his shoulder, making you roll your eyes. "Watch that attitude of yours. Things like that get you a lesson in discipline in the army".

"Because that would be my biggest problem and not sleeping with a Captain, who I much rather get disciplined by." You quip with an amused look.

"Careful with what you wish for, love". John returns, the reply accompanied by a wink. As you chuckle with a shake of your head, John pulls you forward and into his side, planting a kiss on the side of your head, effectively ending the conversation as you step into the bathroom.

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xxkiller-muffinxx · 4 months

Text

A kiss from a rose

John Dory x mute! 1/2

Summary: (takes place after the band split up, and on) John Dory shows up out of nowhere, but with that he brings trouble, the trouble of the mind and the heart.

Words: 1746

Warnings: one moment of violence, no color coding because JD is the only one who talks in this fic

A/N: Goodbye 2023: Hello 2024! First oneshot of the year and seriously so tired after new years. I thank you all for the support on my Floyd oneshot, you guys make writing worth it! Also I imagine you live in a small house, and not a pod. Just cuz I like the idea. (Side A/N: I wrote half of this at 1 am after new years and I have more written it just turned to gibberish after a while and I had to sleep lmao. So stay tuned for a part 2!) I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS 😭😭😭

➷➹➷

The mysterious man showed up out of nowhere, which honestly startled you and your father. He showed up in an armadillo bus that was way out of whack. You were an only child and a quiet one at that. So from a distance, your dad told you to be his danger surveillance.

Upon further examination, you managed to grip your dad's shirt and send him a message that the strange man needed help. With his kindest heart, he goes to lend a hand to him.

You never understood how your father can comprehend what you're saying, you’ve been mute since birth. Nobody knew why, but you just haven’t spoken a word. In fact, your first “word” was you writing on a piece of paper for the first time.

When your dad came back, all he did was make another plate of food and walk out. This time you watched, and paid close attention. Your dad gave the man food and that’s when you realized. He wasn’t a man at all! He seemed to be around your age. It was strangely exciting to see.

You pulled away from the window and sat down to finish your food. You then heard your dad reenter and he mentioned nothing of the exchange, but you didn’t care. It was your dad, he was almost just as quiet as you were.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

Then a year went by, and your dad made sure to take care of you just right. You were a bit older now, and a bit taller. Your little small town was growing smaller with each passing day, and now you knew everything like the back of your hand. However, a certain someone didn’t.

You walk out of your home to begin delivering your dad’s trinkets around town. Use your roller skates to travel from door to door. Handing in tiny things like keychains, dream catchers, or even shoelaces. Your dad was quite the tinker.

Then your heart dropped when you realized you’d have to give food to the armadillo bus inhabitant. So you rolled in front of his bus and pet the lovely creature a few times, before anxiously heading toward the door.

It only took a few knocks when suddenly out popped a guy wearing goggles and a jacket far too thick for the summertime. You handed him his trinket. Which was a keychain with the word “BROZONE” across the small crocheted add-on.

You were about to leave when his voice cut through the silence. “Woah! This looks even cooler than I thought it would! Thanks!” He grins at you, expecting a response, but when silence follows he pushes his goggles onto his head. “Uh…did I come across too strong there? Or are you stunned into silence because you’re looking at a former member of Brozone?”

Your social ticking time bomb was ticking, it was a common small-town rule to not talk to you because you’d start crying or something, but this is new. This is just discomfort. His words turned to mumbles as you began to go on autopilot.

Suddenly a hand touches your shoulders. A billion thoughts run through your head, you look up at him and see his face coming closer. Instincts kick in and you wind up punching him in the face. Straight knock out right hook into the nose.

The crack made you snap back into reality. He’s on the ground, groaning in pain. you don’t like consequences. So instantaneously, who does? So You run off. Your feet pitter-patter in the ground below, scared of what your father would do if you found out.

You hide away after that moment, your dad did find out, but geez did he find it funny. That was the first time you’d heard him laugh in ages. So he put the shop on hold and decided to teach you how to make trinkets instead. So that event never happens again.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

You were in your mid-20s when you started delivering again. However, you made an effort to avoid the armadillo bus with all your being. However, you caught glimpses of Bus-man looking out at you while you worked. Your nerves nearly get the best of you every time you catch it.

When the end of the day came around the corner you made it home and sat on your porch swing. You swung until the sun went down, but in the meantime, you were looking ahead, then caught sight of the man lazily sitting outside too. But when he caught sight of you he suddenly puffed out his chest and grinned. Wiggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a weird look and looked away. What was that? Was he…flirting with you? You punched him in the face! Why was he flirting? After about an hour you felt something hit your shoulder. When you looked, it was a crude paper ball, you opened it. It said: “My name is JD, John, the leader, John Dory, what's yours?”

You laughed when you saw the crossed-off names, you pulled a pencil out of your hair and wrote your name on the paper. You looked up and looked around. Eyes closed in on him as he tried to act natural. You smirked and threw it back at him, hitting him in the head. You gasped and looked away. Your cheeks become red like fire.

The game of toss continued. You and him having a nice conversation about flowers. Which led to him calling you Buttercup. You didn't know why this made you blush, but a nickname was new for you.

Eventually, you told him goodnight and waved to him. He waved too, but you could've sword-he punched the air in excitement before going inside.

It became routine. Every night you two would be outside neighbors, talking to one another on paper. You’d share one fact about yourself, and he'd share several. He was far more open than you were, and he was fine with it.

Until one night it came to the subject of verbal communication.

You explained to him your situation and he started asking so many questions. It made you sort of uncomfortable. Then in a shocking turn of events, he changed the subject to something debatably worse.

“Why did you punch me?”

Your eyes widened and you turned red again. You heard his loud boisterous laughter at your reaction and you felt a knot tie in your stomach. Your heart fluttered and all your hairs stood on end. What was going on?

He then yells out to you, as his first time communicating verbally. “It's alright buttercup! I forgive you!” His grin was infectious, leaving you wanting to see it more often.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

When you started visiting his bus, the two of you became inseparable. Seeing as you were nonverbal you'd usually listen to him spout pure nonsense half the time. Sometimes he'd just break out into song.

Your favorite nights are when he'd break into song and ask you to dance with him. You'd always decline. Which always disappointed him but he was just fine dancing all by his lonesome.

“Baby! I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey!” he'd fall to his knees and outstretched his arms to you “come on! Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah!” he’d continue singing even as you shook your head.

When he kept dancing, on rare occasions you giggled, very quietly. He'd catch it and make a big deal out of it, causing you to blush and quietly giggle yourself into oblivion.

He'd leave you alone for a while, eventually getting back to telling stories. You explored the but a little while he spoke, he watched you, explaining some messes and creating excuses for others. That is until you stopped in a corner, picking up a vinyl. John shot up. Stumbling over to you.

“That uh. That's-” you looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Which may have been the first time he understood what you were saying without you writing on a piece of paper.

He sighed heavily and slumped onto the couch “it’s a pretty boring story.” he huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms as he leaned into the corner of his couch. “You wouldn't like it.”

You frowned, carrying the vinyl over to him. You sat down beside him and looked him in the eyes. Silently asking him to go on, when your hand landed on his knee. He looked at your hand then at you. “Well buckle up because this is gonna be a long one.”

He tells you everything, you don't flinch, make a face, nor do you judge. His story is depressing. He seems so angry and frustrated about it. Something about the way he talks about his brothers made you want to hug him and comfort him with every bone in your body.

His anger rises as he reaches the end. His nose flaring and his eyes widened. “I just wanted us to be great! To be the best boyband there ever was but no! They kept complaining and-” he was cut off by the look you were giving him. His breath hitched at the sight of your eyes so sincere and caring, it was different for him.

He tore his eyes away and crossed his arms. “I just wish. I just wish we were still brothers.” you gripped his hand squeezing it tight and he seemed to get the message. “I know I know. They're my brothers whether they like it or not.”

You nodded, running your fingers through his tall hair then looking him in the eye. There was a moment of clarity there. Your cheeks turned 6 shades of red, when his eyes snapped lower on your face. You stood up and took a deep breath. You awkwardly pointed at the door. A shy smile on your face as you gravitated to the bus door.

You felt bad at the look of disappointment he had, but also you were still friends at this point. You couldn't ruin that. Not because you would hate being with him, but it's too good to lose. His expression changed back to his regular one and he stood up to help you out.

“After you M’lady Buttercup,”

You rolled your eyes, but stopped for a minute to look at him, thinking about what you should do. In your fear and anxiety. You waved him goodbye. Leaving him wanting much more from you.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

To be continued…

#fanfiction #trolls #trolls band together #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #trolls franchise #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #john dory #john dory x reader #trolls 3 #trolls john dory #john dory trolls #brozone x reader #brozone

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lazycats-stuff · 10 months

Text

141 TF x male reader

This is the continuation to this oneshot. It's mostly fluff and kind of dates with the guys. It's probably going to be over 2k too, so just get prepared.

Summary: The TF is ready to work together in order to date (Y/N).

Warnings: Fluff, cute dates, just cuteness overall, author may have procrastinated and just took sweet time writings and then rushing at 11:30 pm and is tired...

And yes, another Ghost gif. I love this man too much....

After about 3 days of deciding on how to approach (Y/N), they just decided to talk to him in his room. And they all wanted to see the little kitten. Price knocked on his door, the other 3 members were behind him. For the first time in a long time, they were nervous.

And they were military men.

(Y/N) opened the door, smiling at the sight of the men. "Hey guys. What's up? "

" Can we talk to you? " John asked, anxiety building up.

" Sure. " (Y/N) said, stepping aside to let the men in. All of them went straight to the little kitten, giving it a pet or a scratch, then sitting down somewhere in the room.

" What is it that you guys wanted to talk about? " (Y/N) asked, sitting down at chair close to his desk.

Everyone glanced at Price. (Y/N)'s eyes went to Price's.

" Okay, now I'm nervous. Is it bad news or- ? " (Y/N) asked, confused and anxious.

" No, no, no. " Price said, calming the man down. " It's just... All of us find you attractive. " Price started, watching (Y/N)'s cheeks getting red. Wow.

" And we have all... Got feelings for you. And that's what we are here to talk about. We wanted to ask you to date you. All four of us. " Price said, watching (Y/N)'s face. It was red and he seemed flustered.

" Okay, um... Are you sure? I mean, dating somebody who doesn't know who he is or knows what he likes? " (Y/N) said softly, looking down at his lap.

" We know what we are getting into, if you decide to date us. Do you really think that we won't take that into consideration? We don't want to date you for your looks, we want you for you. " Gaz said from the bed, gently patting the cat.

(Y/N) took it all in. He didn't think he was attractive to the point of attracting 4 guys, whom he assumed were straight. And they want to date him, despite the amnesia and the incomplete memory and not knowing what he likes or dislikes?

" You don't have to tell us now, you can tell us later. " Price said, standing up.

" No, I... Okay, I want to just say this. I am interested in dating you guys, but... I have to say this. I want to be taken out on a date first. Individually. Also, I think that my love language is physical touch... Okay, that's not the point now. Don't go overboard too, please. "

The boys nodded, smiling. Ghost's soft smile was hidden by his balaclava, but (Y/N) could see the wrinkles around his eyes. He should really smile more.

" Okay, tomorrow one of us will take you out on a date. Do you want tell us which one or do you want us to surprise you? " Price asked.

" You can surprise me. It's more fun that way. " (Y/N) said laughing.

Price had to admit, he was right.

" We will let you know who will take you out tomorrow. Now we need to talk amongst each other. So, we will leave you alone now. "

Price said and all of them shuffled out of the room. (Y/N) smiled, moving to lay down on the bed next to his kitten.

" Hey you. You might have more dads in the future. "

The cat meowed, purring and nuzzling against (Y/N)'s hand. " You do like that? Who would be your favorite? Maybe Ghost? He does seem like that type. " (Y/N) said to the little kitten. Kitten kept on purring, making (Y/N) doze off.

It was decided that Ghost was going to take him out on a first date. Ghost wanted to do it in the base, not wanting the people to look at him weird because of his mask.

So what did Ghost decide to do?

A movie night in their living room. He made a little pillow fort and with a few tries made popcorn and some chocolate muffins to soothe the sweet tooth, should (Y/N) have it.

(Y/N) came around 8, just like they agreed on. He was wearing comfortable sweatpants and one of Ghost's shirts that he has borrowed from Ghost.

" Pillow fort? " (Y/N) asked, getting into it immediately.

" Is it bad? " Ghost asked (Y/N), afraid that it was wrong.

" No, quite the opposite. I like it. Come on, I need my heater. "

Ghost raised his eyebrows. Heater? " A heater? "

" Yes, you are very warm. Now come on. " (Y/N) said, patting the spot next to him.

Ghost huffed, but complied none the less. (Y/N) laid down on Ghost's chest, getting himself comfortable. Ghost wrapped his arm around (Y/N) and turned on the movie.

" (Y/N)? "

" Mhm? "

" Do you want me to take of my mask? "

(Y/N) lifted his head up. " Only if you are comfortable. I don't want you to do something that you are not comfortable. "

Ghost nodded. Most of the people would ask him to take it off, but not (Y/N).

" Okay. Popcorn? " Ghost asked, taking the bowl and offering it to (Y/N).

" Sure. "

Next evening, it was Price's turn to take him out. Price was a bit more old fashioned, so he was going to take (Y/N) out of the base, seeing how he didn't like being in the base so long. The plan was to take him to the cinema and afterwards to a diner.

Price waited for (Y/N) by the car, in civilian clothes. It has been a while since he got a chance to go out like this, carefree and just in civilian way.

He looked up from his watch to see (Y/N) walking towards the car. Price smiled, pulling (Y/N) into a hug. (Y/N) smiled too, before hugging Price back.

" You look stunning. " Price said to (Y/N) after letting go.

(Y/N) blushed and complimented Price too. Price led him to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for him. (Y/N) thanked him and sat into the seat.

Price closed the door, moving to the driver's side. He got in and started the car.

" Where are we going? " (Y/N) asked Price.

" That is a surprise darling. " Price said, patting his thigh.

" Really? " (Y/N) asked Price.

" Yes. I wanted to surprise you. "

(Y/N) just intertwined his fingers with John's and turned his head to look at the window. Their intertwined fingers were laying in the middle, next to the what (Y/N) called the stick. John parked near the cinema, turning the car off, forcing the two to release their hands to step out. Once they were out, they took their hands again.

" Is that the cinema? "

" Yes. I thought that you would like to go off base. You looked like you were couped up in the base. "

" You are right, I was couped up. As much as I love the base and the wonders that the it provides, you can feel couped up and like you are in jail. " (Y/N) said, using his free arm to gesture.

" Well, I can't say that, but for someone like you with memory loss... I can understand that. " John said, looking at (Y/N) with so much love in his eyes that he would have that his eyes turned to hearts.

" What are we going to watch? "

John just smiled at him. (Y/N) huffed. Another surprise it seems.

" And what are we going to afterwards? "

" That, my love, is another surprise. "

(Y/N) leaned in and gave John a kiss on the cheek. Price put his arm around (Y/N)'s shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Next up was Gaz. He also decided to take (Y/N) out of the base, but not to the cinema and the diner, but instead to a picnic. It was a nice sunny day today in London, so why not take advantage of it? Gaz has prepared everything that he thought that (Y/N) would like.

Which consisted of some sandwiches, chips that he liked, some fruit and some chocolates. And the drinks? There was of course water and some juices that (Y/N) had said that he liked.

And that's why Gaz and (Y/N) were in the park, in the shade, just enjoying the weather. Gaz opened the container with sliced apples. He offered some to (Y/N), who gladly took it. It was a green apple, since (Y/N) preferred sour apples rather than the sweet ones.

" So, how do you like it? "

" It's nice Gaz. "

" And how do you like the base? " Gaz prompted, watching (Y/N).

" I like it, but I wish that I could do something more than just stay in my room or just move around to the gym, shooting range and others... I just feel like I'm mooching, you know? "(Y/N) said, fiddling with his hands.

" Maybe you could talk about Price about working on the base? Maybe you could work with recruits or something like that. And you are not mooching off of anybody or anything. You are a SAS. Once a SAS, always an SAS. "

(Y/N) nodded, moving closer to Gaz. He took (Y/N)'s hand and kissed it.

" Thanks, I just... I guess I got into my head way too much. "

" Don't apologize for that love. " Gaz said, kissing the side of (Y/N)'s head.

" Now, lets enjoy this great weather. " (Y/N) said, smiling and making himself cozy on the blanket.

And Soap was last and he often says that they have saved the best for last. (Y/N) didn't know how to feel. The Scot was the most energetic person that (Y/N) had encountered in the entire base. He doesn't know where Johnny gets all of that energy.

" Johnny, where are we going? "

" Are you afraid? " The Scot said, smirking as he led him into the building.

" I mean, you are the most energetic person I have encountered on the base. I don't know how you can be so energetic. "

" Well, that is not important question now. You are important now. "

(Y/N) sighed as they got into the junkyard, filled with cars. What the actual hell?

" Okay, so, we have it for about hour and a half. " Johnny said, handing him gloves and the protective glasses. " So, we need to make the best out of it. "

" Okay, so we are going to smash cars? "

" Not just smash. I am going to make a few explosions too, just for you. "

(Y/N) laughed and grabbed the hammer and allowed Johnny to put the safety glasses on. He put the big hammer over his head and smashed the car away.

(Y/N) and Johnny were laughing away and (Y/N) was fascinated by the explosions.

After those dates, (Y/N) now had four boyfriends and his kitten whom he named Ghost, because the cat was quiet and sometimes scared the shit out of him, got four cat dads, which meant a lot of cuddles.

(Y/N) also started working at the base, finally feeling useful and not like he was mooching. He worked in the infirmary where he recovered and was there studying more about medicine.

And the boys got more excuses to visit him. (Y/N) might kill them one day because of the constant, intentional way. But he wouldn't change it for the world.

#modern warfare x you #soap mw2 #soap x male reader #ghost x male reader #simon riley x male reader #ghost mw2 #call of duty x male reader #call of duty 2022

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astrok1dz · 1 year

Note

Was sneaking through the John doe tag n found your account 👀 I really like your writing! Hope you don't mind me spam liking a bit!

I don't see anywhere if requests are open, unless I'm dumb lmao, so feel free to just toss this if they're closed

Could I request John Doe with an affectionate reader, who likes to rant to him about their interests, but always feels like they're annoying him after cause growing up they never had anyone listen to them ramble

Thank you, regardless if you do this or not, and have a great day! ❤

A/n: OMG YES I FORGOT TO SAY THAT REQUESTS ARE OPEN- also ur request is personally so relatable omfg. that being said.

Doe with an affectionate S/O!

cws: mentions of insecurities(?, pure fluff, not proofread, may be OOC(??

Doe will listen to you talk about anything.

I mean. ANYTHING.

You could talk about cockroaches for an hour for all he cares. The fact that it’s YOU talking and that you chose to talk to him? He’s melting.

But, you’re insecure, and John is too im love to not be oblivious.

He’s a little dense when it comes to this.

Sometimes he’ll listen to you talk too much and he’ll look like he’s not paying attention

But it’s the opposite!! He’s registering everything!! He’s just quiet cuz he doesn’t want to interrupt! He’ll burst into words and affection as soon as you finish ranting

You talk to him about this and how it makes you feel. You feel like you’re a chore or burden to listen to, and that you don’t want that to be the case. Especially not with him.

He will reassure you oh so desperately

“You just- stay so quiet… I don’t wanna bother you with all my ranting. I-I- I do all of the talking and maybe you’re fed up with it and-”

He stares at you in SHOCK. Pure, raw, SHOCK. Is this what he caused? A slight pain hits right through him, to have caused you this stress.

“Oh no no no my love! I love listening to you, your voice is so lovely and everything you say is so interesting, I swear swear swear swear swear!”

He will proceed to recite everything you said back to him. Even if you tell him you believe him. From then on he started commenting and getting more and more involved in the rants you had rather than just nodding quietly.

“I’m so sorry I caused you this stress, I’m so so sorry!”

You hug him, almost tearing up, because he’s just so worried about your well-being and he actually loves listening to you? He starts showing it much better and much more often too, and you just have to stop yourself from crying when he makes little additions to your rants.

“… and then she said the exact same thing I did! So why was it all wrong when I said it? I mean- the fuck is her deal?!”

“Right? She doesn’t own the truth. She sounds so annoying, love. You want me to do something about it…?!”

Your mouth hangs open for a little bit, before gaining back your composure, heart swelling in your chest.

“Just take me out to eat, will you, Doe?”

“Of course!”

I think a lot of people jump right to the gory and killing part when they learn that Doe will do anything for You, when it can also be something as simple as learning how to be a better partner for you.

TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!!! I LOVED WRITING (and projecting onto) THIS!! <3

Tags:

#oneshot #john doe #john doe visual novel #john doe game #john doe x reader #john doe one shot #john doe oneshot #john doe fic #john doe fanfic #john doe fluff #john doe x you

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hellfire--cult · 11 months

Text

Inspired by this TikTok

Cupid!Eddie x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

Request - Eddie's past - Back to Hawkins

Words: 10.7K

Warnings: Pure absolute fluff and romantical tension. No Smut. You will fall in love with Dorito.

Summary: After bad dates and a heartbreak, you believe god is playing jokes on you. You believe love is not for you anymore, but your own personal cupid comes to the rescue to change just that... You just never thought he would look like that.

A/N: IDK I just loved the idea of that TikTok showing Cupid falling for the girl he is supposed to help, and I found myself writing a whole fucking oneshot of Eddie being the protagonist. Personally, I love this couple! So if you want to send some asks, or blurbs for me to write, I would love to write more oneshots of these two, or even imagines! (and smut ofc) SO ASK AWAY.

If you do get inspired by this story or Cupid!Eddie, please, credit properly! I would love to read or watch whatever you guys make! ❤️ Anyways, ENJOY, and remember that if you liked the story, a reblog is very much appreciated! ❤️

And follow me for more oneshots and series!

You were sure this was a joke.

Like, this had to be a cruel joke sent by someone or anything at all. You were minding your own business, at your company’s annual party, and you could invite guests this year.

Now, you didn’t expect your own fucking boss, who is ten years older than you, to walk in with your Ex-Boyfriend, hand in hand. The man who told you he loved you, asked for your hand in marriage, and the very next day he told you it was all an impulse.

You left him on the spot.

That was a year ago, but to see him again, hand in hand with your own boss, who met him before, was just a cruel joke. You almost dropped your glass of champagne as they smiled while walking, introducing themselves to people. The worst part of it all? They looked genuinely happy. You could see it when he would lean over to whisper something in her ear, and she would giggle, or the soft touches of hers fixing his tie, or a strand of hair out of place.

You were a mess, for a whole year, trying to move on, going date after date, with people that weren’t even in your own interest, but you never rejected a date. But you were now tired, wanting a connection, and it seems like God wanted to laugh at you right now, because he was showing you how your Ex had no problem in doing so, and it seems he found an even better match.

So you went home. You didn’t even stay for the party, and you didn’t even introduce yourself to them. You have seen enough for the night, and all you wanted to do was to get home, pet your fat cat called Dorito, and head to bed. Maybe cry a little.

Makeup gone, hair up in a messy bun, long oversized shirt on, and a pair of large sweatpants, you hopped in your bed with Dorito on your lap, and turned on the TV to find something suitable to watch while you drift to sleep.

But it seems now Cupid wants to laugh at you too.

You change channel through channel. Titanic, The Notebook, Harry meets Sally, Dear John, and fucking Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Are you fucking kidding me you son of a cunt!” Dorito perked up, alarmed, looking at you and you were huffing angrily through your nose, staring at the screen across your bed, turning it off completely and throwing your remote to the floor. You held onto Dorito, under its armpits and made him stand on your lap, in front of you.

“Mreow~” He greeted you and you just felt your eyes fill with hot tears as you looked at him.

“Is cupid playing some fucking joke to me? Why does he get a happy ending and I had no luck whatsoever? Why?! I was the one who got hurt!” Your cat tilted its head to the side as you kept your rant going on, anger and sadness coming out of your mouth. “Fuck love, fuck destiny, fuck the cunt cupid is.”

The doorbell rang, startling you and Dorito out of your stare contest.

“What the fuck…” You looked at your phone and tapped on it to look at the time. 10:25 PM. Maybe a neighbor in your building had a problem, or needs help with something? You stood up, putting Dorito on your bed, and walked towards the door, looking through the peephole. A man you don’t recognize stood there, long hair down, wearing a black leather jacket and he wasn’t facing the door.

You slowly opened it, a sweet smell invading your nostrils , and you realized he was just a tad taller than you. You cleared your throat and he turned around to flash a dimpled smile towards your way and you felt like your throat had caught on fire by how beautiful this man looked to you.

“Hi! I’m Eddie.” He introduced himself to you and you slowly blinked, coming back to your senses and realizing just how horrible you look right now. You had no makeup on, a messy bun in your head, your sleepwear was on, and you had Stitch slippers on your feet. You blushed a deep red and introduced yourself to him, wanting the earth to swallow you whole.

“Are you new in the building?” He looked around and then back down at you and shook his head.

“No, I’m here for work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m your Cupid.”

Blink.

What did he just say?

“I’m sorry, what?” You were stunned on the ground, staring at the crazy man before you.

“Like I said, I’m your cupid. I’m here to help you find your one destined partner, and for you to also apologize for the way you–”

You closed the door on his face. No. No way. This is some sick dream of yours, it has to be! Maybe the glass of champagne you took was enough for you to lose your senses and your right mind. Or maybe you’ve gone crazy with loneliness. That is also a really big possibility that you weren’t going to deny. You locked your door, stepped away from it and took a deep breath in.

“Okay, that was weird.” You walked towards your room again, only to scream at the top of your lungs when you saw that man laying against the headboard of your bed, petting your cat that was purring on his chest.

“It is very rude to slam doors on people’s faces.” He glared at you as Dorito started doing biscuits on his chest. You were breathing heavily with your hand on your chest and you pointed at your living room and back at him, and repeated the motion again.

“But you– There– And now here– how?” You couldn’t even formulate a good question. You were completely shocked, because a strange man, who claims to be a being that doesn’t exist, was on your bed, petting your cat with no care in the world.

“Like I said, I’m cupid. Your cupid to be exact.” He explains as Dorito nuzzles his face against his neck, purring wildly. He is an affectionate cat, but only with you really, so you were surprised he was even doing this to a random man that was on your bed. Who MAGICALLY appeared in your bed.

“What the actual fuck, am I drugged or some shit?”

“Nope.”

“High?”

“Nope.”

“Did I get drunk and didn’t notice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Did I go crazy?”

“Not for now, no.” He was looking at you while you rambled on and on, being patient. You were trying to correct your breathing, gulping loudly as you nodded once in thought.

“Okay… Okay, this is fine… This happens in real life, completely normal…” You said more to yourself than anyone else in the room as you sat at the edge of the bed, looking at nothing in particular. You heard Eddie sigh, as he put Dorito on his belly for him to lay there.

“I know it’s a lot to take, but I sensed you were a little bit distraught, and you even insulted me.” He says with a stern look on his face and you slowly turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“How is any of this real?”

“Alright. I’m going to explain it to you so you can finally digest what’s going on.” He readjusted himself, putting Dorito on his lap as he sat right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s got a special cupid. We normally don’t get to work unless the person actually feels discouraged and hopeless in terms of love.”

“I’m not discouraged–”

“Yes, yes you are, and I don’t blame you. Seeing an ex move on happily when you remain stuck is not something easy to see, much less if all the guys you’ve been seeing till now were a complete waste of time.” He says with a chuckle and you were still trying to comprehend what’s going on right now. Maybe you need to sleep, but if this is a dream, then might as well get some advice.

“Alright… So why are you sending me these guys that are horrible for me? Don’t you know who’s the one for me? Like my destined person?” You ask and he started petting your cat on his lap as it purred loudly while he looked forward.

“No. I don’t know who your match is, nor the one for you. And before today, I never sent anyone your way, nor made you fall for anyone, not even with your ex.” He explains to you and you were frowning in confusion at his words.

“I thought cupids, like… Throw an arrow through two people’s hearts and they fall in love.” At that Eddie lets out a wild laugh, shaking his head.

“No, no… That’s all Cartoon stuff. We only help consummate a relationship. We help our person be hopeful about love again.” He explains to you and you were still wondering how he would help in this situation.

“So, how does this work?”

“Well, I can make you meet people that might be of your taste, just out of pure coincidence. I can help you with your looks, with your confidence, and also advise you.” He finishes saying as Dorito lets out a big yawn and you couldn’t help but yawn as well, copying his movement.

“So, you will basically hook me up with someone and hope for the best. Is that it?” He chuckles at you, shrugging and standing from the bed.

“Something like that, but we’ll see. For now, go to bed.” You were feeling your eyes growing heavy, and your body completely relaxed as the sweet scent invaded your nostrils. This was a good dream, knowing your mind made up a little cupid to feel hopeful of finding someone for you. The one.

Yeah, you really wanted to find the one.

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling so refreshed, like you had slept correctly for once in your life.

You sighed happily when you felt Dorito purring loudly on your chest, waiting for you to wake up. You wrapped your arms around him, caressing him softly.

“What a dream huh? You were in it too. This cupid dude showed up and you were all over him.” You giggled, sitting up on your bed and you sniffed the air. You slowly stood up, your stomach grumbling with the need of food in your system, and you walked out to the living room.

You screamed.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!” Eddie thrashed around, the plate on his hand falling onto the sink as he finished washing it. He turned around to look at you with a frown to his brows and widened eyes. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“You– Am I still dreaming?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Dorito was meowing on your arms, trying to get away and you put him down. He waddled towards Eddie, throwing himself on the floor to show him his big fat belly. Eddie bent down and scratched the cat, making him stretch out.

“I told you, I’m real.” He says, getting up again and putting some eggs and bacon on a plate. He put it on the island counter and motioned for you to sit on the stool. You slowly walked towards it, sitting on it, not leaving your sight off Eddie.

“This is crazy… Am I the only one who can see you?” You ask as you see the plate pushed over to you and an empty glass. You frowned at it and looked at him. “Where’s the juice?” He smiled at you and looked down at the glass again and you followed it, seeing the glass now with the orange liquid inside.

Your heart was beating against your chest, the nerves flying all around your belly. This was real, he is real, what he is doing, as magical as it appears, it’s real.

“Yes, and no. People can see me, but my powers don’t really work on them. My only job here is to get you better, and hopeful for love.” He explains to you once again and you blink, grabbing onto the glass of juice, taking a sip of it. You put it down and scanned him, squinting a little bit.

“I thought Cupids were like cherubs… You clearly don’t look angelic to me.” He laughed at that, giving you a nod.

“That is true. I don’t look like a regular cupid. We all have our own personalities, and our own styles. We were human once, so it is something natural for us to be ourselves.” You were confused now, interest picking up as the shock of the situation was wearing off.

“You were human? You look human to me, present tense.”

“A normal human cannot teleport and make things appear out of thin air darling. I look like one, but I am not one.” He explains to you and you tilted your head completely confused.

“And how did you become one?” He was about to answer you, but his head lifted up, almost alarmingly and he clapped at you to quicken your pace with your food.

“I’ll tell you later. Eat fast!” You were looking all around as he paced around the room and you basically inhaled your eggs and bacon, chugging down your juice, almost choking as you saw Eddie pouring milk on Dorito’s plate.

“Okay, I almost died, but I am done, what happened?” You asked him and he stood up, looking at your attire and he sighed, shaking his head.

“That won’t do, okay… So, he uses polo shirts, so maybe…” He tilted his head once and you felt a swoosh of air hit your body once, and you were completely confused as to what happened until you looked down at yourself, your eyes widening when you saw yourself wearing some leather pants and a white shirt on.

“What the–”

“Nope.” He tilted his head again, and you felt the air hit you again. You looked down to see a floral pink dress on you and you scrunched up your nose at it. “I know, it’s pink.” He gave a nod to it, and the dress turned navy blue.

“You can… change my clothes?” You asked him, completely bewildered and he nodded, letting a sigh out.

“Like I said, I am here to help you.” He walked towards you and you felt your breathing hitch as he pulled you hair down from the bun and he shook it a little bit. You pushed his hands away but then saw he was putting your hair over your shoulders in perfect waves. He then put his hands on your face and you stared up at him, feeling your breath quicken at his stare.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

“Alright, makeup naturally done, hair done, clothes excellent. Good. He should arrive any second now, so I will hide in your room.” He pulled away from you and you blinked wildly, shaking your head in confusion.

“What? Who is coming–” Your doorbell rang and he whispered to you.

“Just be yourself, no tricks, no jokes, nothing. Be yourself!” He bolted out of the room, getting hold of Dorito, giving you a soldier salute before closing the door behind him. You were stunned into the ground and the doorbell rang once more, and you snapped out, rushing towards the door, slowly opening it to see the man before you.

Oh lord…

He didn’t turn around yet to look at you, but you could already see from his profile that he was so beautiful. Beauty marks on his features, brown hair neatly done on his head, brown eyes looking at the horizon while he waited for you to open the door, and… He was indeed wearing a polo shirt.

“Hi! I’m Steve, I moved–” He looked at you only to stop talking completely as he stared at you, gawk would be the exact word. You were looking up at him, waiting for him to continue but he started stuttering out of nowhere. “I– Shit, um– Like I said, I’m Steve.” He introduced himself again and you smiled at his playfulness, feeling a warm feeling in your chest.

“Hi Steve.” You presented yourself and you looked down to see he was holding a small bag of something. He took a deep breath in and gave the bag to you, which you grabbed with a confused frown in your face, but your smile never fell.

“I uh, those are cookies, I didn’t make them of course. I don’t know how to bake, or cook for that matter. I mean, I tried, you know, it’s not that I expect it to be done for me, but I just simply suck at culinary interests.” He was rambling, completely nervous in your presence. He didn’t think a beautiful girl would live in his building, and now he was thankful for Robin who helped him pick this place.

“I mean, if you know how to cook sausages and some eggs, then you’re good to go.” You reply to him, trying to lighten the situation and you succeed, as he chuckles, showing you off his charming smile and you could almost feel yourself melt at the sight.

“I’m more of a pasta guy. I’m a pro at that.” He replies to you and you giggle at his response with a nod.

“Well, if I ever smell burning, I know who to save first.” He put a hand over his chest as if he got wounded by your words and he winced as if in pain.

“We just met and you are already killing me off? That’s brutal.”

“I said I’d save you.” You giggled again and he bit his bottom lip, nodding.

“At least there’s one good person in this building. I said hello to the lady in the first floor, department B, and she almost sent her cat to chase me off.” He said to you with a frown and you nodded at that with a roll of the eyes.

“Mrs. O’Donnell. Crazy bitch, don’t ever cross paths with her. When you are doing your laundry, or even taking out the trash. You see her, turn around and come back later.” You advise him, remembering how you tried to start a conversation with her in the laundry room and she kept eyeing your clothes to tell you that you were a sinner.

“Okay, keep that noted.” He licked his lips and you felt yourself blushing slightly at the change of air around you two as he took a step closer to you. “Should I keep my distance with you too?”

You gave out a little snort and you felt like a high school student again as he flirted with you, looking down at the floor, swaying a little.

“I’m a good neighbor.” You reply, looking up at him and you notice the slight glint in his eyes as you let him go on with his flirting, not pushing him away and not making any excuses. He pulled out his cellphone, almost dropping it because of his nervousness but he tried to play it cool for you as he opened his contact list.

“Since you are the only friendly neighbor I met, is it too crazy to ask for your number?” He licked his bottom lip and you raised an eyebrow up, smirking at his sly way of asking for your number.

“You don’t have to do the whole neighbor charade to ask for my number, you know?” You tell him, seeing him blush slightly. God, he is cute. But to your surprise, he continued with his playfulness, grinning at you.

“Oh, you want to give it to me for some other purpose?” Your eyes widened, catching you off guard, and he laughed at your reaction instantly, making your cheeks get a tint of pink in them as butterflies swam in your belly.

“Now for that teasing, I will not give you my number.” You threatened him and his eyes widened, shaking his head but his smile was still on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I would love to have your number.” He sincerely replies now, handing you his phone and you bite the inside of your cheek to forbid yourself from smiling even further as you type in your contact number in his phone. You handed it back to him and he smiled down at it and then looked up at you. “If you smell smoke, it’s probably me making toast.”��

You shook your head with a giggle and said goodbye to him, looking at his retreating back as he glanced back at you one more time, making you jump in embarrassment as he caught you red handed spying on him. You immediately closed the door of your apartment, the smile not disappearing on your face.

A cute boy. A very handsome boy, and a gentleman at that.

You sighed happily and turned around, only to scream at the sight of Eddie with an excited look on his face, holding Dorito by his armpits, jumping up and down slightly, making the cat meow in annoyance.

“You gotta stop screaming every time you see me sweets.” He said while putting Dorito down on the floor, and looking at you. “So? Did you like him? I can sense you do, but I want to be completely sure.” You shook your head but a smile crept on your lips and you hid your face in your hands bashfully, making Eddie jump in excitement. “Hell yeah baby! That’s what I am talking about!”

“Now I get it when you said to me you will make me meet people just by coincidence.” He nodded at your words and sat down on the couch, Dorito following his step and laying down next to him.

“Exactly! I knew he was coming over today, and I can also see a little bit of the other person before meeting you, letting me know that he is indeed worth meeting.” He explains to you as starts petting your cat, making him yawn loudly. You walked towards the couch and sat on it, leaving Dorito in between you and Eddie.

“So, can you tell me about him?”

“Nuh uh. I know about him, but won’t tell you. You have to meet him yourself. What I can tell you though, is that he is not a psychopath, nor is he into freaky shit or something. I wouldn’t risk your life like that.” Your heart skipped a bit at his words, feeling a sense of protection from him. You cleared your throat and looked out the window.

“So, you’re like my guardian angel now?” He chuckled at that, and shrugged.

“Different job, but for now, it kinda seems like it.”

Steve messaged you the day after.

And the day after that.

And the next day he invited you for some coffee at the cafe next to your building.

The days blended together, and you found Eddie’s company in your apartment quite warming. It was nice to come home and see him watching a movie or hear him sing in the shower. You put out your couch as his bed, which he told you was not necessary since he could come and go wherever he pleased, but you insisted nonetheless.

You both sometimes cooked together, and sometimes he would make food appear when he didn’t feel like moving an inch. You wondered if his powers made him tired in some way. He was very reserved with who he was, and what he could do, but other times, like today, sharing a glass of wine, he would let go a little bit.

“So, you told me you were human before.” You say as you both sat on the couch, facing one another with Dorito in the middle with his belly up for scratches which Eddie was dutifully doing.

“That’s right.”

“Does that mean you are dead?” You ask him and he chuckles, taking a sip of his glass of wine, shaking his head.

“No. I am not, but I am immortal, and for some reason I don’t bleed.” You nodded in understanding, but still slightly confused, and took a sip of your own drink before talking again.

“Alright, but did you die to be able to turn into cupid?” He frowned at that, looking down at your cat, letting out a big sigh. You felt the air in the room shift into something more melancholic, as if sadness sipped through the walls.

“No, not exactly. The only way to become a cupid is if you chose to be. You can die from a broken heart, or continue on as a helper.” He explains to you and you feel your heart sink in your chest as well as anxious nerves writhe in your stomach.

“Does that… mean you were heartbroken?” He wasn’t looking at you, just swirling his glass with the liquid inside. He looked distant, as if the memory was causing him pain.

“I was. But a broken heart can come from various places. From a lover, from a friend, from family… I just received too many blows in my life, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He says while taking a sip out of his glass, a very long one. You wondered how many ended up like him, disheartened, broken, to the point of not wanting to keep going any longer.

“Did a lover do that to you?” You ask him, curiosity very present in your eyes as you looked at him and he gazed up to lock eyes with yours. He shook his head and your features grew sad for him. “I know you said you couldn’t know who is ‘The One’, but does it even exist?” You ask him now and he straightens up in his seat and gives you a nod.

“Yes. The One exists. Your destined person. They do, but there is… something about that.” He says with a pained frown while looking at you. “They can be alive at any point. They could be alive right now, same timeline as you, or, they could have already died, or never been born yet.”

Your eyes widened at that. So, the game of life and destiny was just some cruel joke. It was as if someone was just playing dice over your heads and deciding if you would suffer or meet your other half. If you were going to live happily ever after, or drown yourself in misery and loneliness.

“Did you have one?”

“No. When I became cupid, I only got one piece of information, and it was that they weren’t born yet.” You nodded at that, taking a sip of your wine and scooted even closer to him.

“So, right now you don’t know who they are at all?”

“I don’t know if they were even born. Once you become cupid your own love life is unknown to you.” He chuckles sadly, grabbing the bottle of wine off the table and pouring himself some more. You lean your glass towards him and he pours you some as well, muttering a soft ‘thank you’ to him.

“When did you…?” You stutter a little at your question, not really knowing how to keep going with it, but a knock on your door makes you jump up slightly, and you look at Eddie alarmingly. He simply chuckles and looks at you, his hand reaching up to your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds.

Your breathing hitched slightly as you looked into his eyes and he looked back into yours. The alcohol was mixing with the butterflies in your stomach as you felt his warmth invade your skin, your air, and you just wanted to keep looking at him. You wanted to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay, that he was an amazing man, even after what he went through.

And you just felt a little helpless around him.

He gulped and pulled away from your face, giving you a dimpled smirk.

“Put a little blush on those cheeks. Go open the door for him.” He got up from the couch and held onto his glass of wine, walking into your room. You didn’t know if he was in there or actually leaves whenever Steve knocks or comes to say something to you. You got up from the couch, putting the glass on your coffee table and walked towards the door, pulling the door open to reveal Steve in a suit.

“Hi there.” He says with a smile and you feel yourself becoming warm at his greeting. He is such a cute man.

“Hi Steve, or should I say Mr. Harrington?” You say with an eyebrow raised up in question, combined with your smile as you eyed up his suit. He laughed and gave you a nod.

“Yeah, I know, you’re mesmerized.” You roll your eyes at his words and you giggle, feeling this interaction lifting the heavy mood from earlier on that you had with Eddie. “I actually got off work early, and it got me thinking… uhm.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggles completely halting as you wait for his words. Was it going to happen? Was he going to ask you out? Finally?

‘He is.’

Your eyes slightly widened at the voice, making you look behind your back to see if Eddie was next to you, or behind you, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

‘I can talk to you in your mind sweetheart. Part of my job is to make sure you don’t mess up while talking.’

You wanted to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t when Steve was being a mumbling mess in front of you. He might think you’re making fun of him or something and you certainly weren’t doing that.

‘Urge him.’

“Steve…” You called him out, giving him a small smile of encouragement and he took a deep breath in, stopping with his rambling and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I just haven't asked a girl out in a while so…” He said with a slight blush on his cheeks and you raised an eyebrow up at him.

“You were going to ask me out?” You say, almost a whisper as you looked up at him and it seems he got all the courage he needed as you stared at him, waiting for him to keep going.

“Yeah. I got off early today and honestly… The first thing I thought of was that I wanted to see you.” Oh, that certainly made you blush, and he wasn’t far behind that, but despite his nervousness and his cheesiness, he kept going. “So maybe, I can pick you up at 6 PM on friday? We can head down to the bar a few blocks from here.”

‘You don’t even need me to tell you what to say right now.’

You cursed at Eddie inside your head because he was distracting you. ‘Shut up!’ You yelled at him, not really knowing if it works the other way around, until you hear a soft chuckle vibrate in the depths of your mind, and you knew he had gotten your message.

“Friday at 6… It’s a date, Stevie.” You comment with a smile, and the guy before you was almost bursting with happiness as his eyes sparkled at your approval. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt your heart beat loudly into your ears as he nodded at you.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” You watched as he walked down the hallway, stealing a few glances over his shoulder and towards you. You waved at him one last time until he was out of sight and you entered the house, slamming the door shut with a big smile on your face. Eddie was already out of your room, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eddie, oh my god!” You squealed excitedly as you rushed towards your phone to raise the music up from the speakers. ‘I Wanna dance with somebody’ by Whitney Houston was blasting and you couldn’t help but want to dance out of happiness right now. You were going on a date with a cute guy on friday! A guy who doesn’t look like he just wants to get in your pants! A guy that is genuinely interested in you and is willing to make conversation and get to know you!

“The 80’s? Really?” Eddie asks with a cock of his head, his eyebrow raised up. You just rushed over to him and grabbed his hands, twirling both of you around, catching him completely by surprise as he stumbled while you moved him. “You know this kind of music is not my scene? Thought my clothes were pretty obvious, sweetheart.”

You felt your stomach twirl at the nickname, but you kept the smile on your face and then started pulling his arms back and forth, making him sway in his place. A smile was creeping in his face as he looked down at you and he instantly twirled you in place, making you giggle and then he pulled you to his body, his hand on the small of your back and his right hand holding your left.

He started singing along as he started moving around in an exaggerated manner, making you laugh and helping him sing along. You were happy, content in this moment right here. You felt his sweet scent invading you, as you saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he sang along in high pitch and then low in order to make you laugh.

“Now that’s a singer right there.” You say with a smile and he chuckled, looking down at you.

“I was in a band actually. Played guitar too.” He says to you and you caught the sad smile that painted in his features. You raised your hand up, pulling a curl of his behind his ear, slowly and gently, and you felt a wave of lightning course through you, as if you had touched a naked copper cable.

He was staring down at you, his eyes locked in yours as you inspected him, touched him. He was about to pull away out of nervousness, and because he was starting to feel tense at the situation. A situation that never happened to him before. He never had this much interaction with his human, he just helped them and–

“Is the 80’s your time?” You asked him, taking him aback completely. You both fell into a small sway, going side to side as his hands rested on your hips, barely touching you, while your hands rested on his chest, staring up at his features.

“How did you know?”

“You know a lot about the music of that time. I caught you singing some songs before while cooking, or showering and they’re all from the 80’s.” He gave you a small smile and then a nod.

“1989 was the year I decided to become a Cupid. I was 23 years old.” So he is, technically, younger than you. But if you had to count the years he kept his youth, he is much older.

“What happened to you?” You brushed your hand over his chest, just where his heart is, and you could feel the beating of it, and you could almost hear it from how hard it was strumming against his chest.

“I got cheated on by the only girlfriend I ever had… Slipped up and lost my band too and then, I– I lost the only person who ever cared for me. My uncle. Died from a heart attack.” You looked up at him, feeling your eyes burn with incoming tears and he gave you a sad confused smile. “I’m telling you my story, and you’re the one crying?”

“Yes, I mean, it’s you, and you were in pain, so much that you–” You stopped talking. When he mentioned to you that you could die from a heartbreak, you wondered if he meant it literally, or if he meant that the pain was too strong that he considered ending it all for himself. He put his index finger under your chin to raise your head up in order to look at him.

“Hey, I’m okay.” You couldn’t help the sadness that ran over you, like a wave that just drowned all of the happiness you were feeling seconds ago.

“But, what about your friends? You didn’t have any?” You asked him and he winced slightly, giving you a small nod.

“I did tell you I was in a band.” His grip tightened around you, and you realized you both had stopped moving with one another. “Once one becomes a Cupid, it’s as if you never existed. Everyone forgets about you and the memories they shared with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare up at him. He was in constant loneliness, despite being a helper of love. He was all alone, moving around the world by himself, doing all of this for the benefit of others. You shook your head at him, giving him a small smile to take away the tension that was on your shoulders.

“Well, I am your friend now! We can go have fun together, and we can even get you a new guitar!” You say, jumping slightly with excitement but he was not copying you, his eyes staring at you, but not really. He was distant, as if his mind had gone somewhere else. He bit his bottom lip, and let out a sigh.

“Darling… You will forget about me.” You frowned and shook your head at him.

“There’s no way! You’ve helped me so much, and Dorito can hardly live without you now–”

“Once you fall in love, my job is done, and you won’t ever be able to see me again.”

You stood still. Frozen. Your heart stops completely at his words.

You’ll forget about him? Eddie will be gone once all of this is over? He will disappear once you fall for someone else? Does Eddie think you are being a bother and that’s why he is insistent on Steve? Did he not want to spend time with you anymore?

“That’s– That’s not fair, it should be my decision if I want to remember you or not!” You pulled away from him, a tear threatening to run down your cheek. He was standing still, inspecting you with a sad look on his face. He was dreading the moment he would have to tell you this, because he was afraid you would not continue pursuing Steve just to be able to keep being friends with him.

He appreciated it. He’d grown fond of you, and even took notes of all your quirks and little movements. How you bit your nails when you were concentrating on a movie. How you hummed a tune every time you watered your plants. How you wanted the magnets on your fridge to be color distributed. And he adores the fact that you love strawberries to the point of getting sick with them.

“It’s not our decision. It’s destiny. I am just a helper in your life, and not a human.” Your eyes widened at that, and a smile creeped on your lips, walking towards him again, grabbing his hand.

“Then turn human! I can help you get a job! You can move in with me, and we can go to a bigger apartment, and–” You didn’t want him to leave you. Not when he has helped you so much. For the past two weeks, he had helped you build up your confidence in ways you didn’t know you could feel. He had helped you through your nights, crying after going to work to a place where your boss was mentioning how happy she was with her fiance. He had held you, rocked you, sang to you in order for you to calm down.

Eddie was more than happy to help you. That’s his job. He liked, as horrible as it sounds, holding you while you poured your heart out onto his chest, crying as if there was no tomorrow, because then he would make you laugh and it was all thanks to him. He would make you smile, and it would be directed to him.

But the reality of things are way worse than a smile.

“I can’t turn human.” Your smile fell instantly at his words, and you gulped tightly. There was no way… You can’t digest the fact that, if everything went right with Steve, you would forget about Eddie. Then he would end up alone again, and you wouldn’t even know. You would be oblivious to that. He looked at your face and then sighed. “The only way for me to become human again, is to mend my broken heart.”

“Mend…?” He nodded at you and he grabbed your hand, pressing it into his chest.

“I have to love, and be loved in return. Seal the bond with a kiss, and I… I would become mortal again.”

The tear finally slipped from your eye. You felt hopeless for him, a sadness you’ve never felt in your life. Your sister’s passing was something you could see a mile away when she was diagnosed with Leukemia. Your father, you knew he was cheating on your mother since the first day you hit puberty, so you weren’t surprised when they got divorced and he remarried.

This sadness was unexpected, and was washing over you as if it were the only emotion you could feel at the moment.

Eddie’s arms engulfed you, pushing you close to his chest. How is that heart that was beating loudly against his chest broken? How could they hurt someone like him? Why can’t anyone fix it? Why does he have to leave?

“Hey… The good part of this is that Steve looks like an amazing guy… And–” He pulled away, wiggling his eyebrows at you, wiping your tears away. “I did a little bit of research on past encounters, and all girls have really nice things to say.” You sobbed a little as you tried to talk.

“About what?” He wiggled his eyebrows again and that’s when you caught on, gasping and slapping his bicep with a noise of disgust coming out of your throat. He laughed at your reaction, causing you to giggle through your tears.

Cupid is a dork.

“Well, I had a great time.” You finally say as you reach your door, Steve right behind you. You had an amazing evening with him. He picked you up at exactly 6 PM, and you both headed down to the bar he mentioned before. The conversation was fluid, as if you two had known each other for a long while, but also, the flirting was there, but not too explicit because well… Someone was a little distracting through the evening, even now.

‘This is the part where you invite him in, and you blow him on the couch.’

‘Eddie, jesus, shut the fuck up.’

“Me too. And how convenient it is that we live so close to each other.” Steve says with a smile as he leaned on the doorframe of your front door when you finally opened it and stepped inside, looking back up at him.

“That is definitely a plus.” You say while biting your bottom lip, staring up at him. You were anticipating a move of course. You wanted it to happen.

‘He is not going to do it.’

‘Shit, should I?’

A moment of silence was in your mind and then you heard Eddie’s voice again.

‘Maybe it is too soon.’

Huh? That was definitely not the answer you expected him to say. You thought he was going to make you kiss Steve, which you really wanted to. Steve was blushing as he spoke to you about wanting to go on another date again and you really wondered if Eddie was right on it.

‘Are you sure Eds? I mean, he really looks like he wants to, but is too shy to do so.’

‘I said it is too soon.’

You frowned slightly at the change of tone in his voice. It sounded too demanding, as if he were angry with you. Your jaw clenched, and you muted your head, just everything. You tiptoed towards Steve, and planted a soft kiss on his lips in response to his rambling about a second date.

His lips were plump, expectant. He was stunned for a whole second and then you felt him kiss back, his hands and arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, feeling your chest warm at the feeling of someone’s lips on yours as well as an anxious feeling that wasn’t sitting quite right at the pit of your stomach.

What it was, you didn’t know.

He pulled away after a few seconds with a blissed look on his face, his eyes completely blown from the kiss, and he smiled downwards at you.

“Well, that answers my question on the second date then.” You giggled at that, your arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Maybe we can have some dinner at your place next time?” You flirted with him, voice low and he whistled, calling out your name with a smirk to his face, knowing what you were meaning.

“It’s a date then. Next wednesday?” You bit your lip and nodded at him. He bent down and kissed you softly on the lips again, pulling away only seconds after and then pulling completely off you. “Can’t wait…” He kissed your cheek and he skipped down the hallway, making a fool out of himself just for you to laugh at. You shook your head and closed the door to your apartment, turning around for your smile to only drop.

Eddie was with arms crossed over his chest, almost glaring at you. You’ve never seen him mad before, so this was a new sight for you.

“Did I speak in chinese?” He asks you and you just roll your eyes at him, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. “Why did you go against what I said?”

“Because it was bad advice! I kissed him, because he clearly wanted to, and I got myself a second date!” You exclaimed at him, your own anger filling your body as you poured some water into your glass. He was pacing behind you, glaring daggers in your back.

“How can my advice be bad?! I am your Cupid! If I say something it’s because there’s a valid reason for it!”

“And what was the reason to not kiss him tonight?” You turned around to face him and he wasn’t looking at you. He was just looking to the side, at nothing in particular but with the purpose of not clashing with your gaze. “Or what was the reason for distracting me all night?!”

“You were too interested. Guys get bored when girls are easy, just throwing themselves at them.” Your anger was exploding now. What did he just call you?

“Did you just call me easy? Is that what you think I am?!” You couldn’t help how tight your chest was feeling at the moment. You wanted to throw something at him, yell at him, make Dorito scratch his perfect face. His eyes widened and then he slapped his hands over his face, as if he had just realized something.

“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant–”

“Then what did you fucking mean Edward?” You stuck your hip out, looking at him with an angered look in your face and he shook his head at you.

“Don’t twist this on me! You kissed him when I told you not to! You have to follow what I say to you, or this thing with Steve won't happen!” Your nerves were making your body shake, feeling your eyes burning from the incoming tears that were for sure about to spill. Your body was ablaze, and the knot in the stomach you felt before worsened. Your heart was beating in your chest, almost as if you were having a heart attack.

And your mind was going places, words and thoughts swimming in your brain, just so fast, that you didn’t have the chance of thinking before talking.

“Are you that desperate to leave me!?” You yelled out as tears started running down your cheeks, not able to contain your emotions any longer. “Are you that bothered about helping me?! Do I annoy you?! Am I that detestable to you that you want me to forget about you?!”

The self deprecating words kept coming out of your mouth like bullets to him. One by one, hitting him in the chest. He made you cry. The tears that were falling down your cheeks were because of him. He felt his throat closing up as he stared at you, taking a step towards you.

He stared at your sobbing face, as you tried to wipe away your tears and your nose. Even now, even with the stained face, he found you beautiful… And that thought scared him.

He raised his hand up, caressing your cheek, gently, and slowly. You sniffled, looking up at him, and your knees almost got weak at the sight. He was staring at you with eyes you’ve never felt before. An adoration that you only saw in movies, and described in many books you’ve read before.

You instinctively took another step, your body an inch away from his. Your heart started picking up the pace, rapidly, listening to the blood rush through your ears, and your mouth went dry as you looked at him. The world stopped, time itself, even sounds around you became silent.

You wanted to. You needed to. You had to.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he was still in a state of trance, not pulling away from your embrace, but his arms moved by their own accord, wrapping themselves around your waist.

You want him.

You raised yourself up, tippy toeing, slowly in order not to scare him away. You knew these feelings might be inside you, but you needed to make sure. You wanted to make sure. You wanted it to be true.

You need him.

Your chest went flush against his as you started to reach your goal, your breath picking up as the thoughts in your brain ceased to exist. The only thing that was there, the only one was Eddie.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Tight hands grabbed onto your shoulders, and ripped you apart from the body you were stealing warmth from. Your back hit the fridge behind you, making you wince slightly. Your breath was heavy and when you looked up your eyes widened when you saw Eddie’s face. He was panting, as if he were in pain. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And you heard the crack. You could even hear it. A small crack in your heart as he says those words, as if repulsed by the idea of being kissed by you, a mere human. You licked your lips and shook your head, gulping loudly as he pulled away from you, stepping away.

“I’m– I’m sorry– I just wanted–”

“You’re confused.” He says to you and you feel like he was clawing at your chest with those words, making you shake your head at him.

“What? No! I–”

“We need space. I have to give you space so you can focus on Steve.”

You felt your throat close at those words, your eyes widening as you saw him retreat to your room. Space? Confused? Your brain was running a mile per minute and your legs finally moved, rushing towards your room right after him.

Only to find Dorito meowing with sadness as it looked all over your room.

You looked all around, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest as you rushed towards your closet to look inside. You then walked back out to the living room and kitchen area, finding it empty too. You slammed open your bathroom, feeling your tears coming down even more and more.

You kicked your door in anger and finally sobbed out as you rested against the doorframe of your doorway. You slid down on it, falling onto the floor as you cried into your hands.

He left. He left you.

There were no more movie nights. No more music sharing. No more brainstorming for outfit or date ideas. No more cooking for two. Who is going to fill Dorito’s plate in the morning when you are asleep? Who is going to wait for you at home, apart from your cat, after a long day of work? Who is going to tell you so many stupid stories about his teenage years now?

Steve?

No, you didn’t want it to be Steve. You didn’t want that part of your life to be done by Steve. It felt wrong, and you were just now feeling it. You were just now realizing how wrong it feels to put Steve where Eddie was.

You fell for Cupid. You stupidly fell for your own cupid. And it was obvious that the feeling was not mutual. It was obvious that he did not want anything to do with you. It was obvious that you would have to keep moving on in order to fill the empty space he left. Would he appear again? Or will you be able to fall in love with Steve?

How can you possibly forget about Eddie?

Two months later.

You were tired. Exhausted really as you walked up the stairs of your apartment.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, but it was something that was going to happen, because you knew it wasn’t going anywhere really. Your day at work had also been quite stressful, but the ache you expected to get when you got your boss’s wedding invitation, never arrived. You were actually excited for it, knowing there will be food and free drinks.

You opened the door of your apartment, turning the lights on as you took your coat off, closing the door and throwing the garment onto the couch. You walked towards the pantry, getting hold of your bottle of wine, and getting your corkscrew device out to open it. With a loud ‘pop’ you smiled slightly at the relief this will bring you, pouring a glass for yourself. You took a long sip, turning around to face your living room.

“Dorito?” You called your fat orange cat, but heard no meows. You walked towards the front of the couch and didn’t see him there. He must be in your room. You sat down on your couch, turning the tv on, and you groaned loudly when you saw Titanic on screen. You clenched your jaw and decided to keep it on, taking a sip of your glass again.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but paid no mind to it, cracking your neck slightly at the chill.

“Why did you do that?”

You sat still, your blood freezing over at the voice you haven’t heard for over two months. The voice you wished to hear again and didn’t think you’d ever would.

“Why did you break up with him?”

You were shaking, putting the glass on the coffee table before slowly getting up. Your stomach was in shambles, and your heart was with an energy you haven’t felt in a long while. Ever since he left, you felt hollow, as if you didn’t have the energy to keep pretending, to keep trying.

Steve had been nothing but sweet to you the past two months. Intimately and publicly, he was the most caring person you’ve ever been with… But he wasn’t Eddie. You tried, you really tried, but you knew the love you could possibly feel would be empty, almost numb. So before you could hurt Steve, you decided to call everything off, with nothing but being honest with him.

He sadly understood, and was grateful for you to be honest with him and not wait till he was completely devoted to you to break his heart.

You turned around to face him, and he was just standing there, with a pained frown in his eyebrows and your breath caught in your throat. He was wide eyed, staring at you, his hands shaking as his whole body ached, for what, he did know, yet he wasn’t going to act on it.

“I– Uh… I’m Eddie, you probably–”

“I never forgot about you Eddie.”

And he was stunned. He gave you the time, he gave you the space, he left you. He went onto helping someone else to keep himself distracted, not wanting to see something he would regret with you. He gave you privacy, to you and Steve. So how? How is it possible that someone as perfect as him, didn’t get your love?

“What?”

“I said… I never forgot about you.”

The only thing separating you at this moment, was the couch between you two. You could hear his heart and he could hear yours. You gulped loudly, walking around the couch to finally stand in front of him. You wanted to reach out, grab him, hug him tightly against you, tell him so many things, but first, one question remains, so you pushed through the knot in your throat, and spoke through the tears that were already slipping out of your eyes.

“Why did you leave me?”

His breath hitched, feeling a sting of guilt at the pit of his stomach, as well as feeling his heart clenching and unclenching inside of his chest, wanting to explode. His bottom lip quivered slightly and he sniffled, looking away from you.

“I– I had to. I had to leave because I…” He didn’t want to say it. All his life, he ran away from this feeling, scared of it. He was terrified of ending up as a cupid again, or deciding to finally put an end to it all. But he knew that this time, there was no running from it. Not anymore.

“Eddie–”

“Remember what I told you about ‘The One’?” You gulped and slowly nodded your head at him. He licked his lips in order to continue. “I explained to you that The One for each person really does exist. I also explained to you, that this person might be in your present timeline, might have already passed away, or they haven’t been born yet.”

Your throat was dry, feeling your whole body shaking with electricity and anticipation as he slowly looked up at you, his brown doe eyes locking with yours and you felt a sigh escape your lips.

“And here you are… Born in 1998.”

You processed his words, and they felt like cold water being dumped on you, but at the same time they felt like a great relief, like a warm blanket covering you. Eddie was telling you that you were The One for him. Your cupid was confessing that he believes you are The One.

“Y-You…” He stopped you again, stepping away from you. You didn’t realize that you were taking steps towards him, as if you were a magnet, not really being able to control your movements.

“I am not… It would be from the beginning with me… I don’t have a job, no family, no friends, nothing… I don’t want to be a leech, but… Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can stay away from you much longer.” He lets out a shaky breath as he feels the weight on his shoulders finally leave him. He was waiting for your rejection, for you to push him away, tell him he is insane for this. But when he looked up, he saw those eyes he looked at you with months ago. His own widened as he realized you had looked at him like this that night, and the night before when talking about The Lord of the Rings. And many mornings before that as well.

“Then don’t…” At your words, Eddie took a step towards you as you took one towards him. Standing face to face, bodies only a few inches from one another’s, only your heavy breaths filling the room, you licked your lips to be able to talk to him again. “So… You say I am The One for you… Does it mean you are The One for me?”

And Eddie looked down at you, his mind finally stopping and setting its goal on one thought only. You. You. You. Your scent, your eyes, your tics, your anger, your smiles, your voice, your sleepy face, your laughter, your cries.

Just you.

“Let’s find out darling… Kiss me.”

Your heart leaped at those words, wrapping your arms around his neck, almost instantly, as his hands took the position they did last time he was at your home, around your waist. Your breath was fast, as the universe stopped and not just for you. Eddie was feeling the exact same thing in your arms. You both were the only ones in the whole world right now, the only ones wasting the oxygen away.

His hands tightened around your waist, as your breaths mixed together as he leaned down to help you meet him halfway. You closed your eyes, and he did as well, as your lips finally touched, melting together as if it had always been meant to be.

He groaned into the kiss, feeling like a firework just exploded inside of him, an intense heat engulfing his whole body, making him grip you even closer to his body and you sighed in contentment as fresh tears filled your eyes behind your eyelids. Happiness was consuming you and you will happily succumb to it. Your lips moved together as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, trying to push your body into him, more, and more. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, because he was here.

He heard you moan in happiness against his lips and he almost fainted right then and there at the sound, but another feeling was taking over his mind. The voices in his head stopped. The insistent noise that told him to help, and help, and do something for someone else stopped. He pulled away from you, and you immediately looked for him, but he kept the distance with his head.

He was breathing heavily as he took a step back from you, unwrapping his arms from your body. You were still shaking at the event, wanting to go after him but he rushed towards the kitchen and opened one of your drawers. You were staring at his back as you saw him jump and something dropping on the counter. He turned around to face you and stomped towards you with a look on his face that was puzzling you and making you feel uneasy.

“What do you feel about me?” He asked you and your breath got stuck in your throat again, feeling embarrassed and fearful for what the words that want to come out of your mouth will inquire, but there was no stopping this, no more running away from it.

“I’m in love with you Eddie…” He stared down at you for a few seconds, a smile breaking on his lips as he lifted his hand for you to look at it. Your eyes widened when there, in the tip of his left index finger, you could see the small speck of blood, slowly dripping down the digit.

‘I don’t bleed.’ You remembered his words and then your eyes teared up as you also realized the condition it took for him to become human again.

“To love… and be loved in return.” You say those words making him smile widely, his right hand reaching for your cheek to wipe your tears away with his thumb as a gentle sob escaped your lips. He called your name for you to look at him and even in the blurriness of it all, you could still see those brown doe eyes, shining with fresh tears as he spoke to you.

“I’m in love with you darling.” He called out and you almost choked on a sob as you held onto his face, squishing his cheeks to pull him into another kiss. A shock of electricity ran through your body and you knew this was right. You somehow felt this is what it was always meant to be. This is what your heartbreaks led you to, your suffering, your tears. Everything led to this perfect moment and to all the moments to come with him.

“Mreow.”

You both pulled away from the kiss to look down at the fat orange cat that had an unamused look on his face. Eddie chuckled and tilted his head, but nothing happened. He groaned loudly and rushed to fill Dorito’s plate by hand, making you giggle in amusement.

“That’s going to take some time getting used to.” He comments as he straightens up again, putting the bag of food back inside a cabinet. Once Dorito rushed to his food, Eddie immediately swept you off your feet in bridal style, making you squeal in surprise, holding onto his neck. He chuckled loudly as he walked towards your bedroom, making you blush in anticipation.

“Now where are you taking me Cupid?”

“Heaven.” He said with a smile and you giggled while he slammed the door to your room shut.

Cupid isn’t so bad after all.

End of One Shot

I really loved writing this. If you liked the story, all likes and Reblogs as well as comments warm my little heart!

Hope I can return to this couple some time in the future!

491 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 11 months

Note

MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language

"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.

You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.

What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.

In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.

The only thing separating you from the animals.

As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.

The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"

"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"

"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"

Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."

"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.

"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."

"Hmm."

After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.

"So, sir, what was that all about?"

He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."

"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."

Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."

"I won't even ask."

He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."

You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.

You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.

Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.

John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.

More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.

But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.

And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.

If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.

But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.

"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."

Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.

"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."

The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.

He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.

You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.

Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.

Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."

Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.

You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.

And he is already looking straight at you.

The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.

You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.

"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.

"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.

You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.

A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.

But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.

Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."

He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."

You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.

Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.

"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.

Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."

Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.

Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.

Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."

You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."

But what the fuck does he want?

"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."

Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.

18 more minutes.

The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.

New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.

The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.

It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.

Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.

Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.

Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.

One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.

You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."

This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -

He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."

"To yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.

"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."

A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.

Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."

The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.

His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.

"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.

He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"

Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.

"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."

Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.

"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.

Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?

"I would set things right, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."

"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."

Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?

"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.

Stand your ground.

You shrug, "Such is life."

He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."

In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.

The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.

The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.

"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.

"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"

"Why?"

"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."

A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.

"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.

"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.

The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.

"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.

He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."

You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."

He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.

"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.

"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?

"We shall dine together. I could use the company."

You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."

"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.

"I said, it would be my pleasure."

"Hmm."

Two can play at this game, Marquis.

And even more to come - taglist open!

Next in moineau...

More Marquis, just as it should be.

My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉

#marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont imagine #john wick 4 #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont imagine

775 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 1 year

Text

NAVIGATION | AO3 COD MASTERLIST

WHEN YOUR NEED GROWS TEETH | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

BABY TRAPPING FIC:

It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog. Of course he's going to take a bite. He thinks you ought to have known this by now.

PAST AND PENDING | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

you haven't stopped thinking of what it would feel like to burn your lips on his cigar, and numb the sting with the scotch on his tongue.

ODE TO A CONVERSATION STUCK IN YOUR THROAT | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Tendrils of something soft liquefy the hardened edges of sapphire—a look you haven't seen on him since Tenerife—but it pauses at the folder you try, and fail, to discreetly tuck further into the crevasse of your body. Hiding it, futilely, from view. Something sours across his face. The half-melted azure firms into unbreakable obsidian. "Business as usual, then?"

FINESHRINE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PEGGING FIC:

It surprised you when he’d taken your off-handed comment about wanting to fuck him senseless for a change as something sincere, obtainable, and simply looked at you, plain-faced, if a little bashful around the edges, and said, “alrigh’, love. Lemme see what you got.” Or—John Price finally gets pegged.

UNDERDRESSED | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

MASK ON:

He's big, of course: massive. A mountain of a man cut from ashlar. A defensive wall. Stalwart and firm. Unyielding. But seeing him like this, in full gear—battle ready—makes you shiver. Makes you feel too hot, too cold; feverish. Fervid. Or—John fucks you with his gear, and mask, on

BARKING DOG | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PRICE + JEALOUSY

Jealousy comes easy for Price, but it's rare he ever acts on it. Until, of course, he does.

SEA FEVER | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

AU—SAILOR!PRICE

But John's always been greedy. The kind that wants, and wants. Once would never be enough, and he knows that if he sunk his teeth into you, a bite would never satiate his rapacious appetite, never quench the hunger. And since he can't make a meal out of a morsel, he'd rather starve.

SERIES

CAUGHT | AO3 MIRROR SERIES. COMPLETE | 18﹢ —AUDIENCE | CIRCLE THE DRAIN

PROMPT: just thinking about moaning captain whilst Price is watching you

NEON MEDUSA | AO3 MIRROR CYBERPUNK AU. SERIES. INCOMPLETE | 18﹢ —STATIC IN THE AIRWAVES | WARNING SIGNS

MYTHOLOGY

WILLOW TREE MARCH | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

FAE PRICE

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go." "Why?" You asked, blinking at her. "Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't."

SEVEN ARROWS SERIES. REQUEST. Ptah x Sekhmet —ferromagnatism | AO3 MIRROR

PROMPT: how about price faking injuries to see a specific nurse he has a crush on but won’t admit.

WICKER PYRE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

DRAGON PRICE

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons

THREESOMES

ON THE FLIPSIDE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

JOHNNY/PRICE/READER

(Or: Soap makes a discovery—a tangled web that weaves between you and their Captain—and one can only imagine his surprise when Price turns to him, eyes battle-ready, and says: want to join us, Sergeant?)

SOMEWHERE, TONIGHT | GHOST X READER X PRICE DRABBLE. TEASER | 18﹢

DRABBLES & REQUESTS

COLD, COLD, COLD (voyeurism drabble) REQUEST. DRABBLE. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: I need to be railed by price as the team either walks past or is right next door. So upset he's fictional lmao

IN DREAMS | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Sweet dreams. Warm knuckles. The ghost of your lips pressing against his crown. He never tells you he doesn't sleep enough, but somehow you just know.

REVERENT ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

imagine just—pretty little woman'ing him in the tub.

WET | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: “#his beard just??? looks wet???” okay but Price having to talk to the team after eating you out and not getting a chance to make himself presentable 🫣🫣

everything looks better from above ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: ‼️imagine riding price while he’s smoking a cigar‼️ that just popped inside my head and now i’m horny

TEXTBOOK | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: imagine cockwarming him, sitting all nice and pretty for him, him calling you a good [insert nickname here] or "sweet little pet, behaving so well for me"

BIG BEAR | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

That scene from SIX with Barry Sloane, but it's Price.

This probably isn't what they meant when they told you to support your Captain.

KILOS REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: maybe reader is tongue pierced giving him sloppy head?

CARE PACKAGE DRABBLE. COMPLETE.

PROMPT: Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺

POSITIVE DRABBLE. COMPLETE

PROMPT: So imagine Prices face when you send a picture of a positive pregnancy test. Just let that mental image permeate a little....

⧽ SPIT TAKE | VOICE KINK | SLOW DANCE | BATTLE SCARS | PREG!READER

SFW ALPHABET

#Masterlist #john price x reader

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velvainee · 15 days

Text

✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ( dr.wick x reader )

ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. oneshot. In 2236, Dr. John Wick leads "Wick Industries" in human experiments to extend life and youthfulness. But behind the facade of progress, test subjects like you are unknowingly involved, their consent ignored.

୨ৎ warnings. manhandling, non-con, forced relationship, breeding, evil intent, large age gap, p in v, blackmailing, mentions of blood, torture, bdsm, size kink. dead dove. do not eat. 2.6k words.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, this is my first fic on this blog ! please excuse any mistakes and lmk if you like it, reblogs comments & likes are very appreciated! if you have any requests for another fic don’t be afraid to reach out. ( has not been proof read ) !

As you step into the sterile corridors of Wick Industries, the faint hum of machinery fills the air, a constant reminder of the scientific endeavors unfolding within. It's 2236, an era where the boundaries between progress and ethical considerations blur into a murky haze.

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

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