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cottagecheese1 · 4 months

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Unhinged worlds 1

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea.

warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

"Mom, you know I've never met this man before, right?", you said with a slightly worried tone, your mother gives you an exasperated sigh and walked her way over to you, gripping your shoulders.

"Honey please, I just got married, I don't understand why you can't be happy for me this once.", you wrapped your arms around her neck and hugged your mother, she was right, you needed to see the best in this situation right now.

"I'm sorry mom, I am happy for you, it's just a lot to adjust to right now.", You gave your mother a slight smile and pulled away from her.

She gave you a smile back and responded, "oh I think you'll be okay; he has a son around your age, he's adopted but I think you two would like each other."

The smile on your face widened a little bit, your mouth opened once again to speak, but came to an abrupt stop as you saw an unfamiliar man stand behind your mother and give her a slight peck on the head.

Your mother giggled slightly and stepped back to stand by the man, "Honey, this is Andy, Andy this is my daughter.", your mother said as she spilled out your name back to the man beside her.

Andy unwrapped his arm around your mother's shoulder, and walked towards you, opening his arms forward to embrace you in a hug. This caught you off guard because for someone you just met, he seemed to be a little too touchy with you, but you thought nothing more of it, thinking it might just be the way your new stepfather expresses his feelings.

"It is so nice to finally meet you sweetie, I've heard so much about you." Andy said with a wide grin on his face, as he held you a little too tight for your own comfort.

As Andy was speaking to you, nodding your head once in a while at his banter. You heard a voice faintly behind Andy come closer.

"Dad, when will you let Colin come over, I'm fucking dying too actually-who is that?", you looked to see a younger guy with a buzzcut, and light blue eyes come out from behind Andy to get another good look at you.

Andy took a deep breath and gave a slight glare to the boy who shoved past him to you "Johnny, this is-", Andy was quickly stopped in the middle of his introduction when Johnny decided to introduce himself to you first.

"I'm Johnny, Johnny Storm, but you can call me whatever you like sweets", Johnny said with a smug grin as he took a step closer to you, and you instinctively took a step back from the muscular man, mumbling out an "okay.." and you adverted your gaze down to your feet.

It seemed a little rude once you actually processed what you just said, making yourself seem passive and unwelcoming, but for some reason you just felt shy around both of these new men, men that are now a part of your family, men that you are now permanently living with.

Johnny chuckled and continued to try to keep the conversation alive, even though his father stood sternly right behind him. Andy quickly shut down his next spill of flirtatious chatter when he saw how visibly uncomfortable you looked.

"Johnny, this is your new stepsister, don't be disrespectful.", Andy said with a warning, but Johnny just nodded and shrugged him off, giving you a playful wink and walking away with a slight skip, boosting himself over the curve of the driveway.

"Sorry about him, he just never runs out of energy ya know?" Andy says with a slight chuckle at the end. You smiled slightly and gave him a nod of reassurance.

"It's perfectly fine, doesn't bother me." You said quietly before adverting your gaze from him once again.

"Well, if he does, just come tell me and I'll go talk to him, I'd hate it if you felt uncomfortable in any way." Andy said with a slightly sympathetic look on his face.

Your mother took an earful of this moment, and decided to express her love for it "Oh Andy, you're too sweet, we both appreciate whatever you do for us."

Andy smiled brightly, still keeping his eyes glued to you, "Just doing what anyone would do" he responded.

💼

After a long day of moving boxes and making conversation, your social battery seemed to run out completely, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed and finally relax. Except it was only 3 in the afternoon.

With a lot of procrastination, you finally got out of bed and decided to dig through the fridge to find something to drink, making your way to the kitchen, until you heard a knock at the front door.

Thats weird? You weren't expecting anyone, maybe it's just one of those people who give out pamphlets about polar bears for no reason.

Making your way over to the door hesitantly, deciding if you really want to stand in the doorway and talk about how you can stop global warming for 30 minutes, but there also was a chance that it was actually somebody important.

Twisting the knob and opening the door to find a decently attractive man who looked to be around Johnny's age standing patiently. He twisted his head towards you and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, you're not Johnny." the man said with a slight smile on his face, and you nodded in agreement before responding.

"Um, if you're here for him, I guess you can come in." you responded as you took a step back to let him enter. He chuckled, walking past you to stand next to you as the door shut.

"Thanks sweetheart, I don't think I've met you before, I'm sure I would've remembered a cutie like you", he said playfully as your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden comment.

"I-um, no we haven't met before, I think Johnny is in his room." You responded quickly before trying to walk away.

"Wait, hold on, I didn't get your name." the man said as he chased after you slightly, and you mumbled out your name slightly, waiting for him to reciprocate the action.

"Oh right, I'm Colin." You nodded once again.

"Nice to meet you, Colin.", deciding to try and end the conversation here so you could continue scavenging for a drink.

"Ok, ok, I can get a hint, I'll see you around sweetheart." He said as he gave you a wink before walking away.

What was weird about that is he kind of acts the same way Johnny does, but maybe that's why they're friends, of course people like other people that are similar to them, you felt stupid once you actually thought about it.

💼

Once you made your way into the kitchen, finally getting one step closer to what you wanted, except Andy was also in the kitchen leaning on the kitchen counter nursing a beer that he put down almost immediately at your presence.

"Honey, you scared me, did you need something?" He said and let out a sigh of relief that it was just you.

"I came to get a drink." You responded simply, just like the rest of you, Boring and simple.

"Of course..but could I talk to you about something honey, I just want to make sure there's no tension between us." He said softly, pushing himself off of the counter and towards you.

You gave Andy a nod of reassurance to continue, settling for a bottle of water as you sat down on the bar stool, right across where Andy was standing.

"I know your shy sweetie, but I want to let you know that you can tell me anything, your mother told me about your father, and I think it's important that you have a man in your life, someone that can take care of you honey, all of your wants and needs." Andy said softly, walking around the counter to stand behind you.

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles on your back, your mother hasn't mentioned your father in years to you. She knows it's a sensitive subject for you to talk about, you doubt that your mother wouldn't have mentioned that to Andy.

"I-um-I don't really like to talk about my dad." you said with a slight tremble in your voice as you felt your throat get tighter, and your eyes get glassy with tears.

Your father died when you were only 9 but it felt like yesterday to you. Of course, you miss him, but you would rather not talk about it then mourn him every day.

Andy saw your eyes start to water, and your muscles start to tense. He just cooed at you lovingly, his hand moved off your back and moved directly behind you to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

"Oh sweetie, I know it's hard to talk about your feelings, but I want you to trust me, so I can be a good daddy and take care of you, don't you want that?" Andy said quietly while resting his chin on your shoulder.

Lost for words was one thing, you felt dumb, talking to you like a child, but deep down you found it strangely comforting. Andy walked back in front of you and grabbed your chin, tilting your head up softly with his fingers.

"You're my special little girl, I want you to know that honey." Andy added, while stroking your face like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

Trying to avoid eye contact with him was hard because than you couldn't help but feel tears run down your cheeks, maybe you did feel like Andy actually cared about you.

Andy suddenly pulled you closer to his chest while shushing you, pecking the top of your head once in a while. Hearing a faint noise of chatter coming closer to you made your head perk up with warning, you didn't want to anybody to see you cry today, especially over something you should've got over years ago.

"Hey dad I-what happened?" Johnny said as he skipped in the kitchen nosily, Colin standing right beside him, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

Looking from Andy's chest in embarrassment, watching the three men surrounding you, well mostly two in concern. This made more anxiety pump up in your chest and suddenly you darted down the hallway to your bedroom, where you should have stayed all along.

Ignoring the faint calls for your name and shutting the door behind you. Locking it and sliding down against your wall, finally letting all the sobs you've been keeping in until now. Great, now you won't hear the end of it tomorrow. Maybe a new family wasn't such a great idea after all.

A/n: It's been a minute since I posted ya'll, but I also just had a random urge to write a series with four hot men in it. Part two will be coming soon!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Hangover 1

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: can't stop, won't stop. Please leave any and all feedback! 💚💚💚💚💚💚

Part of The Club AU

“Boris, I need that big breakfast,” you call through the window.

“Yeah, yeah,” the cook gristles back as he clinks a plate onto the metal, “you don't wait.”

“It's been twenty minutes,” you rebuff as you take the hot dish and veer around Monica at the counter.

You come around and carry it over to the only customer at a table. The officer came in looking underslept and worse for wear. A bruise is faded to yellow under his eyes and his stubble is just shorter than an actual beard.

“Here you are, honey,” you put on your customer service voice, “more coffee?”

“Yeah,” he puts his phone face down and unwraps the cutlery.

You go to the machine and grab a pot. You return and fill his cup as he jabs at the scrambled eggs.

“There ya go, honey, anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, stop calling me honey,” he snarls.

“Oh, sorry… sir.”

You back away and retreat back to the counter, offering more top ups as you burn with embarrassment. You suppose you can come on strong when you're looking for tips. Besides, you can't blame him for being grumpy. He seems to have a good reason for it.

You put on a fresh pot as you replace the urn on the burner. You dip behind the counter as Monica brings Vi her tea and egg whites. The old lady is one of the mainstays of the place.

“So,” Monica turns her back to the customers and lowers her voice, “how's Will?”

“I think he's liking college… must be having fun since I never hear from him,” you shrug, “only asks when he can come get his laundry done.”

“Typical, I'm not looking forward to Brandon being that age.”

“Yes, enjoy them while they're young and sweet,” you cluck.

“Waitress!” The cop booms from his table.

“Chipper guy,” Monica mutters under her breath as you turn on your heel.

You go back to the table. You notice the wrinkles in his uniform, the buttons aren't lined up properly either. He has his hand on his forehead. He leans over his plate as his shoulders tense and you see his boy racking.

Oh god, no! You've seen this before. Will would get like this when he brought home the flu.

“Oh no, just…”

You put your hand on his back and urge him over the plate as he pukes. You smell the alcohol then. You rub between his shoulder blades as he retches, not bringing up much more than the few bites he took.

“I'll get ya something,” you pull the towel from your apron and offer him that.

You try not to wrinkle your nose as you pick up his plate and carry it behind the counter. You dump it in the bin as Monica lets out a blech. You agree but you don't want to bring too much attention to the situation.

You go into the kitchen and wash your hands. You find a bucket and bring it out to the cop. He's bent over the table, head on his arms.

“Hon– sir,” you put the bucket on the table, “you want some water?”

He doesn't react. You go and get water for him, setting it by his elbow. He breathes heavily but doesn't move.

“You gonna be sick again?”

“No,” he grumbles, “I'm fine.”

You open your mouth but think better of it. You almost wonder if he's actually a cop. Maybe you should call the real ones.

You leave him and go to hide behind the counter. You have enough to worry about between tuition and your mortgage.

“Guy's a mess,” Monica whispers.

“Just a bit,” you agree.

“It's not even noon…”

“Shhhh, he's having a rough one,” you say, “he'll go eventually.”

“As long as he pays his bill,” she tuts.

“Yeah, let's hope,” you frown and peek over your shoulder. So much for a decent tip.

🍽

The cop leaves about an hour after he got there. You forget quickly with the lunch rush. You spend your last few hours running yourself ragged.

You exchange your apron for your coat and leave through the side door. As you come into the alley, you notice the cruiser parked beside the dumpsters. You sidle by, stopping as you see the figure strewn over the back seat.

It's the same cop that was in the diner. You're content to keep going but your shoe hits a shape that jingles. You look down, a set of keys that can be for nothing other than the car in front of you. Those doors only open from the outside… wow. You won't call the guy a disaster, you can't exactly say you're any better.

You bend and pick up the keys. You unlock the door and open it, the edge hitting the dumpster. You don't know what to do so you just grab the cops ankle and shake his leg.

“Sir,” you raise your voice.

He throws his arm off his head and props himself up on his elbow, “what?”

“Um, you dropped these,” you place the keys by his shoe. “Sorry.”

He grunts but doesn't respond. You back up, leaving the door open. He slowly slides to the edge of the seat and hands his legs out of the car, bracing the door as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“Was sleepin’ good,” he growls.

“I… I was just checking on you… are you okay?”

“Does it matter?” He pulls himself up, snatching up the keys and slamming the back door. “Doing just fucking fine.”

“Alright, I wasn't…” you show your palms defensively, “have a good day officer.”

“Thanks, waitress,” he scoffs.

You bite down on his tone. It's not the first time you've been spoken to like that. In your line of work, it's all too common, and as you get more years under you, it's just how it is.

You turn and head towards the street. The engine rolls over behind you and as you near the end, you hear the tires crunching on pebbles. You barely manage to move out of the way as the officer steers into the street. You just stand back and watch him veer off. As bad as your day might be, his seems worse.

#johnny storm #dark johnny storm #dark!johnny storm #johnny storm x reader #drabble #au #series #the club #fantastic four #hangover

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shotgunbunny · 1 year

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⊹ 𔘓 ִ ۫ ּ ⊹⠀ ָ࣪ 𓆩C.EVANS𓆪 ָ࣪ ⊹ ִ ۫ ּ 𔘓 ⊹

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[all my fics will contain dark themes, please keep this in mind when going through my masterlists <3. I am not responsible for what you consume, these are strictly 18+ fics.]

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⊹ 𔘓 𓆩ari levinson x reader masterlist 𓆪 ָ࣪𔘓 ⊹

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⊹ 𔘓 𓆩ransom drysdale x reader masterlist 𓆪 ָ࣪𔘓 ⊹

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⊹ 𔘓 𓆩curtis everett x reader masterlist𓆪 ָ࣪𔘓 ⊹

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⊹𔘓𓆩Jake Jensen x reader masterlist𓆪𔘓⊹

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⊹𔘓𓆩Andy Barber x reader masterlist𓆪𔘓⊹

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⊹𔘓𓆩Lloyd Hansen x reader masterlist𓆪𔘓⊹

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royalsweetteaa · 2 years

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Shameless ménage

Pairing: dark!stepfather!Andy Barber x innocent!naive!reader x dark!soft!Johnny Storm

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - the following contains: non-con/Dark themes, love triangle, stepcest, loss of virginity, mentions of obsessive/impulsive/possessive behavior, character death, angst, mention of period, power imbalance, daddy kink, breeding kink, mention of blood, innocent/naive reader, degradation, manipulation, somnophilia.

Summary: You live with two men in the house; your stepdad, - Andy Barber who had married your mother before she had passed away, and Johnny Storm, - who Andy is the Godfather of. What you once called a family was turning into a household full of malice intentions.

“It’ll get better. I promise.” Johnny whispered, and gave you a kiss on the forehead while he let you cry on his chest. You were standing by the graveyard, watching as they dug dirt over to the hole where your mother’s casket was now lying.

While everything hurt so bad, you took Johnny’s word to heart because you knew if anyone understood best of how you were feeling, it was him, - he who at a younger age had lost both of his parents in an accident that would turn his life as he knows it.

His parents’ death was how he was given to Andy, his godfather, the man who at Johnny’s baptism had made a promise to Mr and Mrs Storm to guide and support Johnny if anything were to happen. Susan, his sister, moved to her own godparents, which ultimately separated the siblings as there was no other way to keep them together, — one that would financially suffice anyway. Andy already had a son of his own, and he could only give as much support of covering everyone’s needs. Johnny eventually accepted the separation, and become like a son of the Barber’s.

A few years later and Andy’s wife, Laurie, filed for divorce and custody over Jacob out of the blue as she had in her own words; fallen out of love. This broke Andy and sent him to a dark place where he neglected Johnny during his teen years, creating a bitter relationship. Johnny became more rebellious, not wanting to listen to anything Andy had to say and did things that got him in trouble.

Arguments and fights became daily between the two of them, and Johnny was determined to move out as soon as he turned 18.

When he did turn 18 though, he didn’t move out. Why? Because for once, they were blessed.

Andy had found a woman he had fallen in love with, and she had a daughter who was the same age as Johnny, who’s name was Y/N L/N — you. They married half a year later, and you could officially call each other family.

Johnny and Andy weren’t alone anymore and were now a completed family, with you and Johnny becoming soulmates. Your friendship blossomed beautifully, and Andy and your mother could tell from afar that you were getting along together well.

You had two perfect years of living together, going for family vacations and going to the same college with Johnny…

….and it all ended abruptly when you got a call that your mother had been in a car accident on your way home.

Now the three of you were standing in front of your mother’s grave after the funeral, planting flowers as you cried out what would hopefully be your last tears for a while. You hadn’t stopped crying for a week and it began to physically hurt your eyes. Andy had gone back to drinking to drown in his own sorrow, and you would occasionally hear him sobbing in his own room — the room he once shared with your mother.

You had once caught Andy late at midnight on the sofa, crying by himself with an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. The image in front of you broke your heart and you didn’t think twice before you walked over and wrapped your hands around the man. You could tell he hadn’t expected the night to turn out like this, but he eventually returned the hug and let the tears continue to shed without shame.

“Thank God you’re here, Y/N…I don’t think I could live peacefully if we lost you too. I wouldn’t forgive myself if we lost you both at once…”

“It’s not your fault, Andy. Please don’t blame yourself….she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and…while it’s hard to accept she’s gone forever, we can only try and move on while having her in our hearts…” you said, this time without breaking down sobbing.

Andy buried his face into your shoulder, and you could only soothe him until he eventually fell asleep by his own. You put a blanket over him and left the living room.

That same night when you went to sleep in your own bed, you heard a creaking sound of what you recognized as your door opening. You lifted your head up to see Johnny standing there, having blood shot eyes as if he had been crying for hours. “Johnny?…” you mumbled out his name in question.

“…I can’t sleep.” Johnny confessed. “Could I sleep here? I’ll bring my own mattress and sleep on the floor…I just don’t want to be alone in my room.”

You rubbed your eyes and scooted to one side of your bed to give room. “You can sleep with me on my bed if you’d like. I’m sure you’ll fit right in…”

Your offer seemed to brighten Johnny’s mood with the timid smile that was forming on his lips. He walked over and sat himself on the edge before he put his feet up from the floor and laid down beside you. Your shoulders touched, and you noticed Johnny’s legs touched the end frame of the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind the narrow space.

He turned his head to look at you, and saw you were still awake with your eyes staring at the roof.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Johnny muttered an apology.

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s okay. I haven’t slept the way I should anyway…I always wake up exhausted because mentally I’ve been up all night.” You explained.

“Are you going to leave us?”

The question was so unexpected, it left you pondering for brief seconds over the meaning. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because obviously there’s nothing left for you here now that she’s —….” Johnny didn’t complete the sentence and instead asked, “Why else would you stay?”

You smiled sympathetically and stroked Johnny’s shoulder. “Because this is my home now, even though my mom isn’t here anymore. She would have wanted me to stay. I’m not leaving you, Johnny.”

For the first night since forever, you slept without any thoughts haunting you or experiencing sudden wake ups. From then on, it would become the routine of the week to have Johnny sleep with you in bed.

The last night Johnny slept over had you waking up confused in the morning. Your sheets and pajama pants had gotten sticky and semi stiff stains on them, and you couldn’t figure out what it was. You paid no mind to it and put both in the washer, relieved that the stains were removable when you took them out for drying.

For another few days it was quiet in the household. You and Johnny had dropped out this year of college as you didn’t complete the exams while being gone for so long due to your mother’s passing. You thought it was better to focus on yourself and only have a part time job as your mental health had declined, and you didn’t want another toll on your shoulder. Johnny had mutually agreed to do the same as he wasn’t making an effort to stay for school anyway. You worked part time as a waitress in a restaurant while Johnny worked at a Home Depot department.

One Saturday evening, Johnny was out with some friends and you knew from past experiences that he wouldn’t return before early in the morning. You were in bed, exhausted after a long day of work and decided to sleep early at 10:00 PM.

Around an hour later after you had fallen asleep, you felt a heavy weight sink onto your bed, and that weight would soon hover above and lay on your body. You felt hands touching and squeezing around your curves, and what made your eye flicker open was the texture of a beard tickling your neck and the smell of alcohol invading your nostrils.

You turned your head to see who it was, and you were bewildered to see it was your own stepfather, grinding against you with an open fly and his cock out, rubbing against your thigh.

“Andy?…What are you…” you muttered, unsure of what to make of the whole situation. Was this a nightmare? Or was this really happening right now?

“Shhh…it’s okay, honey…s’just me. Stay still, little one..go back to sleep…” Andy coaxed with a kiss on your cheek, and slid his hand under your pajama pants and through your panties, cupping your cunt as his index finger slid through your pussy lips.

“No, wait…this isn’t…”

You didn’t know what was going on, but you knew one thing for certain; this was wrong.

“Andy, please stop…I don’t think you should…”

“Relax…you don’t have to do anything, sweetie…let daddy take care of you..” Andy rasped and inserted a finger inside your tight cunt.

He must be drunk, you excused him.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip but he only tightened it by having a hand wrap around your neck, forcing you to lay still. Tears began to spill from your eyes while Andy kept forcing his finger deeper inside of you. It hurt so much, yet somehow you couldn’t stop but draw pleasure from his forceful invasion.

Your cunt clenched around his finger, and you shivered as you heard a dark chuckle irrupt from Andy. “I knew you wanted this, honey. You’ve always had a little crush on me. Been lusting after your stepfather, haven’t you? Well, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know I’ve done the same.”

You whimpered when Andy lifted your one leg up and adjusted his position behind you, now having his fully erected cock poking at your cunt.

A rise of panic made you try giving your last efforts of removing yourself from him. You were a virgin. This couldn’t be the way you loose it. “No…please don’t! I haven’t-!”

“I know. I’ll be gentle.” He spoke softly, but you were far from relaxed of it. This version of him was absolutely frightful.

You were full on sobbing as you were feeling so conflicted from the whole experience. The man you were proud to call your new father was forcing himself on you, stealing your virginity for his taking.

Andy grunted and touched your clit as he licked the tears that were falling down from your cheeks. “Mmmh..honey, don’t cry. I’m being careful with your virgin pussy as much as I can. Calm down and loosen up. Let me fuck you good, baby.” Andy breathed out while continuing his movements.

The thrusts became harsher, and he moved you beneath him as he pounded into your pussy with your ass up high in the air. You buried your face into your pillow, hoping Andy would eventually finish and be done with you.

You whined and came so quickly, your pussy leaking from your orgasm which made Andy put more force into his pounding. His eyes shut with his mouth agape as he was about to release his load. He pulled out and began to jack off as he made you turn your face to look at him.

“Turn over…take my cum…” he ordered, flipping you and climbing over to have his cock right above your neckline. He jacked off a good minute before he splattered cum all over your face, making you squeeze your eyes together of the sudden eruption. He moaned as he squeezed out the last droplets and used his cock to smear the cum evenly, “there we go, sweetie…what an obedient stepdaughter you are…such a good whore for daddy..” he rasped out.

You felt a stinging pain when you looked down at your abdomen, and you saw a blood stain beneath, further giving confirmation that this had indeed happened and wasn’t just an awful dream.

Andy left your bedroom without uttering as much as another word, and his wobbling way of walking out confirmed he was anything but sober. Still, it didn’t make you feel any less hurt and broken from his forced invasion of your body. He stole your first and it made you feel beyond betrayed.

You hoped he wouldn’t remember what he had done to you so you could pretend it didn’t happen either.

“You’ve been very quiet…has something happened?” Johnny asked the next day while you were watching TV in the living room in the evening.

Johnny had returned at 06:00 AM, still hungover from partying with his friends the day before. He slept throughout most of the day, and Andy had gone to work and acted like per usual, greeting you a ‘good morning’ before he left for work early in the day. You flinched when you saw his presence, and he gave you a confused frown before you covered it with a timid greeting.

You looked over at Johnny. “No, not really…just been in a bad mood.” You excused.

“Why?” He had to ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m on my period.” You replied, knowing it was the best lie to use to get him to stop asking any more questions.

Johnny’s eyes immediately faltered and he could only let out an awkward ‘Oh,’ before he moved his attention back on the screen.

Moments later, Andy entered the house with his suitcase along with a paper bag. “Hey, kids. Sorry, I’m late. Had to stay over at my workplace to finish writing some reports. I picked up food from Burger King though, in case you haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.”

Johnny looked over and grinned before he rose up from the couch. “Sweet. I could go for some fast food.”

You weren’t hungry. You hadn’t been all day. You settled on eating fruit before you headed upstairs and let yourself be distracted on your phone in your room. After an hour or two of doing so, you began to make yourself ready for bed.

You entered the bathroom and let it remain open after putting on your pajamas and you picked up your toothbrush to brush your teeth.

You stiffened when Andy entered the bathroom too, giving a smiling nod from where you saw each other through the mirror. He reached for his toothbrush, smeared some toothpaste on it and began to brush his teeth as well.

You weren’t done, but you felt so uncomfortable being alone with him now. You spat out the toothpaste and washed your toothbrush quickly, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible.

As you were about to turn and make your leave, Andy grabbed your hand and halted you. You turned and stiffened when you saw darkness in his eyes.

“I remember everything, you know. And I want you to know I don’t regret a single thing I did, sweetie.”

Your heart sunk and your lips wobbled, tears already building up in your eyelids as Andy was exposing a side of him you never imagined he had.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t be sad. You were bound to loose your virginity anyway, and what’s better than loosing it to someone close and experienced? A man who knows exactly what he’s doing?”

You shook your head and broke out in a sob. “…Why? Why did you have to do it?…why did you force yourself on me when you’re the very man my mom married and entrusted to keep me safe?”

“I am keeping you safe, honey. I feed you, I keep you under a roof, — a beautiful house to live in without asking for anything in return. And, I’m also trying to fix everything we’ve messed up,” he closed and locked the bathroom door with you still in his grip. “I’m trying to create a future with you, sweetie. One that will make us forget about all the pain we’ve been through.”

You mumbled chants of no’s as your legs were giving up on you, and Andy took it to his advantage of carrying you over to sit on the closed lidded toilet seat. He was already working on pulling down your pajama pants and pulled your panties to the side. You were paralyzed and didn’t dare to move as you were afraid of what other hurtful things he might do to you if you did. All you could do was break in tears and hiccups of what was occurring.

“Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want Johnny to hear your moans, do you? What would he think if he knew we have a relationship behind closed doors?”

You shook your head frantically, denying Andy’s delusion. “W-We don’t have a relationship-!”

“Yes, we do. We will be something more once Johnny moves out. Until then, I suppose we could keep it to ourselves, right honey?”

Andy then reached a finger to your cunt and inserted it without warning. You yelped at his intrusion and cried harder, though you tried to keep quiet as much as you could.

You really didn’t want Johnny to hear you. He was the only other person you considered family, and you knew things would never be the same if he found out.

For 10 minutes, Andy devoured your cunt till you came with an orgasm, and he left after ordering you to clean up. You were in shock and didn’t leave the bathroom until a few minutes later. You hugged your body as you rushed to your room where you collapsed in bed and went in a fetal position. You could still feel the void of which Andy had forced his fingers in and stretched you out.

You heard someone grabbing the door handle to your room, and you looked cautiously over to see who it was. You were relieved to see it was none other than Johnny. He gave you a small wave and showed what he had in his other hand.

“Hey…um, I found a chocolate bar in my drawer and thought I would give it to you. I’ve heard they help with periods.” Johnny said and tossed it onto your bed. He noticed your unusual way of laying and he frowned. “You okay? Cramps that bad?”

You nodded, remembering you had earlier made that excuse of a lie. There was no way you were going to tell him the truth, especially now that Andy had sexually assaulted you twice only minutes ago. You were too vulnerable.

“I see…is there anything I can do to make you smile? I miss seeing that smile on your face.” Johnny said with a smirk as he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking over at your tired form.

You giggled and shook your head. “I’ll be fine, Johnny. Don’t worry about it.” You reassured him.

“Well, if I remember correctly, my tickle attacks always made you laugh and smile…”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Oh, I do dare…” He said mischievously, before he pounced on you with his hands tickling the sides of your waist. You roared out a series of laughter, and Johnny couldn’t help but laugh himself at how easily ticklish you were.

“Hahahah!! — S-Stop, Johnny, I’m literally loosing my breath from laughing!” You shouted, which ultimately made him slow down the tickling until he kept his hands simply wrapped around you.

“You know, we should just get out of here for a week and hang out. Maybe we could camp in the woods. I think it would be the best for us to get some fresh air, away from this town. I know a guy I could borrow a caravan from.” He suggested. You hummed with approval. Camping sounds nice, you thought. Anything away from Andy sounds nice, said another thought, which ultimately made you remember your current situation.

“…what about Andy?” You quietly asked.

“Andy? He can take care of himself for a week. I think he could use some space to collect his thoughts anyway since he seems pretty out of it.” Johnny shrugged. “I’m fed up with him to be honest…things always turn south with him. Actually, no…maybe it’s me who’s cursed…”

You turned to look at his face with sorrow and said, “No, you’re not cursed…I get why you’d think that with how many terrible things you’ve been through too, but it’s not because of you. Some people are more lucky than us to not experience that kind of loss, that’s all.”

He looked at you in the eye and a smile quirked up on his lips. “You’re something else, Y/N…it’s impossible to be depressed with you around.” Johnny chuckled and sighed tiredly after. “It’s getting late and we should probably sleep. We have work tomorrow after all.” He reminded you.

You turned anxious with the thought of sleeping by your own. You swallowed before you looked over your back again and asked, “Can you sleep here tonight again, Johnny? I’ve been having nightmares and…” you didn’t even have to complete your sentence because Johnny already put the covers over both of your bodies and wrapped his arms around you protectively.

“Of course, firefly. I’ll keep you safe from the monsters under your bed.” Johnny joked with a wink, and closed his eyes with his head snuggling against your back.

You timidly chuckled, though you were far from humored. There was no monster under your bed. The monster was sleeping in his own room, down the hall, probably waiting for the right time he can strike again and take you when you least expect it.

You and Johnny woke up and made yourselves ready around the same time for work. Due to Johnny’s presence this night, you had slept like a log without worries of being taken by Andy. You knew it wouldn’t be like this when you slept on your own though.

The following week would curse you with Andy’s continuous molestations as he took you with every chance he got. He would fingerfuck you, make you stroke his cock and take his cum. He made you for the first time swallow his spend. It was so salty and weird, you struggled to swallow it, but you had no choice as he ordered you not to waste a single drop.

You also noticed several of your panties were going missing, and you could only assume Andy had stolen them for perversive reasons.

Then, it was the more frequent penetrative sex Andy had become more comfortable with forcing on you. It was either very early in the morning or the evenings Johnny spent out with friends. You would try to sleep through his fucking, and somehow it was better, though the ache you woke up with in the morning made you silently cry in despair as you went on your way to your workplace.

You didn’t know what else to do. You were an adult, yet he had so much authority because of how you lived under the same house. You didn’t have a key to lock your room, nor friends to stay your nights at. Your job could only pay for a few months of renting a place, but not much more than that.

Your only savior was Johnny. Whenever you were around him, Andy acted his usual, father figure self. Though the more this went on, the more you realized it was a facade this whole time. You hoped Johnny would allow you with him if he moved. You had to move out with him and not stay with Andy.

You remembered the promise Andy had whispered to you once; “Soon enough, I will fill you with my sperm and make you pregnant so we can become the family we always wanted to be..” he had said, as he pulled out and came all over your stomach.

It sickened you, and you didn’t sleep for a minute that same night. Still, you refused to take a day off work as your workplace became your escapade. You spent more time outside after your shift was over at a cafe or at the library to avoid being at home with Andy. You couldn’t always ask Johnny to sleep over as you didn’t want to draw concern from him. You had to accept that some nights, you weren’t lucky.

You became more distant and isolated yourself in your room till the end of the week. With how busy Johnny was, he didn’t notice until the end of the week. He was going to meet his friends Friday evening, but he decided not to go and check up on you instead.

When he entered your room without warning, he found you crying by yourself, sniffling under the blanket you had over your head. He walked over to you to ask what was wrong.

“Y/N, I’m like very worried right now. Be honest…why have you been so down? Is there something I don’t know about?” Johnny asked, his face with more concern than ever.

You removed the blanket off of your face and revealed your puffed face. You let out a sob, and took a deep breath before you picked the right words to twist the truth. “I just…I don’t think I can live here anymore, Johnny. I still feel so much grief over my mother. Each time I return back from work, I’m reminded of how things used to be…I miss the family we were once. But we can never go back now. It’s never going to be the same no matter how much we try,….I want to move out.” You concluded after a small pause.

Johnny stared at you in disbelief as he took in your words, but sooner seemed to agree as he tilted his head several times. “You know what, you’re right. There’s nothing left for us here anymore. We’re adults. We can move out together and share rent. Then we will start college again next fall. We have only our lives to focus on from now on.” He confidently concluded.

You were so happy with Johnny’s suggestion of moving together, you couldn’t think of anything more perfect. Then came the reminder of Andy, who you would be moving out from.

“….what do you think Andy will say? Do you think he will approve?” You asked nervously.

Johnny shrugged, clearly not caring about Andy’s judgement at all. “He will have to deal with it. We’re adults, we can do whatever the hell we want. He’s not the boss of us.”

You and Johnny would for the following days search for an apartment, unbeknownst to Andy’s knowledge. You finally found one that fit financially in accordance to your earnings, and you contacted the landlord to visit the place after your shifts. You came and left that apartment with excitement, as it was perfect and just what you were looking for.

You were to sign a contract on the day of your moving, which now left only one obstacle, - well, not an obstacle per say but something you needed to do before you moved out; informing Andy.

It went as well as you imagined.

“Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s a very distasteful one, son. You’re really planning on moving out and pay half your wage when you could continue living here for free?” Andy argued in question. You could see his fury through his eyes and composure. You stood behind Johnny, letting him take lead of the conversation as you were too scared to be standing against Andy.

“Look, we just want to establish ourselves in the real world. You can’t deny it’s been an uncomfortable tension in this house ever since Y/N’s mom died. We need to move on by taking a bigger step.” Johnny argued back reasonably.

“After everything I’ve done for you both. And this is how you thank me? By moving out and leaving me to be all by myself in this big house? You two haven’t been the only ones grieving!” Andy spat.

“That doesn’t mean we owe you shit, old man! What have you been doing to make things better, huh? You’ve been drinking and working, barely paying any attention to the other people in this house anyway!” Johnny snapped back, walking closer to Andy and straightening his posture to make himself taller.

That was not the case for you, unfortunately and disgustingly so. Andy had been there, but only to take one thing from you.

Andy sighed, and walked over to the sink where he took a glass and filled it up with water to drink. “So this is it…what, you’ve been planning on this for a while now, haven’t you?”

“Nope. We’ve thought about this since only a few days ago and have just found an apartment yesterday. We are planning on moving out tomorrow.”

Andy reluctantly nodded. Then his eyes met you, and you became still as his eyes stared you down like they were piercing through your soul.

“What about you, sweetheart? Are you really in on this too? You think it’s a good idea to live with Johnny? Unfortunately I didn’t raise the boy well enough to even clean his own messy room. He’ll be a handful to live with alone.”

Johnny scoffed, clearly pissed off. “Fuck you, Andy. Don’t act like you raised me or are my father. You never were. I raised myself.” Johnny said coldly, before he walked to the door and made his leave.

Your eyes followed Johnny in awe, and as he closed the door behind him, you tried to go after him but you felt Andy right behind you as you reached for the doorknob.

“You don’t want to do this, honey. You’ll never get rid of me, even if you move out.”

You didn’t dare to look back at him, and you swiftly opened the door and closed it behind you as you ran to where Johnny was. He was sitting by the pavement, with clear frustration from the argumentation that just took place inside the house. You silently sat beside him with open ears.

“I really fucking hate that old man sometimes. I wish he hadn’t signed on being my godfather. Maybe then there would have been a higher probability of living with my sister and her godparents instead…” Johnny vented with a hypnosis.

You felt very bad for Johnny. You were aware of his sister who lived on the other side of the country, and he had barely gotten to visit her due to your busy lives. You could only stroke his back in comfort while he maintained his eyes to the ground. You thought it was best for him to let out his thoughts instead of trying to sugar coat it. He seemed to appreciate your caressing, because his face lit up with hope and he looked over at you again.

“…But then again, I would have never met you if I didn’t live with him. You honestly make up for it.” He said with a smile.

You grinned back at his positive input. I’m like a sister to him, and he’s like a brother to me, you thought, - at least made out of what he said.

You packed your belongings in bags and a suitcase in the evening and continued the morning after. Johnny did the same as well and was already moving most of his stuff to the back of his car. You were both looking forward to moving out and have a new start.

Then came what you had hoped wouldn’t happen. Andy entered and closed the door that was once open for your own safety. He walked over with firm intentions of what he was after. You immediately put your hands up protectively, trying to shield yourself.

“Andy, no…leave me alone!” You shouted loudly. Maybe if Johnny heard, he could come and end it before it even started.

He pushed you backwards onto the bed, his hands and hips straddled you, and he forced his hand through your pants and underwear to have a feel of your pussy again.

“Let me have you for the last time in the bed I bought for you when you moved in here, sweetie…” he whispered and tried to meet your lips as he grinded against your body.

“What the fuck?!”

You and Andy froze and you didn’t need to look at the person to know it was Johnny. You hid your face and let out audible sobs, and you didn’t get to see the face of Johnny, who was in complete utter shock. His face turned into one of murderous anger, and without even thinking twice, he ran over and dragged Andy off of you before giving him a punch to his face. He threw him to the wall, and Andy collapsed onto the floor with a bloody nose running.

“You sick fucker! The fuck did you try to do to her?!” Johnny helped you up from bed and held you behind him as he stared down at Andy, but Andy didn’t even look at him.

“Sweetie, don’t leave…stay with me, honey. You belong here.” Andy begged, not paying any attention to his running bloody noise, - only on you.

You shivered and rushed over to grab your suitcase and bag before you grabbed Johnny’s hand, “Johnny, please, let’s go. I don’t want to be here anymore. Please, please, please, let’s get out of here.” You pleaded desperately.

Johnny saw through your crying face that you were deeply hurt and distressed. He sighed with defeat, and let you lead him out.

It was quiet in the car as you made your way to your new shared apartment. You noticed Johnny was looking over at you several times, but you did anything but turn your gaze away from the window on your side.

Johnny couldn’t contain himself for any longer and broke the silence. “This isn’t the first time he has done that, is it? What did he do to you, Y/N? Tell me. I wanna know.”

You shivered, the memories and experiences coming back to your mind, though you wanted nothing more but to forget. “I-I don’t want to talk about it-!”

“Just say it. Please.” Johnny pleaded more demandingly, holding the steering wheel tighter than ever. Your lips wobbled and you dried your eyes from the tears that was building up in your eye.

“…He took my virginity while I slept and has forced himself on me several times since the beginning of last week….” You finally admitted.

Johnny’s teeth gritted and he looked heartbroken to hear what you had told him. With a low voice, he replied, “I’m going to kill that old bastard, I swear…”

“No, I beg of you not to do anything, Johnny…he’s a lawyer. He can easily defend himself for what he did and press charges on you if you try to attack him again. I don’t…I don’t want to have him in my life ever again.” You said weakly, resting your neck as you tried to maintain control of your emotions.

You looked over to see Johnny pondering for a while. It took a moment for him to nod in understanding as he maintained his eyes on the road.

When you arrived, you were met by the landlord who had a contract and a pen in his hands. You both signed and got the keys as well as the code to the main entrance of the building. You then began unloading the car and carrying your things over to the apartment.

You felt a sense of relief upon entering the apartment. You immediately crashed on the sofa and stretched yourself out before you melted into the cushions. Johnny came after and laughed at the sight of you.

You hardly unpacked your suitcase and decided to call it a day. Johnny turned the TV on and you distracted yourselves with the shows that were on. Johnny invited you in his embrace and you gladly accepted it. His hand wrapped around your waist comfortably and you leaned your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and it made you smile with warmth.

I am finally safe, you thought.

Your official 24 hours in the apartment went smoothly. You had to work from morning to early in the afternoon as per usual, but when you returned to your new home, you eyed your suitcase and decided to get to work on your proper settlement.

You took out your clothes first from the suitcase and hung them up on the hangers in the wardrobe. Then you decorated your room with personal items, such as putting your childhood plushies on the bed and your Disney themed alarm clock on the nightstand.

You walked out again to the living room to see you only had two bags left containing your different seasonal outside shoes and in the other your winter jackets.

“Y/N, can you get my shaving cream for me? It’s in my backpack.” Johnny shouted from the bathroom. Johnny had arrived only a few minutes ago from work and had the need of refreshing himself.

You rose up from organizing your stuff and went over to his backpack, checking the biggest zipper first out of habit. Johnny had hardly taken out any of his things from his baggages, so it was hard to see the containments without taking out a handful. You dug in through the several items until you saw something familiar stocked beneath. You froze.

Johnny left the bathroom just then with a towel on, and made it to the corner of the living room where you were. “Couldn’t find it? I seem to remember it’s in the smaller pocket-!”

“…why are all my lost underwear in your bag?” You asked confused. You felt a hint of dread creep up on your neck as possible realizations hit you all at once.

Johnny stopped in his tracks when he saw you holding up an underwear, - your underwear, and he mumbled ‘fuck’ under his breath before he returned his gaze on you. “You weren’t supposed to find those…”

You looked at him, worry settling in because of Johnny’s vague answer. “But why? W-Why do you have them in the first place?” You asked, rising up from your crouched position cautiously.

He swallowed and crossed his arms, trying to appear more confident but he was lost for words. “listen I…,”

“— That sticky mess that was left on the bed after you slept in bed with me…was that…?”

Johnny’s face faltered into a dark look. It became apparent he had been exposed, and he gave up on trying to make up excuses.

“Well, can you blame me? I was just rubbing myself off on you because I had to relieve myself. Your ass was on my crotch and it doesn’t help that I like you. Like, I’m over the fucking moon for you, Y/N. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The moment I met you, you were already so special to me.…” Johnny confessed. “…And then I find out my own godfather popped your cherry and fucked you raw. Imagine how I feel. I should have been there to save you. I should have understood. Instead, I had to fucking witness it!”

You were feeling beyond nauseous now. How was it that the one person you found comfort in was going against you too? After all this time?

You couldn’t bear hearing him talk about it anymore. Your mind was already overloaded with information you weren’t aware of. “…Please stop-!”

“- It’s not fair…” Johnny interrupted. “it’s not fair that he took you when I wanted you from the beginning.”

Your eyes watered and you whimpered when you saw he was stepping towards you. You were like a deer in headlights. The door was past Johnny, and you weren’t sure if he would let you walk out if you tried. You didn’t know either where you’d run off to if you were lucky to get out. “Johnny, don’t get any closer…y-you can’t possible mean that…”

Johnny could tell you were off edge, and he could guess you were having ideas in that mind of yours of what you should do.

“I’m not like my godfather, firefly. I would never hurt you…— but I won’t let you walk out of this. Of us. I want you, and sooner or later you’ll realize how compelling we are together. I have already seen it. And now that we have moved together, we can continue having our close relationship.”

He suddenly pounced and grabbed you, lifting you up over his shoulder. You shrieked and tried to get off of him, but it was all too difficult with the posture you were stuck in. He took you to his bedroom and threw you onto the bed before he crawled over himself. He began to strip you — first removing your pants before he began to remove your shirt too.

“Johnny, no, this is wrong…we’re family!..” you tried to put sense in him.

He shook his head and had the audacity to snicker. “Not anymore we aren’t. What, did you really think of me as your brother? Because we’re far past to be calling ourselves that…”

He pulled your bra off harshly, making you let out a pained whimper. He stared at your breasts, mesmerized, before his eyes wandered down your stomach and abdomen.

“What a pretty body you have, firefly. I’m going to remove any traces of him. I’ll cleanse him off of you, Y/N.” He promised, as he kissed you down your shoulder to your chest. His lips met one of your nipples, and he began to suck on them lightly while whispering praises of you in-between.

“Going to treat you the way you deserve, firefly.”

“Can’t wait to taste your juicy cunt, baby.”

“I finally have you to myself.”

He then continued downwards till his face was in front of your pussy. That’s where he stopped.

You looked down and panicked, “No Johnny, please don’t-!” You felt his nose nudge your sensitive spot and he ripped off your underwear to have no layers between him and your cunt.

“I recognize this smell….” He muttered and dove in with his nose first to inhale. “Mmmh, yeah, your underwear smells just like this…so sweet and delicious.”

His tongue glided along your folds, and he spread the flesh to get better access of your glistening hole. His tongue pushed through the channel, and he tongue fucked you at a slow rhythm.

“J-Johnny!” You cried out his name, and gripped for the closest obstacle, — the pillow. You muffled your moans with the pillow as best as you could, too embarrassed to be making noise from Johnny’s offense. You weren’t supposed to like this, yet you did. Johnny knew what he was doing to wind you up.

Johnny didn’t keep his mouth entertained on you for long. He unknotted his towel with desperation. You peaked through the pillow and gasped when you saw his length, - it was about to poke your entrance. Johnny chuckled, your reaction giving him an ego boost. “Like what you see?”

“N-No, I don’t-! Ahh!” Your words were choked as Johnny sunk into your entrance carefully, and he groaned in pleasure from the sensation.

“Ooh, Y/N…” he moaned your name as he pushed down his hips lower. He took the pillow you still held in front of your face and threw it on the floor. “Don’t hide, I want to see you…have wanted to see you for so long, firefly…” he whispered into your ear huskily, and began to move his hips in motion.

You ached your back as you felt Johnny’s cock drag and pulse through your tight channel.

You had only experienced painful and harsh sex from Andy, but the way Johnny did it was so different. It felt good, and it made you feel ashamed because everything else was so wrong.

“We’ll make our own family and finally be complete. We will get a dog, - maybe a cat too. That’s what you want, right? For us to be a family? Andy and everyone else can go fuck themselves. I only want you. I love you, Y/N. Fuck, I love you so much it almost hurts..” he whined into your skin.

You could only dwell into the experience and accept this was where you were. You felt your body was tensing up, and you found yourself being more comfortable putting your legs around Johnny’s waist for support.

“There you go….you’re loving it, arent’cha? I knew you would. I have always been good at this…” he said huskily. “Life really fucked us over but now we can feel good together….ahh, fuck, I fucking adore you, firefly. I really do. You know that, right?” He asked through heavy breaths.

You only mewled in reply as he plunged himself deeper into you. Your sweat were being combined by how close your bodies were together, and Johnny’s already moisturized body from taking a shower earlier made you into a wetter mess.

“Johnny!…” you moaned out his name once more, and he knew by how much you clenched around him that you were cumming.

“That’s it…there you go…” he cooed. “M’gonna cum too, baby. Wanna cum on your tits…”

He fucked you harder, both your eyes squinted shut while Johnny chased his orgasm. “Shit -!!” He shouted. Eventually his thrusts became uneven, and he pulled out last second to move closer and cum on your breasts.

He groaned while jacking off, emptying himself completely on your body. You breathed heavily from the intense sex, and you didn’t move a muscle. He got off of you and rolled to the side, wiping off the sweat that had built over his lips.

You both breathed silently for a while until Johnny used his elbow to rise his upper body and he looked at your numb form. You could feel his breath on your face as he came closer to you.

“Kiss me….” He pleaded with adoring eyes. Johnny didn’t give you a choice as he forced the back of your head to crash your lips with his.

Johnny showed so much passion into it, it became overwhelming to you, but you didn’t resist. You could almost forget it was forced with how you kissed like you were lovers.

“You don’t have to ever worry about Andy or anyone else. It’s only us now, firefly. I’ll keep you safe.”

Note from author: Second fic with two cevans characters completed! I have to say — I really enjoy writing two cevans characters at once in one story, but it’s a little more difficult keeping the story afloat. It’s good practice ig.

Hearts & Reblogs are appreciated! <3

#cevans characters #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber #dark fic #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x y/n

541 notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Note

Johnny storm as twisted fire fighter. He starts the fire and then comes to rescue the damsel in distress and put the fire out

He meets her through a mutual friend/fellow firefighter, Johnny is going through a breakup with his ex who is just too much like himself and then he meets reader

After their introduction through the mutual friend, Johnny has his sights set on reader but he knows that she’s apprehensive because she’s also going through a breakup

Her ex keeps trying to come into the picture and it pisses Johnny off to no end. After he reacts in anger and scares her, Johnny has to get back in her good books

He frames her ex for starting a fire in her apartment complex while he shows up as the hero and saves her from the blaze, supporting her through her ex’s trial and through any attempt to make her see that Johnny is the problem

Johnny does whatever he takes to have her and he’s not letting her go

#soft!dark!Johnny Storm #soft!dark!Johnny Storm x reader #soft!dark!Johnny Storm x naive!Reader

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thelaisydazy · 2 months

Text

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2

Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you.

“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”

“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys.

Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.

---

Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley.

A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You.

Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.

“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,” Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.”

The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap.

Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily.

“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon.

Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station.

---

In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here?

A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny.

“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here.

“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could.

“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”

Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin.

“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”

“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”

“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”

Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone.

When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense.

Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.

---

“Coffee.”

Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch.

You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”

“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading.

“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

2K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

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1K notes · View notes

axnrxn · 1 year

Note

if you're comfortable with it; 141 team (+ maybe konig/alejandro) accidentally hurting their partner??

Accidentally Hurting You (141, Alejandro Vargas, and König x GN!reader)

Dark fic, angst and some fluff (varied ratios depending on the character), declarations of love

TW: Angst, ptsd, mentions of graphic violence, war stories, mentions of death/blood.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You wake up at the sounds of whimpering from the man next to you. Simon has been having vivid nightmares since Las Almas. You felt helpless, you hated seeing him suffer. You got hurt and it’s haunted him ever since.

“Simon” you whisper softly, gently touching his cheek.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he crushed your lingering hand in his own. You yelped from the excruciating pain.

“It’s me, baby, it’s me!” You yelled, unable to hide the immense pain you were in.

Finally, Simon’s fearful eyes were transformed by guilt.

“Shit- fuck. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck” His voice broke, finally realizing what happened.

“It’s okay, babe, I’m here.” You repeated it like a mantra, attempting to soothe him and yourself at the same time.

Your hand throbbed, but you didn’t attempt to move it just yet. His hand began to shake, his breath ragged. Then he sat up quickly, letting you collapse onto the bed where he once was under you.

“Fuck- I… M’sorry, love. Fuck.” He whispered, unable to look you in the eye before rushing out of the bedroom.

Finally, the pain in your hand set in. You let the tears fall silently, the throbbing in your hands too intense to ignore. It was best if Simon didn’t see you like this.

You stifled your tears and left your room as well, deciding to get an ice pack to soothe the pain. You saw Simon on the couch, arms resting on his knees, hunched over. You could hear his sniffling as you reached into the freezer for ice.

You sat down next to him and slowly draped your arm behind his back. He tensed, freezing under your touch. But then his shoulders slowly dropped back down. He still avoided your gaze, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry. 'M gonna keep hurting ye, love. That's all I do, hurt people. Hurt you." His voice was small and breathy, like he struggled to push out enough air.

"This isn't your fault, Si. It isn't who you are, you're just hurting. And you'll keep hurting if you don't believe you can stop. You'll get there. It just takes time, baby." You assured, maintaining your composure as he broke in front of you.

You crawled into his lap, under his hunched form, and buried your face into his stomach. You felt his tears pelt your cheeks as you laid under him, keeping your eyes closed as the storm passed. You spared him from your gaze, knowing that it would only push him further over the edge. Finally, the rain on your face ceased, leaving quiet sniffles and shaky sighs above you.

"I don't think 'm gonna ever be okay. I don't know why you're with me." He said quietly.

"I'm going to be with you forever, Si. I know what you've been through, I would never expect you to be okay 100% of the time." He looked at your hand as you spoke. "And that's okay. I'm strong, too. I know what I've gotten into. Let me be strong for you, you're not alone in this anymore." You finished your mini pep talk by taking his hand in your injured one, doing your best to ignore the twinge of pain that the contact initiated.

He sighed and leaned back, pulling your hand to his heart. "I don't deserve you..." he said, slowly regaining his composure.

"Because I love your ass, obviously." You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He grumbled a bit before letting your hand go. "I'm gonna get you a new ice pack and some Advil." He said, standing up from the couch.

"And I love you too," he added as he walked away.

"I love you more than anything, Simon Riley." You whispered to yourself. But you knew he heard it.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Shrapnel from one of his blasts hits you

"Fuck, love, 'm so sorry." Soap apologized breathlessly above you, chest heaving from running to you so quickly.

"'M okay, Johnny, it was an accident. Just shite luck," you grimaced, pressing harder on the gash in your side. It had just missed your ceramic plates, entering your side where there was only soft material protecting.

"I shoulda made sure you were far enough, fuck, I thought you were, dammit" he scolded himself as you bled.

Ghost had begun to use his emergency medkit to patch you up, no longer concerned about enemies nearby as Johnny's blast had wiped a pretty large area. It would take at least 15 minutes before any reinforcements arrived, so stopping the bleed temporarily would be the goal.

Johnny finally bent down, shielding you from the sun as he took your hand that had previously pressed into your wound.

"'M sorry for this, love. Eyes on me while L.T. patches ye, 's gonna hurt." He demanded, keeping your hand firmly in his.

"Good news, Soap, 's just a bit of shrapnel, nothing major. Just a nick, lots of blood, though." Ghost announced. "Sorry about this, (c/n), ain't giving ya pain killers til we're outta here. Need you sharp." Ghost said, before you felt your side light up in pain.

You couldn't help crying out, Soap immediately provided his sleeve for you to bite down on.

"Shh love, yer doin' so good." Soap's accent thickened, comforting you. His voice always making you feel safe.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of Soap's voice rather than his words as he attempted to talk you through it.

"Good job, (c/n), it's over. Ye did good, it's okay." Soap said, finally getting your attention.

You sighed, feeling your side throb. You didn't look, feeling Ghost place medical tape over some gauze. Soap grabbed your arm opposite the side of your gash and supported your entire weight as he stood with you, his hand around your torso. You leaned into his neck as much as you could, trying to steady yourself as your blood loss finally reached your head.

"I got ye, love. Lean on me. L.T.?" Ghost grabbed your other arm, slinging it across his own shoulders, crouching to make sure he didn't force you to extend to his height and pull on your wound.

Soap leaned his head towards your ear and whispered "I ain't gonna let anything happen to ye. I love ye so much, 'm dyin' before you, dammit."

You smiled a bit at his silly promise at the end and replied "I love you, too, Johnny," with your remaining energy. You can't remember what happened after that.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"Fuck! Dammit, they got (c/n)." Gaz shouted into his comms.

You leaned on Gaz's shoulder as he dragged you through the narrow side streets of Amsterdam.

"(c/n), how copy?" Price asked you through your earpiece.

"Pretty shite, Captain," you replied through gritted teeth.

"Get (c/n) to the car with our cartel friend, Gaz." Price ordered.

"Copy" Gaz replied as he readjusted his grip on you.

You could see him poorly hiding the stress on his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to drag you towards Price and Laswell.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, (y/n). C'mon, just a bit further." Gaz urged, talking to himself more than you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Kyle." You panted, struggling to stay semi-upright as the blood loss blacked out your vision.

"Stay with me, (y/n)" Gaz pleaded, letting you fully rest your weight on him.

Noticing you were on the verge of passing out in the street, Gaz picked you up bridal style and continued making his way to the car.

"Talk to me, darling. Anything. Say anything, keep your eyes open."

"Mmm , can't" you groaned into his shoulder.

"C'mon, you can do it," worry lacing his voice as he attempted to pick up his pace.

"Well, I love you lots. And I'm not hungry anymore," you declared, not fully coherent.

He laughed a bit at your last remark, "I love you, too, darling."

"I'll marry you when this is all over, promise." you said, fully a puppet to your subconscious.

"What was that?" Gaz said, not able to process your words. Then it hit him.

"Well, shit, I'd better ask you when we get out of here, yeah?" He said, finally in range of the car with Laswell and Price.

John Price

Gets you shot by not calling your shot in time

You grasped your shoulder tightly as you hid behind cover, your back pressed against the rooftop door you had shut behind you.

"(c/n), how copy?" Price asked over comms.

"I'm hit, right shoulder, 0-6," you replied, already using your free hand to rip open your medkit as you bled all over the stairwell.

"Stay put, 2-6, on my way."

You began to strip off your vest, peeling away layers until only your undershirt was left on your top half. You maneuvered around your shoulder, refusing to move it for the fear of aggravating the burning sensation even further.

The lower stairwell door opened, you grabbed your sidearm immediately in your functioning hand.

"Just me, (c/n), stand down." Price announced, knowing you were a sitting duck after being shot from your perch.

"Fuck, John, what were you waiting for? I could've taken that shot, why'd you wait so fucking long?" You asked breathlessly, frustrated with your captain.

"Laswell ordered it, not me, love. I'm sorry, at least let me help you out of here." Price replied, his voice low. His eyes were filled with guilt as he got closer to you. "I've got Gaz on the lower entrance, so I've bought us some time. Let me have a look at you." He assured, wavering between captain and partner mode.

His personalities blurred together, it was both a command and a loving insistence. You loved his commanding nature, but hated it at the same time. How you felt both like his soldier and his partner. It made your stomach do uncomfortable flips.

"He got me good, right through my shoulder." You said, scooting towards him to give him a better look.

Price studied your shoulder for a minute, inspecting the entry wound and looking behind you for an exit wound. After wiping away the copious amounts of blood, he located an exit wound. It wasn't too bad considering you'd been shot by an enemy sniper. You got lucky.

"Just clipped the top of you, luckily. Took a chunk, but didn't make a big hole." Your captain stated.

His gaze softened as it met yours. "I'm sorry about this, love. I am so sorry. It's on me."

"We've all got our orders, yeah? You couldn't do anything." You tried to reassure him, but he wasn't having it.

"I shouldn't have waited for the call. I should've made it anyway," he muttered, starting to focus on patching you up enough to escort you out before you lost too much blood.

"Well, you're here now to piece me back together, at least. I expect special treatment when we return to base, Captain." You teased, causing Price to shake his head, amused.

"You'll be getting bed rest, love. What more could you want?"

"Breakfast in bed, obviously," you replied coyly.

"I'll see what I can do, then." He said with a laugh.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, (y/n)."

König

You rolled around the grappling mat with König on top of you. You straddled his waist, attempting to lift his right arm to slide your foot under it and roll into an arm bar. His strength threatened to topple you over as he bucked his hips, attempting to throw you off balance. Eventually, his attempts succeeded.

"Ahaha, yes! I've got you now!" He declared excitedly. His thighs caged you, long enough to engulf your entire torso, as his hand pinned both your wrists above your head, effortlessly.

Your pride bubbled within you, refusing to tap out. You began to struggle under König's weight, unable to even move him an inch as all 200+ pounds pressed onto your middle.

You huffed, kicking your legs wildly and trying to twist onto your side to throw him off of you. You didn't want to lose again. In one of your twists, you succeeded to turn to your side, but failed to throw König off. His weight was shifted entirely into your side, causing you to yelp.

"Scheiße! I'm so sorry, liebling." König panicked, immediately getting off of you like you were the most fragile piece of glass and he had just cracked you. You could see the panic and guilt in his eyes immediately as he assessed you.

"Fuck, I'm okay, 's my fault." you hissed, your pride wounded anyway. You wanted to curl up into a ball.

"Liebling, you can't keep going like that, I don't want to hurt you." König insisted, still too afraid to touch you.

"I just can't keep fucking losing, I can't be weak." You whispered, frustrated and on the verge of tears.

"And you won't be. That's why you train with me, ja? I'm the strongest, so if you beat me, you beat everyone." König assured you in a matter-of-fact tone.

You knew he was right, but it still stung. You felt like you didn't have enough time, which just made you want to train with the goal to win rather than to learn. He sensed it, so he finally mustered the courage to lightly brush your cheek with the back of his hand.

"I'll make sure you're safe, liebling. Always. Are you okay to try again on me?"

"Yeah, but can you just hold me for a bit?" "Ya, of course."

You scooted your back towards his chest, his arms and legs completely encircling you as he let you curl into him.

"I love you, König," you mumbled into his sleeve.

"I love you, too, liebling," he replied, resting his cheek lightly on top of your head as he hugged you tighter.

Alejandro Vargas

"Again." Alejandro ordered.

You turned back to your target, firing your sidearm. You barely hit the target last time, but this time, you completely missed. You huffed in frustration, dropping your clip and reloading it with a new one.

"I can't fucking do this, Ale." You complained, starting to feel tears well up in your eyes.

"You can and you will, cariño." He reassured you, his eyes hard with determination to push you to success.

"I fucking can't!" you shouted. "I just fucking can't anymore." Your voice broke as the tears flowed.

His eyes softened as he noticed he pushed you too far. He quickly made his way towards you taking the gun from your hands and setting it on the table beside you.

"Hey, hey, look at me. You could do it before, so you can do it again." He said softly.

You hadn't been able to shoot properly since breaking your wrist and receiving a concussion from a particularly nasty car accident you were in while chasing narcos. You were lucky to be alive and to have only escaped with the injuries you did.

"But what if I can't? What if I'm permanently fucked up, Ale?" You asked, unsure if you'd ever fully recover.

"Then you're fucked, cariño. I need you to try for me. I need you to be able to defend yourself again. Las Almas is no place to be defenseless, yes?" His voice was serious, low and demanding.

"Fuck, I know." You replied.

"So come on. Again,” He ordered, only this time he positioned himself behind you, guiding your stance. He widened your feet and turned your shoulders, his hand stablizing your wrist with one hand as he peered over your shoulder.

You pulled the trigger. You hit nearly directly in the center.

"See? Just need to get back into it." Alejandro smiled at you as you turned towards him.

"Thank you, Ale. I love you so much," you professed, your eyes glossy.

"Te quiero también, cariño." (I love you too, sweetheart.)

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I'm taking a lot of exams and working on some quantum physics total wavefunction equations (aka crying over math about an electron that literally no one cares about). I'm taking care of the requests in my drafts before I work on my draft of the fic from the poll.

If my Spanish is terrible, I’m sorry. I’m still learning, so if I fuck up just let me know how to fix it.

#kyle gaz garrick #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig x you #soap mw2 #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #john price #john price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

welcome to the land of fairytales, where desires you never knew you had will come true. thank you @georgiapeach30513 & @royalsweetteaa for helping me with this.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, innocent kink, age gaps and dark content.

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - pairing: prince ransom drysdale x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 - pairing: prince frank adler x mermaid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 - pairing: street rat lloyd hansen x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 - pairing: prince lance tucker x maid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - pairing: beast ari levinson, beast logan howlett, beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏 - pairing: bossy clark kent, sleazy johnny storm, dirty curtis everett, brawny steve rogers, cranky bucky barnes, tipsy dean winchester, horny sam wilson x witch/princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆 - pairing: hunter lee bodecker x shifter reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 - pairing: mad hatter jefferson x dreamer reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒆 - pairing: scarecrow jake wyler, tin-man rick grimes, cowardly lion jake jensen, oz andy barber x lost reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: hansel steve kemp, male gretel nick fowler x witch reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 - pairing: big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 - pairing: tarzan tangerine x jane reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 - pairing: giant august walker x female jack reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 - pairing: captain hook negan, captain hook jack sparrow x tinkerbell reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: alpha bear ari levinson, alpha bear henry cavill, alpha bear lee bodecker x goldilocks reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏 - pairing: prince steve rogers x princess/swan hybrid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒔 - pairing: mermaid jennifer check, mermaid rosalie hale, mermaid jane smith x clueless reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 - pairing: mufasa ari levinson x scar sergei kravinoff (kraven the hunter) x lioness reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

#imyourbratzdollwork #a whores fairytale #chris evans fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #luke danes fanfiction #negan fanfiction #captain jack sparrow fanfiction #jennifer check fanfiction #rosalie hale fanfiction #jane smith fanfiction #tangerine fanfiction #kraven the hunter fanfiction #sergei kravinoff fanfiction

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cottagecheese1 · 2 months

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Chapter 2

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new begging's, but what happens when your new begging comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them. paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea.

Series master list right here

The day was new, sadly, after last night you didn’t know if leaving your room was a good option in the first place, well of course you’d live, but the embarrassment you felt at the moment made you feel like the world was ending. You always felt a little sensitive and awkward towards every little situation that came your way. When you say it in your head it always sounds like a bad thing even though there are worse things in the world, and you shouldn’t even come close to feeling unfortunate in any situation–or thats what your mother would tell you, at a point your life your mother used to make you feel vain–blaming you for your fathers death saying it was your fault, of course you knew your mother had loved you, I mean she was also going through the grief of losing her husband, you shouldn’t be selfish–thats what she would also tell you.

After a long two hours of laying in bed, you rolled in bed and looked at your alarm clock that read 9:23am, and you could already hear the shuffling and laughter of the boys in the kitchen, deciding to just suffer through it and just hope nobody brings up the previous night, they all probably forgot about it by now, right? You could only hope because you sure haven’t forgotten.

Making your way down the hall where the chuckling and the sizzling of bacon started to make itself more present as you stepped into the kitchen, your head automatically goes down towards the floor when the chatter abruptly stops–the awkward sizzling of bacon mocking you as you walk towards the bread.

Andy stops and turns toward you with a small smile while leaning on the marble countertop, finally deciding to break the silence, “good morning honey, I made breakfast if you’re interested, bacon and uh maybe some pancakes if Johnny will save some for the rest of us.” he says the last part while turning towards a shirtless johnny stuffing his mouth full, mumbling out a “sorry”.

You tilt your head up toward Andy, and grab the bread, “no thanks Andy, maybe later–thanks though–well not that I don’t want any it's just-” you stutter out, until Andy interrupts you with a soft chuckle.

Andy walks behind you–tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he leaned down to press a small kiss to your temple, “Oh pumpkin, what am I gonna do with you hm? With your cute self.” your cheeks tinted red, and besides that you could hear Johnny, and Colin snickering–probably making fun of you.

Not really knowing how to respond, but suddenly another thought comes to mind–where's your mother? Now curious, you turned and asked Andy, face still red as a beet, “um- where's my mom?” Andy half listens to you as he plays with your hair softly.

“She’s on a business trip, won’t be back for a few weeks, so you get to spend some alone time with us.” Andy says as he smirks.

You advert your gaze back to the toaster and give him a quick “okay”, before turning back around he huffs dramatically grabbing his keys swiftly, but before he heads out, he stops before the two chuckling boys.

“You boys be nice, treat her good until I get home, okay? Oh honey, if you need anything just give me a call, okay? Johnny should help you with anything, if not, I’ll be back around 11:00. Be good you two.”, and at that Andy was out the door, now it’s just you and them.

Johnny sighed and got up dramatically, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you kids have fun.” he said as he walked toward his bedroom.

Now it was just Colin and you, but as soon as you heard the toaster pop up, you scurried to your room–not even bothering to grab the butter–once you got to your room, closing the door you sighed and switched your phone on for the next hour.

💼

After another 30 minutes of contemplating if you should leave your room or not, you do. Opening the door slowly, and walking down the hall to the living room, where you thought watching TV would be an option for you, but Colin seemed to be taking up the couch and the entire atmosphere, and God was it intimidating.

Before you could turn away, and advance to the comfort of your own room–Colin stopped you abruptly. He threw his head back over the back of the couch, and called your name out.

“Hey!- don’t leave, come join me, I’m watching 21 jump street, I want you to come watch it with me.”

He sounded so demanding, but maybe that's just his way of expressing himself, so you watch as he scoots over a tad, and pats the spot next to him. This is when you seem to notice he doesn’t have a shirt on under his thin jacket, but you still sit down awkwardly next to him.

Suddenly he scoots closer to you, and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to him slightly as he says “relax baby, just getting comfortable, you wanna lay on me?”

“Oh, well I’m ok right now, I wouldn’t wanna-” he cuts you off by his own words, “cmon baby, I don’t mind, it's just some friendly cuddles, don’t gotta be all shy about it.” he says the last part chuckling.

You stay silent as he speaks again, “Here–I’ll help you.” Coin grunts a bit as he pulls you on top of him, and pushes your head onto his chest, softly stroking your hair. As much as you’d hate to admit it, it did feel kind of nice, maybe because he was nice and warm, and solid–Colin interrupts your train of thought when he speaks again.

“Isn’t this nice baby? All nice and relaxed…You're such a good girl, you know that?” he says with a mischievous glint in his voice while stroking your back, his voice still vibrating off of you he continues, “So, so quiet. Bet you're a virgin huh? All pure and untouched, from the way you're grinding on my dick and acting all innocent about it, you have to be.”

You feel stiff all the sudden, like you can’t move, now you're overly aware of the fact that his dick is poking your thigh. Then to make things worse he leans down toward your ear, “You know me, and Johnny talked about fucking you last night? Or how adorable you would look trying to wrap your lips around our cocks–and the tears that would run down that pretty face as we both fucked you till you couldn’t walk–or talk–bet you're a cock drunk bitch when you have the chance, huh?”

This is when you really started to freak out, trying to shove away from him eagerly, “Stop! Get off me! Andy will come back any time.”, and Colin just laughed at your plea, which made you slightly confused.

“Oh Baby, you poor girl, Andy’s the worst of both of us, if you knew all the dirty shit he’s said about you, you’d be crying–or well you already are–your new daddy just wants to pound you into his mattress until you're crying honey, and so much more.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, that couldn’t be, Andy cared about you..right? The thoughts that ran a million miles in your head suddenly got interrupted by another presence entering the room. Johnny.

Crying out for him as Colin licked and sucked on your neck, making you whimper pathetically in the process, “Johnny, please get him off of me..” you said pleadingly.

Johnny stared at you mockingly as he bent down to your level, where you still laid beneath Colin helplessly. He stroked the side of your face teasingly before he said, “Now why would I do that hm? Not when you’re whimpering so sweetly baby.” Colin then let up off you, leaning back into the couch, pulling you into his lap in the process as you felt your thighs subconsciously rub together.

After Johnny made his way beside you and Colin–sandwiching yourself between them as result, he stroked your thigh up and down, slowly making his way to your clothed core, “Look how fucking red you are, just from some teasing hm? you wanna feel me sweetheart? Don’t even try to hide how wet you are–bet you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.”

You had to be slightly surprised at his forwardness, no you haven’t had your first kiss yet, but you just told yourself that you're waiting for the right person. Colin chuckled at Johnny’s antics, this is also when you noticed that Johnny was not wearing a shirt–or pants for a matter of fact, this realization made you feel hotter all over.

Colin leaned over and looked at Johnny, “You know the old man won’t like it if we take her first kiss without him being here."

Johnny rolled his eyes and scoffed, still stroking your thighs, “Fuck that old geezer, I'm taking what's min-” Johnny got cut off by a loud slam of a door and jingling of car keys jingling. You three looked over toward the door to see Andy in the doorway, his arms crossed intimidatingly.

“what's going on here fellas..trying to break her in without me?” Andy said with a smirk as he reached the end of his sentence. He walked over to you slowly, and took your small face into both of his large hands, “And what about you honey? Having fun without daddy, hm? Good thing I’m here now.” He ends the last of his words with a chuckle.

Pleading for help wouldn’t even save you right now, after what Johnny and Colin just confessed to you–especially Andy–all you can do is hope for the best.

A/n: sorry for the short late chapter ya'll (I edited it at the end because the order was fucked up for those who were as confused as me.)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Carpe Noctem 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulatin, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Sundays feel like you have a second job as you tend to everything that’s been neglected during the week. Switching to alpha shift is always hardest as he resets his clock to be at the station by five in the morning. You pity him, your shifts are early but steady; the weeks don’t differ even if your job presents new experiences daily.

Once the apartment is clean you start on dinner, packing some leftovers for his lunch and prepping breakfast for the morning. When that’s done and you’ve eaten, it’s almost time to go to bed. Johnny’s in the shower and you’ll have one of your own after. As you wait, you scroll on your phone.

A puff of steam precedes him as the click of the door draws your attention. He enters with only a towel on, a trickle of water on his abs. You smile at him over the top of your phone.

“Oh, who’s got you so bubbly?” He challenges as he goes to his dresser and pulls out a pair of boxers.

“You,” you say as you put your phone down and stand. “It’ll be nice being on the same shift again.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs and drops his towel, pulling on his boxers before stepping over the damp heap. “I’m gonna stretch out and watch some TV.”

“Alright, I’ll get washed up.”

“Good idea,” he snorts and snaps his knuckles across your ass as he passes.

You squeal and he chuckles. You scoop up his wet towel and take it with you. You hang it over the bar as you enter the bathroom and you gather up the dirty clothes he left on the tile. You take those to the hamper and return to start up the shower with a fresh pair of your pajamas.

The water is lukewarm. The building really only offers a good ten minutes of hot water at a time and he was in there for a while. You wash up and get out to go about your moisturizing ritual, tweezing your brows and a few stray hairs on your chin. You’re not overly zealous about your looks but your self-care is your time.

You enter the bedroom in your cotton pajamas, a pair of shorts and a button up tee. As you go to drop your old clothes in the hamper, you notice Johnny is chewing his thumb at his phone. No, not his, yours.

“What’s going on?” You go to the bed as he keeps his thumb scrolling.

“Your phone kept going off,” he tosses it onto your side of the bed, “I was just tryna shut the damn ringer off.”

“Oh,” you grab it and put it back on the night stand as you crawl in next to him.

“Mmm, you smell like yourself again,” he gives a deep whiff. “You smell like my girl.”

“Johnny, I told you–”

“I know what you said but I don’t know if I believe you.”

You withhold a sigh. You don’t say anything. Arguing will only make him more adamant.

“You know I love you,” you lean over to kiss him. He shifts so you peck his cheek.

“I thought you did,” he slumps back against his pillow and glares at the television.

“You know I do,” you touch his arm gently.

He sniffs and tilts his head, “I don’t want you going out anymore.”

“I’m sorry, but the twins–”

“You gotta decide who’s more important; me or the twins,” he huffs. “I can’t marry a party girl.”

You’re quiet. You swallow and stare at him, almost breathless. “Marry?”

“One day, yeah. When you’re ready,” he says pointedly.

🎀

You come out of the daycare centre, tired to the bone as you drag your feet across the parking lot. Monday’s are usually a bit unpredictable but that day was entirely wild. The kids were like animals, restless and rambunctious. You’re happy to be done, even if you still have to drive home and make dinner.

You come to the far corner where you like to park. It’s in the shade and out of the way of the parents coming and going. As you get to your spot, you slow as you see a figure leaning nonchalantly on your hood. You stop short and your mouth falls open before snapping shut.

“You seem like the kid type,” Lloyd says as he tilts his head, arms crossed over his chest, “you got that motherly touch and all.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. You say nothing and clutch your keys. You don’t know what to say. You have no idea how he found you or why he would bother. The purple blotch on his cheek might suggest a reason.

You go around the car as you ignore him and unlock only the driver’s side. He steps away from the hood and follows you. You turn and point your key at him sharply.

“Don’t come any closer,” you warn.

“Hey, I’m not doing anything,” he puts his hands up, “I'll keep my hands to myself if you do the same. I'm just here to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you insist as you press your other hand to the handle on the car door.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know you.”

“We can change that, sweet cheeks,” he winks.

“How did you– you know what, doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Go away.”

You open the car door and swing into the seat. As you try to close it, he catches it from the other side, holding it in place as he leans over to see you.

“Your friends are… talkative when they’re drinking,” he smirks, “told me all about you. And Johnny. Sounds like a real prize.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything I need to know,” he taunts, “enough to know that you need, nay, you deserve more than that two pump chump.”

You roll your eyes and pull on the door. He’s strong as it doesn’t budge an inch from his grasp. He chortles and lets go as you try again and the door slams. He bends down and looks at you through the window.

“Go take care of the man child,” he sneers, “you can hit me up when you’re ready to be taken care of.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #carpe noctem #the club #the gray man #johnny storm #fantastic four

268 notes · View notes

whiskeynwriting · 1 year

Note

Hiii! Idk where to start but I love your stories sooo much (especially daddy whiskey one shots and all) as much as I love your Pedro characters stories I have to ask do you plan to write more for cod men??? (a cpt.Price girl is asking 👀)

Don’t Go

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Major age gap (reader is 23, Price is 42), sex work (reader was a sex worker), brief violence, injury, hostage situation, semi-established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, brief mention/discussion of stds (reader and Price do not have any)

◆

A/N: You BET I have plans for more COD men babayyyyy and I am SO glad you specified your love for Price (;

And yes, I am already thinking about making a part 2. Lmk your thoughtssss

◆

John Price Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

Unfortunately, missions like this were routine. They’d been through many hostage situations before, countless negotiations for a person or group’s life. Going through the motions was relatively easy, as long as they had a plan. And when didn’t Price have a plan?

“Why’ve we stopped?”

“Soap’s takin’ a little longer to clear this room.” Price responds in a hushed tone, not turning toward Gaz when he speaks. He keeps his eyes forward, and his head clear. “That’s all.”

Once Soap has scanned the room, he retreats, footsteps silent as he returns. Blue eyes meet another set, shaking his head at the other captain. And just like that, they’re moving forward again.

The heavy thud of Ghost’s footsteps hit the roof, and even though the three men are on the top floor, Price still chuckles at the sound of Simon’s weight. “Bloody oaf.”

Holding up his left fist, the trio come to a halt as Johnny approaches the door to another room, one at the very end of this hall. They’ve cleared every floor in this building, and haven’t found a single soul. But they know the person they’re looking for is here… somewhere.

“In here!” It’s immediate, Soap is shouting before he even clears the room. His first mistake.

As soon as his voice hits the air, a flurry of men are on him. A handful charge at the soldier, two of them shooting at the open door. Immediately, Price and Gaz duck, storming the room in crouched positions. Three of the men engage in hand-to-hand with the soldiers, Price successfully shooting the two men with guns. Johnny’s knocked to the ground with a crooked nose, though his situation is handled quickly when Gaz takes care of the man that threw the hit. While turning to check on his comrade, Price takes a blow to the back of his head, turning to elbow another man in the face before grabbing his vest and hauling him over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. A quick shot to the forehead is what ends the fight, Gaz’s hand becoming bloody as he takes out the last man.

It’s then that it dawns on him, Johnny’s words. In here. Immediately, his head whips around the room, attempting to find the person they’ve come to save. It’s then that he locks eyes with you. His chest rising and falling steadily, breaths ragged and heavy.

You.

The perfect image of you, once again.

In the corner of the room, surrounded by dark shadows and dust, sits your small frame. Tied to a rusty chair, your hands and feet are bound, your arms and legs bruised with your face bloody. A small, pleading noise seeps from you, bleeding around the edges of the gag stuffed into your mouth.

He almost can’t believe it; he’s shocked. So much so that it stops his movements, turns off the soldier part of his brain. Which is astonishing.

“Sir?” Soap asks, still on the ground.

The sound of Johnny’s voice snaps him out of this strange haze. Without responding, he’s rushing toward you, gait long and large as he marches across the floor. He can’t bring himself to say anything as he kneels, hands reaching for the fabric wrapped around your face. Staring into your terrified eyes, the gag is the first thing he removes, your mumbles insistent before him.

“John.”

His hand finds your face, your cheeks, holding you tenderly. John’s eyes are full of concerned bewilderment. This isn’t how he last left you.

Quickly though, he’s working on untying you, fingers taking apart the restrains on your hands and ankles. Now that he’s closer, he can see more of your injuries. You have a split lip and a bruised cheek, the sight horrifying him. Your knuckles are bloody, and so are your wrists. The ties cut deep into your skin, you must’ve tried so desperately to get away.

“C’mon, love.” Reaching out, his fingers find your armpits, urging you to stand. He watches you wince, a small grunt coming from your chest. “I know, I know it’s not easy.” His voice is soft and reassuring, and he wouldn’t be touching you so openly if he wasn’t already aware of the absolute angel that you are.

“Boys,” Turning, he addresses the two men, gesturing for their presence.

“Cap.?” Soap asks, still trying to catch his breath.

John releases you of his hold, allowing you to sit while he stands. Removing the gear around his waist, he hands them to Johnny and Gaz. “Take these.”

And they don’t question it; all they do is add it to their packs.

“I’m gonna need your cover.” All he has is his pistol, but with what he has in mind, he won’t be able to reach it too quickly.

“I’ll be on your six.” Gaz nods, “Ready?”

“Almost.” Turning, he comes back to you, kneeling before your limp form. “Ready, darling?”

Looking into his eyes, those deep blue hues you’ve missed so dearly, you nod. Listening to your small whine again is painful for him, but it’s for the best. He needs to get you to safety.

Situating his back to you, he keeps himself crouched, tapping his shoulders as a signal for you. With a deep breath, you reach for him, sliding your hands over the broadness of his body. Leaning forward, your arms loop around his neck, your legs spreading to wrap around his waist. And then he’s bending forward, reaching down to hold the bottoms of your thighs just beneath your knees.

“Hold on.” He grunts, standing slowly as he feels you cling to his body. Once fully up, he shuffles you further along his back, turning his head and asking, “You alright, love?”

“Yes.” Your face is right beside his, and you can smell him again. It’s beneath the scent of gunpowder and sweat, but it’s still there. He’s still here.

“March on.” He orders, and the boys follow their command.

Stepping forward, you gasp quietly at the sight of the fallen men scattering the room. Price’s head turns to the side then, his voice speaking firmly to you.

“Close your eyes.” He says, stepping over their bodies. “You don’t need to see this.” And just like Soap and Gaz, you do as you’re told.

Leaving the building is easier than he thought it would be. He expected more men to storm the levels, but it’s just as empty as it was when they cleared it. Carrying you down four flights of stairs is easy for him, your weight a sort of comforting presence. He doesn’t feel like it’s a nuisance to care for you, he wants to.

“Oi,” Soap shouts over the wind. “What’re you doing?”

“Just signaled for the helo.” John answers, setting you down. He keeps an arm looped around your lower back, helping you to stand.

“It’s too early for that!” Johnny argues, and Price doesn’t like the way he’s yelling in front of you. “We’re not done yet!”

“She needs somewhere to go!” John spits out in response, glaring daggers at his teammate. And you can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach flexing as he shouts, can feel his arm tighten around your lower back.

“By herself?!”

“I’ll be with her.”

Internally, you light up, leaning further into him.

“Captain,” Ghost states, having cleared the building’s exterior. “We need you.”

Not too far in the distance is the helicopter, its blades whirring even above the wild wind. Glancing up, Price takes note of its approach, knowing he’s got about a half a mile hike to meet it at the landing pad.

“Finish it without me.” Eyes flashing between his teammates’, he nods firmly. “You can do it.” Soap opens his mouth to argue again, but John is grabbing him by his tac vest before he can get another word out. With his voice deep and expression stern, he says, “I’ll be here. Just finish it.”

Following his orders with an aggravated sigh, Johnny returns it with a, “Yes sir.”

After that, John doesn’t wait. Sweeping you off your feet, he holds you in his arms this time, jogging lightly toward the now landed chopper. He’s missed this; well, not this - but the way you feel in his arms. Internally, he’s reveling in the way you cling to him. He’s saved you, yet again.

Half a mile is nothing for him, and your weight doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He holds you tightly, not wanting your injured body to move too much. Honestly, he’s not even sure how you got into this mess. Briefly, John wonders what would have happened to you if he hadn’t come, but he shakes that thought right out of his head. He needs to stay focused.

“Alright, here we are.” John’s voice is deep and harsh, still in military mode. “Easy does it.” Crouching, he sets you carefully on the bench, laying you down. Immediately, you try to sit up and assess your surroundings, but a gentle push urges you back onto the seat. “Stay there.”

Aside from his name and a simple yes, you haven’t said anything to him, and that sparks worry in his mind. Kneeling beside you, he immediately begins checking you for wounds, any type of injury. And clearly, you have many.

“Christ,” He murmurs, shaking his head. “What did they do to you?”

Reaching for a med kit, he slides it out from beneath the bench, popping it open so he can clean and bandage you. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do for the time being.

“Don’t think you have any breaks.” John states, still doting on you. And quietly, you let him, feeling smitten all over again.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself take a breath, feeling safe in his hands. How on earth was he the one to come save you? What magical being blessed you with this outcome?

“This is the best I can do until we get you back to base.” Looking up, the memory of his last name pops back into your brain. The tag on his uniform jogging your memory, Price.

“You’re likely to be in shock.” Pulling out a thin, metallic-looking pack, he unfolds it to reveal a blanket. “C’mon, let’s sit you up.”

With a hand on your back, he helps you move upright, wrapping the foil around your shoulders. Still on his knees, he sighs, looking up at you. But your gaze is elsewhere, your head tilted toward the floor.

Moving onto the bench, he settles in beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you into him. He can’t help it; he feels so deeply for you. He knows you’ve been through so much, even before this event. So, he doesn't ask any questions, aside from one.

“You alright, love?” Turning, he kisses your head, lips pressing into your hair as he keeps himself there.

“Yeah.” You reply shakily, and even though the circumstance is less than desirable, he’s happy to hear your voice again. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be alright.” John whispers over your hair, “We’ll get you out of here.”

The very same words he said on the night you met.

“But… you already paid.”

“Keep it.” He insisted, digging into his pockets. Pulling out a handful of bills, he gave you those, too. “And this, too. Get out of here.”

When he’d asked for a woman of your features, he didn’t expect you to be as beautiful as you were, or as young as you were. It broke him, the knowledge he now had. A woman so young doing whatever she could to keep her head above water, barely in your early twenties and just trying to support yourself.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how.”

The most innocent, stunning thing he could have fathomed was standing right in front of him, broken and lost. He needed to help you, he felt it was his duty to. You had little to nothing, aside from what John had given you. But he continued to overextend himself, doing his best to find a woman’s shelter that would take you in, and then paying the expenses. Just room and board, and the drive there. He was the first man in your entire life to show you such kindness. And now here he is, showing it to you again.

“Those men can’t hurt you.” John now whispers into your ear. “Not anymore.”

They’d tried to bring you back, the men running the establishment. It just so happened that they also ran the largest cartel in the country, a prime target for the team. And now, the head of the group is being captured as you sit resting against the captain’s chest.

It’s not that the others didn’t have a heart, they were all worried for you, too. But with John constantly at your side, it was clear you were being taken care of. Even when the rest of the team goes to their respective rooms, shedding their gear before hopping in the showers, Price doesn’t leave. Gunpowder and sweat and dirt cover his body, some of it smeared on his face, but that’s not his priority right now.

“Does she have any breaks?” He asks from the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His brow and lips are in a permanent frown, concentrating on the way the medics handle you.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” The one cleaning your wounds answers.

Another washes your body in a sponge bath-like fashion, stripping you down to your underclothes to do so. For your privacy, they ask John to leave the room for this, but you protest with a rapid shake of your head.

“Stay,” You stutter out, turning your head toward him. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m here, love.” Feet propelling him forward, he kneels beside the table you’re on. Grabbing the hand you reach toward him with, he kisses it. “I’m gonna stay.”

Looking up at the medics, he inquires, “Where will she be?”

“Block D, hall 3 in room 18.”

“Deep in the building, eh?” He comments, glancing back down at your pretty face. “I’ll take her there.”

“It’s protocol that we -”

Cutting them off, his voice is deep and stern, that rough accent making you sigh. “I said I’ll take her there.”

And when you’re properly cleaned and given a fresh set of clothes, that’s exactly what he does. After convincing him that you can walk, he trots down the halls with you at his side. His own quarters are in block C, so you won’t be too far away from him.

“Here’s the room we’ve secured.” He states, unlocking it with the key the medics gave him. “It’s only temporary,” Shoving open the door, he allows you to take a look inside. With hesitant steps, you walk in, still listening to him. “But it’s safe. I promise you.”

It’s not much, not at all. It’s super small with a single bed against the back wall, with nightstands on either side. To your left in the corner sits a desk with a chair, and… that’s it. But right now, it’s more than enough. You’re not staying at a luxury hotel, it’s just a place to keep you safe.

“Alright,” John’s voice prompts you to turn around, watching as he grabs the handle to the door. “Here’s the key,” Reaching out, you take it, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m off, darling.”

“Wait,” Your hand reaches out, falling on his arm. “W-Why?”

“I need to put my gear down, love. Get all this grime off me.”

He’s met with silence, and pleading puppy eyes. Your hand is still on his bicep, stepping a little closer to him. You hate to be a nuisance, but you really can’t help it. The thought of being alone right now is terrifying to you.

John’s sweet eyes flicker back and forth between yours, a small and gentle smile growing on his face. “You wanna come with me?”

Taking the key back, he makes sure to lock the door before ushering you away to his room. His hand falls to your lower back, his body towering above your own as he strides forward beside you. In barely two minutes, you’re at his door, watching him unlock and open it for you.

The captain’s room is far bigger than your own. Nothing huge, but a nice size for sure. There’s a queen-sized bed off to the left with dressers on either side, and across from his bed sits a full wardrobe. In the far right corner is his desk, with a window above it. Your room didn't have any windows.

“Make yourself comfortable, love.” John nods toward his bed, and is met with your sweet smile. “Ah,” He grins, reaching out to gently tap your chin. “There she is.”

His words and gestures make your cheeks warm; you’re so flattered by him. And as he starts to take off his boots and gear, you make your way over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“J-John?” Even though he’s been sweet, you can’t help but feel like a burden.

“Yeah, love?” He uses that word so often with you.

But he doesn’t look up. Kicking his boots off, he leaves them at the door, trotting over toward the wardrobe as he begins removing his gear.

Swallowing timidly, you stare up at him, watching him undress.“Thank you.”

Grinning, Price huffs out a chuckle. Sliding off his long-sleeve, he tosses it into a nearby clothes bin. “No need.”

“What do you mean?” For some reason his words prompt a sense of sadness inside you, with almost a hint of insecurity.

“Just doin’ our job.” Casually, he shoves down his slacks, stepping out of the cargo material. But then he’s turning to you, those blue eyes piercing your gaze. “If I knew it was you, I’d have been there a lot sooner.”

At this point, he’s in his boxers, reaching out to grab and sling a clean towel over his shoulder. When he turns back to you, your breath stalls. You’ve never seen him so bare. But it doesn’t feel… sexual. The air is calming and friendly, intimate. You feel honored to know he’s this comfortable around you.

John looks deep into your gaze, leaning down in front of you with a sigh. For the first time, nearly his entire body is on display. The curly hairs on his chest, the ones trailing down his navel, the chorded muscles in his forearms and the bulges of his biceps. His chest looks firm, and you know he’d be warm. The muscles in his stomach are outlined, too, flexing slightly as he breathes.

“Alright now,” He says, “I’ve gotta do this part myself, yeah?” It makes you chuckle, feeling bashful before him. “I’m off to shower, but I won’t be long.” Standing, he throws a little wink your way. “Promise.”

Though, he wishes he could take you into the shower with him. He knows the medics did a fine job washing you up, but he’d do it again in his own way. Slide his hands along your body, kneeling on the ground while lathering you with soap and kissing your belly. He wonders if you’d let him kiss you again, if maybe he could touch you. But he doesn’t ever want you to think that’s what this is. That he’s just helping you for… that.

When John is finally gone, the room seems darker, stiffer. Leaning over, you turn on his nightstand light, the soft yellow hue comforting you. He’d closed his closet, cleaning up his space before leaving. You wonder if he’s always like this, always so tidy and clean. With the smell in his room, it seems so. There’s the faint hint of tobacco, something you’ve never seen him smoke but you now assume he does. But overall, the scent of sandalwood fills your senses, that and scotch. He has a full decanter on his desk. Alongside an antique radio, maybe one he’s used for correspondence.

What smells even more like John is his bed, it’s like it’s calling to you. Scooching further up, you settle in, keeping yourself above the covers but laying your head on his pillows. The inhale you make is intoxicating, it’s him.

The smell lingered in your room when he visited you at the brothel, too.

Price didn’t touch you when you first met. He couldn’t bring himself to. You were a beautiful girl, and you still are, but your youth stuck in his mouth like glue. How could a woman so young work in a place like this? But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the appeal. You’re a gorgeous thing, with a body that curves in all the right places. From the length of your hair down to the twinkle in your eye, you were so charming, and you didn’t even know it.

“How old are you, love?” He finally asked, still standing near your closed door.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you glanced up at him nervously. “Twenty-three.”

At this, he huffed out a laugh of disbelief, eyes falling to the ground.

“How… how old are you?”

He hesitated, raising his brows in a sarcastically amused way. “Nearly twice your age.”

That was the night he refused your services, and offered you every ounce of material payment that he had. And he promised to come see you again. He told you to take care of yourself, and that he’d be back. He’d help you find a better life.

And he made good on his promise. The very next day, he was back in your room, claiming to pay for your services but not laying a finger on you. All you did was talk, discussing your lives and ways to make them better. He offered his help, his knowledge, being that he was twenty-plus years your senior. It was incredibly relieving to have such a dominant male figure in your life that was also kind, and loving. John didn’t care because he had to, or because he knew he’d get something in return. John cared because it was in his nature to.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?”

“Plenty.” John chuckled, eating the dinner he’d packed for the two of you.

Smiling, you glance down at your plate of food. “I mean… here? In a place like this?”

This time, his answer is said with a low sigh, nodding his head as he mumbles quietly, “Plenty.” But then he’s lifting his head, waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “But none of them have ever been as lovely as you.”

It was on the third night that you made a small advance, helpless to the attraction you had for him. He was incredibly handsome, smart and kind, skilled and strong. Saving up money for your escape was going to take a few days, but you didn’t mind, not as long as you had his company.

He accepted it, allowing you to crawl slowly onto his lap. You were entirely clothed, and so was he, but it did nothing to dull the heat in your bellies. You straddled him, bringing his uncertain hands to your hips. Your movements were careful and calculated, you didn’t want to overstep with him. And you didn’t. With your delicate hands finding either side of his face, fingertips petting at his finely-groomed hair, he leaned in. John’s hands were gentle and kind, and so were his kisses.

Gradually, he built up the nerve to move his hands, fingers sliding along your lower back and caressing your covered skin. The first night you met him he smelled like sweat and smoke, but every night since then, he’d smelled fresh. He kept his appearance up for you. And kissing him then allowed you to smell and taste the freshness of his breath, the hint of bourbon on his lips.

“You don’t deserve this.” He mumbled against you, eyes still closed as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I deserve you.”

John never saw himself as a man that would spend nights in brothels. But that night, he did.

It was the next day that he took you to the woman’s shelter, about forty miles north of where he stayed. During the week he cared for you, he made it his mission to keep you safe, to make sure no other men would lay their hands on you. But watching you walk away that day, it really killed him. He couldn't protect you anymore, but he had to keep his faith, faith in his plan and the fact that this was the best route for you. He did his best for you.

Snapping out of your haze is the abrupt opening of John’s door. It’s him, walking in with only a pair of sweats hanging on his waist. His navy blue boxers are peeking out along his hips, the hair on his chest gleaming with a small hint of dampness.

The mutton chops along his cheeks lift up with his smile, how cute. He likes seeing you all cuddled up on his bed. With a small grunt, he settles in beside you, resting his back along the wooden headboard of his bed. And then you do something that makes his heart soar; you lay your head on his lap.

Looking down, he grins, brushing your hair out of your face. “Haven’t been gettin’ into any more trouble, have ya?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Comes your quiet reply, trying to force humor into your voice.

Looking up, you admit quietly, “I missed you.” It’s been six months, and you didn't know if you’d ever see each other again.

Inhaling sharply, he replies with a sympathetic nod, “I missed you too, angel.” Gently, he pets your head, doing his best to ease any of your worries. “Still just as beautiful, aren’t you?”

It was hard for him to let you go, and honestly, he’s glad you wanted him to stay with you, whether it be in his or your room. If he were here by himself, he knows he’d just be thinking about you.

Internally, you ponder your reaction. He’s been a bit flirtatious since your reconnection, and it makes you buzz inside. And honestly, it makes you want to reciprocate. Taking a beat from your first sensual act, you lift yourself, gradually crawling onto his lap.

With a big smile, he watches you move, feeling your limbs wrap around his body in a firm hug once you’re fully straddling him. Those strong arms hold you tight against his chest, feeling your face nuzzle into his neck. Breathing in his scent, you sigh. Now, you really do feel safe.

Lifting your head, you inhale a breath, taking in the sight of him. Of his bushy facial hair and pretty blue eyes, his smooth lips and clear skin. Just like before, when you first did this, you can feel his muscles resting beneath you. And with him shirtless, they’re more prominent than ever before. The hair on his chest makes you grin, the muscles in his chest and abdomen firm and warm, just like you remember them.

“John…” Fingers gliding over his beard, you release a heavy breath. And he does, too.

“I know,” He says, licking his lower lip. “C’mere.”

With his hand on your cheek, you let him guide you in, meeting his lips. It feels like a mini zap of excitement but it also feels like home. His scruffy facial hair rubs against you, trailing over and tickling your lips as you accept him.

When both your palms find his face, his right hand drops back down to your waist. Gently, he squeezes you, a light moan vibrating across your lips. A great sensation of satisfaction overcomes him. He’s contemplating keeping you this time. And you’re hoping for the exact same thing.

Now that he’s in your arms again, you don’t want to let him go. And if you have to, then you don’t want to have any regrets. You want him; even if it’s just for tonight, you want him.

John moves his lips over your own nice and slow, taking his time with you. He’s soft and gentle, listening to your quiet hums and eventual moans as they spill into the room. Repeated connections make your insides stir, your fingers curling into the hair along his jaw as he continues to make you breathless.

Amidst the excitement of it all, your hips begin shifting over his lap, testing the waters of your intimate act. And to say he’s shocked by this would be an understatement. With everything in him, he wants you to continue, wants you to do it naked, but instead, he stops it. Feeling his hand plant firmly along your hips, he successfully ceases your movement.

“You don’t have to do that.” He tells you gruffly, looking into your eyes. “You won’t ever have to do that again.”

“Do what?” You’re whispering, the moment feeling tender. Like it could shatter at any moment.

“Fuck a man for payment.” His words are blatant, raw.

“I, I don’t…” Gulping, you release a shaky breath. Everything leading up to this point has given you the impression that he finds you attractive, that he’s interested in you. So, why is he rejecting you? “You don’t want me?”

His response is immediate. “Don’t ask me that.” John doesn’t ever want you to feel pressured into that, not in general and especially not with him.

“You don’t?”

“Princess,” Releasing a harsh breath, those cerulean eyes bore into your own, a sense of longing swirling within them. “Of course I do.”

“Then be with me,” It comes out before you can stop it, but you don’t regret it. “Please be with me.”

Shuffling on his lap, you move in even closer, holding his handsome face in your hands.

“I’ve missed you so much, John. I, I’ve never had someone like you in my life.” All he can do is stare into your eyes, and his stare is full of so much genuine love for you. “I know I can be a burden, I know you’ve had to take care of me, but… I like it, I really like it, baby.”

A heavy breath is forced out of his nose at that word, the first time you've ever called him baby.

“You’re never a burden.” He tells you firmly, shaking his head. “You’ve never been a burden to me.” And it’s true. Everything he did, he did willingly. “I want you to depend on me. Because I’m here.”

“I know you are.” And now, you’re whispering, bringing yourself in to rest your forehead against his.

The dim glow of the room makes the moment feel that much more special to you. His fingertips continue to caress your back, now dipping beneath the edge to feel your skin.

“That doesn’t mean you have to do this.”

“I know that!” You state passionately, “Who says I have to? I haven’t, ugh.” Closing your eyes, you release a quiet yet frustrated breath. “I haven’t done that in months.”

“Good.” John’s response is stern, “That was my hope for you.”

Sliding your hands down his face, they land on his chest. “John, it’s okay if you don’t want me. But I need you to know that I want you; and if I could, I’d keep you.”

Your words stir every emotion inside his chest. It’s all he’s been wanting to hear, all he’s fantasized about since the day you left. He can’t count how many times you’ve floated into his head, day or night, friendly or sexual; it’s like you never truly left him.

“Well, who says you can’t?” Leaning up a bit, he moves into your space, hands becoming possessive as he grabs you.

With a small breath, almost a gasp, the edges of your lips turn up into a grin, fully leaning into him.

“Think you’re gonna leave again?” He asks gruffly, dominant hand rising to the back of your neck. Now, he’s less than a hair’s breadth away from your face, dark blue eyes dipping down to your lips before returning to your twinkling orbs.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yeah…” Looking between your eyes, he gives his head a single shake. “I don’t want you to either.”

Pushing you forward is the force of his hand on the back of your neck, your lips meeting once again. This time, the hand on your hip urges you forward, John sighing heavily into the kiss. Both hands remain on his handsome face as you let him move you like this, rolling your hips over his.

“You sure you want me like this?” That low voice asks with a laugh. “Old captain in the military?”

“You’re exactly what I want.”

Not allowing a response is the movement of your mouth, the gentle slide of your tongue. Your body movements seem urgent but the way you kiss him is tender, languid and sweet. And now that you’re truly mouthing at him, the tent in his pants is more than apparent.

Your collective motions have become heated, John’s kisses becoming passionate and sloppy. Timidly, his hands wander down to your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your outer thighs. Because you know he won’t do it himself, at least not yet, you reach down to slip your longsleeve up and off your head.

“A burden,” Price huffs, eyes dipping down to your chest. “Do you know how lovely it is?” Another sloppy kiss, another heavy breath. “How lovely it is to take care of a little girl like you?”

“John,”

Pressing yourself to him again, he feels the softness of your chest over his, and he groans. You’re still wearing a sports bra, but with how eager you were to take your top off, he knows he’ll be able to rid you of that soon.

“It’s perfect, so perfect.” Sliding one of his hands down, it lands on your backside, massaging you kindly. “Feeling needed by you.”

He hasn’t been wanted in this way for so long, longer than he cares to admit. Women in brothels weren’t the same as you, they didn’t want a relationship with him. But you yearn for him, he can so clearly see it.

“I couldn’t stand to see you leave.”

“I know,” Remembering that day hurts your heart, you were convinced you’d never see him again. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“You’re a strong girl.” He expresses, his praise heating your body. “Could’ve made it without me.”

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave again,” Rolling your hips over his lap, you can feel the occasional pulse from his tip. “Please don’t go, not again.”

“I’m not,” John’s lips have barely left your own, only for a short breath and a handful of words. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.”

Securing one strong arm around your lower back, he changes your positioning. With gentle movements, the captain turns, laying you down on your back in the center of his bed.

“I’ll show you what it’s like.” He promises, kissing your cheek while settling above your body. “Show you how a real man treats a woman, yeah?”

Smiling, you run your hands up the sides of his face, fingers carding through his hair.

“Yes, baby.”

“Oh,” John groans low, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. “I like the sound of that.” Making his way down your throat, your collarbone, and now to your chest, his eyes find yours once again. “Can I take this off, love?”

Thick fingers toy with the edges of your sports bra, your expression going soft as you nod. You love hearing him speak to you like this. And after you’ve given him permission, he’s sliding it up and off your beautiful body, hearing your small breaths hitch.

“Oh, Christ…” Immediately, his eyes are on your breasts, leaning back a bit so he can cup you with both hands. “Such a beauty.”

Diving back down, his open mouth finds your chest, giving your soft flesh sloppy yet passionate kisses. Gasping, you find yourself arching against him, into him, cradling his head as those smooth lips wrap around the peak of your breast.

“John, yes…”

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Licking the pad of his thumb, he then rubs it against the nipple he hasn’t yet sucked. Glancing up, he witnesses your euphoric expression, your head tossed back and lips open in a silent moan.

Happy with this, he gives your solar plexus a kiss, continuing to work his way down. He gives time to every space he can reach, using his mouth to appreciate your breasts, your ribcage, your belly and pelvis. Occasionally, he’ll nip at your thin skin, but never enough to leave a mark.

“What about these?” Pressing his lips to the hem of your sweatpants, he speaks his inquiry gently, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Yes, John. Yes, please.”

As he slides them down, he continues his worship of your body, licking the sweet flesh of your grabbable thighs. When your pants are discarded, and you’re entirely naked for him, he leans back to take it all in.

Laying a hand over your lower belly, he rubs up and down, sighing. “You’re perfect.”

“Baby…” Your own hands find his forearm, caressing him.

“I want you all to myself,” Bringing himself back down, he shuffles between your legs. “You know that?”

“I know.” You confirm, your words light and airy as his breath fans over your naked sex.

“Darling, she’s so pretty…” And he’s talking about your pussy, the way it flutters when he spreads your delicate lips. “Can I touch her, love? Looks like she’s waiting for me.”

The gentle roll of your hips is all it takes for his tongue to drag up your sensitive center. You never expected him to ask permission like this, and for each little thing. But you understand it; he doesn’t know what you’ve endured in the past, and he wants to be a gentleman. He won’t take what isn’t given to him.

The rough hairs of his beard scrape against your inner thighs, rubbing over your skin as his mouth moves. It’s continuous, the firm drag of his tongue up your center while his first and middle fingers keep you spread. And the taste of you on his tongue is making him go mad, your tangy-sweet flavor finally available to him. Settling in, he savors it, wrapping his arms under your legs and over your pelvis, grabbing onto your hips when you begin to wiggle beneath him.

Every shudder, every little whimper, he pays attention to. If it’s the last thing he ever does, he wants to make sure you feel good.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He inquires cockily, feeling you jerk in his touch when the tip of his tongue dances over your clit. “Right above the hood…” And then he’s doing it again, fingers tightening their hold while you writhe from it.

Your moans are wanton, desperate, your hips rolling up toward his face whenever he leaves to take a breath. But it makes him smile all the same, your neediness.

“J-John,”

“Gotta be quiet, love.” He mutters, leaning in to suck on your lips. “Mm… boys are right down the hall.”

“I-I can’t, I…”

You can feel your thighs shaking, and so can he. Pinning your legs down, his broad shoulders keep them open, his mouth incessant as he continues to taste you. He switches from tongue-fucking your center to swirling the tip of it around your clit, but when he suctions his mouth to that little bundle of pleasure, that’s when you lose it.

“Baby, babybabybaby.”

He’s sucking on you, and doing so sloppily. The soft wetness of it echoes throughout the room, your fingers curling into his plain bedspread as you do your best to relax.

“Quiet, now.” He chastises gently, feeling the tremble in your lower belly. With sweet touches, he pets at your upper pelvis, soothing you. “Quiet for me.”

Your small cries are nearly helpless, every desperate whimper spilling from your lips. He’s licking your clit, that wet, warm tongue rolling against it. And everything about it is so perfect, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s handling you and speaking to you.

“John, I’m gonna,” Releasing an airy laugh, you finish with. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“C’mon, then.” He encourages without a lick of hesitation. “Why don’t you do it for me, eh? Right in my mouth.”

“Fuck me,” Reaching down, your fingers find his hair, curling into those gorgeous brown locks.

Rutting up, he lets you use his face, rolling your hips over his mouth while he lays his tongue out for you. The entire act has his body vibrating with energy and excitement, and you haven’t even touched him yet. It’s the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that’s what’s really getting to him.

When you really start to shake, his hands lower to your backside, squeezing you harshly as you reach your peak. He’s groaning into you, listening to your shrill cry. And with as loud as it is, he can tell you’re doing your best to be quiet.

Clinging to him is what keeps you grounded, what keeps you from floating too far away. It shivers through your body, blooming from your hips and spreading everywhere. When you start to jerk too much, or move too far away, his hands are back on your hips, keeping you down. But he works you through it; he’s patient and continues to lick you, even when your body begins to come down.

“Precious thing,” His face is wet with you, his beard; you can tell from the feeling of it rubbing along your inner thighs.

Opening your legs wider, you inhale a steady breath, keeping your eyes closed as you relax. Below, John licks his lips, placing one last, tender kiss before climbing over you.

“Come on,” He coos, kissing your cheek with slippery lips. “Come back to me.”

Even through his sweatpants, you can feel how big he is, how heavy he’s hanging between his legs. “John,” You whine from it, opening your eyes to find his. Reaching up, you caress his face in your hands, even though it’s wet with your slick. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?”

“Please fuck me.”

He’s surprised by your wording, he’d assumed you’d say something softer to him. But he likes it; it shows that you’re becoming more comfortable like this.

“Christ,” With a grunt, he’s sitting up and leaning back on his heels. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Grinning, his fingers curl into the hem of his pants and boxers, sliding them down his muscular legs. You giggle when he side-steps out of them, his weight dipping on the bed. But your giggles quickly subside when you see him, leaking and red.

“Oh…” Leaning up with a small moan, you reach out for him, your delicate fingers wrapping around his shaft. “Baby.”

“You like it?” He wonders aloud, glancing down.

He’s thick in your hand, and lengthy. He’s cut too and nicely trimmed, a small bit of hair still remaining. Which you like; John’s body hair makes you feel hot inside.

“Yes.” It comes out as a small whine, a breath of disbelief. You can’t believe you finally have him like this. “Baby… you’re so big.”

“You flatter me, angel.” He grins, shaking his head. But that cocky attitude fades when you swipe your thumb over his tip, his sticky precum sliding over his reddened head. “Fuck me.”

Huffing out a few breaths, he lets you do this, lets your hand stroke him languidly. “I, uh…” Glancing up, you give him your sweetest expression, prompting his stutter to continue. “Don’t, I don’t have a condom, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay, baby.”

“Still want me?”

“Mhm.” Your reassuring smile is a gift to him, a breath of relief falling from his lips.

“I… hate to ask, but…” Clearing his throat, he reaches down, stopping your motions. “Haven’t got anything to worry about, have I?” Now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should've asked before going down on you. Hindsight is 20/20, but your answer reassures him all the same.

“I’m clean, baby. They tested me at the shelter, came with the health program you paid for.” Something about your words make him feel proud, knowing he was able to successfully care for you.

With a blissful grin, you reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders and gently guiding him back in. Slowly falling back to the bed, he settles above you once again. John’s talented lips find you again, his naked pelvis resting above your own. His kiss is brief, eyes glancing down as he angles himself between your legs.

“I’m so thankful for you.” Whispering into his ear, you grin, kissing the shell of it.

With a low breath, something like a groan, John buries his face into your shoulder, the sloped tip of him rubbing against your outer entrance.

You haven’t had sex in more than six months, and your traumas are definitely still there. But everything about John screams safety to you, safety and security. And you want him to have you.

Lifting your legs, you rest the soles of your feet on his bedding, your arms encircling his neck. John’s humid breath fans against your shoulder and throat, a small moan floating from his chest when he truly slides in. His tip stretches you, but not painfully so, thanks to his extensive foreplay. But the deeper he dives, the fuller you feel, and from the emotions of it all you think you could cry.

“John,”

“I know, sweetheart. Almost there.” He coos lovingly to you, releasing a heavy sigh when his pelvis meets the sensitive space between your legs. “That’s it, that’s it, darling.”

Fingernails scraping into his back, you whine when he rolls his hips, not at all pulling out but just grinding into you. Both of those large arms slide beneath your back, holding you tightly against his muscular frame.

“Like that,” That gruff voice tells you, his hips now retracting. “Those cute little whines.”

“Baby, more.”

“Eager thing,” He comments, returning to your warmth at a slightly quicker pace.

“I’ve been eager for you since the day I met you.” Comes your breathy admission, nails trailing down his sculpted back.

His pace is passionate, sensual and sweet - exactly highlighting tonight’s mood. Every time he leaves your sex he’s diving back in like he’d never get a taste of it ever again. Even without force, he’s hitting you deep, throbbing against your warm channel whenever he feels you clench.

“H-Harder, baby.” You’re whining, gasping beneath his weight. “Please.”

Lifting himself slightly, John’s left hand reaches down to your hip, putting his entire weight into keeping you still. With his other, he lifts it to rest on his forearm, breaths ragged and heavy as he shoves himself into you. And he does it exactly as you requested, not going fast but applying more pressure and intensity.

“Oh, I’ve wanted you.”

“I want you, John. Please, let me see you ag -” But then you’re crying out, feeling his tip punch against your sensitive spot. “Again, please let me see you again.”

“You’re staying here until I say.” He declares, “You’re staying with me.”

Absolute relief washes through your bones, your limbs tingling with continuous waves of pleasure and it’s from him, all of it is from him.

“We’ll move your things.” John promises, grunting with every thrust. “In here, we’ll bring them here. Keep ‘em with you and me.”

“Really, baby?”

“You think I’m gonna let you out of my sight? Darling, you’re mine.” The rough drag of his length along your walls is debilitatingly blissful, the wetness from his tongue and your high aiding in the smoothness of his thrusts. “You’ve been mine from the start.”

It’s overwhelming, his words and the things he’s doing to your body. You’ve wanted this for longer than you can remember, to be held in a man’s embrace. But not any man, not a man that treated you like a commodity. A man like him. Who cared for you, mentally and physically, who did his best to protect you and nurture your well-being. To keep you with him, to help you grow and in turn, help him.

“L-Love you, John.” Head snapping up, those stunning blue orbs search for your own.

What did she say?

Meeting his eyes with an all too tender expression, you repeat fully this time, “I love you so much.”

Your name is breathed out of his mouth, the hand on your hip leaving to find your cheek. He cups you firmly, lowering himself to meet your lips. And you like it better like this, when you can hold him.

“Sweetheart,” The crack in his voice makes your lips break out into a wondrous grin, his emotions seeping out of him. “I loved you then,” Kissing your cheek, he leans in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “And I love you still.”

And John absolutely basks in the presence of your love, in your sweet words and the way you cling to him. You’re his now, his to care for and protect. And he hopes he can give you that, he knows he can give you that.

“I’ll treat you right, angel.” He’s devoted to you; a woman has never had such a hold on him before you. “I’ll keep you safe, keep you happy, yeah?”

Fingers curling into his hair, you lift your hips, meeting his every thrust. And it makes him choke on his own breath, makes his throat go dry from how harshly he groans.

“Let me be that for you, let me take care of you.”

“John, yes. I want, I want that. Want to be with you.”

“Then you will be.” He can feel the way you pulse around him, the way your nails scratch at his skin and the way your lips suction to his neck. It’s all-consuming, you’re pulling him in. He’s falling into an abyss that he never wants to be free of. “I’ll give you the goddamn world, princess.”

“Just don’t go.” Moaning, you feel the muscles in his stomach tense, the erratic jut of his thrusts. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Forcing himself into you a half a dozen more times, and he’s spilling inside, shoving himself in as deep as he can go. And even through all the ringing in his ears, he hears one thing. Only you.

Thoughts of what could be flash through his mind, a life with you. Pleasure bursts through his core as he rides out his high, rocking his hips into your center, keeping your body close. You’ve left at least a handful of hickies on his chest, marks he’s eager to see in the morning. But he can wait for that, his goal right now is to cherish you.

Painfully, he’s reminded of the image he was met with when he rescued you. Gagged and bloody, bruised from top to bottom while tied to a rusty chair. He’ll never forgive himself for letting that happen to you.

“Never.” He promises, chest heaving as he attempts to steady his breaths. Both hands slide around your body once again, pressing your breasts against him. Your soft giggles make him grin, his facial hair tickling your skin. Sweetly, he kisses you, looking into your eyes as he says, “Never again.”

#babbyyyy #pls take care of me #ily #ily so much #he's so daddy #John Price #Captain John Price #John Price COD #John Price x you #John Price x reader #John Price x female reader #John Price smut #COD fanfiction

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

Note

whipped price is the best price!! i read countryside again earlier on while ao3 was down and it soooo good literally tempted to read it again before i go to sleep tbh looooool but food for thought because i literally think of price and sunshine!reader before i go to sleep but what if (and idk if this is cliche but i am going to be a cliche for this cause why not)

but what ifffff price goes off to the toilet for a week and while he’s gone he leaves sunshine!reader at the bar to get drinks (yes at marissa’s place) anyway sunshine is at the barrr and some random dude comes up and starts to hit on her and she’s like nah dude i’m good thanks and he still hits on her and even marissa is like ‘seriously back off’ and then after a bit price comes out and sees and starts puffing his chest a bit cause ? who da fuck is that flirting with his women?! and the others see him storming over and try to brace themselves for the wrath of price on this muppet flirting with his girl and that’s all i have rn butttt if you wanna continue it then please do

TLTR; price gets jealous of another guy hitting on his girl and i am wondering if you’d be down to finish it off cause you’d do a wayyy better job then me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: Thank you s much love. This definitely took I turn, not gonna lie, but I still like it, hope it's alright<3

Dark and Stormy

Summary; When another guy hits on you, Price gets protective. One thing leads to another and you find yourself in a vastly unfamiliar situation with Price that Ghost helps manoeuvre.

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

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4.3k

Warnings; PTSD, mental health discussion, protective!Price, implied age-gap

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

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The intention of tonight was a quiet night out. Or, as calm as it gets when there's football on the telly. It also was when Johnny entertained a conversation with you rather than watching the game, as disinterested in the sport as they come compared to the others. And yes, even when a team scored, the evening was peaceful.

But then two things happened. John excused himself to the toilet while you headed to the bar, wanting a drink and something to chew on. It was a few minutes before half-time and you knew there would be a wave of people flocking towards where Marissa, at the moment, stood unoccupied, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes drifting over the crowd with an amused look. As you stepped up to the counter, that gaze settled upon you.

"Ain't it fascinating they can be this invested?" Marissa was as uninterested in football as Johnny, yet both possessed a good understanding of the game and the current season. Both your friend and the Scotsman unwillingly so, regarding the bar broadcasts relevant games on weekends and, apparently, it was a common topic not only off but on base amongst the men.

You shrugged in return. "Each to their own".

"I guess", she huffed, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. With two short steps, she stood in front of you. "Wanna get something?"

"You already know what I want", you replied, to which she put a hand on her chest, an exaggerated expression morphing her features as her mouth dropped open.

"To come and keep me company, you shouldn't have", Marissa flicked her hand, making you chuckle.

"If it makes you pay for my drink, sure", you wink at her.

"Dream on, missy", Marissa chuckles as she goes to prepare the beverage, but she stops in her track suddenly, eyes shifting away from you.

"I can pay for your drink, gorgeous". You jump slightly at the voice close to you. With a swivel of your head, you instantly locate the blonde man who'd crept up behind you.

"No, thank you", you reply with a polite smile, turning towards Marissa again, trying to make it obvious you turned his efforts down.

"Didn't sound like that a second ago". Your brows furrow, sending the blonde a look over your shoulder.

"Joke between friends", you reply curtly, motioning between yourself and Marissa.

"Well, she can't keep you company all night, can she?" He smiled, leaning on the bar beside you with his elbow. "But I can". He must've thought the wink accompanying his sentence was meant to lighten your mood. If anything, it made you cringe inwardly and take a step away from him.

"Got my boyfriend for that". You looked forwards, locking eyes with Marissa. She met you with an expression you didn't need words to understand.

You saw a movement in your peripheral. Glancing at the man, you spot him turning his head left and right, looking behind him. "Don't see him around. You're not lying to me now, are you?"

You didn't look at him as he faced you, only following Marissa as she propped one of her hands on her hip, a low muttered 'Jesus' passing under he breath.

"Her man shouldn't need to be attached to her hip for you to understand what a no means", Marissa remarks. You send her a thankful look as her eyes momentarily shift to you.

"He should if having a girl this peng otherwise people will bother her all the time".

"Like you?" You finally turn towards him, arms crossed over your chest.

His brows are furrow, setting his features in a hard stare. "What did you say?"

You want to roll your eyes. But honestly, how the man's voice fell so drastically from the flirty tone made you hesitant. Yeah, you were bordering between annoyed and cautious now. "I'm saying I'm not interested in and you're making me uncomfortable".

"But I've done nothing wrong", he claimed.

"You may interpret that way, but I feel differently, so please", you motioned towards some other tables, asking the man to leave you be.

"I can stay here to have a drink if I want to", he states, turning to Marissa, making no move to listen to your desire for him to give you space. "I'll have a dark ale".

"I won't serve you", she declares.

"You can't decide that", he points at your friend, who cocks her head.

"I can. I own this place".

"Bull-fuckin-shit you do. What poor old grandpa did you rob this place from? Shouldn't even be surprised you took his life-work from him". Your mouth dropped open. Marissa's face hardened.

"Believe what you want because this is my pub and no one here will serve you". The man opened his mouth, about to continue the argument, when someone interrupted him.

"You can't get a clearer no from either of them, mate". Your eyes instantly find John upon his voice. He's standing behind the man looking at Marissa, then you, only for his eyes to meet the blonde's as he turns his head to see who's talking to him.

"I didn't talk to you, now did I, old man?"

"Maybe not, but you didn't show any signs of human decency and respect to her". John motions to Marissa. "Neither did you care when she straightforwardly said she didn't enjoy your advances", he nods towards you.

Understanding that John caught his behaviour towards the two of you, the blonde suddenly switched up.

"Oh, come on, it's alright, ain't it, love?" He turns to face you, concerning you're the closest to him. Your nose scrunch at the pet name. In your mind, it was only reserved for John. That the man dared to use it despite how he's been acting made a revolting sensation grow in your stomach. "You don't mind me, right?" He raises his arm, attempting to put it around your shoulders in a manner of goodwill. But, you move out of his reach, not desiring to be touched by this man.

And, even if you hadn't moved, the blonde would never have reached you concerning how John acted swiftly. He'd grabbed his shoulder, a gentle pull making him take a few steps back to give you space. When the blonde stumbled slightly from the reasonable action, you understood the man wasn't entirely sober, quite far from it. Noticing the same thing, John placed himself between you and the man rather than standing by your side.

A look of disbelief crosses the blonde's features before he turns sour. "You looking to scrap?"

"No". John stands straight, using his full height to his advantage. He wasn't only taller but broader than the other man, and you barely saw anything of him if you didn't glance around John's frame. All those things together would've been enough for most to back off, but not this guy.

"Then piss off", the blonde spat, clearly thinking the liquid courage he'd gotten was enough to stand up to John, oblivious to his disadvantage. And that was only physical. With John's experience, you didn't doubt who'd be victorious in a possible fight. "I'm just trying to get a drink".

John scoffed, glancing back at you. You knew his easy attitude was for your sake, the way his hand sneaked backwards in search of yours reinforcing that as he faced forwards again.

"It sounded like you tried chattin' up my girl and then insulted her friend. And when both made clear your presence wasn't welcomed, you can't respect them enough to leave. If you didn't notice that it's time to head home". John motions towards the exit with a small jut of his chin as he finally drops what you hope is the hint that will make the blonde scurry away.

The man did catch it, his eyes flickering to you and then down to see your enlaced hands behind John's back. But you also recognised something else. Hurt fucking pride.

"Don't come and order me around", he scoffs, chest puffing.

"Only givin' you advice". John was serious. You gather that much despite not seeing his face. His voice had dropped a notch, his sentence more straightforward than previously. "Better off takin' it".

"Or what? You gonna force me, don't think ya would even land a hit", the blonde scoffed in return, swaying as he made a show of moving his head as if dodging punches.

Something changed in the air then. John cocked his head, chuckling. An uneasy sensation rolls through your body upon the sound. It was nothing joyful in it. It was stern, hard edges digging into his smooth and raspy voice.

You know John is SAS, a soldier through and through. He's violent, but not violent. He can separate work from... this. What you feared, however, is that what he deals with professionally is calculated. Everything is planned, counted and weighed until agreed on something remotely executable. Initial planning left little to chance. That much you knew with your sparse knowledge of the military.

The blonde staring at John now was nothing of this. He was uncalculated, impulsive. He could do something stupid in seconds. You trusted John, not the man.

"Don't buy into his crap, please, John". You step up alongside him, gently shifting out of your enlaced hands to hold his arm, trying to divert his attention.

He doesn't look at you, eyes remaining locked with the man opposite him. "I won't".

"Ain't no fucking way to talk to me". You send the man a disgusted look.

"I talk however I want to you if you can't understand what a fucking no means", you spit back.

One of his brows cock and he steps forwards, hand raising. He doesn't come much further as John copies him. He steps out of your touch, one hand pushing forcefully enough against the guy's chest that he needs to catch himself at one of the stools.

"If you just were about to hit her-". Each syllable of the words is gritted through John's teeth as he speaks slowly. "-don't think about doin' it again". You hear the threat in his voice, the brush of 'test it, I dare you'.

Your throat constricts. And alarm of a situation spiralling out of control blaring in your body. You shoot Marissa a worried look and she knows what you can't say.

"I've had enough of this". Marissa firmly puts her hand down on the metal counter closest to her. Her action is followed by the rattling sound of glasses. John reacts in milliseconds, eyes snapping towards her. The blonde's attention follows a few seconds later. "You are not welcomed here anymore. Get out", she points at the blonde before motioning towards the door, her brown eyes darker than you've seen them in a long time.

"Or what?"

"I call the fuckin cops on you". She threatens, a sneer working itself into twisting her features.

The man is probably about to defy her and argue when a shadow suddenly positions itself at your side.

You feel dwarfed, standing so close to the new presence and John. But rather than shrinking in on yourself. You silently thank the gods it isn't an unwelcomed someone.

"You heard her". You look up at Ghost when he speaks. As always, his eyes were the sole feature peeking through his skull baklava. And right now, they bore into the blonde. "Get out". He didn't hesitate to grab the excess fabric of the jacket covering the man's shoulder.

"Take it easy, mate". The blonde almost whines as Ghost pulls him away from your group and forces him to walk ahead while he follows him to the exit. Even the man understood he'd met more than his match.

You don't hesitate to step around John to face him as soon as the man is gone. You immediately notice his lips set in an aggravated purse and how he must run a pointed tongue over his teeth. His head is turned, a hard stare boring into the man staggering away with Ghost's palm planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

"Hey". John's eyes finally met yours. They're dark, blue soladites gazing back at you. Something is brewing in them, something volatile. "Are you alright?"

John doesn't answer. Instead, his jaw only works, repeatedly tensing, making the muscle in his temple visible. It looks like he's chewing his words but can't spit them out.

You glance towards Ghost, who just pushed the man out of the pub, caring little about what he does with himself once out of the space.

Your eyes fall back to John as you sigh in relief. He still looks tense, and in an attempt to wordlessly tell him the situation is under control, you smile. But... you don't get a similar action in return. You got none, in fact. Something feels off. As if the situation is still spiralling despite the source of conflict gone. Your brows furrow, trying to snap him out of whatever resentment he can't seem to let go of by enlacing your fingers. Although, when your fingertips brush his, he flinches.

Taken aback by how his hand jerks away from yours and he moves back, you whisper his name. "John?"

Your hand hang in the air, staring at him. He's still looking at you. Even so, his gaze feels far-away. Now you're seriously worried.

"Not your fault". For being such a big man, Ghost moves quick and silently. Upon his sudden appearance by your side again, you turn to him.

"What?" His brown eyes lock with yours briefly before quickly falling on John again. He shakes his head once, not explaining something he must know.

"Marissa". You look at your friend when Ghost directs his attention on her. Even she's watching the situation with wide eyes, unfamiliarity written clearly over her features. "Have a secluded space?"

"I-uh, you can take my office". Your friend supplies the only private space within the pub's walls. Ghost nods, turning and stepping closer to John.

"Price". The masked man earns the attention of John when he settles on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Your mouth had opened, wanting to speak up about what just happened to you but stop yourself when no reaction to the touch comes. "Get a move on. To the back".

And he does. Like a soldier, John turns and heads to the doors leading to the backroom. Stunned, you follow him with your eyes.

"You should come". Ghost directs with a quick look over his shoulder just as he follows John. You do as he says with a quick look at Marissa. She tries to give you a calm expression and a gentle smile, but it's impossible after your interaction with the blonde man and this sudden turn of events. Your jaw clenches as you hurry to keep up with the two men.

One of Marissa's coworkers emerges from the backroom just as you near it. Instinctually she holds the door open for the two men to pass through after she's stepped into the main room. You offer her a 'just getting some things for Marissa' to ease her confusion. Thankfully, you know her and she replies 'alright' just as your friend calls for her. Probably to not linger about to keep it as free of people as possible concerning Ghost's request.

You press your lips together when the doors close, cutting off much of the pub's natural racket, walking briskly behind John and Ghost. Something gnaws in your chest as you look at the latter. Neither he seems relaxed.

Your arms wind around your stomach, silently stepping into Marissa's office, staying almost pressed against the door once your close it by leaning into it.

"Price", Ghost's voice makes John turn. "Your head's elsewhere". He continues. He doesn't sound cold, but he speaks evenly.

For being a masked man, you would describe Ghost as someone who usually has an expressive voice. But his current tone sounds matter-of-factual. Fuck. You gnaw your lip, fingers digging into your sides, eyes jumping between them.

"You ain't there". Ghost's words make your eyes flitter from John to him and stay there for a few moments. You only see parts of his face concerning how he's still facing John more than you. "You're back home, at the pub. There's nothin' to overthink, nothin' to deal with, nothin' more happenin'. You hear me?"

John nods. But the large man only shakes his head in return. "Answer me, Captain".

"Hear ya, L.T.". John's voice is low and gritty as he grunts the reply.

Ghost nods curtly, a swift tip of his chin. "It's all in your head. Get it back on your shoulders", he continues, letting his sentence hang in the air rather than filling the silence with anything else.

Though you don't understand the interaction fully, you're starting to grasp what's going on in the stillness. You watch John closely as he crosses his arms over his chest and inhales slowly, holding his breath before exhaling. He repeats the action over and over.

"That cunt ain't here to bother you or your sweetheart, neither is anyone else, so at ease". Ghost angles his body, your eyes landing upon his profile. He motions to you with his hand, bringing a set of eyes to you. Yet, they're not brown, but blue.

Upon John's attention, you shift, shuffling on your feet, but don't avert your eyes. The look from before is still there, though it doesn't feel as intense. And then, slowly, it melts. It's nothing grand, not a sudden shift, no jerk of realisation. But the forced labour breathing John focused on eases into something natural, making his shoulders drop and the look in his eyes change. He feels present. As if he's actually looking at you now. A gentleness fills his eyes. They warm up.

Then, John's eyes flutter close, his head notching forwards. One of his hands settles by his temple, massaging the sensitive point before travelling to the bridge of his nose, pinching the highest point as a deep furrow sets his brows close to his fingers.

"You good?" Ghost asks, his voice milder than before.

"I'm good", John responds on a exhale. He takes a step backwards to partly sit on the desk behind him. He shifts his fingers so his thumb massages the skin between his eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Ghost turns, walking towards you. You only look at him once he stops beside you.

"Should I do something?" You whisper to the tall man. You felt helpless during this ordeal and still not exactly sure what happened even though you now had a guess. Ghost only cocks his head, hand stilling on the door-handle as he looks at you.

"Just be there for him", is all he says, swinging the door open.

He nods goodbye as he exits, not overstaying the moment after he apparently isn't needed anymore.

Your eyes fall on John when the door closes again. He looks tired, standing in a similar position as before. Only his hand had shifted to cover his eyes, the span of his brows covered by his index finger and thumb.

"John?" You try to soften your voice to hide your concern.

His hand drops, blue eyes finding yours. His mouth is in a thin line, corners slightly downturned. Your heart cracks a bit at his discouraged look.

Your feet move on their own, bringing you to him. As soon as you're within range, he drops his arms, opening them wide for you to step into. It's seamless how you reach around John's shoulders, one hand coming to the back of his head, moving him towards your neck while his arms wind tight around your waist, pulling you close as he haunches forward to burrow his face against your throat.

The silence is only filled with your breaths. Yours blowing into the air at the side of John's head, his exhales puffing against your skin. Your eyes are shut harshly as your fingers repeatedly card through his hair and continue down his neck until your fingertips glide over his last cervical vertebrate.

It's gradual, but you feel John the tension leaving his body. He relaxes against you, not feeling as stiff with his hold. His arms loosen, sliding lower towards your hips where his hand squeeze the plusher flesh. Your thumb circles his shoulder and you turn your head to the side, kissing the side of his head. In return, he kisses the skin over your collarbone.

There's a tug-of-war inside you. Should I? Shouldn't I? In the end, you decide to try.

"If you're comfortable in telling me, what happened?" The words brush against John's head, your breath disturbing some strands of his hair.

He sighs deeply and you hold your breath for a few seconds. "Got triggered". So...PTSD, then? Or was it something you never fucking heard of? Your mind raced.

As if able to read your thoughts, John finally leans away. You don't let your hand fall from the back of his head, continuing to card through the strands of hair at his nape as he looks at you, head bowed to be levelled with your face.

"Doesn't happen much at all". John begins, clenching his jaw before continuing. "But triggers can... it feels like a misplaced adrenalin rush with overwhelming emotions and racing thoughts".

You nod, biting your lip. Brows furrowing, you search for the right words, carefully choosing what to say. "Was it something that guy said that did it?"

"Don't know, can't recall what hit the wrong cord", John said with a shake of his head.

"You sound jealous". You try a different approach in a lighter tone, rapping your fingers against his neck with a soft smile.

"Maybe protective", John shrugs, chuckling awkwardly. Even so, the tightness in the corner of his mouth eases. His gaze flickers away, moving back and forth, staring into nothing for a few seconds. When his gaze trails back, his eyes are a bit clearer, apparently having uncovered something to answer your question better. "Think it was when he raised his hand".

The reminder that the man had thought about doing something physically to you resurfaced on your frontal lobe. As the moment replayed, you could understand why it was triggering, perhaps not to the extent and with the interconnections John obviously had towards the action.

"Got angry, worried, the feeling resembling something from...", John trails off, but you don't need him to explicitly say it. You're not there. Ghost's sentence echoes in your mind. "Should probably work on that, m'sorry".

This man. You shut your eyes, turning your head away. You try to will the wetness you felt away, but when you open your eyes, you still need to tilt your head back and forth a few times to not let any tears fall before you look back at John, eyes noticeably glassy even so.

"Don't apologise". You finally say. "It isn't your fault that guy acted like a cunt. Compared to him, you never wanted to escalate the situation even though you were the one who had the right".

"But-" You cock your head after he cuts himself short, giving him space to continue the conversation at his own pace. John releases a slow breath and speaks again. "It shouldn't have triggered me". You purse your lips at the way he says it. He sounds so frustrated with himself.

"Don't know too much about it", you admit, neither of you labelling what the obvious it was. "But you soldiers can't pick and choose what does or doesn't".

"Wouldn't that be a dream", he sighs.

"Maybe you should work on it. If you want to. Not the protective part, I mean... I appreciate that, I like that I can trust you having my back". You lick your lips, biting the lower one for a second as your brows furrow. "But, maybe the other part?"

It brought a sigh from John. "Guess... I haven't left the last deployment behind entirely despite being cleared on the med-evaluations". It wasn't a yes, but it was an acknowledgement.

"I-I know we haven't talked much about what you do in detail. But, if you want to, you know? Talk. I'll listen". John looks at you, blue eyes widening.

"I-", he began. "I need to think about it". You nod, not pressing him, understanding that he needs time.

Rather than continuing the conversation, you lean forwards, pressing your lips against his forehead. You feel his eyes flutter close, his lashes brushing your lower face as he leans into the touch, so you only part to mumble an 'okay' before planting another kiss between his brows.

You graze your lips over his face in soft presses until you reach his mouth. Hovering there, your hand slip to his cheek. Your fingers brush along the line of his beard, feeling the softness of his skin and the brown hairs. You hover there, waiting until John initiates the kiss.

It's sweet, soft. A gentle tilt of heads in opposite directions as you merely connect the plush pillows of your lips together. It holds so many emotions for something that is so surface-level.

"Want to go home? Escape the crowd?" You whisper against his lips when you part.

John hums, leaning away so his gaze meets yours the second you open your eyes. "If you don't mind".

"Would never mind if that's what you need". You smile at John, running your thumb along his cheek. He sighs, an appreciative smile spreading.

"Can I drive?"

You remember what he said the night you first met, how helpful those drives could be for him. "If you want to, yes".

"Thank you". John pecks your lip.

You smile at him. "No need".

598 notes · View notes

pertinentpostmortem · 4 months

Text

IBLBM

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x plus size!f!reader (Bonnie)

Semi-inspired by “Talk” by Hozier

18+ mdni

5k+ words

Warnings: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), dubious consent (both drink alcohol but are not drunk), oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv (pls be careful), unexpected feelings?? (i was feeling fluffy at the end ig, bc it wasn’t supposed to end happily).

The sounds of mindless chatter and loud laughing ring in Soap’s ears as he sits on the bar stool that creaks as he fidgets, placed next to the wall in the far corner of the run-down bar he frequents after deployment. Soap sips his whiskey, trying to drown out the distracting thoughts that had invaded his mind, racing through his head as fast as the bullets that had been recently fired at him. His striking blue eyes seem sunken and his cheekbones more pronounced in the dim lighting; his rugged features turned more harsh. The memories of the recent mission weigh heavily on him, seeing as his usually upright posture is wilted and slouched. Still, the laughter around him seems to provide a temporary escape.

Leaning against the peeling wallpaper, he absentmindedly runs his fingers across the sticky bartop in swirling patterns. At the same time, he brings his glass of whiskey up to his pouty lips to take another sip of the burning liquor; his blue eyes focus on something other than the bartop: the bonnie lass with her head thrown back in laughter at something one of her friends said, chubby cheeks squished as she smiles widely causing her eyes to almost disappear. The vivid joy of her laughter contrasted with the dark thoughts that haunted Soap. His mind wanders, succumbing to desires and fantasies that watching the lass offers—a brief respite from the harsh realities of war that usually storm his thoughts.

Soap takes another mindless sip of the amber liquid in the glass in his hand; the burn of the whiskey provides a physical distraction, a reminder of something tangible amidst the war and chaos of his thoughts. His blue eyes, ordinarily sharp and focused, betray a hint of vulnerability, softening as they follow the curves of the young woman's body, fixated on how her ample body seems to spill out of her seat in the most tantalizing way. The contrast between his wandering mind's harshness and his yearnings' softness is lost as he gets lost in the pretty lass, pink tongue darting out to lick his dry lips hungrily.

Steamin’ Jesus, how he wanted to bury his hands in the pillowy softness of her hips and ass, drag her malleable body against his firm, unforgiving muscles.

Soap tried to shake off the intrusive fantasies, lifting his gaze from the enticing scene. With its peeling wallpaper, sticky bartop, and the influx of civilians and soldiers alike, the bar offers a refuge of anonymity, a place where he could momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities.

Yet, the pull of desire lingers, weaving an intricate web of softness around the hardened soldier in that dimly lit corner of the run-down bar. Shooting the rest of his liquor to the back of his throat, Soap stands, wincing at the loud creak of the stool. The Scot takes a second to breathe deeply, making sure his posture is straight, his brown mohawk is neat enough, and his rakish smirk is perfect before swaggering over to the lass he had his eyes on; he knows that he will have a distraction in the form of plush thighs and whimpering sighs tonight.

Soap's army-regulated boots make a subtle, purposeful thudding sound against the scuffed floor as he approaches, stopping just behind the object of his affection. The hum of conversation around him seems to dull in his ears as the air charges with an unspoken tension. His piercing blue eyes focused on his objective. This is not unlike having to seduce a mark when he’s undercover.

The bonnie lass, oblivious to his presence, continues chatting animatedly with her friends. However, the sudden pause in her friend’s response is palpable as Soap's tall, broad-shouldered presence commands their attention. Their curious gazes turn toward him, and a hushed silence settles over the immediate vicinity. Every eye is turned to Soap as you turn to see what had caused the interruption, the laughter lines around your mouth and eyes fading into wrinkles between brows as you meet Soap's eyes with a curious gaze.

Looking into yout eyes for the first time is like an atom bomb exploding—something beautiful and dangerous lighting up his irises, blocking out anything else. Soap feels as though time herself has stopped for him to have this moment, looking deeply into the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. His rakish grin has fallen from his face, a drop-jawed, open-mouthed, and wide, starry-eyed look taking its place.

“Lass” is the only thing he rasps out in a rough, accented voice, charming confidence washed away.

Your friends giggle at the man’s loss of words, glancing at each other with smirks.

One woman says, “If you keep your mouth open like that, you’ll catch flies.”

This seems to break Soap from his haze, prompting him to snap his jaw shut with an audible clack of teeth. His cheeks burn like an inferno, red rising from under his shirt all the way up to the tops of his ears. The lass’ friends giggle more at his embarrassment.

The bar, with its worn-out decor and the lingering scent of alcohol, resumed its normalcy. Sounds of creaking and conversation that had faded from Soap’s ears came ringing back. Soap, however, now stands on the precipice of a different kind of explosion—the unpredictable chemistry between two souls in a crowded, dimly lit bar, where a simple gaze has the power to alter the course of an ordinary evening.

Shaking his head and sending his once-neat mohawk astray, Soap tries again, “Would ye dance with me, hen?”

Your friends turn their attention back to you, who, by now, has lost the curious gaze and now adopts one similar to Soap’s from earlier—though you manage to keep your mouth shut.

“I–umm…” is all you can stutter out in your confusion; what does a man like him want with a woman like you?

“I just…uhhh…I saw you from over there, hen,” Soap explains, pointing to ‘his’ corner of the bar, “and I just had to have a dance with ye. Yer body—steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie—ye could be a goddess just on looks alone. And yer laugh. It’s like faeries tinklin’ in my ears.”

Your face has heated to a nearly volcanic level because of the unexpected attention from such a specimen of a man; he wore a compression t-shirt that fit snugly around his arms and torso, bringing your attention to his hard, bulging muscles and black sweatpants that clung to his thighs like a second skin. Soap was pure sin, your mouth watering as you eyed him up and down.

The vivid imagery of his words, combined with the genuine warmth in his eyes, sends an erupting flush of heat to your cheeks like a volcano boiling over. Soap's unexpected flattery, though eloquent, leaves you feeling both surprised and complimented.

Your friends exchange sly glances, perhaps recognizing the rarity of such a moment. Not only was a man asking you for a dance rare, but you reacting to a man with such awe was, too.

Not above using his words—and his refined talk—to his advantage, Soap begins again, “Lass, ye ‘ave stolen my full attention. I’ve gotta ‘ave at least one dance with you. Please, Bonnie. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what ye want. Anything for just a taste of ye.”

Glancing at your friends, who all give you looks telling you to go, you mutter, “Fine,” before getting out of your chair and standing before the behemoth of a man, “But I don’t even know your name.”

Soap flushes darker at his misstep. “My name’s Johnny.”

“Well, Johnny boy, let's get dancing before you fall on your knees and beg.”

Perking up like a dog whose just been given a bone, Soap squares his shoulders and runs a hand through his mussed mohawk, shuffling on his feet. He knows he has you in his grasp and will bring you home. He’s already got in mind all the things he wants to do to you, imagining the noises you will make as he wrings pleasure from you.

Feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, you allow Soap to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. As he leads you through the crowded bar, the familiar sounds of mindless chatter and laughter become distant echoes. The atmosphere shifts as you approach the small, rarely used dancefloor, a space that seems to exist in its own pocket of the world.

Soap's grip on your hand is firm yet gentle, guiding you with a quiet—though dominant—confidence. The flickering lights overhead cast a soft glow on the worn wooden floor, and the notes of an old, familiar song begin to play.

The dancefloor, usually abandoned in a corner of the bar, becomes the stage for an unexpected lust between you and Soap.

Without a word, Soap places his free hand on your waist, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. The distance between you dissipates as he pulls you gently into his body, your plush softness smooshing against his stiff muscles. The warmth of Soap's hand on your waist is comforting and electrifying. Now softened by the dim lighting, his blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. For a moment, the world's worries outside the bar seem distant, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected charm of the rugged soldier.

As Soap leads you into a slight sway to the music, keeping his body solidly on yours, the silence becomes even more grating.

Soap breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your intertwined bodies, causing a slight shiver to race up your spine. "Never thought I'd find myself dancing in a place like this," he admits, lips lifting in a slight smirk, his voice carrying a hint of gruff amusement.

You manage a small smile, feeling a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a twinge of vulnerability. "Me neither," you reply, the music providing a gentle backdrop to the exchange.

As the two of you continue to move in harmony, Soap's gaze remains fixed on yours. "Ye know," he begins, his tone sincere, "sometimes ye find something good in the least expected places." His words linger in the air, prompting a thoughtful pause. "And sometimes," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, "ye find yourself dancing with someone who makes even the dimmest corners feel bright."

In a fluid motion, Johnny leans down, his movements both deliberate and yet surprisingly gentle. The scent of whiskey and gun oil hangs in the air as his battle-worn hand glides from your waist to your jaw, cupping it with a rough tenderness. He can feel the heat in your cheek as he brushes his thumb across it.

Johnny’s touch is commanding and caring, the callouses on his fingers a testament to his countless battles. There's a quiet assurance in how he holds your face as if trying to convey a depth of understanding beyond the spoken word.

Simultaneously, his other hand grips your hip firmly, sending a thrill through your body.

You and Jonny share a few breaths, looking at each other through lowered lashes. The dim lights cast shadows on your faces. Then, Johnny grabs your face tighter and pulls you up to meet his lips with yours. The first touch is light, just a graze of his chapped, cracked lips on your lips. The next is all heat and passion.

Johnny uses his grip on your jaw to force your mouth open so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugary drink you had been sipping on and the essence of your flesh. His lips tasted of strong whiskey, potent and intoxicating, something you could get drunk on.

Johnny's movements are deliberate, each touch calculated to evoke a response. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, large, thick, and calloused fingers fanning out over the back of your throat, possesively firm but gentle. Your gasp is swallowed into the greedy kiss. Johnny barely lets you breathe, pulling back to adjust his grip on your body before he’s diving back into your mouth. His tongue explores the contours of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, licking behind your teeth and coaxing you into tangling your tongue with his. Slick pools in your underwear.

Suddenly, almost as if he knows your reaction, Johnny pulls away with a slick sound, a string of saliva binding you two together until he swipes his tongue across his lips, drinking in your taste. His eyes are pools of dark blue, a raging sea of blue covered almost entirely by black. He looks crazed, like a hungry wolf; his mouth is set in a barely perceptible snarl, brows pulled down as he focuses on his meal: you.

“Bonnie, I’m gonna be honest…I gotta have you. Taste you. Worship you for the goddess you are.”

“Johnny, I’m not sure…” you trail off nervously, “I mean, my friends are here, and I didn’t drive here.”

“I ken ye are worried, but you don’t ‘ave ta be worried. Ye're aff yer heid if you think I’d do anything to a Bonnie lass like ye” Johnny looks into your eyes before purring into your ear, “Imagine being loved by me.”

His rough, accented voice right in your ear sends tremors throughout your body, slick soaking through your underwear as your lust grows.

“Okay”

With that breathy word, Johnny has his mouth on yours again, subtly grinding his erection against your midsection. You let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his length.

Johnny takes a deep breath and steps away from you, “I would take you right here if I could. But I cannae. So, we should grab a cab to your place before I fuck you in front of everyone.”

Drunk on lust, you can only nod your head rapidly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. You only remember to wave goodbye to your friends right as you open the door and step outside into the chill of night, letting the door slam behind you.

Letting you drag him into the cold night air, Johnny chuckles at your enthusiasm, his Scottish mutterings carrying a sense of amusement. "Ye ken that I havnae gotten a cab yet, right, Bonnie?" he remarks, the humor evident in his voice.

Your response is a content hum as you huddle into his body, seeking shelter from the biting winds. The warmth of his embrace starkly contrasts the cool night, and you find comfort in the proximity.

Amused by your eagerness, Johnny pulls his phone from his back pocket, his other hand ensuring you're nestled close to him. The desire for closeness is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the connection forged in the bar. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his features as he orders a cab after asking for your address, the anticipation of what lies ahead adding an electric charge to the air.

As you wait for the cab, the world around you becomes a blur of dimly lit streets and the distant sounds of the city. In this pocket of time, suspended between the closing door of the bar and the arrival of the cab, the connection between you and Johnny continues to simmer, a flame that refuses to be extinguished by the cold night air.

Soon enough, Johnny is protectively ushering you into the back of a cab, climbing in right after you so as to not be too far from you. The warmth of the vehicle envelopes you both, a stark contrast to the chill you left behind outside—though it doesn’t hold the same feeling as being held in Johhny’s arms.

As the cab weaves through the late-night streets, the cityscape passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Johnny sits close, the space between you minimal, as if he wants to ensure you feel his presence beside you. His hand holds the meat of your thick thigh, kneading the flesh there and teasingly dragging his fingers closer and closer to your core before sliding back down, a smirk placed on his lips.

The cab comes to a smooth stop in front of your house, the engine humming softly as it idles. The quiet neighborhood surrounds you; the journey from the bar to this quiet residential street feels like a transition from one world to another.

The glow of streetlights casts a soft illumination on the surroundings, creating a gentle ambiance. As he steps out of the vehicle, Johnny glances at your house, eyes filled with curiosity. You get out of the car and into the crisp night air is crisp next. The cab door closes behind you, the vehicle pulling away and leaving you and Johnny standing in the cool night air. The world outside is hushed, as if holding its breath, and the energy between you two remains palpable. The moment is pregnant with possibilities.

You drag Johnny to your house by the hand, unlocking the door with only the moonlight to guide you. Leading him into your house, you take your shoes off in the entryway, waiting for him to do the same. When Johnny is done taking off his boots, you lead him to your bedroom in the dark, heart beating faster and faster the closer you get to your destination.

Without bumping into anything, you reach your room, quickly running to turn on your bedside lamps. The few times you had a chance like this, you opted for the softer lighting of lamps over the harsh luminescence of the overhead lights.

The ambient glow accentuates your soft, round features, casting a gentle radiance upon you. The warmth and subtlety of the lighting create an ethereal ambiance, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Johnny, momentarily caught in the beauty of the moment, watches you with wide, twinkling blue eyes.

As his brain catches up to the visual feast before him, his eyes sharpening with hunger for a taste of you, Johnny rushes to you, pulling you into a searing kiss. He commandeers you with unspoken authority and leading hands, their touch firm and possessive as they steer you wherever he wants. And where he wants you is on your back, on your knees, and on top; he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to have you.

He will have you.

Pulling away from his bruising kiss that lingers as you move, you take one of his hands—the one he had gripping your waist—in yours, walking backward toward your bed. When the back of your knees hit the bed, you plop down on your plush ass, giggling as you bounce a bit.

Your laughter is a melody that makes Johnny smile, his white teeth showing as his lips curl. As you settle into the bed, Johnny positions himself between your legs, his wide stance forcing them further apart. He forces your head up as you lean back on your hands, bringing your lips together once again. Johnny cants his hips into yours, thick erection tenting his pants and pressing against your core. The breathy moan you let out in response to the stimulation allows Johnny to slip his tongue into your mouth for the second time tonight, eager to taste more of you.

Johny continues dragging his dick against your core while he releases your lips from his, sliding them down to your jaw. He begins licking and nipping at the juncture where your jaw meets your skull, pulling breathy moans from you.

Johnny's lips trace a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he delivers a gentle nip. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and his warm breath against your ear makes your heart race.

"Keep making those noises, Bonnie," Johnny whispers, his voice a low, seductive murmur that resonates in the intimate space between you, "and ye won’t be gettin’ rid of me."

You let out a nervous giggle in response as your body rocks against his, following his easy movements. Your giggle gets cut off with a choked whine when his cock hits your clit just right. Johnny huffs hot air into your neck as he works to keep the angle just right so he can keep hitting your clit. After a minute of this, you shove Johnny back by his shoulders, sitting all the way up.

As Johnny stumbles to keep his footing, you stabilize him by placing your hands on his hips. After he was steadied, you use your hands on his hips to your advantage by slipping them underneath his shirt to feel his scarred abdomen.

The soft glow of the bedside lamps casts a warm hue over the room as you sit back, a smile playing on your lips. Johnny's muscles jump under your touch as you glide your hands up his torso, rucking his shirt up with them. Johnny allows you to slide his shirt off. His arms lift in cooperation, and the fabric is discarded, revealing his defined physique. The soft illumination accentuates the contours of his body, making his abs appear extra defined in the gentle light.

You glide your hands back over his stomach going down towards the low-sitting waist of his sweatpants. As you go to palm his erection through his pants, Johnny grabs your hands in one of his larger ones.

“Not yet, Bonnie. I wanna taste you first.”

After Johnny states this in his rumbling, accented voice, he releases your hands from his grasp and pushes you fully up onto the bed, your feet no longer dangling as your back hits the bed. Breathing heavier and your pussy pulsing with need, you watch with lidded eyes as he crawls towards you on the bed, a predator hunting his prey. He looks like a god as the lamplight illuminates the sharp features of his determined face, mouth shit in a tight line, and eyes focused solely on you.

Johnny stops just before you, hands wandering up your covered legs.

“Can I take these off, Bonnie?” he asks, fingers pulling at the waistband of your pants and underwear. When all you do is whimper in response, he tuts and shakes his head.

“I asked you a question, lass. You best answer it.”

You manage to breathe out a “Yes, please, Johnny” in response.

Johnny nods his head in approval of your verbal queue, hastily fumbling with the button of your pants before tearing them—and your sopping panties—down your legs. He watches as your thighs spill from the fabric covering your lower half, the flesh jiggling slightly from the force used to rip the pants and underwear away from you. He is practically drooling and growling, desperate to get a taste of you, to get to see all of your soft body on display for him.

Deciding he wanted you naked before he ate you out like a wolf starved, he crawls a bit farther up the bed to tug your top from your body with warm hands on flesh, matching your steps from earlier. When he’s got your top, pants, and panties off, he leans back to leer at your uncovered body, laying so pliant in just your lacy underwear.

All for him.

Matching his thoughts, Johnny cups your breasts through your bra and thumbs your peaked nipples, purring, “Is this all for me, Bonnie?”

You nod your head with a shuddered breath before remembering his command.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Johnny continues his assault on your nipples, tugging and tweaking them to total hardness through your bra while kneading the fat of your breasts in his large, warm hands. He doesn’t forget his objective, though—he never fails the task he is given; he stops the assault on your top half to slide under you, forcing your back to arch prettily, thrusting your covered breasts towards him. Johnny uses the space to unhook your bra with one hand, helping you remove it from your arms before diving head-first into your chest, nuzzling his nose into the crevice between your tits, and inhaling through his nose noisily.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie, you smell so good.”

His words cause your body to heat up, squirming in his hold. He opens his mouth and laps at your skin like a dog, groaning throatily at the salty taste of your skin.

“Johnny!” you squeak.

Johnny pulls back with a smirk, mockingly saying, “Bonnie!” in a high-pitched voice. Then, looking straight into your eyes with his stormy blues, he orders, “Be a good girl and open yer legs for me.”

You’re useless against his accented voice, following his order without thought. Your thick thighs part, making a slight sticking noise from the wetness left from your weeping cunt. The glistening sight and moist sound of your wet heat causes Johnny to groan deep in his chest, his dick throbbing in his sweatpants. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up fucking you sooner than he wanted. So, instead of waiting any more, Johnny scoots down the bed, his feet hanging off the side, and lays down flat. His broad shoulders force your legs wider until he has your chub squished in his hand, dented with the force he’s exerting, dragging your legs over his shoulders, hovering by his ears.

“Don’t be shy, Bonnie. I like it rough,” he says with a wink before diving into his meal.

The first hot, slick swipe of his tongue over you has you keening, hips bucking into the feeling. However, you can’t move far because Johnny’s got his hands fastened across your hips like a seatbelt, holding you to his starving mouth. He continues licking from the bottom of your pussy all the way to your clit, flicking his tongue once he gets there. His scruff burns against your thighs, but it only makes you hotter. Your head is pushed back into your bed, neck bared, back arched sensually, and one of your hands grips Johnny’s brown mohawk with trembling fingers, the other gripping your sheets tightly.

Your breathy noises and tangy taste drive Johnny crazy, right along with the way you feel: soft, pliable, squishy in his hands, so malleable and willing. You submit to his every word, every touch, every breath, and he can’t get enough. Gripping you harder at the hips—probably leaving bruises, though he’s a little satisfied by the thought of staking his claim—he drags you impossibly closer, burying himself in the smell and taste of you, muffling his groans in your skin.

Moving on from lapping at the whole of you, Johnny instead focuses on your dripping entrance. He drags his tongue over it several times before dipping into you, hips bucking into the bed at being able to taste you from the source. Johnny continues dipping the tip of his tongue into you until you’re whining loudly, pleading for more.

He sticks his whole tongue into your pussy, swirling it around and scooping more slick into his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head; Johnny could die here, and he wouldn’t be mad. Shaking his head back and forth, he rubs his nose on your clit, making you cry out.

“Fuck, Johnny, please!”

Following your pleading cries, Johnny eases his tongue out of you, instead latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking hard. Your eyes close in ecstasy, completely missing the sly smile that graces Johnny’s lips as he—reluctantly—removes one of his giant hands from your waist.

Suddenly, your eyes are flying open, and you’re nearly screaming as you’re filled with two thick fingers.

“Mmmm, Bonnie, yer squeezing me so tight, and yer so wet. I can’t wait to break you on my cock.” he mumbles against your skin.

With the thought of you stretching around his cock, Johnny ups the ante, pumping while crooking his fingers to hit the spongey spot at the front of your tight passage just right and sucking on your clit like it was his favorite candy. He has you screaming in minutes.

Johnny’s fingers slow down to a gentle coaxing, and the suction of his mouth becomes gentle licks, helping you ride your orgasm down. He has wrung every drop of pleasure from you, leaving you relaxed and breathing heavily on the bed, thighs twitching with his gentle caresses. But he isn’t done with you yet.

Popping his wet fingers into his mouth and sitting up, Johnny moans at the taste of you.

Slapping your red, beard-chaffed thighs lightly with wet fingers, watching them jiggle, Johnny says, “Damn, lass, you taste so good. I could lay between your legs until I die.”

Not waiting for a response, Johnny slides out of his sweatpants and releases his erection. Your eyes widen, and a dull throbbing begins at the bottom of your stomach as you watch him slap against his taught stomach. He is huge—huger than you’re used to—not the longest, but certainly the widest; Johnny’d had to have the fattest cock you’ve ever seen, brownish in color with an angry red, drooling tip.

Noticing your look, Johnny says, “I ken, Bonnie, I ken. I’m a lot ta take, but we’ll make it fit.”

At this, Johnny shuffles back between your thighs, lifting your legs so they fit over his hips. Taking a hold of his dick, Johnny pumps himself a few times, smearing his pre-come around his cock. Then, he slides it through your wetness, teasingly bumping your clit as he does, just to see your pretty lashes flutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

And then he’s telling you to “Kepp those pretty eyes on me, lass,” using one hand to stroke your overheated cheek.

Your eyes snap open at his gentle command; the air of confidence and authority lacing his gravelly voice catches your attention through your haze. You would do anything he said—jump off a bridge, go running into a house fire, or set your home ablaze—if he used that tone.

Now that he has your attention, he can finally get to splitting you open. Looking down at where you two meet, Johnny places his dick at your weepy entrance with barely-there pressure, causing him to groan slightly. He shakes his head to clear it before looking back at your eyes.

“Can I, Bonnie? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

A weak “mhm” is all you get out before the pressure builds, and he’s slipping his thick cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes slam shut at the burning sensation, hands latching onto his muscular thighs and leaving crescent moon-shaped indents. One of his hands comes up to tap your cheek, reminding you to keep your eyes open. Then he’s bottoming out, curving just so that his head hits a spot you didn’t think existed.

Johny sits, fully embedded into your fluttering cunt, breathing through his nose so as to not cum already. He leans down, pelvis hitting your clit, and catches you in a searing kiss, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him stretching your gummy walls. When you start bucking your hips against him slightly, he pulls back from the kiss while pulling his hips back slightly before he’s sharply thrusting back into your wet heat. Your sharp exhale spurs him on, eyes lighting up in victory and a smirk curling at his lips.

You can barely hold on as he rapidly picks up a punishing pace. Johnny angles his hips just right to consistently slam into the spot that makes you see stars, his hips slamming into yours with loud slapping sounds. Your whole body jiggles with his movements, entrancing Johny with the subtle movements. He knows he won’t last long, being as pent up as he is. But you’re close, too; he can tell with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can feel how hard yer squeezing me, Bonnie,” he rasps, “I ken yer close…cum for me.”

Johnny’s words, along with his authoritative tone and the hand he snuck between your sweating bodies to rub at your clit have your back arching and eyes snapping shut. A primal scream of his name leaves your throat while you’re cumming so hard that all you can see is white, and you lose your hearing.

You’re squeezing Johnny so tight he’s almost pushed out of your wet heat, walls spasming so hard and so frequently. Your almost unintelligible moans of his name are what send him over the edge, folding him in half so he’s growling his release in your ear. His eyes are shut tight, blue eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his hips twitch sloppily as he rides out his orgasm, painting your innermost walls white.

The world returns to focus as your hearing returns, and you flutter your eyes open blearily. The room, once a blur of shadows and soft glow, slowly sharpens into view. The sounds of heavy breathing and the rhythmic beat of your heart fill the air.

Johnny, now pulling out and watching hiss cum dribble out of your fluttering cunt, is a silhouette against the ambient light, his features softened in the aftermath. A gentle calm settles over the space as the echoes of passion subside. The soft illumination bears witness to the aftermath of an unexpected encounter that unfolded in the shadows and soft glow of the night.

The night's warmth, both in the embrace of Johnny and the aftermath of shared intimacy, provides a comforting cocoon. As you lie cuddled up with him, the realization of how utterly fucked you are dawns upon you — you've grown attached in just one night. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny’s having the same thoughts as he cradles your soft body closer.

As the night deepens, you and Johnny find yourselves entangled in each other's arms, sharing the same thoughts of attachment and connection. The soft glow of the room envelops you, casting a gentle light on the intertwined figures lost in the quietude of slumber.

The echoes of the night linger in each of your dreams. As you fall asleep in the embrace of shared warmth, visions of a life together dance through your subconscious. The dreams weave a tapestry of shared moments and whispered promises.

The room, once a witness to the intensity of passion, now cradles you both in the tranquility of sleep, the words once muttered by the Scot, “Imagine being loved by me,” ringing in your ears.

taglist: @tinygarbage @pamasaur @cool-iguana

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madelynraemunson · 5 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club Series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors don’t you even dare

Chapter 013: Accept The Risk

“Are you ready for a good pounding, baby?” — Beat it Upright by Korn

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012*, 013** , 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

NSFW — aggressive!dom!eddie x submissive!shy girl, eddie’s daddy kink alive and well, size kink, spanking, dirty talk, overstimulation/crying, slapping, biting, hair pulling, choking, degrading, praise, wholesome fluff if you squint, unprotected p in v (unless you want a crotch goblin in this economy, WRAP IT TF UP), cream pie, squirting

word count: 2.8k words

“Don't pretend you're not fucking freaky, baby.”

♡

The door to the dressing room bursts open shortly after you shut it.

In storms an enraged Eddie, appalled that you shut the door in his face after he had walked so closely behind you. You attempt to act clueless, counting your tips and separating them to help tip out the staff in the back.

"Here's uhh, 20 percent for Argyle," you announce. "20 for Nance, 20 for you. I’m sorry, I almost forgot to tip you guys out.”

Eddie crinkles the money in hands, eyes refusing to leave you at this point in time.

His tear-ridden stare is all-telling. First, he’s had to hear you get fucked senseless by Steve, one of his best friends. Now, he had to watch you dry hump Henry into literally the next day — another best friend of his — in an outfit he chose for you and bought with his own money.

You really did it this time.

"And that just leaves me with my tips," you add tossing your tote bag over your shoulder. "Also helped Johnny close the register. Everyone else dipped out to bar hop.”

"And you're clocked out?" he musters.

"Well duh, if everything's done."

You're given no time to react when Eddie lunges at you, causing your bag to sulk to the floor, the straps burning your forearms on the way down. You begin to levitate upwards by the virtue of Eddie's throttling grip.

"OW!" you yelp. "What the fuck, dude?!"

Eddie cinches his arm around your waist and hoists you over his shoulders. His breathing is hard, audible grunts escaping from all the tossing you around like a rag doll. You don't attempt to wriggle free, because if you did you feel like your forehead would meet the hard floor.

You smack Eddie’s shoulder blade.

“Put me down, Munson!” you order. “I’m not playing.”

“Yeah?” he grits his teeth. “Well neither am I.”

It's like a carnival ride in the dark. You can't see in front of you or off to the side. You just know the room is spinning. Fast strobes of light shooting across your periphery as you try to make up the orientation of the room.

It is when you hear beads being pushed to the side, that you know Eddie has brought you into a private show room.

Without mercy, but ensuring you landed safely, Eddie drops you from his grasp. You flail recklessly onto the couch. It’s not until you’re out of his grip that you realize how freeing his restraint felt.

You prop yourself up with your elbows, blowing loose strands of your hair away from your face.

"Ow?" you repeat, this time flatly.

"You're insufferable," Eddie hisses, berating you with his injurious glare. His gaze fixes on you as one of his hands ventures about his own body, undoing his belt with just one quick swipe.

"Says the one who literally just tossed me into a dark room," you snap. "Have you any etiquette?"

"Shut up," he demands.

If Eddie was hard to read before, he’s certainly not hard to read now. Now it’s time for him to get even.

The silver parts of the accessory clinks as he chucks it onto the floor, eyes glued on you the entire time. You gulp as he edges closer.

He stops in front of you.

"That set was for my eyes and my eyes only, by the way,” he hisses. “Thought I told you that.”

“Hm, was this before or after you told me you didn’t want to commit?” you challenge him. “I don’t belong to you, Eddie, remember?”

“You got me there,” Eddie shakes his head bitterly.

He stoops down to your level, getting down on his knees. Eddie's unbelievably close now, a strand of his curly hair dangling in your face as he exhales hot air down your neck.

"Do you really wanna play that game?" he asks. There's a riddle in his question. "Do you?"

Your eyes meet his. They're darker than usual, not that you believed that such thing was possible. Dark. Longing. Frustrated. Forewarning.

And for a second, they flicker back to the gaze you're used to again. Loving. Careful. Respectful. Like the look of concern he flashed you when you were cross-faded in his van, asking for him to stay a while. Like the time he made sure you were good enough to dance after being assaulted by a customer. Like the time Billy came storming in, causing you to spiral into a full-blown panic. THAT look of concern.

Are you sure this is what you want?

It is.

"Yes," you gulp, consenting to whatever wrath of his you’re about to face. "Yes, I do actually."

And just like that, the animalistic gaze returns.

His throat bobs when he swallows as he verifies with you one last time.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "I said what I said."

Back to the scheduled programming it was.

It’s not long until Eddie throws himself on top of you, smacking his eager lips onto yours like it’s oxygen. You hungrily bury your hands in his hair, moaning as your tongue inserts itself into his mouth to lock itself with his.

Eddie groans and moves a hand to your throat, issuing a light squeeze while he grinds himself against you.

“Fuck,” you mewl, the second your lips break apart. “Needed you so bad, Eds. Needed you all night.”

“You aggravate me, you know that?” Eddie sighs, burying his head into your chest, kissing along your tits as he does so. He strokes your bicep lovingly as he kisses you.

“Yeah, well the feeling’s kinda mutual,” you attempt to giggle as tears of overwhelm trickle down your face. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Do you,” Eddie pants as he unbuttons and tugs at your set. “Remember Heather? My lady friend.”

You nod between breaths. “Mhm. Why?”

“She — never ended things with me.”

There’s a slight pause on your end. “Oh?”

“She never ended things with me,” Eddie continues. “I ended things with her. All cuz I wanted to get to know you and it wouldn’t be fair if I kept her around.”

Your bottoms are off now and the top of your set hangs loosely at your abdomen. You chuck it off of you instantly, refusing to look away from Eddie as you do so.

“Wh-” is all you can get out.

“Why do you think I was so grumpy and irritated that morning?” Eddie questions, moving his lips up to press against your neck. “Huh? I was upset that Harrington got to you first. Didn’t wanna get in between you guys though…”

“Eddie…”

“And inviting you to BYOB night?” Eddie pants as his free fingers curl around your inner thigh. “I only ever invite the people closest to me. You were the only outlier that night. Feel like Steve knew right then and there something was up. But he chose to ignore it.”

His fingers trace your entrance but he keeps them there, kissing up and down your neck as you breathe deeply under him. You pout and tug at his jeans, aching to have him inside of you this very instant.

“And I didn’t intend on fighting your brother that night, and for that I’m so sorry,” Eddie sighs. “But I saw how scared you looked and how aggressive he was being with you, and I knew if I didn’t intervene it was going to be the last time I saw you.”

Eddie hands cup your breasts as he nibbles at your ears, sucks at your temples, and leaves gentle bites at the crook of your neck.

“I’m avoidant, and stupid, and dismissive, and a fucking idiot,” Eddie admits to you. “But I care about you so much. Believe me, Hargrove. I know how this shit looks. I’m just so scared.”

“Eddie…” you soothe him. “Eddie. Just shut up and fuck me already.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he hears you say that. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief to oblige.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Grabbing you by the hips, he shifts to reposition you, sprawling you out on top of him. You grind yourself atop his stiff erection as his hands caress every inch of your body. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you unbutton his jeans and pull them down with his boxers, exposing his throbbing cock right underneath your already soaking cunt.

A small string of pre-cum leaks from his scarlet tip.

“How bad do you want me baby?” Eddie coos.

“So bad,” you whimper. “As bad as I was tonight.”

He can’t help but laugh. When you say that, Eddie’s tongue rolls sneakily around in his cheek.

“That’s really bad,” he comments with a shit-eating grin.

“Mhm,” you nod innocently.

“You know what happens to really bad girls though, right?”

“They get punished?” you guess. “AH!”

You’re given absolutely zero time to react again when Eddie slams himself into you. God, he’s huge. God, he burns. You wince in the most pleasure-filled pain you’ve ever been in your entire life as Eddie shushes you, thrusting slowly into your heat as he fingers your mouth.

“Good girl,” he encourages you. “That’s a good girl. Being so brave for Daddy, huh?”

You struggle to even nod, diverting all your focus to accommodating Eddie’s length and girth. He proceeds to rock into you slowly, intertwining a hand with yours with one hand, and letting you suck hard on his fingers with the other.

Slowly, Eddie slides them out of your mouth so they can enclose themselves around your neck. You whimper as he does so. And slowly but surely on your end, you feel yourself stretching to make room for him, the slickness of your wet, and already sore pussy aiding in the process.

“I need to piss you off more often,” you joke. “If it gets me punished like this.”

Eddie groans. “Please don’t. I hate seeing others have you.”

He pulls you into him and repositions you onto your belly, and lining himself up behind you.

“My two best friends?” he demands in anguish. He swoops in to plant gentle kisses against the back of your neck. “Baby, really?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how sorry you’re about to be.”

“FUCK!” you squeal as Eddie deals you a rough spank across your asscheek.

He smiles grimly as you moan into him, arching your back as you beg for his cock to ruin you some more.

“I need you Eds,” you groan impatiently, grinding against him like a cock-drunk whore. “Eddie? Daddy? Master? What do you want me to call you?”

“Sweetheart, you can call me what you want,” Eddie kisses up your jaw. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you.”

He shoves his fingers back into your mouth as he inserts himself into you from behind. You mewl as you take in that familiar stretch, surrendering to Eddie as he proceeds to drill into your cunt relentlessly. The screams you let out as you unravel underneath him are like music to his ears.

No one has ever been able to hit it this good. No one ever made you feel this good. Not your first love. Not your last boyfriend. Not Henry during the lap dance. Not even King Steve.

"Who does it like me?" Eddie asks. "Huh? Who fucks you better than me?”

"No one," you admit as you wail, hands gripping tightly onto the throw pillow on the couch. You pull it towards your chest to hug it for comfort. It’s like you can feel Eddie in your stomach. “N-no one — FUCK — no one does it like you, Eddie."

He twists your hair in his hands and pulls you upwards towards him.

“Who does this pretty little pussy belong to?” he demands. “Hm?”

“Y-you,” you answer. “It belongs to you.”

A shockwave spreads across your body as Eddie quickens his pace, making sure to hit the spongey part of your heat with every thrust. He stops at the last one, making sure it stays there just a while longer.

“Oh, shit!” you moan, digging your nails into the couch. “Fuuuck, Eddie…”

“I know…I know…” he soothes you. Eddie sarcastically shakes a head at himself at the crook of your neck. “That was a mean one, huh?”

Tears well in your pleasured-filled eyes.

"Aw, she's crying," he mocks you before giving your hair another firm tug. "Can't take me, sweetheart? Can't take my cock?"

Eddie's words, albeit cruel, were deemed just for the moment by his reassuring touches. The delicate rubbing was all you needed to know that it was him asking, "Are you okay? I can stop if you'd like."

But despite being fucked out, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. You wanted more, you needed more. To make up for all the ‘almosts’ that there had been. And there were a lot.

“Don’t stop, Eddie!” you chant. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh FUCK, right there…”

You feel him smiling to himself as he places you in a headlock between his forearms. With the newfound leverage he acquired, he pistons himself into you sloppily, a pleasure-filled groan escaping from his mouth as well.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie moans. “Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Suddenly he pulls out.

You whine at the sudden retreat, turning and staring up at him with disapproving eyes. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry,” his kind smile reappears, only to be eclipsed again by that same dark gaze. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He releases you to pin you onto your back so he can pound you in missionary.

As he pistons his hips into you, Eddie whispers to you sloppy somethings, saying how much of a brat you’ve been all day and how he’s nowhere close to being done with you yet.

You feel a euphoric stretch as the crook of your heels dangle over Eddie’s shoulders. He reinserts his fingers into your mouth to muffle your screams. The overstimulation of all your senses are sure to drive you over the edge.

“Wish Henry could see this,” he tuts. “He’s probably fucking his fist right now at the thought of you.

“Ah!” you whimper. “You’re gonna make me cum, Eddie.”

Your core starts to tighten and your walls follow suit, suctioning themselves tighter around Eddie as your muscles squirm and pulsate against him.

“Little does he know his best friend and boss is fucking your brains out instead,” he heaves. “Fucking drilling you into this couch hm?”

He chokes you as he sneers, fucking you deep with a pace so fast you’re sure you’re seeing stars. Was this really happening? The air fills up with profanities and the sounds of skin slapping together, wet sloshes accompanying said slaps. You continue screaming Eddie's name as your legs dangle in the air. Eddie cups your breasts for maximum leverage.

"So fucking needy," he comments. "Never seen anybody get so dumb over some cock.”

"Fuck," you mewl. This was it this time. His words are going to send you over the edge. “I’m gonna cum, I’m really gonna cum. FUCK, EDDIE!”

"I am fucking, baby," he smirks down at you smartly. "Daddy's got you. All you gotta do is take me."

“Shit,” you squeal. “Holy fucking shit, I’m cumming!”

"Take it," he orders. "Take it like the slut you are."

"Oh, god,” your vision starts to blur. “I-I’m Daddy’s Little Cumslut.”

"Yeah, you are," he agrees, kissing your tear-filled cheek. "Mine and only mine.”

And suddenly, your legs tremble profusely as your body gives out on you. Eddie fucks you through your orgasm, not seeming to care when you drench his abdomen and thighs with your pleasure-filled juices.

“Holy fucking shit, I just squirted,” you gasp.

“Fuck yeah you did, baby!” Eddie chuckles. He kisses your forehead one more time. “Fuck, I’m getting close too.”

And soon Eddie’s moans fill the air as he finishes inside you. You grind your hips against his and ride him from underneath, milking him of the last of his seed. Eddie’s dick twitches inside of you in pleasure.

Eddie shoots you a hazed-filled look, one of adoration and lust.

“I’m really gonna let you ruin my life, huh?” he says as he shakes his head.

“It depends. Do you accept the risk?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” he stares down at the puddle you two created have created on the couch. One mixture was already dripping down from the couch to the floor, and the other mixture is just now oozing out of you, now that he’s pulled out. “And did.”

You two help each other up from the couch and scatter to find the clothes you’ve aimlessly tossed around the room. When you’re fully dressed, you scan the room for some paper towels, so you can wipe away any evidence of you and Eddie staying behind long past closing.

"Might as well clock in," Eddie banters. "We've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

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