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toxicanonymity · 7 months

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The Raid.

2.7k, dark!Javi P x f!reader | SERIES MASTER

There's now a HOT GIF by @iamasaddie and HOT ART by @bonezone44. PT. 2. | THE RAID masterlist

Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t see before. Peña follows your eyes, looks down at himself, then sighs. "Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown. He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his.

WARNINGS: I8+, canon-typical violence, drug abuse, dubcon blow job (power dynamic / transactional / drugs), jacking off, fingering, cumplay, manhandling, handcuffs, gunplay, degradation, kidnapping

A/N: Yes, it's raider Javi. . . inspired by the original raider Joel fic (not the whole series and it will not progress the same way). Tysm 🖤

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You're lying on the sofa in your boyfriend Jack's slum house while he and a buddy count stacks of cash on the kitchen table and bitch about their street dealers. It’s a typical night. One friend is still playing grand theft auto on the floor. Every surface is littered with bottles, takeout boxes, crumpled up foil, and baggies. You're laid out on the sagging sofa, scrolling your phone, about to drift off.

There's a loud rap at the door. "DEA." Your heart jumps to your throat and you jolt upright.

"FUCK," Jack yells and grabs his gun off the table. "Go to the bedroom, you'll be fine," he tells you as he heads to the kitchen and out the back. You sit there in disbelief that he's leaving you. The DEA doesn't knock again before busting down the door. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS."

Several agents swarm the house, wearing bullet-proof vests, crouching as they prowl around, pointing their guns.

Two men approach you while a few more agents mill around the house.

"Don't let anyone leave," says a mustached man on his way through the house.

"Got it, Peña," confirms one of the men standing in front of you. Peña nods, glances at you, then sees Jack running away and rushes out after him.

Both of the men in front of you are big. One taller, one more muscular. They look at you like you're a piece of meat. They guard you for a few minutes, keeping their guns trained on you. They talk about you like you're not there.

"Pretty girl,” the tall one says.

The other man takes a step back, craning to see out the window before answering, "we got time, Ed." Ed, the taller one, puts his gun in his vest and unbuckles his belt. Meanwhile, you bolt off the sofa and try to dodge the other man on your way to the door. A third agent catches you and shoves you back to the original two, asking "Lose something'?" He sticks around.

Ed, with his pants still unbuckled, slaps you across the face with the back of his hand. It stings, but you laugh at him as if it doesn’t hurt.

With that, the newest man steps forward and raises his gun to your head. You flinch and your courage drains away. "Clothes off, he demands." You look to the door for help, but no one's coming. Yet another agent is making his way over. Your'e shaking as you strip down to your underwear with four men now facing you.

Ed lewdly grabs his crotch. "Woulda been a whole lot happier with this." Then he brings his gun to your face and prods your cheek. "But let's see what this pretty mouth can do."

. . .

A few minutes later, you’re relieved to hear voices and footsteps outside. Peña skids through the door, panting. He removes a pair of aviators as he takes in the scene. Under his green bullet proof vest, his tan shirt is darkened with sweat. His brow furrows at you in your underwear with the barrel of a gun in your mouth.

"Dejenla, pendejos," (leave her alone, assholes) Your heart flutters with appreciation as they slowly back away.

"She tried to run," one says. Peña points his gun at them, arms straining his sleeves. The men back away obediently. "Outside. All of you," he tells them calmly but sternly. They disperse, slowly and sheepishly. "NOW," he booms. They leave the door cracked. “Cerrado” (Closed), Peña snaps, and they shut the door.

When the door closes, it’s just you and Peña. You reach for your shirt on the sofa to put it back on, but he points his gun at you. "No. Don't fucking move." He’s still catching his breath. He walks backwards, keeping his gun fixed on you as he makes his way to the front door. He reaches behind himself and locks the deadbolt, then holds the gun with both hands again.

"You wanna go to jail?" He asks and you shake your head no. He approaches you in no hurry, still aiming the gun at you."Cause that's what's s'posed to happen."

You look into his big, brown eyes, trying to connect with something.

"Here’s what happens," he starts, his breath still somewhat labored. "I take what’s mine and the DEA’s. . .”

You nod.

“and when I let them back in, they take what they want.” He gestures to the drugs and money on the table, then wipes his brow. "So. . ." He takes a moment to breathe, then raises his eyebrows. "you want them to take what they want," he gestures his gun down your body. "Or want me to take you in?" He wets his lips and his eyes fall to your bra for a moment.

"Neither,” you plead.

He sighs and finally lowers his gun. He uses his left sleeve to wipe his brow but the sleeve is almost too short. His hairline is matted with perspiration. He bends forward and braces his hands on his thighs to look at you, right hand holding the gun against his jeans.

"Here's what we're gonna do. . ." His face is tense, but his voice is low and soothing. "We're gonna make a deal, aren't we?" He nods. He wets his lips and looks you over. You nod back, just barely. Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t notice before.

Peña follows your eyes, looks down at his pants, then sighs.

"Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown.

He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his.

"Be a good girl for me," he says. "And we'll see what I can do."

You nod.

“You can call me Javi,” he offers, and you tell him your name. Your wallet is right there anyway.

"Can I put this away?" He asks, holding up his gun. You nod. "Nowhere to run," he warns you as he slips the gun into his vest. He adjusts himself then braces both hands on his thighs again and hardens his face. "Try something, and I'll let them back in for an hour, then cuff you myself. ¿Comprende?"

You nod again.

"Dime que comprendes" (tell me you understand).

"Yes," you confirm. "Entiendo." (I understand).

"Que bueno, pobrecita" (Good). He lets his eyes fall down your body hungrily. "How should we make this deal official?"

You reach for his pants. He puts his hands out of the way and rests them loosely on his hips. His pelvis pushes forward as you palm the warm, ample bulge in his tight jeans. The front of his shirt has come slightly untucked from his foot pursuit, exposing a sliver of tummy that expands with his breathing as his cock hardens under your palm. You catch a waft of his sweat and it sends a pang between your legs. You give him a slow, sensual rub with pressure.

“Mm, good girl.”

His massive hand comes to your face. He grips your jaw and makes you look at him. You pause your hand then continue rubbing him and you feel yourself getting wetter. Then he squeezes your mouth open and looks at your teeth. His face is inches from yours and he reeks of tobacco. "Not bad. . . at least you stay away from the pipe,” he raises an eyebrow. He looks at the side table of the sofa, littered with empty prescription bottles. "How long have you been using?"

You don't answer. You slowly rub him and let your mind escape to a world where this is just a nice dick hardening warmly under your palm.

"When's the last time you were clean more than a week?"

Unsure what he wants to hear, you say, "Maybe a year."

"And how long have you been with that jackass?"

"I'm not." You're not. Not anymore. Not after this.

"Mm-hm," Peña nods judgmentally and you feel a wave of shame when you see things through his eyes - a trap house and a loser boyfriend. "How does he fuck you?"

You don't answer.

"Does he make you cum?" His hips push forward and the outline of his tip presses against your palm.

“What do you want,” you snap defensively and his dick twitches under your hand.

“You need to figure that out,” he says flatly. You meet his eyes and see desire. In different circumstances–like if he wasn't such an asshole–you'd hop on this man's dick in a flash, so you try to pretend he’s just a guy.

You reach for his belt buckle. His lips pout and his eyebrows go up with a tilt of his head. “Not a bad idea.” You unbuckle his belt, then unbutton and unzip his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear. His dark hair is trimmed close, almost shaven. His cock is thick, tan, and gorgeous. You work to free him from his restrictive pants, and it’s quite a package you’re looking at.

His dick bobs heavily right in front of you, almost grazing your nose. You take it in your hand, thumb resting on its crown. You gently squeeze and admire it and it’s not long until he’s fully hard. Then you glance up at him and he’s looking at your mouth. You hover your lips near the tip and glance up at him again. He gives a go-ahead nod. You suck the tip into your mouth. Your tongue flattens under his shaft, then curls around the smooth, veiny skin. Holding his dick in your mouth, you tug his pants down lower and take out his balls before returning a hand to his cock. His balls are on the bigger side of average, symmetrical and only a little fuzzy.

“Ohh, pobrecita.” His voice is soft and dark, like Duvalin (nutella).

Desire stirs between your legs. He sucks in air through his teeth as you suck more of him into your mouth, and his tip nudges the back of your throat. You cup his balls in your free hand and he lets out a low, quiet moan.

“Tan suave, tan mojado. . .Tu boquita inmunda” (So soft, so wet, your unclean little mouth).

You give his balls a light squeeze and his hands go to the back of your head, one following the other. He pulls your head down on his cock.

"You're a good little slut," He pants and thrusts his hips, his length sliding down the back of your throat– you try not to gag. "Just need somethin' in this mouth to keep you outta trouble." Tears sting your eyes from the gag reflex. "Look at me, pobrecita."

It's not easy but you try to look up. You watch him study your face for a few seconds as he fucks it. Then you can't suppress it anymore. You gag and pull your head away, afraid you might actually retch. His grip relaxes, but one hand stays on the crown of your head. He takes his cock in his hand. He kneels down on the floor and with his free hand, begins to take your panties down. You're suddenly very aware of how wet and throbbing you are from having his dick in your mouth. He's soon aware, too, but he doesn't make a move to get on the sofa with you. He strokes himself with your saliva. "Open your legs."

You obediently spread them but not far enough. He grabs breast and shoves your upper body back into the couch cushion, then he turns his attention to your cunt. He looks at it studiously and knits his brows.

“Que lástima” (what a shame), he mutters as he admires your glistening hole. “I’m a generous lover, too.”

“¿Que lástima?” you ask.

He shakes his head apologetically at your pussy, then meets your eyes. "Won't stick my dick in junkie cunt, sweetheart."

He returns his gaze between your thighs and wets his lips. “Juicy as it looks.” You huff and begin to close your legs. He places his massive hands on your knees, spreads them again, then runs his hands up your thighs and spreads them more. He tilts his head as his thumbs reach the creases of your thighs. Then he plants his thumbs on your outer lips and spreads you open to the cool air. His nose twitches as he examines you. Your clit throbs and you gush wetness. He puffs his cheeks out with an exhale. His dick is still hard between his legs, and he’s not touching it – his composure and self control is a little psycho.

He gathers your slick, sniffs it with a barely visible snarl, and adds it to your saliva on his cock. Then he fists his cock while staring between your legs. His free hand reaches up to tear your bra down on both sides, and he lets out a quiet moan at the sight of your tits. He jerks himself with his right hand and his left hand goes between your legs.

You're laid back on the sofa with your hips at the edge and he's kneeling between them. He runs the backs of two digits through your folds, then inserts his thick middle finger and rotates his hand palm up. He pumps it twice and adds a second finger.

He pumps himself and fingers you and when he's about to cum, he points his cock right between your legs. He cums all over your mound, dripping down through your folds. He wipes his tip off on your inner thigh. Then, his massive left hand returns between your legs, sliding through his own mess. He fucks it into you with two fingers. He watches your face with a subtle, devious flicker behind his stare as he keeps fingering his cum into you.

The lewdness ofi t makes your walls tighten around his thick digits. He curls them so his hand is rubbing your clit and his brow furrows as you begin to come undone. Your body tenses and your hips lift into his hand. Your back digs into the threadbare cushion. You bite your lip but fail to suppress a moan. He sucks in a deep breath watching you cum.

“Good girl.” He withdraws his fingers and brings them to your mouth. You suck off the salty, tangy blend and swallow it.

He gently pats your cunt. "This is mine, now," he nods, then clenches his jaw and looks back and forth between your eyes. "We’re gonna get you clean, pobrecita. Entonces puedo usarla" (Then I can use it). Then he stands up and puts his cock back in his pants. "Put your clothes on, let’s go," he says. He picks them up off the sofa and drops them in your lap.

Javi is watching you get dressed when someone knocks at the front door. Peña moves toward the door, and on instinct you start to make a break for the back exit, but he sees you in the corner of his eye. “Ay, putita,” (little slut) he mutters as he bolts toward you. He catches up just as you'ved opened the door. His massive hands grab your arms roughly from behind, and he shakes you. "You were doing so fucking good," he spits through gritted teeth as he wrangles you back into the kitchen. He slams you face first up against the fridge and pins you with his left forearm while he grabs his cuffs.

"You asshole. You're really taking me in? On what??"

He regains his composure and brings his mouth to your ear in a near whisper. "Not to jail.”

"Then where are you–"

His voice is deep and quiet. "Callate, pobrecita." (Be quiet). He closes the cuffs, then tightens them. "It's for your own good."

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If you like this, consider raider Joel (read warnings).

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Thank you so much for reading and engagement!! Your support and interaction really keeps me going when other things drain me and drag me down. I love you guys.

Note: In general, if someone else’s work inspires yours, please share their work and give a shoutout.

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#raider!javi #raider!javier peña #dark!javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #tw dubcon #cw drugs #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #dark!javi #dark!javi p #the raid ☠️

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Hunt

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Warnings: guns, kidnapping, major character death!! LIKE SERIOUSLY MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

guy's im so sorry for this one

Series Masterlist

Carlos watched the video again and again. He analysed anything he could from it, but there wasn't a lot to go on. It hurt to watch, seeing his pretty little wife in such a state. He watched it to the point he could see the bump forming. Their baby was growing. Through all of this, their baby was still growing.

He gave his phone to Lando, who had his best men taking a look at things. If anybody could find where the video had come from, it was them.

"Hello, Sainz. I believe I have something that belongs to you," the man in the video had said. Carlos couldn't see his face, just his wife on the floor.

He nearly snapped his phone in half at the sight of her. On the floor, a dishevelled mess. Hair greasy and matted, eyes bloodshot and tears staining her face.

"Now, what I want is simple. Leave two million pounds in a suitcase outside of the Mirabelle House hotel and it shall be collected at a time of my choosing. You have twenty-four hours to drop off the suitcase and retreat back to the Norris house. If the suitcase isn't there in the allotted time, I'll put a bullet in her pretty little head. I'll be watching."

The video zoomed in one Y/N, on her face as she sobbed. She looked so broken down and Carlos's heart was breaking.

This shouldn't have been the first time he saw his pregnant wife with a baby bump. It shouldn't have been from this video.

"Sir," Called one of Lando's men, striding towards them. He was a tall man that easily towered over Lando, but Lando was still much more powerful than him. It was clear by the way Lando stood tall and the man had his shoulders slumped. "We've traced the video back to a house maybe five minutes away from the Mirabelle House hotel."

"Great," said Lando, sitting back on the sofa.

Carlos just stared at him. They knew where Y/N was, yet Lando had sat back down, like he didn't care. "What the fuck are you doing?" He roared, that rage he had felt when Y/N first disappeared still there.

Sitting around for four days didn't help. Carlos wanted to tear the city apart, but Lando and Oscar held him back. Waiting was all they could do.

"Go and fill a suitcase with money," he said, switching on the television.

"Lando," Carlos growled. He was going to lose his shit.

"He's probably watching through the cameras! If we act like we're getting the money together to take to Mirabelle House, we can go onto the house and get Y/N!" Lando insisted.

It was at times like this that Lando showed his maturity and intelligence. It was his father's doing, how he had trained his son before he had died, Carlos realised.

He let out a breath through his nose (embarrassed that he hadn't thought of this plan himself) and went upstairs. As he went, Lando shouted up to him, telling him where he could find a suitcase and enough money to make it look like they were putting two million pounds into the suitcase.

Carlos was smarter than that, though. He put his body between the security camera and himself as he placed the two hundred pounds with of fivers into a suitcase. The suitcase didn't look very full, but Carlos pushed the bills to the side to make it look much fuller than it was.

When the suitcase was ready, Carlos carried it downstairs. Lando had received the address from his men and the two of them, along with Oscar, headed out to the car. "What about weapons?" Asked Carlos as he opened the trunk of the car.

Lando tapped the side of his nose as he pulled up the carpet inside of the trunk up, revealing the guns.

"Do we have a game plan?" Asked Carlos as he armed himself.

Oscar placed a gun into the waistband of his trousers. "Lando and I will deal with any men while you push forward and search for Y/N," he said and walked over to the drivers seat of the car.

Lando and Carlos couldn't protest that. Oscar was probably the calmest out of the three of them, the least likely to accidentally send them into the back of another car.

After Lando pulled up the GPS, they set off. The first upbeat, happy pop song came on the radio and Carlos was quick to switch it off. They certainly weren't going to be dancing in the moonlight tonight.

They drove past the Mirabelle House hotel and Carlos couldn't help but look around. Was the man that stole his wife away here? Was he waiting to snatch the money and go back to Y/N?

Some of you may be wondering why isn't Carlos just paying him? He certainly had the money. But this was a tale as old as time. Carlos knew exactly what would happen if he was to hand over the money. As soon as the money was in the man's hands, there would be a bullet in his wife's head.

They pulled up in front of the house. It looked incredibly unassuming, a simple town house in the city. Three bedrooms, maybe.

Oscar parked the car as though this was a normal day, as though they weren't about to go and rescue his best friend. The three of them climbed out of the car, keeping their guns in the waistband of their trousers.

They walked up to the house, Oscar leading them. They couldn't ring the bell or bust down the door, not without threatening Y/N's safety. So, Oscar got down onto his knees and worked on picking the lock.

It was one of his many talents, something he had learnt before Webber had taken him in. In fact, it was one of the reasons why Webber had taken him in.

As Oscar worked on the lock, Carlos and Lando noticed a camera, pointing directly at them. Fuck, that couldn't be good.

But, luckily for the three of them, the kidnapper was too busy watching the cameras in the Norris and the Sainz households. A grim smile had spread across his face as soon as he'd seen Carlos put the money into the suitcase and drag it out of the house. Soon enough they'd be back and he could go and get the money.

"Your fucking husband," he laughed as he looked at Y/N, the gun he was going to use to get rid of her in his lap.

Suddenly there was a commotion from up stairs. With no time to grab Y/N from her cell, he held his gun up, pointing it at the door.

Up stairs, Lando and Carlos shot the men waiting in the stairs. It wasn't a part of the plan, for Carlos to stay behind and deal with the men, so Oscar pushed forward.

It didn't matter that they weren't following the plan, thought Oscar as he pushed on. Aside from the two men on the stairs, there didn't seem to be anybody else in the house. But Oscar still kept his gun out as he made his way down to the basement.

It was just a hunch, her being down in the basement. The video had been dark and he couldn't really think of where else she would be.

The door at the bottom of the basement stairs were shut. Slowly and carefully, with one hand still holding his gun, Oscar pushed the door open.

A single shot cut through the frigid air of the basement.

Oscar didn't react right away. Red blossomed on the right side of his white shirt. And then his body dropped to the floor.

"That shot was meant for you," hissed the kidnapper as he turned back towards Y/N.

Y/N who's hands were covering her mouth. Y/N who couldn't believe what she had just seen. Y/N, who's best friends body was laying just a couple of feet away from her.

Suddenly, as the kidnapper reloaded his gun (he hadn't expected this, had loaded the gun with a single bullet for Y/N), somebody else came running down the stairs.

There was another shot and Y/N couldn't stop herself from screaming.

But her husband ran through the door as her kidnapper fell to the floor, dead.

His fingers wrapped around the bars of her cell as he reached towards her. "My darling wife," he whispered as Y/N grabbed a hold of him. One hand cradles her stomach as she stood up and rushed towards him. "How do I open this?" He asked, his voice calm as he pulled at the door of the cell. It didn't budge.

"There's a key. In his pocket," she said, her voice trembling.

Carlos searched the body, pulling a key out of a dead mans pocket. Neither of them had addressed the body of their friend on the floor.

As soon as he got the door open, Y/N ran into her husbands arms, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. "Oh, my love," he whispered as he kissed the side of her head. "Mi amor."

But then Y/N pulled away from him. She walked over to the body on the floor and fell to her knees. "Osc," she said, as if it would magically bring him back. Fat tears rolled down her cheek as she grabbed his hand. "Oscar."

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Carlos tried to pull her away. He was gentle, though. A harsh hand would never be laid on his wife again.

"No!" She suddenly screamed, throwing herself over the body. "I won't leave him! I can't leave him!" She screamed, eyes shut as she cried into Oscar's suit jacket.

With his touch still gentle, Carlos picked her up. "It's okay, mi amor," he said, holding her in his arms. "We'll come back for him, Lando and I."

Y/N simply cried as Carlos carried her away, carrying her out of the house.

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

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ilguna · 7 months

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Could I please get #1 from the 2nd list with finnick? Maybe it could be him leaving his SO in 13 while he goes to the capitol but this time he lives?

☼ broken promise (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, ehh gore, gun use.

wc; 2.6k

prompt; 1. "Just close your eyes. I will be here when you open them again."

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A scream lodges in your throat, waking you, rocketing you into an upright position so that you can breathe. With one hand, you grab your throat, gasping for the air that’s been deprived of you, heart beating wildly in your chest. The other is reaching out to his side of the bed to make sure that he’s still there, that he hasn’t left you like the nightmare led you to believe.

Your fingers come into contact with his thigh, you slide your hand over his skin, fingers slowly digging in. You close your eyes, and try to remind yourself that it wasn’t real, and Finnick’s not going to slip through your fingers. He’s here, he’s right next to you.

“(Y/n)?”

You look over at Finnick, finding his eyes on you. His head is turned over his shoulder, one eye closed and the other one barely open to keep himself awake. You loosen your grip on his leg, most likely the cause of his wake.

“Sorry, Finn.” You murmur.

“What’s the matter?” He mumbles, beginning to roll over to face you.

“I’m fine.” You brush his hair out of his face. It’s getting long, he hasn’t cut it since the reaping.

“You’re not.” He says, voice raspy but sounding more awake. He grabs your arm, tugging at it slightly. “Come here.”

“It was just a nightmare, Finnick.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He says, pulling again.

You sigh, but scoot down in the bed, anyway. Finnick lifts the blanket up, arms out to make it easier for you to lay in them. He’s got his eyes closed, waiting for you. As soon as you’re as close as humanly possible, he drops the blanket and pulls you closer, chin on top of your head.

He’s warm, the exhaustion returns to your body slowly. It’s one of the curses of sleeping in the same bed as him. There will be times where he’s tired and needs a nap, but you’re fully rested. He’ll force you to cuddle him, and the next thing you know, the whole day has been wasted away because his body heat has made you drowsy.

However, this time, it’s different. It doesn’t take long for you to get to the brink of sleep, yet you never fall over the edge fully. Each time Finnick adjusts, you’re jolted awake. There’s something keeping you from reaching bliss, and you know exactly what it is.

How are you supposed to sleep when you’re afraid that Finnick’s going to join that stupid Capitol mission? You heard him talking about it with Haymitch a few days ago, and when you asked about it, Finnick told you that it was nothing to worry about. Except, you’re not that stupid.

You might have been caught up in your own problems here in District Thirteen, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t noticed his schedule changed a couple weeks ago. He’s not where he’s supposed to be during the day. You did a little prying, some sneaking around, collected the clues and had it put together by his own best friend.

Johanna admitted to you that they had been training the entire time. They found out about a rebel mission to storm the Capitol and seize President Snow’s mansion. It turns out that Finnick isn’t the only one that has been getting ready for this. Katniss, Johanna and Gale have been, too.

Only, Johanna can’t go because she failed the final test. Finnick passed.

You didn’t know how to react to the information she told you, besides standing there and staring into her eyes. She knows how much Finnick means to you—what the two of you have been through to get to this point. She didn’t think, throughout all these weeks, that it might’ve been smart to give you a head’s up that your fiance would be leaving on a suicide mission?

Is he ever going to tell you, himself?

Johanna knew you were mad, and she didn’t have any defense. She simply told you that she had advised Finnick to let you in on it, but the conversation never went on any further than that. Since then, you’ve been waiting for him to tell you. Especially since the hovercraft should be leaving any day now.

“You’re not sleeping.” Finnick suddenly mutters, you jerk slightly at the sound of his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it, my love?”

You press your lips together. “Promise me you’re not going to leave me, Finnick.”

“What makes you think that I’d leave you?” He asks, pulling you closer into his body. “I would never want that.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You whisper. “I want you to promise that you’re not going to leave this bunker to go on that mission, Finnick. And then I want you to keep it.”

“I promise I’m not going to go on the mission.” He says without hesitating. You can feel his fingers combing through your hair. “Just close your eyes, baby. I will be here when you open them again.”

The heavy feeling in your chest keeps you from believing him.

–

You cross your arms over your chest, teeth tightly grit together to keep from saying anything that might get you in trouble. Although, no words need to be said. The hard glare you’re giving Haymitch speaks a thousand words.

“Oh, (Y/n), what a pleasure.” Plutarch says, coming through an adjacent door. Behind him is President Coin, hair neatly straightened, eyes landing on you when Plutarch moves out of the way. “How are you?”

You give him a sarcastic smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Plutarch, really. It’s always fantastic to be around you. You simply have the best and most charming personality in this entire cement coffin, you know that?”

“(Y/n).” Haymitch warns.

“And I’m doing great, actually. I would be doing better if someone explained to me why the hell my fiance was allowed to get on a hovercraft to District Two.”

“I don’t believe you have clearance to be in here.” Coin says, coming down the steps.

“I should.” You tell her. “I don’t see a reason why you’d want to keep me out of here. Oh right, how else would you then go behind my back after everything I’ve done for you?”

“Who let you in this room?” Coin asks.

“I did.” Haymitch says. “She’s got a point. Why was Finnick allowed to train and she wasn’t?”

“That’s because Katniss and Johanna found out about the program we have, and then told Finnick about it. We didn’t have anything to do with him joining.” Coin stops a few feet away from you. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Miss (L/n).”

“And it didn’t occur to you once to let me in on something like that?” You ask her, not moving from where your feet are planted.

“If it helps any, Peeta wasn’t allowed to, either.” Plutarch says.

You press your lips together into an angry smile. “No, that doesn’t help.”

“We can’t do anything for you.” Coin has her hand outstretched toward the door.

Your jaw goes slack. “Is that right?” She doesn’t say anything. “Get Finnick Odair on the next hovercraft back here, now.”

“That’s not possible, (Y/n), and there’s no need to.” Plutarch tells you. “Finnick is part of a group called the Star Squad. They’ve already traveled to the main camp outside of the Capitol, it’ll take a full day for him to get back to District Two. Their jobs aren’t to fight, though, they’ll be traveling behind the main rebel lines. They won’t be put into any direct danger.”

“You better hope not.” You tell Plutarch. “If anything happens to him, I’ll make sure it haunts you for the rest of your fucking life.”

—

“Let me see!” You shout, slamming through the Command room’s doors. “I want to see it for myself!”

Several heads swivel in your direction, daring to remove their eyes from the screen in front of them to see who’s intruding. When they’re met with you, they look away, uninterested.

No one makes a move to escort you out of the room, despite the fact that Coin made it very clear that you weren’t going to be allowed into Command ever again. The doors swing shut behind you, locking you inside.

You drag your feet forward a couple of steps, watching a replay of what’s just taken place in the Capitol. It’s a video of the Star Squad, the group that you were told wouldn’t be put into any danger. There’s a voiceover from the Capitol, explaining to you what’s happening.

They had been trying to film a propo, when they set off a bomb in the middle of the colorful apartment’s courtyard. It blows off the squad leader’s legs, and you watch as they all scramble to regroup, and descend into chaos when black gel shoots from the street.

They make a run for it, trying to get into an apartment before the oil gets to them. A previously level-headed Peeta turns rabid, trying to kill Katniss. One of the trained squad members tries to save her, and in return, he gets kicked into another pod, where barbed wire strings him up above the street.

From there, it takes two people to get a hold of Peeta, where they drag him inside. You catch sight of Finnick, carrying someone over his shoulder, alive. Then, everyone else files in, except for Gale, who tries to shoot the soldier down from the wire. This is the last glimpse you get of the situation, before the camera goes black.

The Capitol reporter is able to identify Gale, Finnick, Peeta, Cressida, Katniss and a man named Boggs, by first name.

You watch in horror as the next clip begins to play. Peacekeepers line up on the roof of the building across from the one the squad ran into. Bombs are launched into the row of apartments, setting off a chain of explosions, and then the building collapses in on itself.

You can feel your heart drop.

It cuts away to a reporter, standing on the same roof the Peacekeepers were. Behind her, the apartment building is aflame. The firefighters work hard to control the flames. The reporter pronounces each person that was inside of that building, dead.

“Oh my god.” You breathe, hand clutching at your chest, beginning to hyperventilate.

They play this scene over and over, proud of their victory. The only time they stop is when a montage of Katniss begins. They talk of her rise to rebel power, and then proceed to tear her down, claiming that she deserved such a violent end.

The room begins to spin around you, an icy feeling spreads from your head down your chest and back, reaching for your legs. You try to hold back the tears that build in your eyes, but once the first one falls, it’s over. A loud sob escapes you as you take a step forward toward the screen.

You quickly change direction, stumbling to a desk with a computer and keyboard on it. You’re barely able to pull the trash can out from underneath it, before you’re vomiting up your entire breakfast and lunch. You can’t breathe. Between the hyperventilating, the tears, and the puke, you struggle to get more than a breath of air in you at a single time.

You sink to your knees, hands coming into contact with the cold cement. You cry for a few seconds, until it dissolves into a coughing fit, that has you gagging.

He’s dead. Your fiance is dead, and it’s been less than a week since he left for the Capitol.

The doors to Command open behind you. The sounds of boots scuffing on the ground is hardly audible over your sniffling. You tilt your head back, letting the tears roll down your chin, to your neck.

“(Y/n).” Someone says, coming to crouch next to you. A hand is placed on your back, between your shoulders, rubbing gently. You think it’s Haymitch. “You have to get out before Coin gets here.”

“I don’t care.” You whimper, “Let her. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters to me without him.”

—

Finnick survived.

He’s in the Capitol, waiting for your hovercraft to land so that he can be the first person you see when you step off. From what you’ve heard, he’s not even significantly hurt from his time navigating the streets and the sewers.

When they had first told you that he wasn’t dead and he’d successfully made it to the mansion alongside Katniss, about twelve hours ago, you thought they were playing a cruel joke on you. It wasn’t until they pulled up pictures of him in the aftermath, helping navigate the wounded around him, did you believe them.

There was no question about it, Coin didn’t even bother to put up a fight against you. You, Johanna and Haymitch were put on the first hovercraft that would be traveling to the Capitol. And you haven’t been able to sit still in your seat the entire time. It’s driven Johanna crazy enough to have Haymitch switch seats with her.

You reach for your engagement ring, twisting it on your finger. You should be landing any minute now. It’s only been a week or so since Finnick left you in Thirteen, but it’s felt like months. You went from having him, to losing him, and getting him back only a couple days later.

The hovercraft jerks suddenly as you land. Your fingers fly to the belt they advised for you to have on during the landing. You pull it off, getting to your feet. The pilots shout for you to stay back while they open the rear door. Nothing happens for the longest second, and then the door begins to creak and groan, sunlight flooding in through the cracks.

You start forward, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. When it’s about halfway down, you’re able to get your first glimpse of the hovercraft runway, and the people coming toward you. His bronze hair is shining in the sunlight, and he’s changed into street clothes, instead of wearing the bulky armor that he’d been pictured in.

The second the door touches the concrete, and the pilots tell you it’s safe to leave, you’re out the door and running in his direction. The people he’s with move away, expecting a large impact, while Finnick opens his arms widely, ready to embrace everything you have for him.

You slam into his body, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him so tightly, that you’re sure you’ll become one person. Finnick presses kisses on your forehead, temple, cheek, neck—anywhere he can touch skin. When you tilt your head back, he seizes your lips in a long kiss, that you have to force yourself to break apart from.

His face twists, eyebrows drawn in, about to ask you why you’ve pulled away like that, but you’ve already grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt, beginning to shake him. He grabs your arms, eyes widening.

“If you ever do that to me again, Finnick, I’ll leave you!” You shout at him, jerking his shoulders. “Do you understand? I will leave and never come back!”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n).” Finnick says, holding onto you. “I’m so—”

“How could you do that to me?” You sob, “You could’ve died!”

“I know.” He tells you, “It won’t happen again, honey. I promise you. And I’m going to keep it this time.”

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

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ladyelissarose · 8 months

Text

———————— 🚬

“Get on the ground you cunt!- I don’t care if you twisted your wrist that’s your problem later but your training comes first!!”

You winced in pain as your wrist madly throbbed, while you got down on all fours to bear crawl across the desert field with a rucksack holding 100lbs. The commander screaming at you was from a different base, but he had crashed here for the time being, and became your worst nightmare when he chose to train you during his stay.

Price agreed to it believing he was a good man, he had heard some good things about him, that he was very well disciplined and held high standards for everyone. So he thought that it would be good for you- not that you needed it, you were one of his best Sergeants, but an important mission was coming up, and he wanted you to be extra prepared.

But little did Price know, was that the commander was one of those men that hated women in the work field, believing they weren’t capable enough to lead such strong forces, he only saw them as cooks, cleaners, bedwarmers, and breeding machines. So when he saw you, a woman, holding a good rank and part of a good team, he made it his mission to break you to the point you got out.

But you were better than that, and it took very much to partially dent you, for under your soft smiles and gentle, kind acts towards others both great and small, a killing machine you were in disguise.

You held a grand amount of kills under your belt, and successful missions as well that you had led first hand. But your superior could care less, he hated your guts and wanted to be the one to take you down and hold all your titles in his hands.

For the past weeks no one had known what kind of hell he put you through, for he made you train in the hot sun, far away from base, and out on the field, saying he needed to toughen you up like a man- since you wanted to work in a place of a man.

Price would’ve been aware of your terrible treatment and absence as of lately, but that upcoming mission has him on loads of paperwork and preparation for his team.

That was until he was ready to gather his crew together to open up about the mission he had planned out once he got through with it.

The first he always sought out was you, as you were his youngest and most helpful in finding the rest for him. (Sometimes Ghost would lurk in the shadows and Soap and Gaz would hide off to play pranks on new recruits, and you happened to know every spot.)

Much to his dismay and after 3 hours of searching, he had finally found Ghost cleaning his weapons in the darkest corner of the barracks, Soap re-loading his bb gun like a desperate child as Gaz laid on his side with an agonizing face, holding his crotch- but.. he didn’t find you.

He let Ghost take place for the meanwhile to scold the boys as he insisted on finding you, maybe you were going through a rough time and didn’t want to show face, or were probably menstruating- he didn’t know, but either way he wanted to help where he could and pull you up and out.

He looked in every nook and cranny, corner and closet, even knocked on your door and entered politely, only to find it empty, also checked the showers and restrooms, walked backed into his office thinking he’d find you stealing from his stash of candy- yet no sight of you.

Lastly he stood outside, drained and concerned, with a hand on his hip as he let out a few puffs of air from his cigarette.

“Where are you bunny? Hmph..”

He cared for you deeply, and not being able to find you had his stomach churning with worry. He had started to panic a bit, worst thoughts of a kidnap situation or worse coming into his mind, but no.. that couldn’t happen, he had the best team that wouldn’t dare let a stranger lay a hand on you, they had their eye on you too-

So he needed to calm down and let his mind wander into purer thoughts, and think calmly.

“-urry up!! Move your ass you excuse of a soldier!!”

Price whipped his head towards the thundering voice of a commander, his mind snapping out of his thoughts as the voice he heard sounded awful- meaning degrading and overall dictating. He poked his head around and couldn’t find the source, until he heard a whimper,

“Ah! I can’t- Agh!!”

“THERE IT IS!!! You can’t do it!! Now how hard is it to admit it!?”

Price’s jaw just about dropped, his cigar following suit as it hit the ground it utter shock and disgust. Not disgusted by you, but by the commander that hovered over you with a finger in your teary and red face, and his foot over your wrist, pressing down on it. This- this is what infuriated Price.

“Oh shows over.”

Stomping angrily towards the commander Price didn’t let a second pass as he barked authoritatively,

“Commander, step away from the Sergeant now!!”

Jumping back like if he saw a ghost, the Commander stuttered as he saw the anger seeping out of Price’s ears,

“J-John-“

“It’s Captain to you- Sergeant, go. In my office.”

The tone Price used was deep and full of rage, his accent coming out thicker than ever. It shook you up a bit, but made you get on your feet in lightning speed, and run to his office without questions asked or daring to look back. You weren’t too sure exactly who he was angry at, but you hoped it wouldn’t be you as you were mentally distraught and exhausted- as well as physically drained and in pain.

“Now who the fuck do you think you are? Eh?”

Price was ready to rip a new one into this asshole, and more was coming as the commander scoffed, trying to play it off,

“Oh- come on. Just giving her extra training, can’t have a dainty woman on the field you know? At some point she will suffer.”

He had let out a dry chuckle, attempting to let his obnoxious behavior slide, but Price only growled,

“You’re not even half the soldier she is... The Sergeant is more of a man than you.”

The commander tsked in disbelief,

“You don’t mean that, we both know the Sergeant doesn’t belong here, she never will.”

Price would’ve killed the man instantly, choked him, stabbed, shot- just murder him for being so hateful and degrading.

But as a Captain, leading to be the best example for his team, he’d be the better man and person, to reply instead with a stern yet calm voice,

“You’ll be out of my face and off my base by the next hour, if not you’ll have Ghost leading you out and he isn’t nice. Don’t make me ask twice, it’s an order.”

Without sparing garbage another glance, Price turned around and spoke into his radio and informed Ghost,

“Ghost I have the commander that needs to be off my unit immediately. If he’s not gone in the next 20 minutes.. you have my permission to do as you please with him until he’s off of it. Am I clear?”

Ghost replied in an instant,

“Affirmative. I also found the Sergeant, though she said you ordered her to your office?”

Price nodded,

“I did, I found her out in the fields with the arsehole, so I sent her in. Deal with him before I do.”

“Will do Price. Don’t worry.”

Price was walking towards his office, trying to calm himself down so he could be present and calm for you, it was a tad hard to do as this piece of trash took it too far with you. Although it was the next sound he heard that turned his anger down completely and raised the new emotion- sympathy and guilt.

He could hear your soft sniffles and muffled groans from behind his office door, it made him upset with himself that he hadn’t found you sooner, or sought for you after your first absence or shift in behavior.

He’d do anything to take it all back, but now he must focus on the present, and help you out where you’d let him. He had to come to understand that you might reject his help after he let you be under the hands of such an evil dictator.

Upon opening the door your cries had stopped, and pleas came out instead as he made appearance in front of you,

“Captain please! I can explain-“

“Sit back down Sergeant.”

He didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but the pain in your face had him worried you were straining yourself more by standing up. But you had immediately listened to him, and took your seat with your head hung low, and your hand nursing your wrist, hiding the swelling and bruising.

Price could see how drenched you were in sweat, the bruising on your fingers and wrist, he couldn’t imagine what more damage was done to you on the inside.

Kneeling to the ground in front of you Price placed his hand on your knee, and began to speak kindly,

“You are kind, you are smart, and you’re a very very, beautiful and strong woman, dove-“

You frowned while the tears grew rapidly, refusing to look at him,

“No-“

He raised a finger against your lips as he refused to hear otherwise,

“Yes. Yes you are. A strong soldier as well, with impeccable service and talent to take on a mission and bring everyone home safe. You have a heart of gold, but with a mind of steel... and both are greatly admired by me. You know that?”

Tears finally streamed down your cheeks as you sniffled,

“But he-“

He grabbed onto your hands that were still clenched on your lap as he insisted,

“Who do you trust? Hm? His words or mine?”

Oh of course you trusted Price, he was your Captain and secretly you admired him, he was your greatest competition and everyday you worked hard to be like him, a fearless and mighty leader.

But the harsh words you’ve been hearing go on repeat like a broken record had your heart wanting to doubt it, so much of it almost had you believing it was true.

“I want to believe you Captain but-“

“But you will. Trust me darling. And forgive me for letting him be with you, I should’ve kept an eye on ya regardless... you’re my soldier.”

‘You’re my soldier.’

You could see deep regret in your Captain’s eyes, you knew this wasn’t his fault as he had thought the Commander was a better man, but now he knows the truth.

“I forgive you Captain... I do.”

A smile that crinkled his eyes showed on his face, sympathetically he squeezed your knee and placed a warm kiss on your forehead,

“Thank you darling.. now let me wrap your wrist up for you ok?”

Handing him your wrist carefully you trusted him,

“Please do, it really hurts.”

You let out a little whimper when he held it, it pinched his heart but it made him want to work on it quicker so the pain would go away sooner. He sighed as he started, after his kissed the darkest bruise on it,

“I know, what a bastard... he’s gone now by the way, he’s never coming back here- and if he does Ghost will take care of him ok?”

Relief washed over you at the thought of this man never being in your sights again.

“Oh! That’s good... that’s good.”

It didn’t take long before the Captain was done putting a special cream on it and wrapping it up tightly, smiling proud at his accomplishment.

“There ya go darling... it’s all wrapped up for ya.”

After expecting it you became satisfied with how the cream was beginning to numb the pain,

“Looks good as new Cap-“

“Ahh Sergeant don’t kid yourself-“

“No it is! It’s got the Captain’s touch to it.”

Price knew you were trying to make the two of you feel better, so he went along and pat your head gently,

“It sure does, no one can say they have it.”

Nodding along you smiled, happy you were in the safety and comfort of your Captain’s presence.

“Nope. No one can but me.”

Now you’re walking out of the office with Price by your side, his hand on your shoulder while he guided you to the debrief room. You felt invincible because you were protected by the best Captain and man you knew, no matter what happened and how long.. Price always came back around, he had your back.

#price mw2 #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price fluff #captain price fluff #cod price #price cod #call of duty #call of duty price #cod #john price #captain john price

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alexa-fika · 2 months

Text

Stolen Help (Whitebeard pirates x gn!child!reader)

A/N This is kind of a request? It was from a comment by @being-worthy on the His One-Piece story, this what Dokucha would be up to the following day; I love how I said little yet it’s the same length as my other fics 😂 let me tell you I was having second thoughts at first but I COOKED HERE

Reader here is replaced by dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/Saradika

Dokucha grins, running out of the clinic with the stethoscope in hand

“Vista-nii!”

Vista turns to see the little child running towards him

“Dokucha? What are you doing with the stethoscope?” he asks with a chuckle

“I have to listen to your heart!”

“My heart?” he asks, tilting his head as he kneels downn to their height; he lets the little child run up to him and place the stethoscope over him

“Mmhm, mmhm, you have a pretty heart, Vista!”

He smiles, handing them a flower and tucking it in their stethoscope

“Thank you.”

“Take good care of it, Vista-nii! Umm, eat lots of vegetables so you grow strong!

“I don’t think… I will, don’t worry.”

The child gives them a thumbs up and runs off, leaving an amused Vista behind until a thought comes to mind

“Since when did they have a stethoscope?”

��Ace-nii, Ace-nii!” The small child yells, running towards said commander

Ace looks up at the child and grins brightly

“Dokucha? Whatcha need?”

They tried to put the stethoscope over his chest, standing on their toes to make themselves taller, but even with their added height and stretching, they were unable to reach higher than his stomach

They put their heels back on the ground with a pout

“You’re too tall.”

Ace bursts out in laughter before lifting them up

“Better?”

They smile in response, putting the stethoscope over his chest and listening to the familiar drumming of his heart

The child nods approvingly

“Good heart!” They exclaim, putting one of their thumbs up towards the flame man and jumping off him, running off to find their next patient

Ace blinks, confused as to what just happened, turning around and scratching his head, trying to make sense of it

“Huh, must have decided to help Marco out,” he mutters

Izou sat at one of the tables in the training room, meticulously cleaning his guns and making sure they were up to standard, turning his head at the sound of his name

“Izou-nii!”

The sniper looked up to see the little child racing towards him, the look of pure excitement on his face making him smile

“Dokucha? What are you up to now?”

“I need to check your heart Izou-nii!” The exclaims, climbing up in the seat next to him to put the stethoscope on his chest

“Okay,” he replied calmly; he tilted his head, letting the child place the stethoscope over him and listening to his heart

“Mmhm! Your heart sounds like your guns, Izou-nii.”

“Pardon?” he asked confused

“It’s going boom boom like brother’s guns!”

He smiles at the child, associating his heartbeat with his weapon of choice; he glances at the stethoscope

“Say, Dokucha, did Marco give you the stethoscope?”

They jump, startled at the question

“have to go!” They hurried out, quick to get themselves down from the chair and out of sight

He stares in the direction the child had disappeared to, letting out a chuckle and turning his attention back to the task at hand

“Someone is going to get an earful soon.”

“Papaw, papaw!”

The Captain glances down and spots the small child making gestures to get his attention from down below

He grins easily, taking hold of them and raising them in his hand so he can see them better

“Come to tell me more about that checkup?”

They shake their head exited,

“I need to hear Papaw’s heartbeat,” they said, carefully slipping between his fingers and wrapping their legs around them in order to be able to put the stethoscope near his heart

“Wah, Papaw, your heart is slower, but it’s so loud!”

Whitebeard lets out a thundering laugh at their words, gently maneuvering them to the palm of his hand.

“My heart is not what it used to be, but it is still fighting!” he howled

“Pawpaw has the loudest heartbeat!”

Whitebeard laughs again

“I think that is to be expected,” he says with a grin

“Ah! I still need to listen to Thatch-nii’s Heartbeat!”

“Alright, he should be in the Kitchen getting ready for dinner; let me know if he has a louder heartbeat than mine.” He comments as he lowers the child to the floor

“Go ahead”

“Thank you, Pawpaw”

“Dokucha?”

“Mmhm?”

“Marco did lend you that, right?”

“Ha... Bye Papaw!” They said, quickly disappearing

He lets a snicker at their response, knowing what it meant.

“They are in for it now.”

The only warning Thatch received before someone burst into his kitchen was the tiny steps in the wooden floors of the Moby dick

“Thatch-nii!”

Thatch looked up, startled by the interruption to his cooking, setting aside the chopping board

“Geez, kid, you scared me!”

They ignore his statement, pulling a stool next to the chef and slowly making their way up to come eye-to-eye with him, placing the stethoscope over his chest and gasping

Thatch raises an eyebrow, confused, as he hears them gasp

“Uh, dokucha?”

“Thatch-nii! You don’t have a heartbeat!” The cry fiddling with the chest piece and moving it around in hopes of finding a heartbeat

“Thats bec- his explanation is promptly cut off as another voice joins in

“It’s because you can’t hear the heartbeat through multiple layers of clothing; the others had no obstructions, so you could hear them clearly.”

They still at the voice, slowly turning around with a nervous smile

“Umm, Hi Marco-nii…”

Marco stares down at the small child

Thatch glances between the two and the stethoscope that the small child held between their hand and quixkly understood the situation, letting out a snort

“Again, Dokucha? You know he’s always going to find out.”

“Shhh, Thatch-nii, I just thought I could use it before he noticed.”

“You were wrong,” Marco muttered, quickly throwing the child over his shoulder and walking off

Dokucha sat once again at the examination table, trying to avoid the stare of their brother

“The longer you decide to ignore me, the longer you will be here.” he shrugged

They glance up at him

“Sorry?”

he narrows his eyes at the child

“That’s not gonna get you out of this one”

“I just wanted to play with it a little and help you, I was going to give it back…

He pinches the bridge of their nose

“That’s just it; it’s not something to play around, Dokucha; it is a medical tool for me to use in medical settings.”

“I just like the sound and wanted to hear everyone’s heartbeat, and I thought it would help you.”

He sighed

“I know you do, but you can’t just take my tools as you please; if you had asked, I could have lent it to you to use in the clinic under my supervision, where I can explain to you what you are looking for when you use it.”

“Sorry…”

“So, should we be taking stuff from my office?”

“No…”

“Should you be taking stuff from anybody’s office?”

“No…”

“Should you be taking stuff that is not yours?”

“No”

“What should you do next time you want to use something that is not yours?”

“Ask first…”

“Good,” he said, ruffling their hair

“So, can I go now?”

“Absolutely not”

“Hah?”

“Since you seem so keen on helping, how about you help clean the clinic for the rest of the week?”

They whine at his words

“But Marco-nii~”

“Two weeks”

Their mouth drops at that

“That's too long!”

“Three weeks then.”

“Marco-nii!”

“Do I hear a month?”

They shake their head with a pout on their young face

“Glad we came to an understanding.”

Okay so originally Thatcher was going to be one of the first one’s but the. I came up with the no-heartbeat and I look up at the other one’s and realize the whitebeard pirates just like showing off their chest and Thatch is the only one among them that has ir covered up in his layers of chef clothing

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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heartpiratedrabbles · 3 months

Text

His True Self

Prompt: Sabo slowly shows you his true colors the longer you're with him.

~~ Part 2 Part 3

Sabo X Reader

Joining the revolutionary army was a big step for you. You watched as your friends and neighbors were kidnapped by the celestial dragons, or how the Marines, the people meant to protect you, had slowly started pointing their guns your way. It disgusted you. People made to do the World governments bidding, no one having any will. It made you sick. So when a small group of people came to your coastal town and started fighting, you joined them.

The bombs went off and fire was everywhere, but you felt more alive fighting for your freedom and happiness. The thrill as you finally let your anger boil over, taking it out on any corrupt official while ushering others to safety. Running through your now ruined village, everything felt so slow yet your heart was beating so fast. You heard a crash and crying in the distance and made that your next target, a child no doubt was stuck somewhere.

As you got closer, you climbed rubble, ignoring how your body ached and the scrapes and cuts throbbed with every movement. It was only when you got to the top of the crushed building that you could see where the child was, leg stuck under a concrete pillar as they were wailing in pain. You were about to jump down when a flash of blue past you, a man in a trench coat and a top hat was there, already hauling the pillar the best he could.

He glances up at you and you jump to gather the child who had barely crawled from underneath. Picking her up the man, who had climbed out of the destroyed room, was telling you something but the adrenaline in your body made it hard to listen to anything. He reaches his hands out and you hand him the crying child before lifting yourself out. He flashes you a smile before letting you take the girl back and just as fast as he appeared in front of you, he had disappeared deeper into the battle.

It wasn’t until after the soot settled and the now refugees were gathered that the revolutionary army scouted out the crowd and found you. You, along with plenty of other people, agreed to join and packed what little remained as you left your home behind to fight for freedom.

~~~

While going through training, you were shocked when a cloaked figure came up to you, “Y/N was it? Why don’t you follow me?” The man’s voice was deep and you could see a tattoo covering half his face and you immediately listen to the head of the army. You follow him into the main building before sitting down in a meeting room, “I want you to help the second in command with his duties.” You sat there listening and confused as he explained further into what you’d be doing.

Soon your heart sank, “You want me to be a secretary?” you interrupted him. The helping organizing the paperwork, the helping him remember meetings, putting together bags so he wouldn’t forget anything, even reminding him of meals. These mundane tasks were not what you were expecting when you joined, “What about liberating towns? Or helping those in need-“

“You would be helping, by making sure everything works smoothly here, others can focus more out there,” Dragon said before dropping a file on the table, “You have enough experience working in business and banking that having you help with the books, and more importantly Sabo’s workload would be a great relief.” He flips through the file that you came to realize was everything about you. You argue a bit with the position before ultimately agreeing. There wasn’t much you can do when the head of the revolutionary army was asking you.

~~~

As you walk towards the office that you knew was the second of command you could hear arguing pursue, “Why do I need a ‘helper’ They’ll just slow me down” A mans voice rang out and you let out a deep sigh, at least you weren’t the only one not looking forward to this.

“Because I can’t babysit you all the time Sabo.” A determined and final tone of a women stated, “You’re trying to ignore your work right now as it is, of course you need help.” You chuckle a bit before knocking on the door and peeping your head in, “Y/N! Thank god, I looked into your background as was the one that begged Dragon to assign you to this idiot,” She beamed while pulling you further into the room.

~~~

As time went one Sabo seemed to appreciate the effort you put forth, you never realized just how much the second in command had on his plate. You had started just answering calls and organizing trainings for his team without double-checking with him, you knew his schedule better than he did if he wasn’t out on a mission.

And if he was on a mission? Well you filled in his seat and did everything you could without him, the stacks of piled up work sending you into overdrive the first time he had left for just 2 weeks. When he came back you had heard Koala practically dragging him to the office you sat yourself in yelling at him about paperwork, to both of their surprise most of it already done, some set to the side for a signature and a small pile of things you couldn’t do without him.

The time you save him let him focus on other things, and at some point, he even remembered to take breaks and eat by himself much to everyone’s shock. “Y/N Where have you been all my life?” He asked while you brought him a cup of tea, despite not having as much work he’d still complain about the paperwork.

~~~

Despite all the work you did to keep Sabo up-to-date and on track, you still enjoyed training with everyone else. You wanted to be able to fight even if you didn’t have too and enjoyed the thrill of your muscles burning after a particularly hard training session. You never tried to hide the fact that you did this from Sabo, you didn’t even know he’d want to know something like that, it’s just that it never came up previously.

And there you were, sitting in the chair in front of his desk, avoiding his hardened gaze after you had gotten a pretty bad stab wound by accident. It wasn’t a particularly large wound, although it was rather deep and required medical attention, narrowly had it avoided an artery. The bandage on your thigh was secure, and while it ached it was fine. But you could feel the glare of your boss as you avoided the topic, “Are you going to tell me how you ended up with stitches?” His voice stern and arms crossed.

“Why do I need to tell you that? I’m healthy and can continue working, there’s nothing wrong with me.” You say, your hands tapping your knees while looking away like a child who got caught coloring the wall. You didn’t understand why he was so insistent on this; he’s never shown concern before when you tripped and fell or banged your head on the door way.

“Y/N, if that were true, I wouldn’t have gotten word that I can’t have you running around like normal.” He huffs out standing up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you. So that was it, he wasn’t actually concerned about you. You felt your heart drop slightly at the realization, He was frustrated that work wouldn’t be going smoothly for a while.

“I’m so sorry that I’ll be an inconvenience for the foreseeable future,” It’s your turn to cross your arms and glare up at him, “I’ll be more careful next time as to not hold you back.” You go to stand up, wincing a little bit at the weight on your leg only to be pushed back down into the chair.

“It’s not that Y/N.” Sabo’s grip on your shoulder was firm and he knelt down, putting his other hand over the bandage, massaging it slightly. The action made you blush slightly. “I don’t want to see you hurt, not like this” His voice was low, quiet enough that you barely heard him. Your mind started to flutter at what he could mean but you shook your head slightly.

“You don’t have to protect me Sabo, I joined the revolutionaries thinking that I’d get hurt. It’s only coincidence that I ended up in one of the safest areas,” You blurted out, you wouldn’t let your heart make you believe things.

The hand on your thigh gripped it at your words, making you wince at the sudden pressure, “That’s not what I mean.” Sabo mutters, standing back up and walking out of the room, leaving you all by yourself. You stare confused before standing up yourself, slowly making your way back to your quarters.

~~~

Koala had come to you the next day saying that Sabo didn’t want to see you for the time being. She phrased as a way to make sure you’d heal fast but you couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. Regardless you decided to heed her words and not head to the office building. Instead, you took your time in the library to read more about past missions, or sat near the training grounds to watch others prepare for combat.

The few times you did try to see Sabo he had made sure someone stopped you and led you back to your room. It was rather frustrating that you couldn’t even check in on how he was doing or talk to him at all. You even tried finding him after the normal work hours to be turned away by anyone. You missed the random conversations that would pop up throughout the day and reading and watching had grown boring.

It was only a week into your little break that you demanded to start working again, refusing to turn away when someone tried to stop you from entering the building. The doctor had finally approved of you walking around and you weren’t going to sit still until everything was perfectly healed. It was truly frustrating how much pent-up energy you seemed to have in you.

When you knocked on the door opening it you saw the mess that had become of the empty office. Your mind forgetting the last time you had seen Sabo as you got to work organizing and cleaning everything. “How could he let this place get this bad?” You wondered out loud as you started sifting through the papers to separate them appropriately.

You were only getting more exasperated as you saw papers from a week ago still not finished that you sat down and started catching up on everything. Filling out any information you knew, approving of some documents, refusing on ones you’d know Sabo wouldn’t allow. It wasn’t until you heard a stifled laughter that you looked up to see your boss in the doorway.

He watched in amusement as you’re faced turned from that of pure focus to a contorted one of anger and annoyance. “What have you been doing while I was gone?!” You yell, slamming your hands down on the desk standing up. You walk around the desk, Sabo suddenly realizing just how pissed you are, “I was forced to take time off and you can’t even properly keep up?!”

“Hey, Y/N wait a second-“ His words are stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder as you smile up at him. Pulling him to his desk and forcing him to sit down.

“You aren’t leaving this room until you’re finished.” You say with a finalized tone, “You get mad at me for getting hurt and force me to take time off but can’t even do your work properly when I’m away??”

“I was busy with other things-“

“Do I have to babysit you to make sure your work?” You place a stack in front of him, forcing a pen into his hand. You were not going to listen to his excuses, it was an awful idea for you not to come into the office for a week for the sole fact that you weren’t babysitting him doing his work. Sabo looks at you before sulking into his work as you stare daggers at him.

~~~

“Y/N please, I’ve done so much already~” Sabo cried out from his desk that you had decidedly ignored. Sabo kept trying to ignore work by talking to you, and so you have been giving him the silent treatment for most of the day. You glance over to see the hefty pile of paperwork that still has to be done but the even larger of work that has to be sent out.

Sighing you get up from your spot, “When I get back you can stop for the day.” Your voice short as you grabbed a stack to deliver them to the appropriate parties. Sabo looks at you with pleading eyes, “If I come back and you aren’t working, I’ll make sure you can’t go on a mission for another month.” You had been able to switch Sabo’s missions thanks to Dragon, and just as you had pent up energy from a single week of doing nothing, your scarred boss would get restless if he doesn’t leave base ever so often.

“Are you mad?” Sabo asks as you’re about to leave the room. It stops you in your tracks. Mad? Sabo didn’t often care about your emotions, or he didn’t seem to let you know if he cared. But now the man was blatantly asking you and it felt strange.

Turning yourself around to face him you lean against the door way, a throb still coming from your stab wound, “I’m not mad Sabo. I’m just disappointed in you.” And the guilty face he was wearing shifted into one of horror as he yelled out that, that was worse. You chuckle a bit while turning away. “Then remember to do your work when I’m away,” you yell over your shoulder as you walk away. At least he wasn’t acting too different.

~~~

“Absolutely Not.” Sabo’s nagging voice rang through your ears. You had finally convinced Dragon to let you go on a field mission, but only if Sabo would let you go. You had barely gotten the question out of your mouth when Sabo hit his fist against the desk, startling you at his sudden outburst.

“Why not?” Your voice was cool but it was clear you were frustrated at the sudden refusal, “I’ve been continuing to train and Koala agreed to help you with work while I’m away. What’s the issue?!”

“Why are you even training in the first place? You got stabbed just a month ago and you think you’re ready to go on a mission? And what about you’re actual job? You work for me Y/N.” Sabo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“How am I suppose to help if you don’t let me go on missions-“

“You’re not going. That’s final.” Sabo interrupted you staring right into your eyes with a sudden determination, “I don’t care how much you want to go on a mission, I cannot risk you getting hurt.”

“I signed up for the risk Sabo. I know what could happen and if needed I’m prepared to-“ You flinch when you Sabo stands suddenly, his chair hitting the wall behind him with a thud.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I need you here. No where else. You are not to train anymore either.” He’s leaning over his desk now, his hands balled into fists that you’re sure if he wasn’t wearing gloves his knuckles would be white.

His words ring through your head for just a second before you respond without thinking, “You won’t even let me go on missions and now you’re saying I can’t train? Who do you think you are to stop me from doing things in my freetime?” You furrow your eyes, tilting your head closer to the man in front of you.

“I didn’t think I’d have to babysit the girl I like from getting hurt!” Sabo yells, his voice echoing in the room.

“Getting hurt is apart of the job. I’ll be more carefu-“ You stop yourself midsentence. One. Two. Three. Four seconds for you to process what he just said. From the looks of it, he also if just realizing what he’s admitted, the scowl on his face being replaced with one of dumb horror. “Who do you have to babysit?” You voice quakes a bit, you must have heard him wrong and he averts his eyes, standing up straight and readjusting his vest, seemingly ignoring your question.

The silence that fills the air rings in your ears as you stare at the man in front of you. His arms crossed while he refuses to meet your gaze, his face tinged red, “You’re dismissed for the evening Y/N.”

More silence fills the air before you respond, “You really think I’m going to leave just like that without clarifying what you said previously?” You lean back in your chair, crossing a leg over the other. Sabo glares at you for a second before sighing at the display of your getting comfortable, a tug of a smile appearing on your face as he walks around his desk to be right in front of you.

You look up at him, waiting for him to say something but are more shocked at the hardened face coming closer to you, either of his arms now trapping you in your chair. “I like you.” His face was merely inches away from your own and this time it’s your confident teasing face that turns into one of embarrassment as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, any quick remark you were prepared to make falling silent on your lips as your mouth hangs open.

Your eyes flash about Sabo’s face, from his unblinking, unmoving eyes, to his eyebrows, even to his lips before going back to his eyes. It’s getting hard to think with how close he is, and such a direct sentence made your head spin, “Now than Y/N. If you have something to say, or you want to leave. You better do it now.” His tone was serious as he watches for any sign of resistance.

You blink for what feels like the first time in forever, closing your mouth as you realize you are still caged by him. Slowly his hand goes to under your chin, lifting your face up to his, it’s the smallest hesitation before he meets your lips with his.

A soft, gentle kiss that drives your mind crazy as you lean into it yourself. His lips leaves yours, though he is still close enough that you can feel them brush against yours as he speaks, “Is that your answer Y/N?” His voice just barely above a whisper as his eyes flutter open to yours. You can only manage a small nod as he smiles, standing back up tall. “Then you understand why I can’t let you go on a mission.” He proudly proclaims.

The sudden change blinks you out of your romantic trance, “What?! That’s not fair,” You complain, albeit much gentler this time round while standing up to be closer to eye level with him.

“Bosses orders, girlfriends can’t go on missions.” Sabo shrugs his shoulders, a wide grin across his face as he watches your face turn another shade of pink. He gently places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, “Besides your wound is still healing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wincing every now and then.”

You breath hitches as your arms immediately go around his neck. “It’s just sore nothing more,” the subtle lie crosses your lips and you can see it doesn’t work as Sabo’s face changes to one of scolding, “I’ll be more careful.” The small grin the plays on his lips makes your heart skip a beat, “Talk to me again after you can run a mile without pain.” He leans down to kiss you again and you only hum in agreeance.

#One Piece #One Piece X Reader #Revolutionary Sabo #Sabo #Sabo X Reader #Part 1

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sarahs-secrets2 · 9 months

Text

Gotcha! ˋ♡ˊ

leon kennedy x reader! (any leon you desire!!)

maybe laser tag wasn't the best idea for a date night...

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

ZAP! The plastic light-up vest illuminated a bright blue, vibrating slightly. You had been hit.

“Gotta be quicker next time.” Well aware you were on a thirty-second cool down after being shot, Leon chuckled walking out from behind a wall. He held the laser gun like it was real, never letting his guard down. “Remember this date was your idea,” Leon laughed as he jogged off into a new hiding spot.

Defeat was putting how you felt, lightly. You thought a laser tag date would be cute, something fun to get you both out of the house. Wrong. Seemingly you had completely forgotten that; 1) Your boyfriend was professionally trained in combat and how to use a firearm, which both skills had seamlessly transferred to laser tag, and 2) how competitive he got.

“Leon,” your voice echoed through the dark maze-like room. You were ready to wave the white flag, get some ice cream, go home, and maybe even watch a movie. Laser tag had been fun for all of five minutes before Leon started treating it like one of his missions. “Leon, I’m ready to go home,” still no answer. Glancing at the mini screen on the plastic gun the neon green writing flashed back your stats, Rank 2 out of 2. Who would've guessed?

With Leon still hiding, you began to wander around hoping to find him before he found you (or before the match ended). Having nothing to lose at this point, you decided to get some high ground and walked up the ramp to the second level. Still no sign of Leon. This place wasn't even that big yet he still managed to be undetectable.

Walking over to the edge, you peered over the wall trying to see if Leon was even in the building anymore. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to spot him amidst the random colored lights and abundance of corners to hide in. Finally, there he was. Leon was running and leaning up against walls, surveying the area, and then running to a different wall as he tried to find you. Stifling a giggle, you crouched down so he wouldn't spot you. Balancing the laser gun on the ledge, holding your breath as you aimed, and crossing your fingers, you pulled the trigger.

ZAP! Leon’s vest illuminated bright red.

“Gotcha!” You shouted from the second floor, jumping out and down from excitement. Leon looked dumbfounded, how did you even get up there without him noticing? You made your way back down to the main floor where Leon stood still trying to figure out the logistics of how you got him. “Guess you just have to be quicker next time babe,” repeating his words back to him you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Right on cue, the lights flickered on and the crackly loudspeaker directed you to the exits. Leon threw his arm around your shoulders pulling you close as the two of you walked out together, “Maybe I need to take some pointers from you next time,” he smiled. Your head nuzzled into his chest, feeling very accomplished despite your screen still reading, Rank 2 out of 2.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil leon #leon resident evil #leon kennedy fluff

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dcxdpdabbles · 9 months

Note

Would it be possible to read what happened during Phantom's mating season peak in The Bakery is a Front from Tim's POV? I just think the pure baffled energy that Tim would be radiating from being taken care of so nicely by his hot kidnapper from another dimension would be hilarious. Really the whole kidnapping had to have been a better experience than some of the galas Tim has been forced to attend; at least definitely the best kidnapping he has ever experienced, 10/10 would be kidnapped again.

It happens so fast.

One second he's suffering through Danny's overdose, and the next, the dead body in his arms is leaping over Bruce and trapping Damian in an iron-clad grip.

Jason and Dick react the fastest, but it does nothing to someone who can density shift. Tim can only watch Danny sobs on top of Damian, speaking in a strange dialect. It sounded like cracking ice every time he wailed.

"Unhand me!" Damian grunts snaping a knife into Danny's side. Despite the apparent red spot growing on Danny's shirt, the other man doesn't flatter in his movements in the slightest. He squeezes harder, but it doesn't seem like he's trying to hurt Damian. If anything, it looks like he's...cradling him? Yes, it did in fact, seem like Danny is attempting to cradle Damian like a baby.

What on earth-?

"Shit! Danny put him down!" A new voice shouts. Three women and a man burst into the room. Tim has yet to learn where they come from, but Bruce wastes no time throwing a pair of Batbolas at them. It hits the target on the man and the red hair women, tangling their legs and knocking them off.

The man yelps while the woman grunts, throwing her arms in front of her in an obviously trained reaction. She can't stop herself from falling all the way, but her reflex is nothing to scoff at.

She doesn't seem to care as she shouts at the drug dealer. "Daniel Fenton, you let that boy go right now! Are you listening to me?"

"Danny is not here right now."

Tim jerks his head in his fake boss' direction watching in horror as the man's usual blue starts glowing green, and his dark hair bleeds into white. There is an unnatural glow emanating from under his skin that makes him appear so beautiful Tim loses his train of thought for a moment.

This transformation seems a bit too much to just be a meta-gene activation. Is Danny....not human?

One of the women- who looks like a younger female version of Danny- blasts him with a zap of green from her hand. It reminds him of Starfire, but while his friend's blast is nothing but heat, the green of the girl seems more light than flame.

He drops, unconscious, letting go of Damian. The newcomers relax when the goth-looking one kneels next to him and presses her hands against his neck. Danny appears returns to the human one Tim is used to in another quick blink of an eye. "No pulse!"

"Thank goodness." The red hair, one says, sitting up. It's then that Tim realizes it's Jazz. The one that talked down Jason and the rest of Danny's men not even two weeks ago. So neither left of the siblings left overseas? How had they tricked Babs? "No pulse means he's still in his mating season. Quick we have to get him quarantined again before-"

"You are not going anywhere!" Jason growls, leveling his gun at her. Jazz blinks down the barrel, then raises a brow. It reminds Tim of Alfred when the man found his hidden coffee machine- disgusted, disappointed, but most of all, unimpressed.

His brother sneers. "I want to know what is happening here and I want to know now!"

"Can you not read?" Jazz returns, speaking as if an annoying customer demands a service she can not provide. "I put up signs that clearly said Quarantine do not enter around Danny's house. Why do you think that is? Oh, maybe, it means to leave this area alone."

"You bats are lucky we got here when we did," The man says, trying to twist out his binds. It's not going too well, as a few electric mobiles slip out of his pockets. "The only way to snap the human side of Danny out of his daze is by making him deny his obsession which is something I hate doing."

What?

"I hate hitting him too" The girl with the energy blasts pouts "I makes my stomach turn."

She twists at her waist seconds before Damian's foot swings through the air, where her head was only seconds before. She sidesteps his three other attacks, face twisting into a sneer. "Hey! Back off! We don't share the same obsession!"

"Silence wrench!" Damian sneers, which makes her even angrier.

"Make me, you wannabe pirate!" the girl hisses, and it's then that Tim realizes they may even be the same age. She is doing a masterful job of barely being out of Damian's deadly reach.

"Don't hurt him, Elle!" Jazz shouts, "Things are already complicated enough-"

The goth woman screams as she is suddenly launched into the air, slamming into Bruce and cutting off the redhead. Dick rushes to the now-standing Danny, aiming a barrage of attackers that the man easily slips through. Bruce throws the woman off him, slamming her against the wall and knocking her out in the same action. The man screams as Jason shoots out his kneecaps and Tim-

Tim suddenly finds himself unable to think as large green eyes overtake his vision. Danny's eyes and hair are bleeding in and out of different colors as the man stares at him. "Mate...."

Tim's mouth dries, and his eyes are drinking in the man. He knows he should be doing something, but Tim can't remember what he should be-.

"TIM!" Dick screams, snapping him out of his daze, and....oh, Tim is falling. Danny- or whatever is pretending to be Danny- has pushed him by pressing his hands against his chest and shoving him through a portal.

Danny is watching his drop with a soft smile, that is at odds with Jason appearing at his side with guns blazing.

Tim drops onto a pile of soft snow- or what he thinks is snow. It looks like it, soft like a fresh full pillow, but it's not cold. If anything, it's the perfect temperature to nap in.....he's exhausted. When was the last time Tim slept? He can't remember.

His eyes are getting heavy. His body is going boneless.....he has never been so comfortable in his whole life....is this what it feels like to rest on a cloud...

Tim blinks, around the room trying to fight the urge to give into the darkness, and he notes that he seems to be in a castle made entirely of ice and snow...like Danny's home.....he also appears to be in a tower? The windows are shaped like one.

Tim takes note of the sky being a bright green color which is..odd, but that's all he can think clearly as he finally goes under.

_________________________________________

It feels like he only closes his eyes for a second when Tim is startled awake by a scream of rage. Jerking away, he sits up, trying to gather his bearings. He needs to find out where he is and where his gear is.

Tim pulls on the crotcheted sweater he's been stuffed into, breathing a sigh of relief when he realizes his Red Robin outfit is still on underneath. He climbs out of the bed made entirely of snow, flickering his eyes about.

He's covered head to toe in other crotchety objects- pants, sweater, socks, gloves, a scarf, and a hat- all big enough to fit comfortably against him and his vigilante costume. Raising a hand to his face, he touches the smooth leather of his trusted mask.

Right. Danny let him keep his secret identity intake. That's... something.

He glances around his surroundings again, this time for sure, that his in some type of castle covered in ice. It's beautiful, like something out of a Disney movie with shiny crystal frozen designs everywhere. He carefully makes his way to the window, looking out into a far darker green of a sky.

He squints into the distance seeing acres and acres of a vast castle and land, but on the far right, there seems to be a drop....a cliff? Or the edge of this island. For you see, he could make out flouting doors and islands in the sky.

This differently wasn't his earth.

Danny, not being human, was becoming more and more plausible.

"Release me!" A voice echo. Damian.

Tim slams the door open, sprinting down the hall toward his younger brother's distress calls. It's a castle; even if everywhere he turns, it seems to be a frozen wonderland.

There are ice sculptures of Danny between every large ice pillar. They portray him as Tim usually is used to or as a being with a tail instead of legs mid-flight. There are portraits of various people hanging on the walls- he can make out Jazz and the others that busted into Danny's apartment- but there all encased in ice.

There are no guards, so when Tim sprints down a giant stairway, he is hyper-aware of his footsteps echoing on the cracking ice. He rounds the hallway, then stumbles to a stop at the sight before him.

It was Danny. At least, he thinks so. The being had a strong resemblance to him, but his skin had a slight blueish hue, his ears were pointed, his hair was pure white, he was glowing, and most of all, he didn't have legs.

The sculptures hadn't been a artistic choice Danny in this form had a tail and he was flying around a restrain Damian.

His brother was in a gaint baby doorway jumper, encased in what looked like a snow swaddle.

Damian is also covered head to toe in crochet clothing, but his Robin costume peaks from underneath it. Danny was flying around him, placing piles of snow on the ground around the struggling child, making noises like creaking ice and purring when he came close to pat Damian.

It also looked like Danny....was nesting with Damian in the center of it.

What in the world?

"I'll have your head!" Damian sneers as Danny gently places a bear beanie on his head. " I am not a child!"

"My baby" Danny coos, then starts making more cracking noise. He rubs his head against Damian like a cat which causes the boy to grimace.

Tim needs to get him out of there. He looks around for a weapon, but his gear doesn't seem near him. The only thing he can possibly use is the ice around the walls-

"Crackle, crack, Clank, Click!" Danny suddenly says in his face. He crossed the room at the same speed Bart would have, or maybe faster since he didn't even see a blur. Tim jerks back, but the glowing figure is already reaching out-.

He places a scarf around his neck with an adorable head tilt.

"Drake! Run! He'll swaddle you!"Damian screams, but Tim can't look away. He's so beautiful. Danny's bright green eyes, sparkling with the stars of the universe, and his lips are so full, he bets they would be perfect to kiss- is someone purring? Tim could fall asleep to that sound- it must be a white noise machine-!

He snaps his eyes open, shocked to find himself back in the original room.

Tim is back in the damn nest. Confused, he blinks around the room, noticing the sky is bright again and that he's tucked into the bed with great care. He's never felt more rest, so he knows he just spends hours sleeping.

He doesn't even remember getting moded, damn it.

""Red Robi- can you- where are you- report!" Tim's eyes widened when he realized Bruce's voice. It's his communicator! He scrambles out of the bed, straining his ears. "Re-Rob-in!""

There! His earpiece is in one of the ice crystals hanging from the ceiling. Miraculously it's still working, as he can barely make out Bruce's shouts. After four kicks of the crystal, he breaks it down, shattering it on the ground.

He quickly places it back into his ear. "Batman, I'm here!"

"Thank goodness!" An unknown woman says, making Tim flatter for only a moment. "Listen to me, my name is Sam, and right now, there is only one way to escape Danny's mating season without bloodshed. See, Phantom is in control right now, which means his obsession is at its highest. What does Danny not deem important enough to protect? Himself."

" We have to snap him out of it by having those under his protection stand up to him and....hit him. Anybody attacks will confuse Phantom so much the human side of Danny will be forced to take the front." Another female voice puts it. Jazz. She sounds unhappy, as she admits. "A punch to the head, or slap or something, just one from enough people under his protection will freeze Phantom for a moment."

Tim frowns. "I have no idea what you mean. How will that help get us away?"

"Well, we have a plan for that," A man says wearily. The one with all the electronics. "You may not like it...but we must get you to sacrifice yourself for Robin's freedom."

His siblings start shouting over the communicator but Jazz silence everyone with her explanation.

A very long explanation of ghosts, cores, and obsessions, but the gist is that Phantom and Danny's balance was disruptive, so the only way was to cause his human side to get clarification was by presenting Phantom with a paradox.

Phantom will protect all. Danny will allow anyone to hurt him because of his terrible self-esteem. Hence Phantom will not know if it should defend them when it's Danny in danger but it will pull at his core because something is still under attack in front of him.

However, as ghost king, Danny is crazy strong, so they need to attack with something Phantom would never try to defend himself from. His sister and two best friends suddenly slapping or punching him? Phantom would typically react by beating them away, but that would mean hurting the beings he exists to protect.

That's just the physical aspect of it too. Tim's sacrifice would pull at Danny's human emotions while Phantom would panic about needing to save Tim from the ghost he was sacrificed to. Which would be himself.

It should snap them both by tugging them in two different directions of their instincts.

Tim wonders if it will work-

He wakes up to Phantom purring and messaging his sore muscles. To his left is a feast of all of Tim's favorites. Even though he is the elite of Gotham, he's never been so pampered in his life.

Dang, it better work. Tim is getting far too comfortable in this castle. He may never want to leave.

"Phantom if you let my brother go ill be your mate."

"!" Phantom pauses then let's out a sound that sounds like twinkling bells glowing so bright he could be a star

"Only If you accept me as a sacrifice in exchange for my brother's freedom" Tim holds his break then jumps at the sound of shattering glass that comes from Phantom's mouth.

He blinks a few moments, fighting himself, until Phantom nods determined. "Mate will bring children. I need children."

"Ugh sure pal. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal"

It's a weird Tuesday.

Damian is home ten minutes later, and within the hour, Phantom overloads from the paradox.

Tim opens a portal home that night, and Danny sleeps through the rest of his mating season, going under when Phantom and he fights about Tim's fate.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The bakery is a front #phantom and Danny can not compute different ideas of protection #Tim falls in love again #Damian was no please #Tim's pov #Part 6

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ghouljams · 10 months

Note

So glad I’m finally getting notifications!! I go through your blog like it’s the morning paper 💕

Happy belated 4th of July!!🦅 It’s the only day out of the year I’m patriotic lol. May I ask how crazy our cowboys got for the holiday??

It is a recent but honored Price family tradition that Soap and Goose almost burn down the barn every fourth. This is Ghost's first year seeing it actually happen.

"I assume you're both tired of having 10 fingers," Simon tells you nice and even, watching you and Soap tie cakes and mortars together.

"Haven't lost one yet," Soap responds at the same time you remind Simon,

"We've got a bucket of water nearby."

"Look we're at least a hundred extra feet from the barn this year, I've got a nice long fuse, nobody is losing any fingers." Soap nods, you nod.

"If you set the barn on fire again you're going on probation." Price gripes sitting back in his lawn chair. You give an affronted gasp and he nods solemnly, "both of you, shit mucking for the next month."

"I am your pride and joy!" You tell him.

"You're a fire hazard," you dad tells you, smoking a cigar on the edge of your safety perimeter. You don't think he fails to see the irony in that statement, but you do think he chooses to ignore it.

"I think it's a deserved punishment," Simon nods, Soap at least has the decency to glare at him for agreeing.

"We're not gonna catch the bard on fire, we've got plennae of room." Soap twists the last of the fuses together and inspects his work. "Somebody get Gaz out of the house, he's going to miss the show."

"Think that's the point," Simon mumbles as you go to drag your last guest off the porch.

"You're both insane," Gaz gripes, putting up more of a fight than you'd thought.

"Quit being a baby, nobody's ever been exploded before." You tell him, enjoying the noise Gaz makes at your joke.

"Ha ha, you're so funny," Gaz drags his feet as you tug him closer to the lawn chairs, "people die Goose, people die every year because of shit like that," he points at your explosive pyre.

"And yet you always have fun when we do this," you roll your eyes, pushing him down into the seat you'd put out for him.

"I really do," he settles into the lawn chair and takes the offered beer from your dad. You're pretty sure Gaz only puts up a fight to pretend so he can pretend he wasn't a cheering party when something unintended catches on fire.

"Alright everyone back up, I'm lighting this beauty." Soap announces, you grab Simon's hand and drag him back to the lawn chairs, sitting him down next to Gaz. His hands grab for your hips to pull you into his lap.

"Watch those hands Lieutenant," your dad barks. Simon's hands fly away from you, raised by his head like Daddy might point a gun at him to enforce the rule.

"I gotta be on stand by with the water anyway," you whisper to Simon, "but maybe I'll knock later?" He smiles behind his mask, eyes narrowing just enough to tell you what you already knew as he takes your hand in his.

"Doors always open." There's unspoken "for you" that settles between you two. Simon presses your knuckles against his mask, gentle and affectionate. He doesn't let anyone else into his private space as readily as he does you. Even Soap still knocks.

Speaking of Soap. The man of the hour strikes a hot match and lights the first fuse, jogging over to safety with the rest of you. He gives you a thumbs up.

The first mortar ignights and shoots a stream of blue into the sky. The loud bang-pop of the explosion echoing in your ribs. The flower of sparks fizzles and another shoots up behind it. Then a cake goes off and sparks fly like feathers shoot a high train that almost instantly ignights the next mortar to send more pops into the sky. Another jet of purple sparks from the cake sets off a Roman candle. The 'tump' of it shooting flares up is offset by the crackling of another fuse burning and-

"That's not supposed to happen," Soap mumbles, watching two more mortars and another Roman candle light.

The five of you watch solemnly as a flare from the Roman candle soars over your heads and onto the roof of the barn. Simon drops your hand as you watch the sparks try to catch on the tar, short bursts of flame lighting up the roof. Your dad sighs and dials the fire department as Gaz runs for the hose.

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Call

Rating: M | No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Jake has been back at Top Gun for nearly a week. He’s finally found a moment to crack open the photo album you sent with him and has to call to express his appreciation. | Ft. “If you called me just to get off on my voice, I’m hanging up,” + “Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Phone/virtual sex, Jake is a simp (firmly believe he would be after a long battle to settle down), stress baking, reader lives to tease Jake because his ego needs a check, mentions of wearing his shirt, rusty smut because it’s been a while.

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Top Gun Taglist | Requests are open!

As always seemed to be the case in the Seresin household, music - this time, a playlist of Jake’s favorites that included a mixture of classic country and what you’d dubbed ‘dad rock’, just to irk his nerves - masked the silence. There was an abundance of it in Jake’s absence, heightened with each hour that passed without him, and you were happy to fill it however you could.

Music reverberated through the kitchen, accompanied by the sounds of utensils clattering around the cabinets as you dug through piles of dishes and measured ingredients, until an incoming call interrupted Tim McGraw. There were only a handful of people who would call and the sight of Jake’s name, accompanied by a photo of him wearing a cowboy hat and flashing his brightest grin, sent you scrambling to answer.

With a grin of your own, you shoved the bag of flour aside and swiped at the screen with powdery fingers. “Miss me already, Hangman?”

Though the question was playful, teasing, you missed him more than you could admit.

Jake had only been gone five days - barely any time at all, in the grand scheme of things - and hadn’t even left the state. However, you’d both been spoiled. Since being stationed at Lemoore, Jake had yet to be deployed. It gave you an opportunity to put down roots - rent a place together, seriously look into getting a dog, have those first conversations about marriage and children and where you wanted to settle - and while he’d struggled with it at first, Jake Seresin had fallen headfirst into domesticity and took you down with him.

It took only a matter of months for you to go from seeing one another once a week to spending nearly every night together. It took exactly a year for you to begin living together. And now, just over a year into your relationship, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been forced to sleep without Jake by your side and you were feeling it.

Still, as much as you missed him, admitting that aloud would only crack the facade you’d crafted to keep Jake from worrying about you anymore than he already was. So, you took the opportunity to tease him instead.

“Honestly,” you hummed, biting back laughter as you resumed your search through the cabinet, “I figured it’d be at least a week before you even thought about little ole me. Back to being hotshot Hangman at Top Gun with all your friends, no time for the little people.”

A huff of laughter, quiet but clearly amused, sounded as you imagined Jake shaking his head. “Well, I would’ve waited,” Jake returned, clearly grinning, “but then I found this pretty little photo album in my bag and got a damn good reminder of what I’m missing.”

The album was stuffed full of photos, all taken in your newly shared bed - all of you in various states of undress, in various compromising positions - and you knew that it was only a matter of time before he broke it out. From the little he’d shared over text, it seemed that every moment of every day was being consumed by training, both in the air and in the classroom, but you knew that letting him off too easy would only balloon the ego his fellow aviators were likely already struggling with.

“You know, I was starting to think I was going to have to text you a preview, remind you it was there.” Jake scoffed - as if to say there was no need for a reminder - and you grinned as you leaned against the counter. “You like it?”

Jake hadn’t seen any of the photos before he left. The album was kept a surprise until the moment he gathered his bags to make the short journey to North Island. You pressed into his hands as he made his way to his truck and had a few moments of anxiety, wondering whether he would like the photos - whether they were as sexy as you hoped they were - but mounting evidence suggested he did.

“I love it, sweets. So much so, in fact, that I thought I’d give you a call to express my appreciation.”

It was likely Jake heard your stifled laughter as you resumed stacking bowls on the counter. However, given the tone of his voice, he likely didn’t care.

There was a rasp to his voice, a gravelly warmth that you only heard with his lips pressed to your skin, accompanied by a few soft puffs of heavier breathing. The desire in his voice was evident and you could feel the low embers of a fire starting in the pit of your stomach as you waited for him to ask for what he wanted.

“Talk to me, sugar. Tell me what all I’ve missed.” His request was innocent enough, a quiet command wrapped in an accent only slightly exaggerated, but it still made your heart beat just a touch faster.

Jake truly cared about what he was missing - so much so, in fact, that he’d not only encouraged your idea of keeping a journal for him to read when he returned, but actually went out and bought one for you before he left - but you knew that catching up was not his goal in that moment.

The mental image of him nearly made you fold. Knowing that he was hidden away, lying in a bed too far from home, thumbing through an album full of photos of you made your skin heat. Knowing that Jake - beautiful, bright, accomplished, wonderful Jake - called to get off to your image, the sound of your voice, made you want to abandon your baking and join him in the pursuit of pleasure.

However, as much as you wanted to give in immediately, you knew better.

“Jacob Seresin,” you scolded, struggling to hide your fondness - and arousal - as you did, “if you called me just to get off to my voice, I’m hanging up.”

A playful huff, exaggerated for your amusement, sounded over the line as he shifted. The sound of springs squeaking, cheap furniture knocking into a wall, nearly broke you as you imagined him pouting while lounging atop the less than ideal bed in his room. “Oh, come on. I know you miss me.”

It was impossible to detail how much you truly missed him without monopolizing the conversation - or turning it into a somber moment neither of you had the emotional wherewithal to stand, losing yourself to the fear and worry that simmered in the pit of your stomach with each passing day - so, you opted to laugh. “That’s debatable, Hangman.” It wasn’t, not even in the slightest, and Jake knew it.

Jake tutted, a teasing sound you’d heard more than once, and you imagined him leaning against the wall, phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek as he waited for you to give in. “If you wanna be mean, I could just go take care of myself in the shower,” he drawled, purposely leaning into his accent in an effort to rile you up. He knew what it did to you, how weak in the knees it made you, and you struggled to bite back a soft sigh as he continued. “I was trying to be generous, though. I figured my pretty girl was missing my voice, my hands, my tongue, my cock…”

There was no doubt he heard your sharp intake of breath at the mental picture he painted, the sudden image of him lying in bed, hand wrapped around his cock as he waited for your willing participation. It was likely he was grinning, content in the knowledge that he had you right where he wanted you. However, before he could continue, you shifted and sent the stack of dishes you’d left perched precariously on the edge of the counter crashing to the floor.

“What the hell was that? Are you alright?”

The immediate shift between that low, seductive tone and sharp concern made you laugh as you eyed the pile of dishes now lying on the floor. Luckily, none were glass - those remained in the cabinet or nestled further back on the counter - and nothing had broken.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a laugh, “sorry. Before you and your libido so rudely interrupted, I was trying to find those big mixing bowls. I’m testing another pie recipe before we go to Texas for Thanksgiving. After the apple pie disaster at Friendsgiving last year, I’m trying to not embarrass myself with a pie your mom will approve of. I want her to love me.”

Jake heaved a heavy sigh, relieved you weren’t injured, before that playful taunting resumed. “Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious, sweets?”

A snort of amusement, decidedly not sexy but honest, escaped as you shook your head and began cleaning the mess. “What about me destroying the kitchen in an effort to impress your mom is supposed to turn you on? I think all the jet fuel flames are starting to go to your head, babe.”

“Effort’s sexy,” Jake defended, though it sounded so nonchalant you could imagine him shrugging as he did. “But I know you, sugar. You’re stress baking.” His observation was not inaccurate - since he left for North Island, you’d baked a dozen cookies, a batch of muffins, and two pies - but before you could even attempt to soothe the notion, Jake spoke. “Drop the apples and get that cute ass to the bedroom.”

“Jake -“

On the other end of the line, Jake gave you little room to argue. “That’s an order, sweets. Hop to.”

Though there was no real authority in his tone, no expectation that you would do as he said just because he told you to, you still dropped the bowls onto the counter. More often than not, sex was an equalizer - you could bring Jake to his knees just as easily as he could get you to yours - but, occasionally, he took control and you were glad to let him.

“Gone, not even a week, and you’re already barking out orders,” you huffed, playful and teasing. "I’ll have you remember that I am not in the Navy and I don’t have to follow orders,” you reminded him, even as you quickly washed the flour from your hands and set off toward the bedroom.

“Hm. We’ll see about that when I get home,” he teased. You could imagine the smirk on his lips, that insufferably smug look that had gone from infuriating to endearing over the course of your relationship, and you rolled your eyes as you stepped through the open bedroom door. “For now, be a good girl and tell me what you’re wearing.”

As cheesy as it seemed, Jake’s playful order set your skin alight. The directive, drawled slow and deliberate, washed over you and settled in the pit of your stomach as you gave in to the desire you’d been neglecting.

For every quip you threw back at him, for every moment you spent giving as good as you got, Jake knew you well. He knew that you liked the moments he took charge, the moments he gave into that Hangman persona and tossed out orders in that Texan drawl, significantly more than you let on.

Jake knew what you liked but he also knew what you needed. And in that moment, still a little unsure and delving into the unknown of a first assignment, you needed him to nudge you in the right direction.

Still, you never went down without a fight.

“You’re insufferable,” you sighed, though there was no heat behind the jab as you climbed onto the bed that felt far too large without him. The words sounded as breathless as you felt, eager and wanting, and Jake laughed lightly. “But, if you must know, I’m wearing one of your old training shirts. Stole it from your side of the dresser this morning,” you admitted, fingers dropping to the soft, worn fabric as you stretched out atop the mattress. In a moment of vulnerability, desperate to remind Jake that you missed him - even if you playfully denied it - you continued, “Didn’t really smell like you ‘cause we use the same detergent now, so I sprayed some of your cologne on it.”

On the other end of the line, Jake groaned. It was as much a product of the distance, the hundreds of miles that separated you, as it was the mental image of you lying in his shirt and smelling of his cologne. “You’re killin’ me, sweets,” he huffed, softer than you imagined. He paused for a moment, likely to gather himself, and you nearly apologized for ruining the moment. However, before you could, he asked, “That all you’re wearin’?”

There would be time for sentimental later, after you’ve both satisfied a need you’d been putting off, so you swallowed the emotion creeping up your throat and laughed.

“No. I’m wearing those fuzzy Halloween socks. You’re missing the height of fashion here, babe,” you informed him, grinning as you leaned back against the mountain of pillows.

“A real fashion icon,” Jake agreed with a laugh. “You’re makin’ it hard for me to seduce you with all the jokes, sugar. I leave for a few days and suddenly you’re a comedian.”

“You’re just so fun to fuck with.” You could practically picture him rolling his eyes, even as he grinned at the quip, but before he could return your banter, you hummed thoughtfully. “But, if you really want to know, I’m also wearing those lace panties you love. The blue ones?”

A groan of appreciation sounded over the line. “Come on, now,” he huffed, though he sounded anything but put out, “I think you’re just teasing me and that’s not very nice.”

“Wish I was, babe, but I’m not.”

Jake hummed, thoughtful and appreciative at your willingness to indulge him. “The album is good, sweets, but I’m missing the real thing,” he admitted, voice dipping a little lower once more - returning to that drawl he knew made you weak in the knees. “Mind if we switch to FaceTime?”

It was your turn to scoff as you shifted in bed. “Never.”

This would be a rarity - Jake had warned you that other assignments would be different, would include less traditional communication and more sporadic emails - so you knew to take advantage of it. There was also no chance you were going turn down the opportunity to see Jake after five long days of nothing.

When you turned on your camera, you were met with the sight of a shirtless Jake, hair slightly damp and cheeks lightly flushed. He looked to be fresh from a shower, and the sight was enough to warm you from within as you reveled in just how beautiful he was.

“There she is,” he cooed, grinning as he tilted his head to take you in. “Look at you, sweetheart. Such a pretty little thing. Fuck, I miss seeing this everyday,” he drawled, voice straining lightly as he shifted to give you a better angle.

“Hate to inflate your ego even more, Hangman, but same,” you assured him, not bothering to hide your smile when he tipped his chin and smirked. “How much time do you have?”

“Enough.” The answer was vague, not exactly what you were hoping for, but it conveyed his point; there was time for teasing but nowhere near enough for you to take your time.

“Then we better not waste any of it, huh?”

Jake watched, green eyes hooded and darkening with every moment, as you gripped the hem of your top and began inching it up your thighs. “You’ve got some catching up to do, sweetheart,” he teased, lips curving into a smirk as he shifted the phone.

From the new angle, you could see that he’d nudged his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. Your earlier assumption had been correct - he had one hand wrapped around the base, grip loose - and you imagined he’d been leisurely stroking his cock as he listened to your voice. Even in the awful overhead light, you could see that it was slick with precum, and didn’t bother to hide a soft sigh at the sight of him.

“It’s really annoying how hot you are. You know that, right?” Jake laughed at your huffing, though you could see the pride he took in your compliment. “You’ve ruined me, you asshole. Between how hot you look and that fucking voice, I’m already wet,” you admitted as your fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties.

“Good. Not gonna pretend you haven’t done the same. All it took was thinking about how pretty you look in my clothes to get me hard.” Jake groaned as his hand began to work his cock slowly, fingers curling around the base a little tighter as he watched you inch the blue fabric down your thighs. “Then I opened that fucking album and, shit, sweetheart, I’m a goner.”

Hearing that Jake was as gone for you as you were for him both warmed your heart and sent heat rushing to your center. It was impossible not to be effected by his attention and you were eager to show him how desperate you were for him as you shifted to part your thighs.

“Glad we’re going down together, then, babe.”

Jake’s eyes, usually so bright and warm, grew darker as your hand trailed up your thigh. His reply died on the tip of his tongue, forgotten as he took in the sight of your fingers inching closer to your dripping folds. There wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in your assertion, no need to tease when Jake was able to fluster you with nothing more than a look and a well-placed southern-ism, and you could see the pleasure in his gaze when he realized you were just as turned on as him.

Conscious of his rapt attention, you watched him from beneath your lashes as your fingers brushed your slick folds.

There was no denying Jake was beautiful - golden skin and hair, warm green eyes, brilliant smile - but you were struck by just how fucking gorgeous he was as you took in the sight of him. Flushed cheeks, slight pink tinge trailing down his neck and chest; hair soft, damp and free of product; eyes dark, blown wide with lust and so focused as they tracked the movement of your fingers. It was a sight to behold, one that never failed to make your knees weak, and you were grateful you’d taken a chance on him as you pressed your fingers to your aching clit.

Soft sighs, breathless little puffs that were in no way exaggerated for Jake, made him groan as you pressed a finger into your entrance. Your anxiety had kept you from needing a release, had really kept you from even considering it, but you realized just how much you’d missed his touch and that heat building in the pit of your stomach as you sank into the plush comfort of your shared bed.

For a moment, you simply focused on Jake. You thought about him - his hands, his mouth, his voice, his cock - and exhaled sharply as you attempted to curl your fingers in the way he so often did. It wasn’t the same, not even close, but you tried not to frown as you watched him.

It was difficult to choose where to focus as you watched him. The pinch of his brows, the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, the heave of his chest, the bulge of his biceps, the dripping red tip of his cock; everything about him was stunning, eye-catching and so fucking beautiful that it drew a sharp moan from you as you spread your legs just a touch wider.

As beautiful as he was, having his full attention on you, his gaze tracking every twitch of your fingers and flutter of your lashes, made you feel powerful. There was a weight to it, a heft that you reveled in, as his gaze flickered between your hands and your face.

“C’mon, sugar,” he urged, voice tight and clearly displaying the effect you had on him. “I know that’s not enough. Give me another.” Jake knew your limits, likely better than you did, and his encouragement was all the push you needed to press a second finger into your entrance.

Few words were shared as you both worked yourselves up. The slick sounds of your fingers rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves, pressing insistently into your dripping entrance, his hand fisting his cock; the breathless puffs, the soft moans, the eager grunt as he finally allowed himself to chase his high - each sound melded with the previous one, reminded you of the moments you shared with him and made you ache for his presence.

“Really missing the real thing right about now,” Jake admitted, voice strained as his hand wrapped around his cock. “Always so fucking wet for me, so responsive,” he praised, gaze dipping to watch your fingers circle your clit.

The warmth in his voice made your skin heat and you knew he took great pride in how flustered he was able to make you, even under the circumstances. He looked just as effected as you, just as eager for a release, and you were helpless to do more than give in to him.

Despite knowing you would pay for it later, you still allowed yourself to stroke his ego. It had been months since you’d needed to get yourself off and you had no problem admitting, “My fingers don’t compare to yours.”

“That what you want? My fingers?”

“If that’s all I could get, I’d take it,” you confirmed, not bothering to roll your eyes at his smug grin. “You’re good and you know it, move on.”

“Alright,” he laughed, though the sound was as breathless as you felt. “Promise I’ll be nice when I get home and take care of you. For now, help me out. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you come for me, sugar. Know it’s tough but you can do it. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Jake’s encouragement was necessary, the soft order - though not really - drew a whine from deep within as you focused on bringing yourself over the edge. It was easy with such a beautiful sight before you. You focused on him, watching as his hand moved over his cock, as his chest heaved and stomach flexed with each stroke, and you allowed yourself to fantasize about the future.

The night before he left was the best sex you’d ever had - emotional, desperate, breathtaking - and you knew it would only be beaten by reunion sex. There was little you could do but cling to him, sink your nails into his back and bury your head in the crook of his neck as he pressed as deep as your body would allow, and you knew that you would soon be given another opportunity to have him like that.

Still, the thing that finally pushed you over the edge was witnessing Jake’s own pleasure. Watching the way his eyes fluttered shut, the way his lips parted and his thighs tensed, made you press your fingers a little deeper. Hearing him fall over the edge with a breathless call of your name, a soft grunt followed by an expletive, stole the air from your lungs and you knew you were done for.

With a cry of Jake’s name, you followed him over the edge almost immediately. There was little you could do but ride out the wave, chest heaving and ears ringing as you allowed the pleasure to wash over you, and Jake seemed to be of the same mindset on the other end of the line. For a moment, you allowed your eyes to close, but when you opened them once more, you were met with warm green.

“I really do miss you, sugar,” Jake admitted, voice quiet as his breathing evened out. “You know that, right?”

For all the banter, for all the teasing you shared, you knew exactly where you stood with Jake. He missed you just as much as you missed him and had no intention of letting you end the call without making sure you knew that. “Never doubted it, Jake,” you assured him, smiling as you tilted your head to rest on his pillow. “I miss you, too. Just a few more weeks, though, and you’ll be back home.”

This mission was dangerous - you both knew that - and for all his bravado, you knew that Jake was worried he wouldn’t make it home to you. It was a fear you shared, one that kept you awake and had you destroying your kitchen in an effort to distract yourself, but there was no chance you’d voice the concern to one another.

Doubt could be saved, what-if’s discussed when he made it home to you. For now, it was enough to shoot him a smile and curl into his side of the bed. “I love you,” Jake declared, smile soft. “Get some rest.”

“I love you, too. Take care of yourself, Hangman.”

With a final smile, Jake nodded. “Always, sugar. See you soon.”

A few weeks still separated you and Jake, however, you let that thought drift from your mind. Knowing that even while away, he still wanted you just as much as you wanted him, that he still missed you and loved, brought you comfort. Time would pass and, soon, he would be back in your home. Until then, you’d just have to hold tight.

_______________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m an obnoxious soccer fan and have been living for the World Cup. I have a flight home tomorrow. Got it early so I could still watch the US play Wales. Flight was delayed and I will be in the air the entire fucking game. I’m gonna kermit. At least I have time to write while I’m waiting, I guess.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr

#top gun smut #hangman smut #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick smut #top gun maverick x reader #top gun one shot #jake seresin x you #jake hangman imagine #v's fics

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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leeneir · 4 months

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Look At Me Please 2.0; Possesive Yandere!Iso x Reader

To those that have given me reqs, I'm terribly sorry for not getting them out yet. My writer's block is such a pain💔 I promise I'm constantly thinking abt them tho and tryna brainstorm but my creative well is nonexistent dibdjs

Anywho, this is a continuation of the last Yandere Iso hc post! Highly recommend that you read the first! :]

Iso didn’t go through with his plans against Yoru that day because he was too happy about going on that date, but that doesn’t mean he forgot. Around a week after your boba date with him, you found Yoru with a serious injury being nursed back to health by Sage, when you asked what happened, he told you to leave. Perhaps a matter of pride?

You bring up the concern with your new boyfriend, Iso. When he responds, he doesn’t sound sympathetic. It wasn’t strange, he barely showed expressive emotion, and he didn’t have the best interactions with Yoru, so you assumed he didn’t really care because they weren’t the greatest friends.

In reality, Iso was fuming that you were concerned about that stupid cocky bastard and how he snapped at you like that. How dare that shit head take your emotions for granted? Sure, he’s the reason Yoru was injured in the first place, but the audacity Yoru had to brush you off. He’ll have to do more damage later.

The day you told Iso you loved him for the first time, something about him changed. He wasn’t shy anymore, he was always initiating intimacy, trying to give you kisses, holding your hand, and overall just a lot more doting and servicing you.

Oh, you’re tired? How could he let this happen! Iso shuts the rest of the world out with both of you in either his or your room, he already put both of your requests for a day off.

Very insistent about sleeping in the same room, you won’t do anything too intimate, he just wants to be with you for the rest of your life night.

At some point, everything becomes a reminder of you. The bare walls of the HQ, the houseplants put around the facility by Skye and Sage, the air that he breaths, he couldn’t get enough of anything.

ALWAYS holding you somewhere. Whether it be on the shoulder while youre talking to someone, the arm, your back, your leg while you're sitting, etc. Iso likes having a hand on you as a way to say “Mine.” to the others.

Every day has a new gift. Your room is starting to get crowded with all of the things he gets for you, Iso has already requested Brimstone to extend your room to make some space.

Man’s is rich and just loves spoiling you. Even if it’s just your favorite snack, or a new piece of clothing, he will literally get anything you want. If you mentioned something you even hinted you’d like, expect to receive it in the following hours to a day. He ordered it with overnight shipping.

Your assigned on a mission and he isn’t sent with you? Oh no!! Someone on the strike team got injured from training, what will we ever do? Everyone else happens to be unavailable for some unknown reasons, except Iso.

During the mission when you request a gun, he’ll immediately get it for you and snap at anyone else who even tries to get it first. Iso kisses you on the forehead before going to his position.

You had to apologize to Reyna for his behavior, she told you that his heart revealed that he wasn’t the good person you thought he was. Which was strange. How was the admiring and loving Iso not who he appeared to be?

One day, have an argument with Iso about going to training with Gekko and the others. He said that there was no need for you to go with them when the two of you could train together later.

You didn’t understand why Iso was so upset, you were just gonna do a few mock battles with other people, what's so wrong with that? You could train with him later too if he wanted to. You brushed him off anyway, finding his attitude very childish right now. Suddenly, he grabs your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t look at them.” He ordered.

Before you could get a word out, your eyes met his, and you could see the intensity and possession in his eyes which glowed brighter than they normally did. It was terrifying.

You say his name, and suddenly he snaps out of it, letting you go and apologizing profusely. He starts tearing up a bit and saying that he shouldn’t have done that and keeps apologizing, stepping away from you and not letting himself hold you.

You feel guilty when he looks down at his hands, as if there was fresh blood on them, as if he’d just destroyed something precious. You couldn’t help but pull him in for a hug and apologize too. He tries to pull away, saying that he was a horrible person, but you don’t let that happen. So, he embraces you back, burying his face in your neck.

You could tell he was genuinely upset, and reassured him that he wasn’t bad and that you’ll be with him. He doesn’t need to worry about anything, you’ll put off training with the others for another time and stay with him for the rest of the day. He sniffles, pulling you in closer.

What you couldn’t see since his face was on your shoulder was the malicious expression at his successful attempt at keeping you to himself. Hook, line, and sinker.

#iso valorant #valorant #valorant iso #li zhao yu #iso #i love iso #i love my wife #valorant iso x reader #iso x reader #iso x reader hcs #valorant x reader

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rascal-xo · 1 year

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I heard your requests are open~

I'm always a sucker for angsty hostage reader fics. Maybe one of the 141 are clearing a warehouse, and come across hostage!reader. He takes them back to the base for their injuries and they start to get close

Hopefully this is enough to go off of, I really like your writing

Special Affairs | Task Force 141 x GN!Reader

Chapter Summary: You’ve found yourself in a sticky situation and end up crossing paths with none other than the infamous 141 soldiers.

Warnings: Violence, weapons, language, reads like an action fic ‼️

Word Count: a lot. (i’m too lazy to check lol)

A/N: I decided to let my creativity run wild and took some inspiration from the Cold War campaign (my fav). I hope you enjoy and ty for the request!!

|NOT CANONICALLY ACCURATE| |OVERLAPPING OF TIMELINES| PART 2 HERE

When you were recruited for the CIA, It was only a matter of time you’d find yourself in this situation. Your training had prepared you for the unexpected, but nothing could have quite prepared you for the events that unfolded during this covert mission.

As a highly skilled agent, you were sent deep undercover to gather intel on a notorious terrorist organization. You had infiltrated their ranks and gained their trust, positioning yourself to uncover their plans from within.

But during one of the critical moments, a sudden turn of events led to chaos.

As tensions escalated, shots rang out, triggering a full-blown firefight and you were caught in the crossfire, you fought valiantly, taking down several hostiles. You were outnumbered and one of the enemy operatives managed to sneak up behind you, immobilizing you with a well-placed blow to the head.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself disoriented and restrained in a dimly lit underground bunker. Your head throbbed with pain as you struggled against the ropes binding your wrists.

Hours turned into days as you remained imprisoned, your captors using various failed forms of psychological torture to extract information.

Unbeknownst to Captain Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz, their mission had brought them closer to the underground facility where you were held captive.

Their objective aligned with yours - to dismantle the terrorist organization from within.

As the four of them navigated the corridors, they encountered heavy resistance. The sound of gunfire echoed through the compound, alerting your captors to the presence of intruders. “Was zum Teufel?!” (What the hell?!”)

The two armed soldiers in your room snapped up from their seats and readied their rifles to fire back if the door opened.

Just as the enemy closed in on your location, the sound of a door being kicked open reverberated through the bunker.

Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz burst into the room, their weapons blazing. Their entrance sent your captors into disarray, allowing you to break free from your restraints.

Without wasting another moment you grabbed a gun on the nearby table, just as The Captain’s weapon pointed away from the now dead guards and to you, “Don’t Shoot!” You exclaimed.

“Who are you?” Ghost barked, not lowering his gun yet.

“I’m CIA.” Price motioned for everyone to lower their weapons and you walked closer to the group.

You nodded to them, “Clandestine Special Officer, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What’re you doing down here, Lass?” Soap chimed in, looking at you intently.

“Came here on the job you’ve been sent to finish.” You looked at your shoulder which was still freshly wounded, and then looked around the room for your jacket. You finally caught eye on it laying on the floor and quickly went to put it on.

“Wait, you cant go on like this, you’re broken.” Gaz points out, motioning to your shoulder. You could feel the black and blue forming around your eyes and the cut stinging on your lip as well. ‘So much for covert’ you thought to yourself.

“I’m fine, but I know East Berlin won’t be if we don’t get moving.” You answer.

Captain Price exchanged a glance with Soap before nodding in agreement. "They’re right. We need to finish this mission, and it seems like we've got ourselves an unexpected ally," he said, his voice steady and commanding. “Gonna get that arm checked out once we’re back, got it?”

You nod and collect the rest of your scattered gear, before heading out of the bunker and to the main facility. “So what’s the motherfucker got down here that needs to be guarded like this?” Gaz asks, as you take down maps and manifestos from the enemy conference room which is now empty.

“Missiles.” They all pause and turn to you in shock. “American missiles.”

“Steamin bloody Jesus.” Soap mutters.

“In the 50’s, Operation Greenlight put nuclear devices within every major European city as the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to a Soviet invasion of Europe. But an upgraded American Precision Strike system when online 2 weeks ago, sent up red flags all over but they were disguised at that time.”

“Perseus.” Price’s voice had anger lining it. “When does the system become active?”

“We have 24 hours at best. Launch was already delayed a few days from what I understand.”

The group exchanged concerned glances. "We need to move fast and take out the missile launch site before it's too late," Captain Price said, his voice urgent.

You nodded in agreement, knowing that time was of the essence. "I have intel on the location of the launch site, but it's heavily guarded," you said, pulling out a map and pointing to a spot. "We need a solid plan of attack."

You joined Captain Price and Soap as they made their way towards the launch site, keeping your eyes peeled for any enemy forces. Gaz and Ghost went around the south entrance.

Finally, you reached the launch site and saw the missile silos looming in the distance. The group split up, with Captain Price and Soap taking the left flank and you taking the right.

As you made your way towards the silos, you encountered heavy resistance. Enemy soldiers were everywhere, firing at you from all directions. You returned fire, taking out as many as you could.

When you reached the site, you quickly accessed the control panel, determined to disable the launch sequence. With deftness born from your CIA training, you navigated the complex system, neutralizing the imminent threat.

“Bravo Six to Actual- do you copy?” Price spoke.

“This is actual, what’s your report?” Laswell’s voice coming from the comms.

“We’ve got the threat. They were active missiles.”

The tension in the room dissipated as the launch sequence halted. A collective sigh of relief passed through the team.

“Gonna call in the evac, Y/N you with us?” Soap asked, coming to the group. Going back with the 141 didn’t seem like such a bad idea now that you had worked with them. The CIA could use the extra knowledge first hand.

“Hope you’ll save me a seat.” You smiled.

———

After the mission, you and the rest of the team returned to a secure base in London. You found yourself sitting at the counter at a pub.

You watched from across the bar as Soap scored a bullseye with the dart, earning a triumphant cheer from Gaz. Ghost simply nodded in approval, his focus seemingly undisturbed.

“Adler it’s Y/N. Everything’s been handled but I’m in London for the time being.” You sent the voicemail and set your phone down.

Captain Price walked over, a slight smile playing on his lips. He took a seat beside you, signaling the bartender for a drink.

"CIA, huh?" Price remarked, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "So what’s next for you, darling?”

"There’s always something that needs to be dealt with. But It feels good to have a moment to breathe," you replied, taking a sip from your drink. The cool liquid provided a soothing sensation as it slid down your throat.

You looked up to meet his gaze. You had known of captain for quite some time now. There wasn’t a file at Langley you hadn’t been assigned to go through, his of course was more seasoned than others.

Price's piercing blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade away. His expression held a mix of admiration and camaraderie, a silent acknowledgment.

He leaned back in his seat, his expression now uncertain. “Laswell never mentioned you or anything about this mission being active.”

“Well neither did Shepard, and we all know you have a Shepard problem.” You moved your glass in a circular motion slightly, watching the golden liquid rise and fall.

“We’ll always have that problem, darling.” He scoffed, downing the rest of his scotch.

“Well since i’m here now, consider that problem handled.” You said, suddenly deciding that you and the 141 weren’t quiet done being a team yet…

————————————————————————————

A/N: I highkey enjoy writing action/double meaning story fics. LMK what y’all think :))

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acerathia · 28 days

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had to write this..... aventurine x reader

cw: gambling, gun use/russian roulette, glorification of violence

The weight of metal rests heavy against your skin, sliding against cloth with each step you take. There's no real goal for your walking, aimlessly wandering between the tables loaded with coins.

Usually, you would take a seat, try your luck. But today, today the thrill of a simple gamble was just not enough for you. You need something more, a notch more dangerous, more daring.

Despite your restless energy, despite knowing what could finally discharge you of this wanting electricity running in your veins, you have no other choice but to look somewhere else for anything to satisfy you long enough. But not even the money turned out to be the temptress it used to be.

So, with twitching fingers, you continue to be on the lookout. On the lookout for nothing but restlessness.

After some time, you end up at a random table, your coins heaped in front of you, cards in your hand, face unmoving. A glance between the dealer and the others, only to catch the eye of a blond, his eyes behind a pair of shades, barely hiding his eyes and the glint in them.

You feel your eye twitch as you watch how a grin spreads over his face as he leans back into his chair, the rings catching on the slightly moving cards.

Before you knew it, you had lost the share you had bet, everything on the table going towards the blond.

Slowly, you stretch your fingers, feeling the anticipation bubbling inside you as you are handed another hand. But the cards never seem to matter, he always won every round. His gaze unwavering, the coins clinking against his jewelry as he lets them roll between his fingers. Not once have you noticed him tense up, not even the slightest tick that might tell on him.

And that is something. Something that made a grin curl around the edges of your lips. You had never lost this devastatingly before, and every loss of coins, every win of his made your heart beat with a certain thrill. And you had to take your chances.

After everyone has gotten their new hand, you turn towards him, your free hand touching on the hidden metal.

"All of this has been fun and good. But how about we raise the stakes?" you ask him directly, not caring about anyone else on the table.

His grin seems to sharpen. "What's your wager?"

A grin of your own breaks over your face, all teeth and thrill. With a quick snatch, you get the gun out, putting it on the table before sliding it towards him.

His eyes dart towards it before returning to you, some kind of realization in his eyes, yet the same kind of anticipation you're feeling.

"My life."

With your answer, you put the cards down and motion for him to pick up the gun.

"There's one bullet inside. And to make it more interesting, we point it at each other," you explain, raising your arms to the side as if welcoming him.

"Hm, interesting. But what does the winner get? High stakes mean high reward."

His retort brings your focus back to him. Cocking your head, you answer: "It's simple, really. The winner gets it all!"

You're aware of the risk, of the way you're putting everything on the line. Yet, the thrill coursing through you with every glance you share is worth everything.

And, you're curious. Whose luck would be the first to run out?

Without trying to negotiate, he picks up the gun, letting the cylinder roll with a swing of his fingers, the rings deliciously resounding against it.

With a click, he points the gun at your forehead, his eyes trained on you. You watch his every move, the twitch of his mouth, the glide of his fingers against the trigger, and all you do is grin at him as another click resounds. An empty chamber.

With ease, he points the handle towards you, and your fingers touch as the gun exchanges hands, a touch filled with electricity, with a certain charge you both share.

You put your finger on the trigger as he leans back once again, his arm over the back of the chair, almost like there is no gun pointing towards him, the danger something he basks in. A click, another empty chamber. His grin widens, as if he already knew this is going to happen. Maybe he did, his luck overwhelming.

You give him the gun, and you can't help but notice the way he deliberately grazes your fingers with his, and if your skin wasn't already shivering due to the game, it would be overcome by goosebumps at his touch.

The touch has given you something, made you bolder, so, the moment he points the gun at you once again, you grab it and press it into your skin as opposed to the distance from before.

This put you closer to him, also, you looking up at him, as his fingers slide over the trigger. Yet, for a moment, you both just stare at each other, your widened eyes in anticipation meet his curious ones. He pulls the trigger, an empty click.

Yet, that wasn't satisfying enough. You ket your fingers glide over his, hot leather against your trembling fingers, over the trigger, and you push it once again.

At least you tried to, as the trigger jams up. And no matter how often you pressed, no shot wants to leave the chamber.

Your grin immediately slides off, leaving it slightly tilted as you back off to take the gun into your hand, inspecting it. You'd have to take it apart to see the problem, something you couldn't just do at the moment.

A sigh, you put the gun into its place against your heated skin. But before you could say anything, he speaks up.

"Well, I guess we have to postpone our gamble. How about we discuss the details over a drink?" His eyes trail over your face, intently watching your every twitch, almost like you're still playing poker.

And you're not someone who backs down from any challenge, be it gambling or talking.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x reader

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years

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Long Day

Summary: you help Bob unwind after a long day.

Warnings: Not much plot, just porn. Thigh riding, daddy kink, edging, soft dom!Bob but also he's kinda mean? Spitting, choking, Dom/sub roles, praise kink, some Hangman slander (sorry, I love him), Sassy Bob at the end. Sorry, this is pure filth, I should probably go to church or something.

This was created for @wicked-blathers' Kink or Treat challenge! Thanks for letting me write straight up porn.

The sound of the door to your bungalow house opening didn't startle you. After all, it was around the time when your husband was scheduled to get home.

Even your multiple animals knew that, as they hopped off the bed to go greet Bob. So you stayed put, continuing to read.

"Darlin'?"

The first thing you noticed was that Bob was still in his flight suit. That meant he drove straight home instead of showering at base. His normally well-kept and gelled hair was gone, replaced by loose curls that fell over his forehead. His breath was ragged, as if he had just run several miles.

And his eyes.

You could hardly see the beautiful blue hue. They were dark. Nearly black.

"Long day?" You asked.

Bob simply nodded his head, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upright, his brow still knitted together, jaw still tense.

"Can you talk about it?" You put your book down, motioning to the space next to you on the bed. Certain details Bob couldn't share, like exactly why he had been asked back to Top Gun, other than for an important mission.

Bob simply nodded his head as he closed the door before walking over to your shared bed. He sat down, leaving room between your bodies.

You placed a hand on his, giving him time to think. The last couple days of training had been hard. You also knew that the last thing Bob wanted to do was make you worry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Your eyes scanned his body, looking for any marks or injuries. If it was serious, you would have received a call from the doctor on base. But the nature of Bob's job was quite intense and it was common for some days to be tougher than others.

He chuckled as he shook his head, his long fingers tracing circles on the soft skin of your bare thighs.

Despite what everyone else thought, Bob wasn't quiet or reserved around you. He was comfortable opening up and saying what was on his mind.

So when he didn't, usually it meant something.

You leaned in, your forehead brushing against his, your fingers gently threading themselves in the soft curls at the back of his neck, "What do you need Robby?"

There was a pause, his eyes scanning your face, his pursed together in deep thought before he spoke.

"You. I need you."

His drawl sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded in understanding. It wasn't the first time one of you had asked the other of this. Although you worked in two different fields, you both had stressful jobs. Some days the only way to unwind, to forget about whatever had happened or was bothering you, was to take control elsewhere.

But you always asked first. Which was why Bob was still sitting, waiting for your answer.

"You have me. All of me."

Bob flashed that slightly crooked (yet absolutely endearing) smile before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You climbed into his lap, now very thankful that the summer heat caused you to ditch your shorts earlier, leaving you in only a t-shirt.

His hands cupped the sides of your face, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. Your hands moved down to the zipper of Bob's flight suit, beginning to pull it down. A large hand stopped your's.

"Who said you could do that?" His voice was low and his words came out in a near growl.

So he had one of those days.

"I'm sorry." You put your hands behind your back, making a show of it so he could see.

The chuckle he let out went right to your core. His sweetness was what made you fall head over heels for him. You knew he'd never harm a single hair on your head.

But when he got like this? Deep, confident, dark, and demanding? You couldn't deny it.

You loved it just as much as you loved the tender kisses and gentle touches he gives you.

Maybe even more.

Bob moved so his long legs were now over the bed, his feet touching the floor. He placed his hands on your hips, moving you so that you were now straddling one of his thighs. A gasp fell from your lips as he pushed your hips back and then towards him, the thin cotton of your panties rubbing against the thick material of his flight suit.

"You can touch me darlin'. In fact, I'll let you even ride me," one of his large hands gripped your jawline, "but don't you dare make a mess."

You couldn't hold back the whimpers as he bounced his thigh up, meeting your core. His hands slide up your (his) t-shirt, squeezing your breasts. With great ease, he found your nipples, his fingers tweaking and tugging on the hardening buds.

You were at his mercy and wouldn't have it any other way. He titled his head up, capturing your lips with his in a desperate kiss. Without any hesitation, you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth.

"Ya close?" Bob asked in-between sloppy kisses. You could only nod, your hips rocking against his thigh in a desperate attempt to chase that high.

"Good," was all he said before lifting you up by your thighs, pushing you down into the mattress. Your thighs clenched, that high drifting away from the loss of contact.

Bob shook his head at the pathetic whine you let out.

"You know the rules darlin'. When are ya gonna come?"

You knew the answer. Bob knew that. But that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Not until Daddy says I can."

The way his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply told you that was exactly what he wanted. He attached his mouth to your neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

"D-Daddy," you whined, your fingers clawing at the flight suit Bob still had on.

Getting the message, your husband quickly broke away from your neck to pull the suit off, placing his glasses on the nightstand, tugging the black t-shirt over his head before connecting his lips back to yours.

His mouth moved from your neck down to your breasts, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. Your nails dug into his broad shoulders as Bob used your body like a canvas, painting bruises and marks onto it with his mouth.

Your hips couldn't help but buck into his, desperate for some type of friction. Bob shook his head, using his knees to spread your legs apart as he wrapped a hand around your throat, his fingers holding your head in place without adding pressure.

His fingers brushed against your clothed core. Bob couldn't help but chuckle upon hearing you gasp. His touch was like fire, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

His fingers began to draw circles against your clit, pressing in so you could feel it through the fabric of your panties. His other hand began to apply pressure around your throat, his deep blue eyes watching you intently.

"I bet I could get ya to come just from this," He whispered. That Midwestern drawl came out during heated moments like this. It added to the thrill of seeing him like this. To everyone else, Bob was quiet, reserved, and couldn't harm a fly.

But you knew what he was capable of. Not that he was mean for the sake of being mean. It came from a need to feel control, after years of being overlooked and underestimated.

You were more than happy to help feed that desire.

All you could do was whimper as he continued to use his thumb to apply pressure against your clit. His other fingers traced downwards, pressing into the fabric, into your entrance.

"Are ya? Are you gonna come just from this?"

You shook your head, barely able to get out more than a choked no. Your fingers clawed at his bare back, not caring what kind of mark they left.

Bob liked it and wouldn't complain.

He cocked an eyebrow in mocked confusion at your answer, "Why not? Isn't that what ya want darlin'?"

He loosens his grip on your throat, silently telling you that he expects a proper response.

Despite your head spinning, your body feeling warm and fuzzy as his fingers continue their tortured ministrations on your clothed cunt, you manage to get out a coherent response.

"C-can't come until Daddy says s-so."

"Such a smart girl," He cooed, the praise setting your skin ablaze.

His fingers continued to push you closer to that forbidden edge. You tried to prepare yourself for the eventual loss of contact, but that was so hard when his grip around your throat tightened, leaving you gasping for air.

So you couldn't help but whine pathetically when his fingers left the spot between your legs, leaving you once again so close to the edge, just needing a little more to push you over the ledge.

"Sorry darlin, but I like seeing you squirm. You're real cute when you can't come, ya know that?" He whispered in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You could ask for him to stop. To just fuck you and let you come all over his cock without any of this. Bob would do it, would drop the act as soon as you asked him to.

But where was the fun in that?

So instead you simply nodded your head, lifting your hips up as he pulled down your soaked panties.

"What'cha want baby? My fingers or my mouth?" He was letting you choose the method of torture.

How generous.

"F-fingers," you whined. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Ya sure? Ya don't want my mouth on your pussy?" People thought because Bob didn't curse, he was pure and clean.

They were wrong.

You shook your head, fighting the urge to hide your face with your hands. Instead, your fingers dug into the smooth skin of his back.

"But I thought you liked it," He teased, "Ya always say how much ya love my tongue on your clit."

God, were folks fucking wrong about Bob.

"I-I do b-but," words were beginning to fail you. Your entire body was hot and all you wanted was for Bob to touch you.

"But what darlin'?"

"Don't… don't wanna come b-before D-daddy says I-I can," how you managed to get that one out as Bob's fingers began to trace along your slit, was beyond you.

He chuckled before pressing his lips to your temple, a gesture you normally found sweet and endearing, but in this moment, felt like confirmation of the torture you were about to embark on.

"Good girl." His words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice low, sending heat to your core.

It was something you two had tried out recently. At first, Bob was hesitant towards the idea, as it felt more like torture than pleasurable. But then he saw how you would squirm and wither underneath him, how he could reduce you to a blubbering, begging mess without even fucking you.

He loved it.

A high pitch whine fell from your lips as you felt him enter one finger, then two, stretching you out. He continued until his knuckles were at your entrance, the cool metal of his wedding ring (that he always wore at home) resting against your heated skin.

As he began to build up a rhythm, curling his fingers to quickly find that spot that sent you into overdrive, the heel of his hand began to brush against your clit as his fingers thrusted into you.

Maybe mouth would have been the less torturous method.

The pace Bob set up, how his fingers would stretch your walls, find that sweet spot with such precision, was torturous and delightful all at the same time. You never wanted it to end, he was ridiculously good with his fingers.

Your hips couldn't help but thrust up, trying to meet the heel of his hand to stimulate your throbbing clit.

Bob noticed this right away (noticing details was part of his job description). He couldn't help but smirk at the frustrated whine you let out when he angled the heel of his hand away from your body, your hips pathetically meeting nothing but air.

His lips turned to form a pout that mocked the one that adorned your face, "What's wrong baby? Ya need something from Daddy?"

All you could do was nod, your body desperately searching for that little extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Bob laughed, low and dark, "That's too damn bad."

He withdrew his fingers, your aching cunt clenching around nothing. Without thinking, you squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the ache.

"Don't you fuckin' dare."

Bob placed his knees onto your thighs, keeping them apart. One of his hands had pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hips, effectively pinning you to the bed.

The two of you laid like that, the room filled with your panting. His stare was burning into your skin, but you couldn't look away.

"I-I'm sorry Daddy. I'm so sorry, I'll be good, I promise," you panted, desperate to convince him so Bob would let you come sooner rather than later.

He simply stared you down, his hand moving up from your hips to your jawline.

So you continued your begging, "L-let me show you. Please. I can be good Daddy, just let me show-"

"Stick out your tongue."

Your eyes widened at his demand because holy shit was he actually going to do this? It was something you had confessed to him after too many mimosas at brunch. The look of pure shock, almost borderline horror on Bob's face was quite the sight. You honestly were surprised he didn't pass out at the time, considering it was still early in your relationship.

Your tongue darted past your lips. His thin lips formed into a smirk as his face now hovered over your's.

Somewhere, your Feminist Theory 101 professor was screaming as you felt wettness, Bob’s saliva now on your tongue.

He watched as you swallowed, his eyes widening as he saw your throat bob. He too was partly in shock from what he just did.

"Color," Bob asked, his sapphire eyes studying every detail of your face, searching for any signs of discomfort.

"Green. So fucking green."

"It-it wasn't too much?" He asked, resembling the shy, bespectacled WSO you came to know, love, and marry.

"Not at all. But if you're still unsure, you could check down there to see how fucking turned on I am from that," you teased.

“Fuck,” was all he said before quickly moving down your body, his head now in-between your legs.

Before you could say anything, his tongue slowly moved through your folds in long, slow, licks. Your head fell backwards onto the pillow.

His mouth made you believe in a higher being. Before meeting Bob, you didn't know it was possible for someone's mouth to feel that good.

Bob didn't realize until he met you that some guys don't try to make their partners come from oral. And he was very quick to rectify that wrong the universe had somehow allowed.

Your hands dug into broad shoulders. You could see the muscles of his back contort as he gripped your thighs, allowing himself better access to your cunt.

He chuckled at the gasp you let out when his tongue flicked against your clit. Bob loved watching you react to his ministrations. Folks always assumed since you were the loud, outspoken one in public, it was no different in the bedroom. And while Bob didn't believe in the toxic idea of "needing to assert his dominance", it also didn't mean he never took control.

Which was while when he felt your cunt beginning to tighten around the one finger he thrusted into your entrance (you didn't deserve any, but he was feeling generous), when your whines increased in pitch, the muscles of your thighs clenching as his tongue lapped at your clit, he couldn't help but grin.

Only he got to see you like this. Only he got to make you like this. All desperate and whiney for something, anything. Trying so hard to hold back a pathetic whine from the loss of contact, full of desire for him. Your whole being aching for that sweet release. Bob loved watching the internal battle that played out in your big, beautiful eyes. How you craved him, yet you didn't dare you move or make your displeasure at not yet coming explicitly known.

He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, using his strength to roll onto his back, your body now on top of his.

"Show me."

Your head was spinning from the sudden movement, your body still trying to recover from Bob's mouth. All you could get out was a muffled "huh?".

"Show me how bad you wanna come," He grunted, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. You could only stare blankly at him.

Bob was a pretty patient man, he grew up with four sisters and had eight nieces and nephews under the age of eight.

But you weren't the only one who wanted to come.

With a low huff, he grabbed your hips, moving you down until your soaked core was right above his hardened cock. Even with the fabric of his boxer briefs acting as a barrier between your skin and his, you could feel his erection.

Your head fell back as Bob's hands moved your hips back and forth, your cunt brushing over his thick cock.

"Daddy," you whined. You could feel his cock twitch at the name, which drove you wild. The guy who couldn't even muster up the courage to come up and talk to you at the bar had turned you into a withering mess, somehow making it impossible for you to speak coherently despite not having fucked you yet.

"One more edge darlin'," you whined at his words, the thought of having to rub yourself against his cock and not be able to come sounding like torture.

So you shook your head, "I-I can't, pl-please dadd-"

"Yes you can," His voice was soft, a large thumb coming up to your face to stroke your cheek, wiping away a tear.

You tried to shake your head, tried to simultaneously explain that you couldn't and to beg Bob to let you come.

Your ramblings were met with a slap to one of your thighs. His wedding ring added a layer of hot, twisted pain that made you moan.

"Either do it now or you're not coming until tomorrow afternoon."

He would do it. He had done it before and it was pure torture. Memories of Bob bending you over the kitchen counter, the couch, the stairs and never knowing if he was going to torture you with his fingers, mouth, or cock came flooding back.

Not today. You needed to come within the next twenty minutes, not twenty hours.

So you leaned forward, placing your hands on his defined chest for support. You grind your hips down, your aching core rubbing against his throbbing erection.

It was torment. It was the closest you had gotten to his cock and you could feel your walls clenching in a pathetic attempt to hold onto him. As your hips increased in speed, you found yourself clawing at his smooth skin, leaving marks that would be quite visible tomorrow.

Bob simply watched, enjoying you falling apart more than he'll ever admit. He could say something about the marks and hickeys you're leaving, but the small, smug part of him that he usually does a great job of managing and hiding was dominating today. Maybe it was the two hundred push ups he had to do or Hangman's comments.

Whatever the source, he wasn't stopping you.

"You're getting close, aren't ya?" He cooed. You picked up your head that was resting against his chest, nodding weakly.

"Ya gonna come?" You shook your head, though your hips kept moving. It felt so fucking good, the way the material of his boxer briefs provided a delicious friction against your clit.

“You should stop soon darlin. Don’t wanna come before Daddy says ya can, right?” You nodded at his words, though that didn’t stop you from moving your hips back and forth.

Which is why Bob didn’t feel bad bringing his large hands up to your neck, his fingers able to completely cover the skin from your jawline to your collarbone. The action forced you to look at him, into those blue eyes that drove you wild.

“C’mon darlin’. Be a good girl f'me, will ya?"

You whined as your hips stilled, moving your body off of your husband and onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

"Robby," you whined and that's what did it. Not sir, not Lieutenant, not Daddy, not Bob. But that nickname you bestowed onto him the night you two first met, the name only you get to call him, no one else. The way it roll off your tongue so naturally, like you were always made to call him that, how it went with your bright smile and beaming eyes, was what made Bob realize that even though he couldn't physically bring you the stars and the moon, he'd spend the rest of his life finding and bringing you equivalents he deemed worthy enough for you.

That's what led him to quickly tug off his boxers, to open the drawer of the nightstand so hard, you're pretty sure he pulled it all the way out, with the clatter of everything falling to the bedroom floor except the bottle of lube he was clutching. But your head was far too fuzzy to think about that right now.

You whined his name again as he hovered over you, lining his cock to your entrance. Your hands reached out, desperate to hold onto him.

"I know, I know, been such'a good girl," He praised as he pushed push your folds. The moan forming in your throat tore through you as you felt him stretch your walls, inch by inch.

"Please, please, I need," you couldn't even finish your sentence. What did you need? Release? Reprieve? Reassurance?

Bob grabbed your thighs, lifting them so they were around his waist. The new angle made his thrusts even deeper, causing your moans to increase in volume.

"I know, you've been so good for me. Let go darlin'," his voice was soothing.

You threw your head back, letting him thrust into you. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge you desperately craved. Your fingers dug into his back, heightening his pleasure.

Bob couldn't help but chuckle, "Ya gonna leave marks on me darlin'. What am I gonna tell folks tomorrow?"

"T-that you fuck your wife so -s'good."

Maybe it was the fact the most coherent sentence you had been able to verbalize since he got home was praise for him. Maybe it was the fact that after two years of marriage he still couldn't get over the fact you were 'his wife'.

Whatever it was, it made him determined to push you over that edge. The sound you let out when his fingers rubbed tight circles on your clit was probably going to get you a noise complaint. That is, if folks were able to hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.

“Rob-Daddy- I-”

“Come.” HIs voice was gruff and hoarse, juxtaposing the gentle kiss he gave to your forehead immediately after his order. With one more thrust, you fell apart on his cock.

You were chanting something as your walls clenched around him. Perhaps it was his name, perhaps it was one of the several nicknames he liked to be called in bed. Perhaps it was words of thanks for granting you permission to come. Your thighs trembled as Bob fucked you through your high, heightening the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

His fingers continued drawing circles on your clit, using your wetness. Jolts of pleasure shot through your body, sensitivity quickly overtaking your cunt. You threw your head back. It wasn’t a shock Bob hadn’t come yet. Despite how quickly he blushed and stammered when he first met you, he had a surprisingly high stamina.

Your hands threaded through his hair, gripping the sun kissed locks. It only spurs him on; how you whine your name, how you coated him with your slick, how much you came, Christ, he knew the sheets would have to be changed after this. The pain brought on by you tugging on his hair led him to grip the headboard of your shared bed, allowing him to thrust into you even deeper.

“Gimme one more. Ya can do that f’me, right darlin’?” The noises you made in response were incoherent as you shook your head. The corners of your eyes were blurred with tears, something that Bob would never admit out loud how it made his cock twitch.

Bob pulled his head away from yours, studying as if he was analyzing an F/A-18 rather than the face of his wife. Like hell if you were only going to come once in bed with him. That never happened before and it sure wasn’t going to start now. He just had to push you over.

“Open.”

Your eyes widened, your walls around his cock clenching at the command. Bob couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of your parted lips. His large hand that was gripping the headboard came down to your cheeks, his fingers gripping the sides of your cheeks.

His saliva landed directly in your mouth. You swallowed with zero hesitation, your eyes never leaving his.

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle. He wasn’t one to talk about his personal life at work; hell, he was pretty sure only Phoenix and Rooster knew he was married. But he knew the assumptions folk made about him, he had been dealing with it for most of his life.

He could only imagine their shock upon learning that Robert “Baby on Board” Floyd just made his wife come again by spitting in her mouth.

He’d never get tired of watching you come. You were so pretty with your parted lips, half-closed eyes, a pure look of bliss adorning your beautiful features. How your fingernails would dig into the skin of his shoulder at the exact same time your cunt seized around his cock.

He came with a hard thrust, grunting as he felt himself empty inside of you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, panting in an attempt to catch his breath. Your nose nuzzled against his temple, finding solace in his breathing.

“Ya okay?” He asked into your neck. You nodded your head, but that didn’t stop him from looking at you, studying your face for any signs of discomfort, “What’s my name?”

You smiled, “You’re my Robby.”

Bob smiled, the tips of his ears turning red at your affection. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Let’s get cleaned up, ‘kay?” You nodded your head, wrapping your legs around his waist. You buried your head into his neck.

“Oh….I’ll….fix that later.” You lifted up your head to see what your husband was referring to.

Bob had indeed, in his haste to get the lube, pulled out the entire drawer from your nightstand, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“How bad of a day was it?”

“Hangman’s an asshole,” was all he said as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Probably because he doesn’t get fucked,” You laughed as Bob placed you on the toilet while he turned on the water to the shower.

“That man will not shut up about what he does after work, I think it’s just a personality defect.” Bob reached a hand out towards you. You took it, allowing him to pull you into the shower.

“Yeah, he talks about getting laid, but has he ever come in with a scratch or hickey? Or does he just look unnaturally smooth and scratch free like a new Ken doll?” Your comment earned a laugh from Bob.

“And they say I’m the observant one,” He grinned as he moved you under the head of the shower. The warm water ran down your spine, you let out a happy hum against your husband's skin.

"I meant what I said earlier," you reached for the shampoo, standing on the tips of your toes to apply it to Bob's hair.

"If they ask about how you got those marks," you traced the evidence of your afternoon together, red marks and scratches that were scattered along his chest and back.

He chuckled, "I think they'd have a hard time believing it."

You shrugged, "Well, that's more telling of their performance in the bedroom."

—---------------------------

The next day of training went much better. He and Phoenix finally nailed the one manuver that had been tricking them up for the past few days. Training had gone well, Bob didn't have to hold anyone back from starting a fight (or seriously consider letting them go to continue said fight).

He checked his phone before putting it in his locker, his eyes lighting up at your text.

I think I finally perfected Babka. Want to be my test taster?

Bob sent you a thumbs up emoji, quickly putting his phone away so he could get into the shower and home to you.

He took off his shirt, not thinking much of it until-

"Jesus Christ Bob! Did you wrestle with a tiger after training yesterday?"

At first Bob didn't know what Hangman was referring to, but then he remembered.

The marks. Your marks, the ones you left across his back yesterday.

Which now everyone in the locker room had seen.

It wasn't like Bob tried to hide he was married. Hell, he wore his wedding ring on his dog tags. He just didn't feel the need to talk about his personal life.

"I relaxed."

Hangman scoffed, "By what? Reenacting the bear scene from The Revenant?"

Bob narrowed his eyes, "By fucking my wife really well. Not that you would know about that, considering I've never seen a single mark on you after your hookups."

Somewhere in the locker room, Rooster was howling and Fanboy was yelling (what Bob was pretty certain was "Get him Bobby!). It was hard to tell with Coyote and Payback's laughter.

—------------------

"My honorary call sign is what now?" You asked as you sliced in the babka.

"Tiger." The smirk on Bob's face told you everything you needed to know.

"They also want to meet you now," He added before taking a bite out of your latest baking adventure.

"Can I tell Bagman to shove it?" The way you asked so innocently was one of the many things Bob loved about you.

"I'm not gonna stop ya. I'm the quiet one, remember?"

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