#hey lady is this your horse?
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I can spot Greg Nolan anywhere. 🤭
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price….. in a.. a.. cowboy hat
girl... you have no idea what you have done to me with this ask. Cowboy Price!?? I had so much fun with this, I might even do a part 2! I'm sorry this took me so long - I really hope you like it!!! ♡
18+ mdni - cw: chasing, spanking - 3.2k words
John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You've got a habit of climbing the fence between them, snooping around Mr Price's property and leaving traces of your misbehaviour behind. This time, he catches you.
Here’s part 2!
Daddy had warned you about wandering onto Mr Price’s property. The lichen-coated fence that separated his land and your father’s spanned miles; carving through tall dry grass, through woods of oak and pine trees, over a bumbling shallow creek. It was easy enough to climb over, but there was one little gap in the barrier, where the splintering planks had fallen from their fastenings. Tucked under a towering cottonwood tree, hidden by the grass, it was easy to wander through as if it were more of your own land on the other side.
Mr Price was a reticent man. An arguably shadowy figure, who you might occasionally see on horseback up on the hilltops of his ranch, tan cattleman hat bowed as he surveyed his acreage. You had met him, once or twice, as a girl. Then, he was in his early twenties, tall and aloof. Eldest of three sons, all three of whom had enlisted and served, sent to fight a war whose nature you were oblivious to in your innocence. He had been absent for years, and once his father was taken by whatever cancer he chose not to treat, John was the only one of the three to return.
His father you had known, vaguely, only as a man that your father despised with an unwavering passion. Some daft rivalry, dating back long before you were born. Whatever enmity existed between old men had not quite been passed on to the last remaining son, it seemed – where there might have been out-and-out conflict, existed only cold disinterest.
Thus explained your intrigue. You found yourself strangely captivated by him, in a nosy sort of way, once he had finally come home. Suddenly bearded and jaded, no longer the bright-faced young man you had distantly remembered, he had picked up where his father had left off. He lived alone, as far as you were aware, in his inherited six-bedroom farmhouse, atop a five-thousand-acre piece of natural splendour. Don’t bother the man, daddy would tell you, he’s not our friend.
But you had always been at the mercy of your impish curiosity. You couldn’t help it. It was an impulse, a compulsion, to stick your fingers where they didn’t belong. You would habitually explore his acres when you came home from college. You’d peek into his empty old shacks, pet his mooing cattle, pick handfuls of wildflowers from his unkempt fields.
Sometimes you’d sneak into his stables. You’d coo at his horses, stroke their velvet snouts, feed them the flowers you had plucked with a smile. They had grown to like you, his sweet horses, you wished you could know their names. They probably liked you more than him, no doubt, the mysterious little neighbour that would sneak in at dusk and feed them treats.
But your most regular habit – one that had gotten you into trouble before – was your proclivity for picking bunches of glossy red cherries from his rows of fruiting cherry trees. The orchard was under-loved and weedy, but those glimmering little baubles of ruby were just too delightful to let fall to the grass and rot.
He had caught you, once, while your arms were stretched far above you, reaching among the droopy branches and floppy leaves to pick the brightest sun-ripened cherries. You had heard him yelling;
“Hey! I see you in there, missy!”
Lips stained red, slick with sweet juice, you gave him a puckish grin before you ran off like a rabbit and hopped back over the fence.
“There’ll be trouble next time I catch you over here, little lady,” he had roared after you, watching you clamber over the oaken planks, “You hear me?”
It didn’t stop you, of course, whatever threat he threw at you. If anything, it emboldened you. Now you meandered down the rows of cherry trees like they belonged to you, picking the prettiest ones, popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, spitting them into the grass as you moved onto the next.
You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on doorframes, on the planks of the fence, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.
Today was no different. You wandered in scuffing sandals along an old dirt road, green sprigs of grass almost covering it entirely. Some old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.
Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked the fruity flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.
One, two, three, four…
At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, red paint faded and matte after a decade or two of proper use and neglect.
There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. Mr Price squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, crow’s-feet pinching, eyes barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye; the flitter of adrenaline buzzed in your chest, toeing the line between nerves and excitement.
With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you about catching you back here?”
Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.
“You said there’d be trouble,” you answered with a simper, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other.
“Mhm,” he grunted in agreement, tapping the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head in gesture for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “Get in.”
A crease pulled between your brows as you frowned at him. “What for?”
“I’m takin’ you back to your daddy,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.”
You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”
With a snort, he rocked his head to peer out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on his daughter.”
“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.
He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed, “c’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”
You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”
Glowering at you for a moment, his nostrils flared in frustration, as he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.
With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. You hadn’t seen him up close in as long as you could remember, and Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the looming shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, so delightfully thrilling. You felt the shiver of gooseflesh tingle down the nape of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach.
“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint curl in your lips, almost daring.
He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, wearing a snide and thin smirk, curled under his dense beard. But as his gaze raked you up and down, his sneer shifted quickly into a pout of disapproval, eyes caught on your chest.
“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you; you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if it might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream linen of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap - brazenly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.
But, no, he instead curled the fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front of your dress.
Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance.
As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand suddenly moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing glare glued to your lips, his eyes sunk into a defeated ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.
Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat; as he tilted your head up and to the side. He used his other thumb to wipe your bottom lip, pointedly slowly, from the corner to the centre.
“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”
Were you scared of him? It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heartrate between terror and thrill – perhaps a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the tingle his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflecting off your dress illuminating them like they glowed from within.
“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the low neckline.
“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – lifting your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, red drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, missy.”
Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”
“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, hooking his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”
“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”
Huffing in anger, he leaned forward – looming over you with a domineering lour. “While you’re trespassing on my property – yes I am.”
Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibble at the inside of your lip as you pouted at him. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”
He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”
Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.
He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.
So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.
“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”
Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.
“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, charging after you like a grizzly.
You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the tall white oaks that littered his prairies.
“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”
“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.
You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!”
Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there.
He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, stumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood amongst dust and scattered hay. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.
Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – no longer joking.
But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.
“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”
“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”
You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”
“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped in your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.
So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.
But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist, hooking you by the stomach.
“C’mere,” he growled through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, holding your back to his chest with a constricting arm, leaving your feet dangling high off the ground.
You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.
“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your daddy so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.”
You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip; nails digging into his bronzed and hairy skin, corded with veins bulged from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them, while he hauled you towards the exit.
“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got heaps of them.”
Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen.
“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.
You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”
That was a step over the line.
You knew it immediately, quick to bite your tongue after the words spat from your lips.
And his retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against the bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.
He kneeled beside you, with his forearm weighing against your lower back - you were flustered and confused by his haste. Skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack.
“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.
A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.
He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place; grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You thought he might apologise, might express some remorse, might beg for you not to tell your father what he did. But he was silent. Like he had even surprised himself.
You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.
“For what?” He growled; his glower potently intimidating, a glimmer of voracity in his shadowy eyes, strained like he was suppressing greater hunger.
With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”
Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.
And he must have heard it, took it as encouragement; as you felt the hand of his arm that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm – lifting up the hem even further, you felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin as your ass was entirely exposed.
“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?”
#bet his handprint is the size of a dinner plate#john price#call of duty fanfic#john price x reader#john price x female reader#captain john price#cod fanfic#john price x you#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price smut
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Cheating Heart
Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)
Word Count: 20.8k
Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot
A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.
“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”
“Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.”
Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”
Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.
“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”
“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”
“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”
Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.”
The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison.
Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.
Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.
It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell.
“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”
“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”
“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”
Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.
“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”
Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.
“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”
“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.
“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”
“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”
“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”
The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.
You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.
Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes.
“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”
Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.
“--soon?”
You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.
“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”
Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood.
You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.
“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you.
If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.
“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!”
His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.
“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath.
Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.
It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.
Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.
Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform.
“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on.
Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.
Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories.
John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps.
You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain.
As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly.
The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations.
“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”
“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”
“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”
“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”
You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…
Your eyes harden as reality sets in.
John.
“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own.
Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down.
Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock.
Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all.
A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.
Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.
“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”
“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”
Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.
The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?
John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in.
Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong.
For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him.
“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.
If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath.
It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.
A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly.
Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.
Why did you care?
Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man.
“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.
John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks.
The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion.
“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy?
Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound.
If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.
“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”
“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”
“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”
“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder.
Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.
“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”
Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?
Shut the fuck up!
A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.
Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?
That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.
“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.
“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”
Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes.
John’s hands clench, jaw following suit.
You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up.
“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.
John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself.
No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it.
That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.
The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!
But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you.
Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.
Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.
If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in.
You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling.
That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority.
But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.
“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”
A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.
“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”
“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”
When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.
“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?”
As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight.
If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you.
But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force.
He was your Captain. You were working under him.
You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset.
But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.
“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks.
John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late.
Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds.
Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.
You still felt disgusting.
—
Nothing you did made sense to him.
John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all.
She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail.
I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.
Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong.
But he knew that would only make it worse.
“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”
But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that?
Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.
Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given.
It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent.
You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.
John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything.
“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair.
The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky.
Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.
—
The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in.
You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home.
Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.
He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too.
Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown.
You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.
Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge.
“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.”
The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.
Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.
“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation.
You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.
Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’
John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories.
On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand.
John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters.
“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight.
– John”
Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.
More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.
You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago.
Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances.
It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.
John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation.
You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.
“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”
Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch.
Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking.
But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands.
When had this place stopped being home for you?
“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…”
You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it.
“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”
“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”
Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch.
What’s that noise?
“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”
But you weren’t stupid.
A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet.
You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.
Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles.
Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.
“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!”
Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend.
“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”
Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided.
“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!”
Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you.
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”
“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers.
“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them.
Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.
“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained.
You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house.
“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly.
“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door.
Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too.
Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.
The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.
“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”
Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip.
You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.
“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”
Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.
“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”
“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!”
“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”
Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”
Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more.
A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.
“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”
Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.
“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”
Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least.
You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.
Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.
The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed.
Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle.
Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise.
Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood.
Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot.
John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through.
Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.
That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.
“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.”
Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat.
The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.
John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.
“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”
“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”
When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off.
“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”
The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright.
Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.
Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his.
John looked so sad.
His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.
“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.”
“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor.
“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting.
“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head.
You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack.
It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something.
You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.
When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone.
Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.
Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)
He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.
“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”
—
Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter.
“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?”
“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?”
Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.”
John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod.
The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.
After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.
“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.
Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about.
“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”
“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”
“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”
“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.
“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”
“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue.
To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out.
It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it.
“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’
Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from.
“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.”
“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”
John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket.
“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–”
The bell at the front door jingles.
Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips.
A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth.
You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John.
“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.
“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”
The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.
“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”
Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”
A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.
Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.
His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.
“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.”
“...Two.”
“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”
“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?”
A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation.
Why were you not saying anything?
John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles.
There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face.
But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.
Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.
What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…
The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.
Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.
“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two.
John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?
He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.
You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.
John’s eyes slowly widen.
Oh.
Oh.
—
“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”
“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!”
“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”
“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”
“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved.
A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them.
John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”
“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”
Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens,
“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?”
Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name.
The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress.
You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.
But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.
Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me?
It couldn’t be helped.
When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter.
Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship.
Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?
You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.
“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon.
“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.”
Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.”
The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out.
“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”
You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”
“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder.
Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it.
Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.
“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”
“...I might have sucker-punched him.”
John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums.
“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.
He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again.
“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.
“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”
“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.
You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back.
…Why was his hand still on your back?
“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you.
John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.
It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.
Leon was gone.
“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”
The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”
John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you.
His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.
Stop it.
“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”
“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.
Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.
Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did.
If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart.
“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.
“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”
“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand.
“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”
You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.”
Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.
“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”
Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.
“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.”
He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.
“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”
A quiet grunt carries over the space.
You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.
Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”
“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You bet.”
“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Hey–!”
“What in the–!”
Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny.
“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.
“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”
“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.
You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.
This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold.
After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?
Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.
You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.
“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head.
His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water.
“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out.
You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?
“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.
“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place.
His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.
“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.”
The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.
“...Anytime, Dear.”
Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.
The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head?
When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake.
Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat.
“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.
You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.
“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?
He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt.
“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”
“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.
“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty.
“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.
“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.”
John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk.
He’s cute when he’s flustered.
“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”
Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach.
Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.
A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.
You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.
“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.
If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.
Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore.
Leon was gone.
“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?”
Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire.
You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior!
Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless.
“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”
But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.
It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.
But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?
And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you.
“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.”
So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his.
John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths.
His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke.
“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.
“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.”
His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this.
Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.
The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.
It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.
Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.
“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”
“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?
His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.
“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths.
Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.
“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”
He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.
You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.
That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action.
His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”
Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow.
God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.
John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee.
You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers.
“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”
“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point.
Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now.
“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever.
Annoyance swirls.
“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”
A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.
“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you.
John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner.
He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.
You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you.
John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets.
“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?”
Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.”
“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.
Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs...
You want him naked.
“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest.
The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.
You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.
When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.
John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand.
He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.
You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube.
“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.
Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.
John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug.
“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”
You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.
A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release.
Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”
“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”
Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again.
“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”
His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film.
John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.
“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.
You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release.
“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.”
Fuck you were on fire.
Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you.
John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar.
Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt.
“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”
He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.
“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue.
The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind.
And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.
John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.
“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”
The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot.
Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.
John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still.
Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.
You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.
His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.
“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.”
You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly.
“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it.
Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.
“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”
“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”
Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Y-yes, Captain.”
John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away.
“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”
You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.
Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.
“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving.
How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.
But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.
The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.
You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.
Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.
“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other.
“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself.
John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.
“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.”
“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”
“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”
He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.
“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”
The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.
You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too.
“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes.
“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”
“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”
Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.
“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.”
The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same.
“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made.
Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available.
Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it.
“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.”
He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.
John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.
A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”
“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.”
Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.
“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”
“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.”
John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”
He trails.
“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”
Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.
“Easier.”
It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.
“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.
“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”
You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.
Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind.
John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.
There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared.
—
“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.”
Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–
“That’s it, I'm coming in!”
“Wait!”
But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick.
“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?”
“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–”
“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?”
“Out!”
Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck.
John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”
Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.
“Wait till the boys hear about this!”
The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.
Well, secret’s out.
#john price#captain johnathan price#captain john price#john price x reader#John price x you#captain price#x reader smut#cod#cod x reader#cod smut#cod mw22#cod x you#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#MW#MW2#Call Of Duty MW2#mw2 2022#x female reader#female reader
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Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons
~warnings: slight mentions of jealousy, stealing, and western stand offs that involve guns, shooting a man. Otherwise, mentions of flirting, nicknames, cheesy pickup lines from our favorite robot cowboy, pre-release Boothill, fem!reader.
~a/n: Just a quick little something due to @the-guardian-kitsune wanting me to share my thoughts on Mr. Robot Cowboy. Boothill's leaks are invading my mind while I wait for the update today. His ultimate...omg its so good! Is it bad that I get tingles when I hear the whip in his animation?
Outlaw!Boothill is the most fearsome outlaw in the town. Everyone runs to close their shops and doors when he comes into town. He's usually harassing the town sheriff with his buddies or robbing people. If someone gets on his nerves and actually has the guts to try and stand up to him, it likely ends in a stand off.
Outlaw!Boothill spends his time flirting with you when he's not busy stealing and holding up stagecoaches and trains. Always goes to your saloon, specifically for you. No one else really captured his eye except for you. Plus most of the other saloon girls are scared of him. For some reason, you're not. Hence, making him take interest in you. While everyone usually steers clear of him, you aren't afraid to talk to him.
How you guys met was he stomped his way into your saloon one day, looking for some whiskey. Seeing the most wanted outlaw, your other customers immediately fled. He plops himself down in a chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, waving his hand for a drink. "Hey little lady, you mind gettin' me some whiskey. Neat." You were already annoyed at this cowboy storming his way in your saloon, scaring your customers off and ruining your business.
Boothill looks up and notices you haven't moved from your spot behind the counter. Instead, you're crossing your arms and giving him an annoyed look. He glares at you. "Did you hear me darlin'? Whiskey. Neat." You don't move an inch, returning his glare and simply say no. He's caught a bit off guard for a second. He's used to people being too scared to stand up to him. "No?" He gets up, slowly walking towards the bar where you're at. "Do you know who I am." He points to the wanted sign on the wall nearby, his face adorns the flier. You glance at it. "Yeah. And? I don't serve rude customers. Either learn some manners or get out." Now he's thrown off his high horse. He's never had someone call him out like you did. You expected him to become more hostile, but instead, he just laughs. "Alright little lady." Since that day, he's been attracted to you. He likes the way you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself and speak your mind, especially towards him. He likes the 'feisty little lady that you are'. His own words that he used when he first asked you out.
Outlaw!Boothill teases you to get you worked up on purpose. If you really want to get him to shut up, call him "Bootie". The first time you called him that, you swear you saw his cheeks go red. Knowing the effect the nickname has on him, you use it when you're not in the mood for his teasing. But the times when you get so annoyed at his teasing that you angrily walk away, he uses his whip to grab you, pulling you right back into his arms and dipping you. Your heart skips a beat as he lowers his head to yours. You hold your breath while at a loss for words as he says, "Now where do you think you're going little lady?"
Outlaw!Boothill gets jealous when other men try to swoon you or check you out in your little saloon outfit. He is a protective boyfriend and is the type to defend your honor. So when he sees someone harassing you, he either challenges them to a stand off or he just straight up takes care of them right there in the saloon. Ugh just imagine: watching as the two men take 10 paces in opposite directions as everyone watches from the sidelines. Nerves invade your senses, worries cloud your mind about the men fighting over you. You don't want anyone to get hurt especially Boothill. Then, at the end of the countdown, both men quickly turn to each other, guns raised and they go off. Boothill is left standing as the other man falls to the floor. He walks over to you as you're left in shock. "Now darlin'. How about a kiss for your cowboy?"
Outlaw!Boothill who spoils you with his attention and gifts (which he probably stole). He gets a bit annoyed and offended when you don't accept his gifts, saying how he shouldn't steal things from others. It just goes over his head and he says "Darlin', I think you're the real criminal here since you stole my heart." This usually shuts you up. Your cheeks turn red as he smirks. Turning away from him, you quietly say, "Just.. go easy on stealing gifts for me, Bootie." He ignores your signature nickname for him and turns you to face him. Pulling you close to his chest, he says, "Whatever you say, darlin'." He gives you his signature shark tooth smile. He would never admit it but he's whipped for you. No pun intended.
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𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐧' 𝐋𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 ︻デ═一
synopsis : gun play w/boothill ;)
tags: bounty hunter!reader, cowboy on the run boothill, lots of filth, gun play, mentions of alcohol, vulgar, dubcon(?)
wrd cnt: 1.3k+
a/n : read his lines in a country accent 🙏 ( i’m from the west coast pls forgive me if it doesn’t hit 😭)
As you rode into town, the sound of horseshoes clanking on the dusty road filled the air. Your mission was to track down a notorious criminal named Boothill, who had a hefty bounty on his head. You followed about a dozen loose leads and ended up in the western region. As the sky was soon to be painted orange and pink, you decided to take a break and rest for a while.
After tying your horse to the hitching post outside the local saloon, you walked in, eyes scanning the room for any sign of your criminal. The place was nearly empty, save for a few rough-looking gunslingers and the bartender.
As you sipped some booze, you couldn't help but feel a little restless. You had been traveling for days, tirelessly pursuing Boothill, and a part of you was desperate for a break.
But is it ever really that easy? Just as you were about to get going, a voice interrupted your thoughts.
“Thats some damn good whiskey, have a nice evening lil’ lady.”
You looked up to see a man behind you, he downed the rest of your drink before slamming it back down on the bar, walking away while tipping his hat and flashing a teethy smile.
“Hey- Wait!” You scramble out of your chair, grabbing your things, and run to the back of the saloon, slamming the wooden doors open as you look across the balcony to the desert sand.
Suddenly, you feel a large hand cover your mouth from behind you, and hear the doors swing shut.
“Shhhh Shh Shhh…don’t scream too loudly darlin’…not yet anyway.” Boothill whispers into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
His rough hand caresses your cheek before sliding down your neck and gripping your throat, “I reckon you’re the little bounty hunter looking for me, aren’t cha?” You nod slowly, trying to stay calm as his grip on your neck tightens. “Well, sweetheart, you can give me that gun of yours.”
With hesitation, you give it to him, understanding the severity of your situation.
You hear him chuckle, pushing you onto a nearby table and bending you over it.
“Now…What do I owe the honor of your relentless search for me? Are ya a fan? Got a crush on me?” He giggled,holding your wrists together tighter as he pinned you down.
“You’re quite the pretty thing, I gotta say. You can’t just be out for me over a few bucks?”
Anger flares in your chest at his arrogant statement, but you’re too defeated to muster a response.
Boothill takes notice of the fire in your eyes and smirks. With lightning quick movements, he reaches for your hair and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him.
He trails kisses down your jawline, down your neck, leaving small marks along the way. You moan as his lips graze your skin, and you can feel him smirking against your neck. “I figure we have some fun I before I leave ya in the dust, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. You can’t help but feel a hint of disappointment at his words, but the pleasure he’s giving you quickly dissipates that thought.
You feel his hands run up your back, and then suddenly, he slaps your ass hard, causing you to cry out in surprise. “So feisty…but I like it.” He grins, before spanking you again, sending pleasure shooting throughout your body. He continues to spank you, harder and harder, until you’re gasping and moaning, completely lost in the sensation.
He pulls away, smirking at your pleading expression.
“Turn around,” he commands, and you do as he says.
He grabs your face, jaw in his palm as he makes you look up at him. “Tsk- Can’t even look me honey? Hmph, quite disrespectful no?”
“Disrespectful? You don’t even know my name- Ah!”
With a heavy hand, he grabs your neck and pushes you down on the table, lips connected as well as lower halves.
You’re panting and flushed, your body aching for more of his touch. “You look so pretty like this, all helpless and wanting. I could have you right here, right now, but I want to take my time with you. You did go through all the trouble of finding me, no one’s got this close.”
He smirks, his other hand trailing down your chest and cupping your breast. Your breath hitches as he squeezes and massages your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.
“Please…” you beg, voice strained under his hand and unable to contain your desire any longer. He chuckles,
“Oh, you want me already? Well, I guess I can’t disappoint a cute little thing like you.” He unbuttons your jeans and slides his hand down, his fingers teasing your clit through your panties, making you moan loudly. “You’re so wet already, darlin’. Are you this turned on just from my touch?” He smirks, before sliding your gun out of his holster.
Panic set into your entire being, was this how you die? Too distracted by being fucking horny. Shot by your own gun? You almost screamed.
Before you did, Boothill held a hand over your mouth.
He could see the fear in your eyes, soon resting them.
He trailed the gun down your cheek, feeling the cold tip run over your nipple and then your stomach, before you feel it through your panties; rubbing against your folds.
You exhale deeply from your nose, eyes closed shut as you feel him press the weapon to your clit, chuckling at your expressions.
“Look at you…your drippin’ sugar.”
He rips your panties off, watching you spread your legs farther, giving him such a better look at your messy, glistening folds; ready for whatever he gives you.
You feel the gun spread your lips apart, the muzzle engulfing your clit and flicking it so rough your legs started to shake, feeling boothill lean down to talk to you.
“This is the best bounty hunter out here? All I can see is a horny little bitch.” He says with amusement.
Without much warning, he trails the gun down to your hole, pushing it in so slowly as he watches the way your brows contort, your hole expanded wider than it had ever been, the girth of the gun beading through you.
Boothill’s smirk widened as he watched you take it, inch by inch. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “That’s it, darlin’. Show me how much you want it.” His words only fueled your desire, and you start to grind your pussy against it.
Boothill let go of his grip on you, wanting to hear your pleading voice again. He didn’t even restrain your hands anymore, knowing he had you wrapped around his finger, and this gun. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you beg him, “Please...please let me com- I…go, let me go.”
He chuckles, “Not yet, darlin'. I want to see you squirm a little more.” He starts to move the gun in and out of you, the cold metal adding an unknowingly amazing sensation, making you moan even louder.
The combination of the gun and Boothill’s skilled hands on your body brings you to the edge quickly, and you feel yourself clenching around the gun as you come undone. Boothill watches with a smirk as you ride out your orgasm, his finger teasing your clit.
Once you come down from your high, Boothill pulls out his gun, licking a stride up the side.
He removes himself off you, putting your weapon back in your weak hand..”You can have this back honey, and when you touch yourself- which I know you will, make sure to think of the things I did to you when you try to get off with your gun…Hope you find me again!” And with a wink, he disappears into the desert, leaving you with a thrill and memory that you'll never forget….and half naked on a back patio table.
whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
#jo’s posts#boothill#boothill smut#smut#hsr#hsr boothill#hsr boothill smut#honkai smut#honkai#honkai star rail#hsr smut
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EVERYONE SAY THANK TO @conscience-grim FOR SHARING THIS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL INFORMATION WITH US
Montersor very likely died and lived around the same time as Lenore, late 1800’s to early 1900’s, and during this time. Pretty boy was slang for a gay prostitute in southern America and north UK.
Montresor, is literally calling Prospero a gay whore in the scene.
This also makes the head canon of Annabel calling Lenore “pretty boy” SOOOOOOO much funnier, because Lenore likely knows what it means and Annabel doesn’t because she is aggressively, southern English, so she would use it in the same way that we use it today literally just calling someone a pretty boy. LENORE HOWEVER.
Annabel, lovingly stroking her fingers through Lenore‘s hair while she lays her head in her lap: Oh, look at my pretty boy <3
Lenore, flustered, abruptly raising her head: EXCUSE ME- HEY! IM- I AM NOT-…..
Annabel, oblivious, thinking Lenore is just being bashful: Oh! But are, pet! You are so pretty and your mine, therefore, you’re my pretty boy!
Lenore, fully thinking Annabel’s calling her her bitch: 
I want everyone to imagine Annabel saying this, while they are still alive at a party or something. The whole room stops and turns to see the most fashionable power couple that high society has seen in decades. Everyone is falling over this new, mysterious, dashing rogue like character, Leo vadernacht, nephew, and now air of the entire Vandernacht railway empire, newly engaged to the most, sought after bachelorette in the entirety of English and American high society, the most Lady like and proper Annabel Lee Whitlock. And she proceeds to turn to her fiancé and call him her gay whore lovingly. IMAGINE THE REACTION
And to add onto this, Montersor isn’t a cowboy. He’s heavily implied to be a horse breaker, which is basically a priest, who also doubles as a horse tamer, and only in the UK was this term known as slang, for once again, a gay prostitute.
So I want you to imagine Monty casuallymentioning he was a horse breaker while he was alive and Annabel FULLY TURING TO HIM LIKE
“🤨🏳️🌈⁉️”
SHE MUST BE SOOO CONFUSED WHY ADA’S STILL DATING HIM
Annabel: I went through so much trouble to make sure no one figured out that me and Lenore were gay, just for this bitch to come out and fully admit he’s a gay whore with little to no consequence.
#nevermore webtoon#lenore nevermore#annabel lee nevermore#incorrect nevermore quotes#incorrect quotes#annabel lee x lenore#white raven#prospero nevermore#montresor nevermore
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Cool About It
joel miller x fem! reader
Description: you've only patrolled with him a couple times, which made you kind of hate him. but after a night of subtle flirting at the tipsy bison, tons of alcohol, shooting pool, and making fun of some guy's tattoos, you realize you're really into joel. after you get him, you realize maybe you shouldn't want him.
Part 1/3
PART TWO IS HERE
Word count: 5.3k
Warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, drinking, playing pool(?), possible age gap (not specified really), very smutty, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, joel is a menace a bit, ellie is also a little shit haha
hi lovers, how's it going? this is going to be a three-parter, inspired by Boygenius' song "Cool About It". it's gonna be smutty in all three parts so be ready (: please reach out if you have any requests or just wanna talk! I'm friendly I promise lmao
Met you at the dive bar to go shoot some pool
And make fun of the cowboys with the neck tattoos
Ask you easy questions about work and school
I'm trying to be cool about it
Feelin' like an absolute fool about it
Wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it
Tellin' myself I can always do without it
Knowin' that it probably isn't true
You keep your head held high while you walk into the Tipsy Bison, the only bar in Jackson. You were not familiar with the walls of the establishment, but the plan was to get out of your comfort zone. You were good at being a social outcast, and Maria, the only friend you had here, told you to try to break out of your shell.
So here you are, at a bar.
Immediately you recognize a couple of familiar faces, including the Millers.
Tommy and Joel were the patrol leaders for Jackson. You always felt comfortable around Tommy. He was more laid back and funny. On the couple of patrols you did with him, he always made sure the time went by quicker. While serious in times that are pressing, he brought light to darker situations. Maria, his wife, was the first person to introduce you to life in Jackson. She got you set up in a house by yourself and had you start patrolling when she realized you were an excellent shot. She was kind, always making sure you were looking out for yourself and invited you to family dinners sometimes.
Joel was different.
Very quiet and deadly serious when he was speaking. He made you feel insecure about your abilities, always double and triple checking things behind you. You couldn’t bring your own horse out of the stable without him checking your pack and ensuring you packed extra bullets.
“You never know what’s out there, girl,” He would tell you.
You find an empty seat at the bar. Only one seat away from Joel.
The bartender approaches you, asking what you’d like. You gesture towards Maria.
“Whatever she’s havin’.”
Maria finally takes notice from beside Tommy and waves at you with a huge smile plastered on her face. It warmed your cold little heart.
“Hey pretty lady,” She hops out of her chair to give you a half hug, “Glad you are doing this.”
Tommy was looking at you from beside Joel, a smirk playing on his face.
Joel stared forward with no emotion, not even daring to glance your direction.
“How’s it goin’?” Tommy asks, scooting his chair back to begin his way over to you, taking a spot next to Maria.
You nod, “It’s going.”
“You were on that patrol with the raiders a couple days ago, right?”
He was referring to two days ago when a couple of shitty raiders took down your partner’s horse and almost shot you through the back. You guys got the upper hand, of course. You never went without packing two guns, so you had quickly slid off your horse to find cover behind a downed tree and used a hunting rifle to take two headshots. Your partner wasn’t so lucky. He was an older man and he fell hard when his horse went down. You had to race back to Jackson getting him into the infirmary as quickly as you could. Turns out he broke his arm and a couple of ribs. He would be off patrols for awhile.
“Sure was,” You reply, “Luckily Eugene got out with just a broken arm. I was happy to be there for him.”
Before Tommy could reply to you, Joel quips up.
“He told me you got both of the guys between the eyes,” He mumbles, “That true?”
You shake my head positively. You didn’t even want to speak to him in fear that you’d say the wrong thing. He would overanalyze you at the drop of a hat.
“That’s impressive,” Tommy remarks, “Glad you got out of it unscathed.”
“My girl here is a badass,” Maria pats your shoulder, “Glad you are doing better. I know you were a rattled a bit.”
You take a sip of my drink, noting the intense burn, “Yeah, me too.”
You guys make more small talk, mainly about some recent patrols and what you found. You try to act interested, but the truth was you wanted to go home and read. Your mind was better occupied with made up stories than the stories that were playing out before you in real life.
“I think we should get home to Ian,” Maria says to Tommy, referring to their newer son. He was about five months now, very cute, and chunky. He resembled your nephew before the world stole him and his mother from you. So you always refused to hold Ian, knowing it would send you into a spiral as soon as his little fingers found yours. Maria understood, telling you she knew exactly how you felt. She’s felt loss like that before, too.
“Ellie probably wants to be relieved of her cousin duties,” Joel grumbles from beside Tommy, “Poor girl doesn’t know what she agreed to.”
“Ian’s sleepin’,” Maria says putting on her coat, “She is probably bored.”
“Tell her to head home when you see her,” Joel comments.
You have met Joel’s girl more than once. She was kind of stand-offish, intially. Now that you’ve met her a couple times, she was more chatty and goofy. She was a spitfire towards Tommy, which always made you laugh.
From what you understood, Joel had a daughter before the outbreak. Tommy and Maria keep her name on a little memorial above their fireplace, with Maria’s son’s name scribbled beside hers. You didn’t know the backstory behind Ellie, but you realized the last time you were around all of them, she doesn’t call him dad. Just Joel or old man. Maybe she adopted?
Maria pulls you out of your thoughts, nudging you a bit.
“Stay awhile, have another drink.”
You nod giving her a gentle smile, “I will. Get home safe.”
“See you around, girl,” Tommy says, giving you a half hug. You turn back to face the bar, noticing Joel’s still sipping on his whiskey.
You two sit in awkward silence when they leave, not saying much to one another. You drink your second round quickly, calling over the bartender for another one. Joel says he wants the same. Once you get your pours, he finally decides to talk again.
“You still with that one guy?”
You look at him curiously, not sure who he’s talking about. You rack your brain trying to figure out who he’s referring to and then it hits you.
“Kendrick? Oh no, he’s not anything,” You respond.
Kendrick was one of your patrol partners. You two hooked up once and realized it was too weird. He was younger than you, which didn’t mean much. But that was a huge factor in his performance. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know what foreplay was, which meant the sex was dry and not pleasurable in the slightest.
“It seemed like something the other day,” Joel notes, “Wouldn’t stop staring at you at the town meeting.”
You could not help but notice the slight venom in his tone.
“Interesting you’re taking notice to other guys who look at me. You jealous, Miller?”
He turns to you finally, his eyes a bit glassy. The whiskey was making him bold, you could tell.
“Just observant,” He remarks, “He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“Oh, now you know my type?”
He shakes his head at your response, “I imagine you like them a bit older than him.”
Maybe you were overanalyzing the situation, but it seemed to you that Joel Miller was flirting with you. You felt like he was suggesting you were into him.
Truth be told, you did like them older. You liked a rugged man who was a bit of a mystery. You also liked assholes. All things Joel Miller was. So maybe you were into him.
You lean in to speak to him quietly, “Are you trying to suggest something?”
“Not at all,” He murmurs, “Just answering your question. Am I wrong?”
You purse your lips, “Not wrong.”
Another awkward silence.
“Wanna play some pool?”
You furrow your eyebrows, not knowing how to respond. You think his goal was to change the subject and avoid more silence. So you just nod, hopping off your barstool. The two of you make your way through some occupied tables to the one empty pool tables. You grab a stick while Joel starts to corral all the balls and set them in place.
You’ve played pool before, but you were never good. Your ex found a pool table once while you two were traveling and he spent hours teaching you how to play. It led to a screaming match. You decided after that, it just wasn’t for you.
Joel was patient, watching you line up the white ball and hit it with hardly any force, not breaking up any of the balls. You just shake your head in disappointment.
“You ever play?”
“Yeah, I just suck.”
“Fair enough,” He replies, taking his shot. You guys go back and forth. You getting no balls in the pockets, him getting all the balls in the pockets.
You ask him about patrols he’s been on recently, trying to make light conversation. You really just wanted to see if your conversation would lead back to where it started.
It didn’t.
Instead you two got more rounds of drinks and played more pool. He became more chatty, standing behind you every time you tried to take a shot, giving you advice here and there. Once you stood straight up after finally getting a ball in a pocket, he leaned in a bit.
“You see that guy over there?”
He gestured towards an older gentleman at one of the far tables. He seemed like the type to have a Confederate flag hanging outside his house. He also seemed like the type to call a woman a slur if they turned down his advances. Maybe you are just a bitch and assuming all of this. Or your assumptions about a man were right, per usual.
You turn to Joel, glancing up at him. He was close, his face centimeters away.
“Mhm?”
“He’s got all those tattoos,” He looks towards the man again, “The one on his neck is a skull with one of those Native headdresses. Looks fuckin’ dumb.”
The way he says it sends you into a fit of giggles. He starts to laugh, too. It was the first time you saw him genuinely smile and damn did it look beautiful on him. His eyes crinkled a bit, his shoulders falling in a very relaxed way.
You finish up your round of pool and decide it’s time for the both of you to retire back to your houses. Conveniently, your house was right off Rancher Street just like his. You grab your coat off the one barstool, watching Joel put on his.
“We are going the same way, do you mind walkin’ with me?”
“No problem.”
-
You two walked side by side, your steps almost in sync. It was much darker now, the sun set hours ago. You felt like you went through a time jump. You didn’t feel like you spent tons of time at the Tipsy Bison.
Joel’s house is before yours on the street, so when you arrive in front of his steps, he stops completely.
“Here’s me,” Joel mutters, “You comin’ in?”
“Should I?” You question, stupidly.
“Well I invited you, so yeah,” He suggests, “You should.”
He walks in front of you, reaching for his front door. His house was comfy and warm. Looking around, you could tell he kept it well maintained. It was clean, only a couple dust bunnies lined the hallway baseboards. He had pictures on the walls and blankets littering the couch.
“I ain’t done this in awhile,” He says, sliding his boots off at the front door. You follow suit, not really taking in the words he said. He stares at you carefully, waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry, what exactly?”
He approaches you slowly, his demeanor shifting. He looks down at you, his stature a lot bigger than most of the men you’ve been with, you note. He was broad and brilliantly tanned. His dark chocolate hair was speckled with grays. He had some fine lines on his face, especially where he furrowed his eyebrows 24/7.
“Brought a girl home.”
His brown eyes grow ever darker, his arm enveloping you for a moment. You don’t pull away, letting him bring your body closer to his. You feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, something you’ve not felt with a man in years.
“Feelin’ a bit rusty?” You suggest, your hands resting on his chest.
“Don’t know about that,” He mutters, “Do know I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while.”
His comment takes you back, completely sobering you up. The warmth from the alcohol subsides and you blink at him for a minute.
“What do you mean, a while?”
His face centimeters away from yours, again. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, having to get on your tiptoes to do so.
“Meanin’ every time ’m around you, I think of how amazing your ass looks in those jeans.”
Your heart skips a beat.
“You’re only now telling me this, Joel?” You ask, playing up that you were annoyed. You were kind of, because what the fuck, you could’ve had him sooner?
“Didn’t think a pretty young thing like you would want me,” He says, “Now I know better.”
He leans down, his lips hardly touching yours. You assume he’s waiting for your move, so you give in first, capturing his lips against yours. It was gentle at first, until he takes notice to how you’re pulling him down further.
He deepens the kiss, pressing your back against one of the walls nearby. His lips were soft, his mustache tickling you a bit. He adds tongue seamlessly, feverishly grabbing you everywhere. Your hips, lower back, your butt.
I can’t believe I’m making out with Joel right now.
Your brain stops for a moment when you realize one thing you never thought about before. Where’s Ellie?
It brings you out of the kiss. You pull away slowly, trying not to alarm him too much.
“Is Ellie home?” You mutter, your eyes fluttering open to meet his.
He looks to the side, glancing out the back window.
“Probably, but she stays in the garage out back. She has uhm,” He gestures towards the backyard, “Has a whole set up in there. She never comes in here, don’t worry.”
It reassures you enough to bring him back into the kiss. His hands return to your waist, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help but grip his arms, feeling his muscles through his long sleeve.
“Bring me to bed, Miller,” You moan between kisses, “Need you now.”
He doesn’t say anything before he leans down, hiking your legs up around his waist. He carries you like you’re a light little feather. You use this time to attach your lips to his neck, giving him soft kisses up to his earlobe.
Joel may be a bit older than you, but he carried you up the stairs like no other 50-something-guy could. He didn’t even fumble, his steps heavy and calculated. Once you two get to the landing, he readjusts you, his hands now holding you up by your ass.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” He murmurs in your ear, walking you into his bedroom. It smells like fresh air, which throws you off a bit. You notice the one window in the corner is cracked slightly, letting in the springtime air.
He tosses you on his made up bed, making you a bounce a bit. He’s standing over you looking a bit dishelved, his eyes dark with desire.
He unbuttons his shirt, shaking it off his shoulders. You watch the piece of fabric fall away from him. His upper body is toned, some areas of his stomach and shoulders are littered with scars. The moonlight highlights them, but honestly, they made him hotter. He looked more dangerous, more unattainable for a girl like you.
“You just gonna gawk?” He teases, leaning down to let his lips meet yours again. In between kisses, he tugs down your pants, leaving you just in your underwear and top. He throws your pants across the room, his hands trailing up your bare thighs.
“Let me get my top off,” You say pulling away from his eager lips. He sits back on his knees, watching you slowly peel off your top and undershirt. The undershirt has a built in bra that hardly keeps your boobs supported, but it was easier than wearing the uncomfortable bras you usually wore. You throw both shirts across the room before you lean back on your elbows again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” He says, his hands reaching out to touch you. He finds your collarbones first, before letting one hand trace the swell of your breasts. He was taking his time with you.
“You just gonna gawk?”
He smiles.
“I am gonna ruin you, girl,” He spits. You stare at him with your best doe eyes, trying to see what kind of rise you could get out of him.
He grabs one of your boobs, before pushing you all the way on your back. His lips trace all over your body before ghosting right above where your underwear sit on your lower tummy.
“Joel-” You begin, until he starts tracing your slit with his fingers, right over your panties.
“Hm?” He chuckles, his soft touches making you writhe under him, “What, sweetheart?”
“Need you-” You choke out, “Please.”
He chuckles darkly, “Love to see you beg.”
You knew he was going to be dominant, but you didn’t expect him to be so candid. He seemed so quiet and steadfast in day to day life, so when you see him like this, you knew you were fucked. He was the type to talk you through the whole experience, something you’d never had with another man. Everyone you had slept with was so vanilla. No one was like the guys in the novels you read. Dominant, hungry for more, and vocal.
“Let’s take these off,” He says wrapping his finger around the band of your underwear. You were so giddy now, you lift your ass a bit so he could get them off you. When you do that, your bare pussy gets so close him that you could feel his breath on your mound slightly.
“You ever been eaten out before, girl?”
You shake your head, “Yes, but I didn’t really enjoy it.”
“Just let me know when you’re about to cum, baby,” Baby, “I know you will.”
You loved how cocky he was. It made the anticipation almost too overwhelming.
He leans down, his tongue flattening over your slit. You watch him close his eyes and instantly get into devouring you. He flicks his tongue up and down, eventually pressing his lips around your mound. You lose all ability to speak, so when he pulls away, you groan in displeasure.
He says nothing, just put his middle finger and ring finger into his mouth, covering them in his saliva. He looks up at you, those fingers beginning to trace you up and down.
“You-” Is all you can say before he’s sinking his fingers inside. He reattaches his lips to your clit, sucking as he fucks you with his digits. The wet squelching from the action sends your head into orbit. You cannot believe how good it feels because every other sexual encounter you had the guy would go in dry, maybe giving you kitten licks, and call it eating you out. But not Joel. Joel knew a woman’s anatomy. He knew exactly how to treat it.
You just moan out his name, letting his actions take you to that familiar heat build up in your tummy. Usually you had to get there yourself. You throw your head back into his pillows, your eyes crushing shut as you take in the feeling.
“Hey,” You hear Joel growl, “Eyes on me, or I stop.”
Your eyes fly open, watching him return to sucking your clit. As you stare down, you notice him adding another finger into the mix. The pressure felt so good, your walls feeling everything he was giving you.
“Can I please,” You are about to let go, but you remember you were supposed to tell him, “Cum?”
You can’t even form sentences.
He pulls away.
“Since you asked nicely,” His lips are wet with your slick, “Cum.”
The magic word that sends you into pure bliss. Your body quakes while he still fucks you with his fingers. You can only chant his name, begging him not to stop.
He removes his fingers, smiling at your post orgasm face. You blush, suddenly becoming extremely self aware. You had no reason to be timid or shy now, being splayed out like you are in front of Joel.
He stands tall over you, making you feel so small in his big bed.
“That was so good baby, but I ain’t done with you,” He pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed, “Need that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”
“Jesus fuck,” You moan, still sensitive from what he just did to you.
He groans, “Name is Joel. No Jesus here.”
He just had to give into the dad jokes. You slap your forehead in disappointment, making him grin a bit.
“Got you all nice and stretched, now.”
You realize he hasn’t even taken off his pants in that moment, because he pulls down his tented pants to reveal himself to you. He was bigger than you’ve ever had, which sent you gawking again. He pumps himself, watching your widened eyes.
“You’re too easy to read, girl,” He mutters, “I’ll inch it in, let you get adjusted nicely.”
You lean forward a bit, back onto your elbows, “You’re gonna fucking split me in half.”
He runs his dick between your wet core, which sends shockwaves up your body.
“Like I said,” He licks his lips, “I got you nice and stretched.”
Him repeating it made you smirk devilishly. He continued to run his cock up and down your wetness, getting ready to plunge into you.
When he stops right in front of your hole, he stares into your eyes like he’s trying to read your mind.
“Fuck me, Joel Miller.”
He sinks into you, inch by inch. You groan in pleasure. The stretch is nothing like his fingers, it’s even better.
He’s taking his time, pulling back a bit before pushing back into you. It’s slow, gradual. After three pumps, he leans down to catch your lips. He continues to grind into you, the mixture so intoxicating. You moan into the kiss, your mouth opening up for his tongue to slip in. He tasted like you, which was something you never really tasted before.
“Your pussy was made for me,” He moans, “Fuckin’ hell.”
He sits back, bringing the pace up a bit, his balls slapping into you now. The sounds were borderline pornographic. The panting, the wetness, the slapping.
“You’re takin’ me so well,” He grunts, “I want to hear you.”
You cry out as he speeds up, “Please, d-don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He keeps the pace the same as he fondles your boobs. He pinches your perked up nipples, clenching his teeth. You can tell he’s getting close, but instead of chasing that high, he stops.
He manhandles you, pulling you up like he did when he carried you up the stairs. He somehow keeps his dick inside you as he finds a seat on the bed. He’s holding you above him, completely switching positions.
“Want you to ride me,” He says, “Need to see those beautiful tits bouncin’.”
You take up the challenge. You rest on your knees first. You circle your hips, dragging your clit across his lower tummy. You never knew you could feel so full before, especially in this position.
He just stared at you in awe, playing with your tits as you grind down on him.
You take one of his hands in your own, placing it right below your belly button.
“I feel you right here, Joel,” You moan, “Fillin’ me up so good.”
You knew he wanted to cum right there because his dicks twitches inside you.
“You are one dirty girl,” He growls, “You’re lucky I’m even letting you cum again, talkin’ like that.”
You plant your feet on the bed, finding all your strength to start bouncing on him. He steadies you, bringing his hips up to meet yours. This angle hits different, especially when Joel’s thumb finds your clit again. You couldn’t help yourself, chasing that same high you felt before when his face was between your thighs.
You look down at him with hooded lids, “I’m gonna cum again.”
“Yes you are,” He smirks, “Cum all over me baby, I feel you.”
Your release hits you, making you fall to your knees again. Your hips girate, the spasming around Joel’s cock sending him into a moaning mess. He lets your settle for a moment before lifting you back up. His dicks slides out, which causes him to hiss and you to groan. Instead of laying you face up, he throws you face down into the pillows.��
“My turn,” He says, dipping his cock back into you. As soon as it happens, you realize you weren’t done. That same sensitivity was back, but this time you felt the burning pick back up even quicker. He’s settling into a brutal pace, grabbing both your ass cheeks and spreading them apart. You turn your head, trying to get a view of him.
He was watching himself plunge into you, over and over again. It had to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s dripping in sweat, his body glistening, clenching his teeth at the sight of your bodies meeting.
“‘m bout to cum,” He moans, “Where do you want it?”
“Fuck it into me, Joel.”
The words slips out so quickly. The tipping point hit you both at the same time, the spasming hitting you all over again. You scream into the pillows, biting into them trying not to be too loud. He releases himself into you, stilling his movements.
He doesn’t say anything when he pulls out, you both just breathe out loudly. You felt so empty without him.
You had never cum so much in one night before.
Joel Miller made you cum three times.
Without any help.
You hear his footsteps trail to his attached bathroom, hearing some water run from the faucet. You return to laying on your back, unsure if you could trust your legs to stand. Joel’s figure returns to the room, a damp rag in his hands. He smirks at you all the while nudging your legs apart. He slowly drags the rag around your sensitive area, making sure to get any cum that was leaking out of you. After he cleans you up, he wipes off his dick a bit.
He tosses the rag into a basket of clothes nearby.
“You want any water?”
You take note to how gentle and sweet he was being after being so aggressive towards you before. It was a side of Joel you really appreciated. He wasn’t talking down to you, he genuinely took your needs into account.
“I think I’ll be okay,” You respond, your eyes finally shutting, “Don’t think I’ll be able to walk home.”
“You can stay,” He grumbles, walking to the side of the bed, “We both have patrol in the morning anyway.”
Your eyes fly open, “Shit, I do! Wait-”
“Yeah I’m on with you. For the rest of the week.”
You could scream. This man just gave you the best dick of your life and now you had to patrol with him? You didn’t know how you’d be able to contain yourself.
“Fuck,” You place your hands over your face. You settle in the thought that you needed to sleep if you were going to be alive for morning patrol and you’d worry about your horny desires for Joel.
“C’mere,” He says, pulling you further up the bed. He positions you next to him in the bed, pulling some covers over you, leaving your boobs still out for his viewing pleasure. He wrapped one arm under you, letting it rest around your neck.
His sheets were flannel and so warm. His scent overtook you as soon as you relaxed into the pillows. One of them is the one you bite into earlier.
You felt at peace, wanting to stay in this spot for as long as possible.
“I’ll wake you a bit earlier so you can go home and get dressed,” He grumbles, “And…”
You don’t even realize how tired you are. Before Joel can finish his sentence, you fall into a deep slumber, praying sunrise doesn’t come too quickly.
-
You wake up when it’s still dark outside. Joel woke you up with a gentle nudge. You shoot up, scared for a moment before you take in your environment. You realize he’s fully dressed already. You groan, rubbing your eyes.
When you start to slip out of bed, you start realizing you’re still completely naked.
And in Joel’s bed.
You plant your feet on the wooden floorboards, using the light from the one lamp in the corner of the room to find your clothes. You could not find your panties for the life of you, so you give up and just shove your legs into your jeans and throw your shirt over your head. Joel lets you wake up in silence, not asking you questions until you make it downstairs.
“I’ll see you at the stables,” He mutters, pouring warm water into a mug that has a tea bag hanging off of it, “You go get changed.”
He was being short, you could tell. You feel a sinking feeling, like he probably regretted what happened last night. Before you could respond, the back door swings open and a smaller frame enters the dark house.
“Ellie,” Joel hisses, “What are you doing up?”
Her tired eyes are on you. You freeze in your spot, not knowing how to react or what to say. Your head just races with shitshitshitshit.
“I knew I heard your voice last night!” She laughs, “Y’all have fun?”
Your cheeks heat up instantly, not able to think of a response.
“Ellie!” His voice is stern and borderline scary, “Go back to your room, now.”
It was a demand.
She just chuckles, grabbing the door handle and pulling it close.
“See you around, Joel’s lady friend.”
You stand there completely dumbfounded and embarrassed. Joel sips on his hot tea, not really paying attention to your response to Ellie calling you his lady friend.
“Go get dressed.”
It was another demand. It sent shockwaves through your body. Maybe your sinking feeling was correct.
Joel only did what he did last night because of the alcohol. It didn’t change how he’d treat or talk to you in real life. You kind of wished he’d just be cruel about it. Like he would just read your mind and tell you how stupid you were to think this would change anything.
You felt like a fool.
You don’t say anything as you walk to the door and put on your boots. As you walk out of the house, you promise yourself to take it one minute at a time. Don’t overthink everything. Just let it be a one night stand. Don’t make it about your feelings. Be cool about it.
#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller one shot#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller angst#tlou smut#joel miller tlou#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction
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MORE OF TRAILBLAZER!READER PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSS, WHAT DOES THE ANGELS THINK OF TRAILBLAZER!READER???
HAZBIN HOTEL ANGELS X TRAILBLAZER! READER
prompt: how they viewed you in heaven was something no one excepted an angel like you to act.
I just gotta say. You are a fucking menace.
When you first appeared in heaven as the most beautiful thing with your golden eyes and two pair of wings….you weren’t the most nicest as you were too blunt.
“Is this a flash bang? Why the hell is it so bright here.”
everyone gasped at the H word as if this was kindergarten all over again
*cue you need to leave sound*
Sera had to put a few rules in your face. Literally a whole ass rule book as you sat there with a blank face saying. “Are you effing Fr?” Sera nodded and left leaving you with this HUMONGOUS ASS BOOK THAT REMINDED YOU OF FAIRLY ODD PARENTS
Sera founded you as a troubled youth that needs to see the rules all over again to see the true potential for you to stay in heaven.
Emily didn’t think of you being a troublemaker, she found you quite cool as you explored around heaven having the bravery to speak your mind and not let anything bring you down.
Emily and you got along great and fine as she calls you her little collector as you call her…just Em.
It was a late heavenly night as you stood up from your bed as you did a barrel roll for your balcony as you were starving for some digging. You rummage through the dumpster to find a nice old pearly necklace and a bracelet. “Emily would love this…” you said as you smiled not noticing a blonde haired lady watching you with an asumed smile.
The blonde haired lady from afar found you mysteriously cute and attractive as you roam the streets of heaven. 
ADAM HATES YOUR FUCKING GUTS😭😭
It all started when you was digging in trash. It was basically flirting for you to dig through it. *cue fuck boy face* AND THEN ADAM HAD SNUCK BEHIND YOU READY TO INSULT YOU-
But you kicked him straight in his fucking chin-
That horse ass kick gave him a bruise on his chin for legit 2 weeks
You once blasted music in your apartment…I mean shit it was good music you got from the human world you use to live in. You got so much noise complaints but thanks to Emily, she made it seem like you weren’t causing issues.
Lute has no opinions on you, she just doesn’t have time to even look at you. Even though you sometimes break in her place to eat all her food like the raccoon you are.
One day you actually caused trouble in heaven just because you decided to dig in a lady’s trash bin from outside.
“HEY GET OUT OF MY DARN TRASH BIN YOU RACCOON!” An angel yelled from her window throwing her boom at you as you swung your metal bat at her that you totally didn’t find in the trash nights ago…..
The lady screamed ducking as the bat went back into your grasp like a boomerang. “THATS IT! IM CALLING THE GUARDS!”
And so that was your cue to run as if your life depended on it as you thrown a rotten banana peel you found in your pocket. You still had one in your mouth.
And that’s how your 1 month trial ended because you fought bitches for your trash.
#stelle#caelus x reader#caelus#stelle x reader#hsr caelus#hsr#hsr stelle#honkai star rail x male reader#honkai star rail#crossover#hazbin sera#hazbin hotel#hazbin Emily#hazbin hotel sera#hazbin hotel angels#hazbin hotel Emily#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin hotel x female reader#hazbin hotel x gn reader#hazbin hotel x platonic!reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#Caelus! reader#stelle! reader#emily x reader#sera x reader#hazbin hotel adam
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confidence baby
leah williamson x reader
something quick cause leah is back!!
———
It was game day. Leah had done her usual game day routine, making sure she was warmed up and ready.
Throughout the match, Leah could not keep her eyes from the stands, her eyes glancing every chance she could get. It was like she was being drawn to look over there.
Now that the game was over and she’s given the team hugs, she makes her way towards the stands, hands clapping for the Arsenal fans who came to the game.
“Hey.” She greets.
“Leah Williamson.” You reply back.
“That’s me.” Leah has a smirk on her face, leaning over the railing.
“Congratulations on the win.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks rush with heat, but doesn’t make it obvious. “Saw you from the field and just had to come over.”
“You just had to?” You were now biting back a smile.
“Hey.” She shrugs. “When you see a beautiful lady, you can’t just ignore them.”
“You’re a flirt Ms. Williamson.”
“What can I say. I’m at an all time high right now.”
You laugh, getting flustered with how confident she is. Someone calling out her name broke her attention from you, seeing Beth wave her over.
“I’ve got to go, but uh—” She takes her jersey off her back and grabs a pen from a fan, writing something on it. You try not to ogle, but how can you not with those abs on full display. “—call me so I can take you out, yeah?”
“You don’t even know me or my name.” You state, eyebrows furrowed.
“What’s your name?”
“Y/N.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” She leans down so her lips are brushing your ear. “Text me and let me get to know you.” She pulls away, seeing you bite your lip. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
You were speechless. The people around you try to get her attention, but her eyes were on your the whole time. With a kiss on the cheek and a cocky little smirk, she walks away towards the locker room.
Holding onto the jersey for dear life, you make your way out of the stadium with a smile that could not be replaced. Once you’re in the safety of your car and fans aren’t horsing around you, you take your phone out to type in the numbers.
#woso x reader#woso#greynatomy#woso imagines#woso imagine#woso community#arsenal wfc#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader
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|| Home ||
Summary: It was meant to be a light hearted joke when Y/n had declared that she and Lloyd were married after he had put his insignia band in her ring finger. Little did the younger one know, the humour had not been mutual.
Pairing: Mafia Ex-Boyfriend Lloyd Hansen | Naive!Reader.
Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Lloyd Hansen. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.
Warning(s): Noncon/dubcon, Lloyd, gun play, dacryphilia, fear kink, age gap, house wife kink, husband kink, wife kink, slight breeding kink, boot riding, degradation, humiliation, dumbification, probably misogyny, pet names. The reader also pees herself out of fear.
Note: English is not my first language but whoring is and so this came to me when I was literally half asleep at like 6 in the morning. Please be nice or don't say anything. Feedback (that isn't straight up hate) is always much appreciated!
MASTERLIST
"Hey, baby sunshine" the near slur in his words caused her eyes to roll.
"God, hold your horses, I am coming!" Y/n yelled at the door in annoyance as she trudged her tired feet to it. "Hold your horses!" She had had a long day so she couldn't be bothered with the peep hole, clicking the locks open as she prepared herself for the crazy lady that lived across the hall since no one else could rival how she could bang doors. It didn't help that she seemed to have a personal vendetta against the young female. "Wha-" her words locked up in her throat at the sight that awaited her behind the door.
Come on.
Not this again.
Could this day end already?
"What do you want, Lloyd?" Raising an eyebrow at her ex to express her annoyance with the unexpected visit, the female crossed her arms over her chest as she awaited a response.
"Can I come in?"
"Can you?" The sadist pulled the saddest eyes he could and coupled it with a kicked puppy expression. Though the girl knew he was anything but.
"Come on, bunny. We had a life" Lloyd tried his best persuasive tone that did not do anything for him since the only way he knew to talk was his commanding and authoritative usual.
Always expecting obedience.
"Correct, Lloyd. We had a life" she stepped back and wrapped her arms along the edge of the door. "And it's over" his foot stuck between it and the frame to restrict it from closing. The female sighed as she looked up at him with tired and pleading eyes. "Leave."
"Five minutes?" If it weren't Y/n giving him the attitude -that he frankly could not fathom why she was-, he was sure he had already pushed them to their knees, broken them into submission and probably put them out of their misery.
He could never lay an ill spirited finger on her.
Not his little sunshine, no.
Everything Lloyd did ever since meeting her was for them.
For her good.
Whether she liked it or not.
"Lloyd." Her tone was clipped.
"I am not leaving here until you do" the determination in his voice was clear.
In the year she had dated him, Y/n knew he could be awfully stubborn if he really put his foot down.
"Five minutes." She couldn't help but sigh after the warning before leaving the door for him to enter and walking to the living room to plop on one of the couches.
Lloyd snorted as he took a seat besides her, causing the female to uncomfortably scoot over.
"So, what? Now your husband is so bad that you won't even offer him a glass of water when he comes home?" I fucking knew it. The moment he wormed his way into her walls and got what he wanted, he was back to that taunting and cocky default tone of his.
"What the hell are you on about, now?" Y/n turned to look at him, confused. "What is this new–"
"This," she nearly jumped when he reached for her hand and pulled it out of its lock over her chest, propping one digit under her ring finger to make it stand out amongst the others even more. "Remember this?" His insignia ring twinkled under the lights.
Fuck.
Wearing it had become such a habit that she hadn't even noticed it in the past week that had followed the break up after the girl had accidentally watched a footage of him torturing– no, tormenting a suspect when looking for something on the computer in his study. Though Y/n used the unit often, it was an established rule to not access his work files and folders but this one had been on the desktop. The date showed that it was recent.
Betrayal had filled her veins as she had watched it with wide eyes in horror. Lloyd had told her that he was a businessman that funded government operations hence the mysterious agents that visited him in his study every once in a while. But this, it changed everything.
Not only was he a liar, but the video showed how sadistic and brutal he was. Y/n could almost not recognize the man enjoying the pain he was inflicting on the bound man begging for mercy.
She could not live with a man like that.
It was horrifying to think that she had been doing so for over a year at that point.
Memories flooded her brain as she looked up in his deep blue eyes, fear filling her senses the more his grip on her hand tightened.
Placing the massive bowl of nachos away that Y/n had failed to finish besides them, she wiped her fingers on one of the napkins on the table in front of her and Lloyd in the fancy entertainment room that he had in his mansion. She shook her head at the bowl as she leaned back against his chest and let him wrap his built arms around her form, perching his chin on the top of her head as he watched the movie that was playing on the huge screen in front of them.
She had told him that she liked to eat nachos while watching movies. So he had the house help prepare an entire pots' worth for her. And now at least half remained. The girl sighed and finally looked away from the delicious bowl and onto the screen. But it was some old movie that Lloyd swore was a masterpiece but she couldn't really understand the hype.
Her eyes travelled down to his thick arms now, fingers tracing the bulging veins. The action caused the male to press a kiss to her head which resulted in a surge of hundreds of butterflies in her stomach.
Y/n's lips quirked up as she felt the ring he wore on his pinky finger now, toying with it for a bit before she pulled it off his finger and put it on hers with a mischievous smile.
"What?" Her lips pouted as she furrowed her eyebrows. It didn't fit her smallest finger like his. She jabbed it back and forth to try and make it fit somehow but the ring hung loosely near her knuckle. "Ugh!"
"Your finger is smaller than Daddy's, baby" Lloyd's mustache tickled the shell of her ear as he took her hands in his and pulled the ring off. "Must be because you're such a tiny little bunny compared to him" she blushed and bit her lip.
He loved to make her feel the smallest he could.
"There we go, all fit and pretty" he pressed a kiss to her temple after sliding it on her ring finger where the ring locked comfortably against her skin almost as though they were meant for each other.
"Oopsie!" Y/n giggled as she tilted her head back to look at him. "We are married now!"
Lloyd had an amused smile on his face. "Nothing oopsie about that, little bunny" and he sealed it with a kiss.
"Agreed." The younger blushed harder as she giggled again due to how his mustache tickled her upper lip.
"That was then." Y/n replied back coldly as she pulled her hands from his. "Now is now. And it's different." Trying her best to suppress the shudder threatening to break its way into her voice, she went to pull the ring off. "You-"
"Don't." His darkening eyes locked on her fingers and tone became one of warning. "Y/n Y/L/N, do not."
Who did he think he was? Her lips turned into a firm line as she ripped the ring off her finger angrily.
"You lied to me- LLOYD!" Before the jewellery could completely come off her finger, the man had pounced onto her. "STOP! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!" Terror filled her body as she realized that her strength was no match to his.
Lloyd calmly pushed the ring back down on her finger. "Would you calm the fuck down already?" His tone was one that he had never used with her before. Cold droplets of sweat trickled down her back.
It was similar to the one he had been using in the video.
"P- Please."
"You didn't even give me a chance, sunshine. Good wives don't do that" his eyes were crazed as he caressed her fingers with no regard to her visibly upset state. "You just up and left with a silly little note while I was on the other side of the world working so hard for us and our future family like a loving husband." He sounded cross but still kissed the ring.
"You lied to me" Y/n could only whisper back, the only man she could see in front of her the one from the video.
"For us." His eyes finally flickered up to meet hers. "It was for your own good, bunny." When she tried to struggle, his jaw clenched and he pulled her into him before grabbing her by the jaw. His patience was wearing thin. How dare she? "And I would really appreciate it if you quit acting like I am some amateur criminal. I work for the government and I am an agent." Inching her face closer to his, he brushed their noses together before pecking her lips. "And a damn good one at that."
"No." He chuckled.
"No?" Lloyd went to pull something out of his back pocket. "You see, bunny. Dumb little wives such as you are too small to know anything wise to make decisions for themselves." Her body stilled when a bloody pistol came into her view. His other hand still held her by the jaw. "They need their husbands to show them the way. Regulate them with rules. Protect them under their wings." A strangled cry escaped the girl when he thought the barrel to her lips.
"Good little wives don't worry about anything other than keeping the house warm and clean for their man while he takes care of the rest. They are supportive and obedient." Her teeth started to chatter when he caressed her cheek with the weapon. "I thought you were a good wife too. But the little antic you pulled last week proved that there is much training ahead of you." Y/n could not recognize the man in front of her.
He was the polar opposite of the one she had lived with and loved for a whole year.
"L- Lloyd…"
"Yes, sunshine?" The male looked perfectly comfortable.
"Y- You're scaring me" hot tears spilled from her eyes.
"It is for your own good, little bunny." The tip of the gun traced the shape of her lips now. "You need to learn your place here. You want the truth, right? I will not only tell you but I'll show you it." A whimper escaped her as she silently cried in disbelief. Her tears did not seem to move him in the slightest.
"Kiss it" Lloyd's demand caused her heart rate to thunder faster. The barrel pressed against her lips. "Show me that you are a trusting and obedient wife who trusts her husband with her safety and wellbeing." The female's body jumped when he thrusted the cold metal against her sealed mouth. "Do it."
Y/n trembled as her hands hung uselessly at her sides. The girl didn't know much about weapons but she knew nothing was faster than a bullet. Although it was something about his mannerisms that indicated that he wouldn't actually pull it. The happy memories of their past resurfaced. He had never hurt her after all.
"Come on" he tried to pry open her mouth with the tip. "Don't make this any worse for yourself than you already have, sunshine." The darkness in his warning had her open her mouth and finally conform to his wishes by pressing a shaky kiss to the weapon.
Lloyd smiled as his dark blue eyes flickered to her luscious lips and then to her teary eyes. "Ah," her eyes widened when he took her slightly parted lips as an invitation to push the barrel of the gun inside her mouth. Y/n tried to back away, the man restricted her from doing so by grabbing her by the throat with his other hand. "You always did look the prettiest when you were crying for me" now his eyes sickeningly travelled down her neck and over the valley of her boobs that was visible from the loose t-shirt that she was wearing, then they went down her stomach and onto the shorts that were increasingly becoming damp from the middle, a hot liquid oozing past the fabric.
The male threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Oh, bunny. Look at you pissing yourself like a scared little mutt!" Her already red and distressed face now burnt even hotter as the stretch that the gun was causing produced a pang of pain in her jaw. "See? This is why you need your husband to protect you. Because you are so small and helpless on your own… right?" His fingers tightened around her throat as he slowly rocked the barrel in and out of her mouth. "Hm?" The girl slowly nodded in response as she realized there was no way out of this.
Lloyd sighed as he released her air duct but kept his fingers around her throat still, scanning her face and her body. "This is how long it would have taken us to sort it out, bunny. But you had to go ahead and make it hard for the both of us." Taking the weapon out of her mouth, he caressed one of her cheeks with the barrel. "You know I never did like punishing you" but the man in the video definitely would.
"P- Please… Please…" Y/n whispered pleadingly. "Please…"
"You ready to be a good girl for me again?" It was the love in his tone and sheer disregard for her horror stricken state that proved that this man, indeed, was the one from the video.
She had no choice but to nod. "Y- Yes…" Just don't hurt me.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes… Daddy" he snorted and shook his head before nodding towards the ring glinting in her finger.
"What's that make me?" She whimpered as a hiccup trembled its way out of her.
"... H- Husband…"
"Good girl…" Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips to hers in a rewarding manner -ever the narcissist- before continuing. "You are to call me that or hubby from now on, okay? The only exception will be Daddy. No using my name. Good little wives show respect." He dangled her body left and right by the throat. "Is that understood? Or does your tiny wife brain need me to explain it some more?"
"I- I understand" she clenched her jaw when he raised an eyebrow at her. "... H- Hubby…"
"Hmmm" Lloyd lazily eye fucked her again, unbothered by the fact that she had pissed herself a few minutes prior. He was used to much worse. "Now show me what's mine. Tsk, these clothes do nothing for you, bunny. Besides, you know you're only allowed to wear my shirts for pjs, what is this?" Moving her in front of him on the floor, he leaned back. "Tsk, tsk, bunny. I didn't think it was necessary since you used to behave so well but now I am positive that you need proper training." The man shook his head because even he knew that training with him was no easy thing. He had broken many little girls and boys while doing so.
Though none had kept him drawn for this long.
They eventually bored him out.
Lloyd had never wanted to put any of them in a pretty dress and fill their tummies with his babies to have them waddle around his kitchen.
Y/n was different.
"I don't have all day for this, sunshine." The girl hung her head low as she trembled under his piercing gaze, fingers grabbing the gem of the oversized shirt before she pulled it off. "Hmmm… my favorite fuck handles" the sight caused the male's cock to harden as he reached for her breasts and felt them both in turns, squeezing and spanking them before teasing her erecting nipples. "Fuck, sunshine. I missed you so much." Y/n blinked through her tears as she slid her wet shorts off her legs next, the reminder of the cause of the dampness making her face burn in embarrassment.
"Hmmm. Look at how pretty you look, baby. All submissive and mum for me." Pulling her closer by a pinch on one of her nipples, he started to stroke her cheek with the gun again. The terror in her eyes whenever he did so thrilled him. "This is your true place. Good and pretty for me on your knees. Your only purpose is to keep me happy and my balls empty." The degrading words burnt her face. A chill ran down her back upon realization. The filthy and humiliating words he used to utter during their passionate episodes weren't just nothings. He actually meant every one of them.
This was proof.
"You do that, you'll be the happiest and most protected little wife in the whole world." Lloyd pushed the barrel back in her mouth and one of his boot clad feet between her lungs. Y/n whimpered in response.
"Remember how much you used to love to suck my cock? Sometimes that was all you wanted to do for hours at a time" his foot teased her damp folds. "You remember, don't you?" The ruthless twist of a nipple had her nodding as her back arched in pain. "It's a pity that you can't have it anymore since you've become such a misbehaving little girl just because work took a bit longer than expected" in his world, whatever he said was the truth. "But since I am such a caring husband and I know how much you love sucking cock…" Her stomach twisted from how he was rubbing the top of his foot against her pussy as he thrusted the barrel in and out of her mouth.
She tried to mumble his name through the mouthful to plead but the man refused to acknowledge any of it.
"I have always loved you just the way you are but I really think you should learn to be more grateful, you know? Because look at me…" When Lloyd kept on the pretense that he couldn't hear her pleas and instead reached the back of her throat with the gun, Y/n hurriedly started to bob her up back and forth. "You betrayed me, you left me without giving me a chance to explain myself and then refused to let me in like you are big enough to make any decisions, yet I am treating you so well. Doesn't this call for appreciation and respect for your husband?" The female whimpered against the weapon, feeling heat form between her hips as they started to sway along his foot.
"God, Y/n," he chuckled deeply, pearly white teeth coming out on full display. "You're such a pathetic cockwhore. Sucking a gun that can go off any second while fucking yourself on my shoe like a horn bunny." The man reached for her hair now, fingers snaking through a handful of the pieces on the top of her head before he gave a humiliating jerk to it, eliciting a gasp out of the female who was confused, scared, shivering and aroused all at the same time. "This is where you belong, sunshine; at my mercy between my legs. Your only job is to worship me because your little brain is too small to do anything else… right?" Lloyd forced her to nod her head by the hold he had on her hair. "Right?" He drew his words out tauntingly before nodding himself. "Atta girl."
Sense was starting to desert a moaning and sobbing Y/n as she struggled to decide whether this was scaring her or exciting her. As the knots in her stomach tightened, her insides churned but pussy clenched at the thought that maybe it was both. The danger, the fear, the loss of power coupled with the stretch in her mouth and stimulation against her folds was clouding up her head.
It was Lloyd after all.
He wouldn't actually hurt her.
… Right?
Her conscience trembled its way out and away from her along with the moans she was letting out, the burn of the leather of his shoe against the skin of her pussy lips adding to the pleasure as she stared at him with teary eyes, hands now holding onto his legs for support as she felt a spinning building up behind her eyes.
It has been so long.
God. He smells like himself.
… So good.
When her eyebrows scrunched up and lips pouted in a similar way, a very turned on Lloyd opened his mouth to speak. "You wanna cum for your hubby like a good little cock whore wife, bunny?" Fuck. She looked so fragile and… scared. The tears just added to the appeal. "So needy, aren't you? Crying these pretty tears for him?" Y/n nodded before she could dwell over the rights and wrongs. "Do you deserve it?" He tugged her head back by the hair he still had a firm hold on. Her fingers tightened around his legs and nails dug into his pants as whined pleadingly, rocking herself against him faster and faster.
"You do?" Lloyd strictly questioned in disbelief when she dared to nod although he knew it was out of desperation. No worries. A good old fashioned wife spanking would fix it. "Cum, then" he could torment her about it later, right now he needed her as vulnerable as he possibly could. It was the perfect state to brand something into someone; the process of building them back up with modifications of his liking after breaking them down completely.
Y/n closed her mouth around the gun and sucked at it as she moaned loudly while her eyes fluttered close, cheeks hollowing to endure the intensity of the orgasm as her bodily needs had not been taken care of in a while. The girl's back arched as her thighs that he loved to bite and suck at shook from the violent surge of pleasure bolting through her whole body.
"Someone's forgotten all their manners, hm?" Y/n panted and shuddered as she looked at him through her lust drunken eyes, brain scattered.
"T- Thank you… h- hubby" it was only when Lloyd raised a warning eyebrow did she muster up the response he had taught her a while back. Her hips moved slower now.
"Good bunny." Finally unplugging her mouth and setting the weapon aside, the man cupped both sides of her very hot and red tear stained face as he pulled her closer and off his foot now. A snort escaped him when Y/n whined under her breath from the loss of the warmth between her legs.
"Now, you saw that video and thought that I just go around doing that to people?" He actually did go around doing just that. "And that I'd do it to you? My lovely little sunshine?" The younger whimpered as she softly pouted, feeling small and dumb. "Why? Have I ever hurt you? Did this very loaded gun go off throughout the whole episode even though it very easily could have?" His words sounded just and right. "If I wanted to, I could have very easily messed you up at any given time, bunny." Even his condescending tone didn't bother her fucked out and fear numbed mind that could only think about how nice he smelt. "But why would I? You're just my harmless little dumb cock warming bunny wife, aren't you?"
"I… I am sorry, h- hubby…" I should have given him a chance to explain. He has never hurt me. Hubby always says that whatever he does, he does it for us.
Lloyd sighed, an expression of benevolence on his handsome face as his thumbs caressed her cheeks. "It's alright, bunny. I should have known better. Silly little pea brain wives can't be left unattended for too long. They need constant monitoring and guidance, right?" The degrading words were spoken so lovingly that the girl given her state could not even be blamed. Small silver patches and strands in his mustache and hair that were otherwise barely noticeable glinted in the lights at this proximity.
"... Y- Yes, hubby…" Y/n's mind was blank as she leaned into his chest and closed her eyes, finally breathing in a huge whiff of his scent.
She felt shuffling around her but she didn't bother to open her eyes. Her body was taken care of and warm tucked into his; protected. How foolish she had been! Lloyd would never hurt her! He was her hubby!
Whether this resolution would remain branded in her mind or give way to better sense the next morning was a mystery for now.
The man took his jacket off and wrapped her nude form in it before one of his strong arms hooked under her ass and he swung her body over his shoulder, standing up.
"Huh?" Lloyd tucked the gun behind him in its holster. "W- What?"
"We are going home, baby" a harsh smack on Y/n's ass accompanied his words before he headed for the door. "Tsk, silly little bunny wife. Needs husband to teach her everything."
#lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen imagine#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen x innocent!reader#lloyd hansen x fic#dark!lloyd hansen x reader#chris evans#chris evans characters#chris evans smut#chris evans character x reader#chris evans character fanfiction#chris evans x you#chris evans x reader#chris evans x smut#chris evans imagine
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RENT A HIMBO !!
synopsis: reader had a pretty gnarly breakup. good thing her good friend hired a himbo for her troubles.
a/n: i couldn’t add the taglist bc it exceeded 50 people
cw; himbo! choso, black! fem! reader, fingering, oral (f) receiving, missionary, ooc gojo, fucking against the wall, this is based off an audio i found the other day.
you sat on the couch bundled up in an array of blankets. you’d just broken up with your boyfriend, gojo satoru. it was one of the longest relationships you’d had in a while, and it all came crashing down. all because his enormous ego came before you two’s relationship.
you heard three knocks adorn your door and you scrunch your face up, you weren’t expecting any visitors. you stood up, taking a single blanket onto your back and walking to the door. you open it just a smidge to see a tall burly man with a black compression shirt on and sweatpants.
“can i help you?” you ask, looking him up and down. he had a black line on his chiseled face along with two ponytails in his head. “yeah! uhm is this apartment 97G?” the man asks. you open your door a bit more, still confused. “yeah, why?” you question. “awesome. i was looking for apartment L6G for the longest time! until i realized it was just upside down.” he smiles. “oh! you’re wondering why i’m here.” he face palms. he grabs a paper out the pocket of his sweats and starts reading off of it.
“th-thank you for choosing ‘rent-a-himbo’, you’ve been gifted 24 ho- horse…hours! 24 hours with me! choso.” the man, now known as choso, grins. “this purchase was made by your good friend…shoko. my hobbies include..baking…drinking p-protein shakes, and going to the gym.” he looks at you and folds the paper back up and puts it in his pocket. your face falters at the reading of the paper, why would shoko do that?! “okay…” you mumble, about to close the door. before you can, choso sticks his foot in the door. “hey, could you maybe let me in? this is my only uniform and i’d hate to get it drenched in sweat.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. you groan and open the door. choso walks in a sweet grin on his face. “thanks!” choso thanks you, taking his shirt off.
“woah woah, what are you doing?” you ask, moving back to the couch. “i told you, it’s my only uniform.” choso explains himself, neatly folding the shirt and putting it on your glass table you had in front of your couch. you watched as choso’s muscles flexing involuntarily as he walked around your home. “so, do you need me to do anything?” choso asks from the bathroom. “nope.” you say, snuggling up against the biggest pillow on the couch. choso walks into the room and sits across from you. “well then, let’s just talk.” he grins.
“wanna tell me about that breakup? i’m a great listener! i finished an entire podcast in one day!” choso beamed. you grin to yourself. “you totally don’t have to if you don’t wanna.” he says, his hands in his pockets. “well…” you started. “he was a really sweet guy. but his attitude and personality were just unbearable.” you rolled your eyes thinking about it. “and he never went down on me or anything. he only cared about himself.” you say. all the times gojo belittled the way you did things, or how you handled stuff was just…annoying. “but the sex was always good, even though i never really got to cum.” you mumble the last part, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by choso. “really?! he never made you cum?” choso asks, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.
“we gotta fix that, pretty lady.” choso says, pulling your hand so you crash softly into his body. you whine a bit, grinding yourself onto his beefy thigh. “just remember, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” choso says, pushing you onto your back and shimmying your shorts off of you. “i want this…” you whine once again. “good good..” choso grins. he takes a deep breath before he hooks his arms under your legs and starts eating you out like he’s been starving.
“fuck!” you groan out, arching your back. choso moaned into your cunt, making out with it sloppily. “please…” you whine out, shoving his face deeper into your pretty cunt. “mhm…” choso hummed, rutting his hips into your crème colored couch, his sensitive cock making it all the more pleasurable. “chosoooo! m’gna cum!” you practically scream. choso looks up at you and smiles,
“let go for me, pretty girl.” and you do exactly that, screaming and cumming all over his face. “there we go..” choso mumbles, rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. he stands on his knees, hovering above you with a shit eating grin on his face. “hope you know i didn’t come here just to eat you out.” choso says, taking his sweatpants off. “i can tell..” you giggle to yourself. choso lines himself up with your hole, slowly pushing in. choso was big almost eight inches. you don’t think he knew he was big, though. due to him putting half his body weight onto you and pushing inside even harder. you scream out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, never having someone fully indulge into you like this.
“shh, shhh…” choso soothes you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. once choso bottoms out in your wet pussy, he starts going harder. he’s moaning and groaning profanities in your ear which he follows up with sorry‘s everytime. choso lifts his head up and looks at your face, glistening with sweat and a dopey grin on your face that spills out your beautiful moans. “you’re so beautiful…he didn’t see the beauty in you…” choso mumbled, almost to himself as if you weren’t even there.
you arched you back and start scratching at choso’s. “‘m cumming!” you moaned. choso smiled and kept his pace, watching as you came all over his dick. he groaned at the sight, getting close himself. “where do you want it?” choso asks, looking up at you. “inside…just do it inside.” you moan out. choso nods at your answer, thrusting into you a few more times before cumming inside your pussy with a groan. choso let you catch you breath for a moment before picking you up by hooking his arms underneath your legs, pining you against the wall. “you’re gonna drop me!” you exclaim, holding onto choso’s biceps with your life. “i don’t have all this muscle for no reason.” choso smirks, thrusting up into you. your head fell back in pleasure, choso’s dick hitting the tight spots in this position.
“right there?” choso asks, pressing kisses to your tits. you nod dumbly, drool threatening to spill out your mouth. “righ’ thereeee!” you whine, clawing at choso’s biceps and chest. “i know, baby, i know…” choso sympathizes with you. “‘m gonna cum again!” you cry out. “do it for me, baby..” choso says, pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. you cum one last time, choso falling not too far behind you with a low groan. “thank you..” choso smiles, laying down on the couch with you on top. “thank you, choso. that was amazing.
choso’s face dusted with a pink hue as he smiled down at you. “it’s nothing for a pretty girl like you.” choso says, eubbing his hand along your back. choso grabs a discarded blanket from off the floor and he throws it over the both of you. “might just have to give you a buy one get one free coupon.” choso winks. you giggle, slapping his chest playfully.
maybe this rent a himbo thing wasn’t too bad.
#myatalks🫡#blkshoyo#black reader#im black#i love being black#ilovemyfollowers#ilysm <3#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x female reader#jjk fics#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso smut#jjk choso#anime#anime x black reader#anime x black!reader#anime x you#anime x reader
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cowboy!eddie ask:
OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!
horny hours ahead.
Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.
You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.
this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.
18 + MINORS DNI
he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.
that's never the case now is it?
you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.
the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.
eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.
you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.
the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.
"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."
you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.
"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.
"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.
you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.
eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.
"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."
"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"
"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."
"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"
"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"
"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.
"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."
your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.
eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.
he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.
"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.
"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.
"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.
eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.
he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.
eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.
#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#cowboy!eddie munson#cowboy!eddie munson moodboard#cowboy!eddie munson x reader#cowboy!eddie#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson#eddie munson au
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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love Part Three
Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, OOC, spoilers for the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial of his feelings, possible angst.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your Internet consumption!
Hey guys, welcome back to another installment of A Wendigo's Violent Love. I am honestly overwhelmed with how much people like this series, and I wouldn't have come this far without the support of this community. I'd also like to give a special thanks to @a-witch-of-writing-desk, @illuminaresblog, and @yourdoorisunlocked with this piece.
Without their insight and assistance in writing this chapter, it probably wouldn't have been posted until early or late April because of my workload.
The scene where Rosie and Alastor reminisce about how they first met was inspired by a comic illustrated by the incredibly talented @notherpuppet. I won’t spoil what it is exactly, so I will leave the link here.
On another note, the Hobby Horse mentioned here is a direct reference to the weapon in American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns video game.
So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!
Reblog to support content creators! ❤️
Part One
Part Two
Cannibal Town was a place unique in the Pentagram.
Its streets were lined with buildings that possess a vintage charm in which Alastor cannot help but treasure dearly; after all, it closely resembles the era he lived through in New Orleans. Everything in the town fitted like a tailored glove to the charming cannibal; from its automobiles, the residents’ everyday attire, and even how they greeted each other, tipping their hat off or curtseying with a smile. No one is fully dressed without one~! Who could ever think that it isn’t a lovely place to live in, of all the possible places to live in the Pentagram? Just follow Rosie’s rules and you would be fine~!
But the thought of his delightful friend reminded him that he had not come here for an afternoon stroll, nor to enjoy a delicious cup of coffee at a cafe and not even to see if there were any new meat shops open for business. He needed to speak to Rosie, discreetly.
She was a sensible woman whose establishment, a modest two-story building stationed right where the town’s plaza, offered consultation and other goods for all to enjoy; from the latest fashion trends to comestics to glass displays of ringed pinky fingers, there was something for everyone. No one had to venture outside of the Pentagram for anything. Rosie knew exactly what the citizens wanted and how to protect them. That’s why she is the leader, the one to talk to if anyone wants to do any business here. To set up shop without her permission…well, it was free for all.
He strode down Main Street, smiling and politely greeting a charming group of ladies who called out to him in surprise, currently feasting on some hapless soul who had walked through without following the town’s dress code. For a moment, his mind wandered to the impossible notion of you walking beside him, your gloved hand tucked into his arm with a parasol raised over your head so that you did not get a sunburn.
Alastor suddenly stopped. He felt the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably, his face burning, his blackened heart thunder against his ribs, and worse off…his eyes. He felt them changing to radio dials, followed by the unpleasant sound of a record scratching. And all because he is thinking about you, and what he-he did to you! He kissed you!
This is preposterous! Ridiculous. Why are these feelings simply getting worse and not better? Blast it all!
He inhaled slowly, deeply, through his nose and out through his mouth, matching it in tandem with his stride. By the time he reached the entrance to Rosie’s Emporium, Alastor felt his quickened pulse steady itself and he was calm again. Pulling the right stained glass open, he went inside and all the way towards the back of the establishment to see his dear friend sitting behind a counter, consulting a distressed young lady. Rosie was calm and cheerful as always, dressed to the nines with a lovely smile as she handed her client a business card.
Cannibal Town was truly lucky to have a delightful overlord reign over them.
When she looked up, ready to help the next person in the long line, their eyes met. He smiled, waving at her. She immediately perked up, rising from her chair and weaving through the crowd. Well, more like they willingly stepped aside so that their leader could walk to him, but same difference~!
Oh, that was a good joke, ha-ha!
“Oh Alastor, it’s so good to see you!” Rosie exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around in a small circle. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, I was starting to worry that you forgot about me, though I could forgive you if you fill me in on all of the details that’s happened~!” She grinned. “I hear our princess’ hotel is finally finished with those renovations, all ready to accept all the sinners she could dream of! Oh, and Alastor, you truly haven’t let me down this time! The angel flesh we’ve managed to bring back? Well, not only is it absolutely divine in terms of flavor, but people are coming from miles around just to sample some~! ‘Course, with our limited stock, we need to increase the price just a wee bit. Business is booming, and it’s all thanks to you, my friend~!” She blinked, tilting her head to the side. “Hm? Is everything all right, old chap? You’re never this quiet unless those little gears in your mind are turning~!”
Alastor felt the corner of his mouth twitch. No, he told himself fiercely. Keep yourself calm, tell Rosie that there is absolutely nothing wrong and you just thought about stopping by to pass the time, not because you need her help. And even if you do, desperately, you cannot say it here for all of the world to hear!
But the only sound that escaped his mouth was the chirping of radio static. Nothing else. Nothing except the memory of his mouth being burnt from his earlier actions. His eyes widened slightly. Fuck. He was thinking about you again! When will this madness stop?!
He did not know how Rosie knew that he was in fact, not all right, but her jubilant smile softened, and before he realized what was happening, she was pushing him into a corner of the emporium. Two fuschia-colored lounge chairs and a coffee table with a tea tray resting on top of the dark wood, adjacent to the shop’s windows. This was the very same spot where she had dragged Charlie to sit down and ask why Hell’s princess had come to visit her.
This was…not a good sign. He thought as he sat down in the chair opposite of Rosie’s, watching his old friend gracefully follow his example. Not at all.
“Now, what’s going on with you? It’s rare for you to be the strong, silent type.” Rosie said, leaning forward. “I heard bits and pieces about what happened between you and that angel in charge of the exterminators, but I’m not gonna pry. You clearly got more on your mind than angels.”
Rosie has known Alastor for a long time. He’s a showman with all the flair and music at his beck and call, someone who isn’t all talk with no actions behind them. If there is something he wants, he’ll use his charm to get it before anyone realizes what happened. That’s how he rose through the ranks so quickly when he arrived, after all. But seeing him in a state of stunned silence like this…well, it worried her a bit. So she stood up, removing the tea tray from the coffee table with a snap of fingers, and gestured to Alastor to follow her.
He did.
Normally her clients were more than happy to discuss their problems within hearing range because it was the usual sort of issues everyone dealt with: a bad-tasting spouse, decoration advice, gossip on the latest trends in the Pentagram and rumors about the other overlords, etc. But Alastor….well, he definitely was not going to open up about his problems just like that. He preferred to keep things private, and there was nothing wrong with that in her opinion. So she led them to the parlor, a cozy little room with vintage furniture and fuschia wallpaper with flowers on them. There were enough enchantments in them to drown out explosions from the outside and keep anyone from hearing their conversation. Of course, no one is that silly to be that disrespectful in her store like that, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
The tea tray popped up on the coffee table, landing with a light clink. Everything was still warm and fresh as she poured the steaming liquid in the cups. One for herself, and one for him. Alastor inclined his head towards her as he accepted the tea. Oh my, the poor dear’s hands were shaking. Now she was starting to get very worried about her friend.
“Alastor, what’s wrong?” She asked, cradling her teacup and saucer with one hand as she stirred in a pinch of sugar. “Nothing will get past the walls, I swear. You know me, darling. But I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what’s going on -”
“I kissed her.”
She blinked. “Come again?” She asked.
“I…kissed someone, Rosie. An associate at the princess’ hotel. We made a deal in my radio tower and I kissed her.” Alastor’s fingers tightened around the handle of his teacup. His ears were pressed flat against his head, his face was flushed bright red and his eyes filtered between red irises and radio dials. Oh, shit. Better take this slowly or he’ll combust. Rosie took a sip of her tea.
“All right, so you kissed an associate who works at the hotel. Do I know her?”
“Yes.”
“Well, who is she?”
“[First Name].”
“Ah, the girl with the metal arms and the giant…hobby horse?” Rosie thought for a moment. “Couple o’ people said that she was wielding that thing like a baton! Smashed some angel’s heads too!” She chuckled, but noticed the deep sigh leaving her friend as he placed the tea down, reclining against his chair with a gloved hand over his face. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Keep going. Start from the beginning.”
“....She came to the hotel after seeing the commercial everyone made. We were not hiring any staff. Charlie wanted more sinners to come and try to redeem themselves. But [First Name] was stubborn. She and Vagatha did an interview and decided that the best thing they could offer to her was being a groundskeeper. Someone who could keep the place nice and neat, gardening and landscaping. The conditions Charlie laid out to her were that she needed to participate in the activities and make actual progress in changing her ways. In exchange, she’d be given food and board. I tell you, from the moment I saw her, I thought she’d be another form of entertainment~! Imagine, someone who can’t crack an egg, someone who struggles with day to day tasks because she has prosthetics from the Great War! She’s killed people, Rosie, she’s had front row seats to the depravity of humanity and she still believes Charlie’s dream will work! What a joke! What an absolute fool!” He laughed. The sound bounced off of the walls, sending a small chill down Rosie’s spine.
Alastor wasn’t laughing like when someone tells a dad joke he finds greatly funny or makes an ass out of themselves. He sounded….hollow. Confused.
“So why is that I feel so terrible for what I had done, Rosie?” He asked. “She had stumbled upon a secret she should have never known and I made a deal with her to keep her quiet. I did what I needed to protect myself. But I can’t get the memory of how she looked at me out of my mind! She was angry, Rosie, and keep in mind that this is a girl who doesn’t show her emotions as easily as others, and she showed me how angry she was towards me! She was disappointed, resentful, and I don’t know what compelled me to kiss her hand but I did because there was some silly notion in the back of my mind, thinking that it would comfort her! How could a kiss do that?! It makes no sense, what I’m feeling makes no sense!” He suddenly straightened himself up in the chair, and he removed his hand from his eyes….just for Rosie to see the frustration and desperation in them.
“What’s wrong with me, Rosie?” He asked. “Tell me there’s something I can do to forget what I’m feeling right now or I fear I won’t be able to escape this madness!”
“I don’t think you’d be able to, my friend.” She said. Rosie knew what he was going through because she had been in the same situation too, far too many times and it was because of these experiences that everyone came to her for advice on romance. “Al, my dear silly man…you’re in love with this girl. And it’s pretty clear that this love runs deep. You wouldn’t feel terrible for what you did if you didn’t care about her, right?”
He looked at her, stunned. “I…beg your pardon, old friend? I….care for her? I love her?”
Rosie nodded. “You do. And you fucked up your chance at building a proper relationship with her because of this deal you made.”
“That was insurance!”
“And it destroyed her trust in you. You said she was a soldier, right?” When Alastor nodded, she continued. “Well, soldiers need comrades they can trust to watch their backs as much as they need accurate information on enemy forces. You were her comrade, someone she could trust and now…she can’t. That’s why she was angry with you.” She tilted her head. “But it’s up to you if you want to rectify the mistake you made…or let it be the reason why she may never see you in the same way as you see her.”
“Then teach me, Rosie.” He seethed, leaning forward as he slammed a fist against the table, causing the tea tray to rattle. “Teach me how to forget these feelings because I do not want nor need to love someone to live a fulfilling afterlife. Love makes a person weak! A smile is a more valuable tool than love! It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures what comes your way, you are in control!”
Rosie glared pointedly at him. “Mister, you are most definitely not in control. If you ask me, stifling these feelings towards [First Name] are just going to make things worse.” She sighed. “Do you remember how we first met? You were a fresh face, the newest overlord around the block after you overthrew all the rest. But the big, bad Radio Demon couldn’t even find the meeting room and asked me for directions with that cute little smile of yours. Gotta tell ya, you were a sweetie then, though Carmilla back then…well, she didn’t know what to think of you.” She smiled, leaning forward and placed her hand on top of Alastor’s. “Asking for help and guidance doesn’t make someone weak, old friend. And it isn’t bad to feel love towards someone, even if you are an ace in the hole.” She winked.
His smile twitched. “I really wish you would tell me what that phrase means.”
“Where’s the fun in that? It’s entertaining to see you keep guessing every time I say it!” Rosie laughed. “So…what are you going to do?”
“Words are cheap, but actions speak the truth. If you’re serious about serenading this girl, then you need your actions to reach her. Keep me posted, okay? You’ve got this.” That was what Rosie had told him as she walked him out of the emporium, giving him a brief hug and a warm smile before retreating back inside. Now, here he is, walking back to the hotel and back to you.
He had no idea how he was going to face you after what he had done. He gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from you and be out of his afterlife for good, Rosie….had been correct. Eliminating what he felt would only make things worse, especially if Husker or that pint-sized fool who calls himself the King of Hell try to steal you away from him before he could do anything.
Shaking his head, Alastor continued his trek through the city and towards the Pentagram’s outer borders, on the hillside where the fluorescents of the hotel glowed in the distance like a lighthouse in a raging storm at sea.
Blessedly the lobby was devoid of any residents or staff when he had returned, so he had assumed that everyone was at dinner or had gone to bed. It wasn’t too late in the afternoon if he recalled correctly, but time was difficult to keep track of in Hell unless one had a pocket watch or one of Vox’s silly little devices, neither of which he had on his person. In an instant he teleported himself to the hotel’s western wing, ready to freshen a bit before cooking up a meal for himself to enjoy in the privacy of his room when he felt a thrum of power vibrate beneath his feet.
He glanced down, raising an eyebrow at the darkness on the floor before the shadow grinned, showing off a void of bright crimson for a mouth. Ah, yes. This little traitor. Of all the ones he has in his possession, this is the culprit responsible for the crime of stalking you without his consent.
“Well, well, where have you been today~?”
The shadow chuckled darkly, rising up from the floor and floated in the air, twisting its smoky body around him like a snake…no. It’s as if this little shit is performing a little dance of his own. But what for exactly? What is the grand occasion? Has someone died? The shadow shook its head, still grinning and conjured a sphere of green flames in its hands. Inside of it, Alastor could see you and Niffty in the kitchen cooking dinner and then the image disappeared, shifting to a scene where the two of you are putting ingredients together for…apple pies? Alastor gritted his teeth.
He’s gone not even for a day and Lucifer Morningstar has the audacity to make the calls on desserts. Blasphemy! This is absurd! UNACCEPTABLE!
The shadow’s flames then evaporated into nothingness…and in its hand was a single hair ribbon. Your hair ribbon. Swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, he carefully took it from the shadow’s hand, cradling it in the center of his palm. To have something of yours to take for himself, and covet and yearn in silence until the time was ripe was the only method he had to satiate his darker hunger.
To think something as silly as your scent could tide something as fickle as his temper over was baffling, but it was comforting nonetheless.
Alastor’s thumb stroked the worn-out fabric, admiring its crimson hue beneath the fluorescent light of the hotel hallways. Before he could stop himself, the Radio Demon pressed his lips against it. The scent of cinnamon and ink made his mouth water, hungry for more than just a hair ribbon to pocket as a trophy. But like all good things and in the art of being a clever serial killer, patience is key. It shouldn’t be too difficult to lure his prey into his arms. After all, he is a true gentleman.
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#forbidden-sunlight#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel#yandere alastor x reader#yandere alastor#radio demon#yandere x reader#yandere male#fem!reader#violet evergarden!reader#ns.fw#yandere#cw obsessive behavior#cw obsessive love#tw obsessive behavior#hazbin hotel alastor#tw obsessive love
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Sandor Clegane*Brat
Pairing: sandor x f!princess!reader
Kinktober Day twenty-three: brat taming with Sandor Clegane – after growing sick of a princess’s bratty attitude Sandor decides to teach her how to behave
Word count: 2147
Warnings: brat taming, secret relationship, teasing, reader being a brat, jamie slut shaming, fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, spanking, degrading, swearing, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
Your footsteps were somehow both silent and quicker than his horses, something Sandor loathed as he chased about after you. being your personal guard was apparently an honour however the past two years of this honour made him consider if locking princesses in a tower was still socially acceptable.
While sure you had your moments of being tolerable, sometimes even pleasant, to the giant they called your guard dog, right now was not one of them. Usually, he appreciated your sarcastic remarks to your younger brother Joffrey, agreeing with most of your snippy quips, however today it had led to a fight between you both.
This then led to you storming around the castle, with Sandor falling behind, then to a fight with your mother which Sandor had to listen to through a door despite being absolutely starving, then when he could finally go and eat you decided to go on a walk through the forest unannounced and he had to track you down and bring you back.
“Try not to get lost again princess,” Sandor said through gritted teeth, trying not to let his stomach grumble.
You rolled your eyes as you sat on your love seat in front of the fire. “I was never lost. You just couldn’t find me,”
Sandor rolled his eyes as he went to leave however Jamie fucking Lannister decided to stop him. “The queens requested for you to stay in this room and guard the princess,”
“What about my fucking break?” Sandor spat back, not having the same gentle voice as your uncle.
“Well, it will have to wait. There are Dornish ambassadors riding into court and we cannot risk her getting…lost again,” Jamie said, and you couldn’t help stifling a laugh making Sandor want to fling you out of a window. Jamie leaned in closer, whispering to Sandor and getting his slimy breath all over him, “Prince Oberyn is coming, and we cannot risk her sullying her reputation,” he said however only Sandor was able to hear him.
“But me staying in her room all night is fine?”
Jamie looked the hound up and down before putting on his most cunty smile, “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone will question your activities. Goodnight Clegane, best behaviour princess,” Jamie called to you before leaving, the door slamming behind him.
Sandor Groaned as he began to strip off his cloak. Like fuck was he gonna be kitted up all night in this. “What did he whisper?” you asked, reaching over to grab a grape. Sandor couldn’t tell if the way you popped it in his mouth made him more hungry, horny, or fucking angry.
“Prince Oberyn is coming to court,” Sandor said as he tossed his cloak on a chair, “So I’ve to guard you all night so you don’t go falling in his bed,”
Most women would gasp or swoon or deny the accusation, but you just barked out a laugh. It was another one of your few redeeming qualities in Sandors eyes. “How much of a whore does he think I am?” you joked, picking up your wine. Sandor stomped over to the table, snatching the wine from your grip before plopping down in a chair. “Hey!”
“Hay is for horses,” he grumbled, gulping down the wine, “You’ve been a fucking brat all day, the least you owe me is a drink,”
“My, my, swearing in front of a lady, a princess no less,” you tsked at him as Sandor began to unbuckle his armour, “Not very honourable of you ser,”
“I’m no ser,” he said, discarding the battered metal as he reached for the next piece, “And besides I’ve done far less honourable things to you than curse in front of you,” this was of course his favourite quality in his princess. Even when you annoyed him to his core you were still the best fuck he’s ever had. “Fuck you’ve said worse things than I have,”
“Like what?”
“You know what,” he chuckled, beginning to undo his breast plate which would leave him in just a shirt and trousers. “You and that dirty mouth of yours,” he said, thinking back to all the thoughts and whimpers you’d moaned in his ear.
He did his best not to meet your eyes as they travelled down his frame, “Watcha gonna do about it?” however sent a spark down his spine. Prince Oberyn was not the one they should be worried about sullying your reputation.
Sandor dropped the metal breast plate, ignoring the clatter in made as it hit the floor as he moved to stand in front of you. his hand gripped your jaw, easily holding your whole face as he made you look him in the eye, “Don’t test me princess. You’re already on thin fucking ice,”
“Why would I want to be on ice when I could be on your…” you said, eyes trailing down his frame with a fiery spark.
He growled as his lips smashed into yours for a brief kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. He broke the kiss, pushing your frame back into the love seat making you gasp. Within seconds his boots were off, and his arm was around your waist, hosting you over his shoulder making you squeal. Your back hit the soft bed as you desperately tried to sit up, but he was already on top of you.
“How expensive is this dress?” he asked, his fingers trailing the neckline.
“Your annual salary,” you replied and gasped when a tear ripped through the air, “Sandor!” you gasped as the cold air washed over your bare chest, your nipples perking at the feeling.
He’d ripped it just enough to be able to pull it off your body without having to hassle with any ties or laces, “Please as if you wont just pout and get a new one,” he scoffed.
“I don’t pout!” you objected, now feeling more exposed under his hungry eyes.
Sandor laughed, his eyes moving from your tits back to your face, “All you do is pout princess. All fucking day,” he said, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb tracked over your pouted lip, “And all day I’ve been having to look at these fucking lips,” he said, his thumb prying open your mouth so he could stick his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue, “and think about how much better they’d look around my cock,”
His words sent a shiver down your spine that didn’t go unnoticed by Sandor. “Is someone excited?” he asked, his hand gripping your thigh before slipping between them. His fingers trailed up your slit and you felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “So wet for me already,” he said, his smile dropping for a moment, “Suck,” he commanded.
Instantly you complied, sucking on his thumb and trying not to whine as he rubbed slow circles on your clit, “Good girl,” his head dipped, moving to kiss along your collar bones as his thumb slipped from your mouth. He rubbed the spit over your bottom lip before his hand moved to tilt your jaw up, giving him space to kiss softly up your neck.
You bit your lip, slight whimper escaping as he worked on your bundle of nerves. When his fingers slipped away you whined but gasped when you felt him push two in, “Cmon don’t act like you cant take it,” he chastised, nipping at your skin enough to make you gasp but never to leave a mark, “I’ve seen you take far bigger,” he said, grinding his bulge against your leg to emphasis what was to come.
His fingers began to curl slowly inside as his thumb rested over your clit. When you whined again, this time louder and enough to make his cock twitch in his trousers, he moved his other mouth to clamp over your mouth, “Quiet,” he grumbled, curling his fingers deeper making you moan against his hand, “You know the rules princess,”
You nodded, meeting his eyes for a moment before they shut as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot. You could feel your peak soon arriving but when you felt him pull his fingers out not even his hand could fully cover the loud whine you made. “Gods you really are a desperate thing,” he chastised, his hands moving to squeeze your hips tightly.
Before you could protest, he’d flipped you on your stomach, hand coming down on your ass leaving a stinging slap. “Hey!” you whined only to be met with another slap.
“Behave,” he chastised, keeping one hand on your ass, fondling it as the other moved to push down his breeches, “Maybe if you behave I’ll let you finish around my cock,” he said, gripping it with one hand and with the other forcing you onto your knees, ass presented perfectly for him, “Bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? me fucking you silly like some whore,” he said, running his tip up and down your wet cunt making you whine.
Instead of responding you grabbed a pillow, moving to lay your face in it when Sandor suddenly grabbed your hair, “I asked you a fucking question,” he growled, his tip pushing in slightly as your back arched.
“Yes,” you stuttered out.
“Yes what?” he asked, pulling your hair tighter, pushing slightly further in.
“Yes, I want your cock please I need it,” you whined, your hips trying to move further back onto to be stopped by Sandor, “Please I’ll be good,”
Sandor let go of your hair, your body lurching forward as you fell back into the pillow, “Wonder when I’ve heard that before,” he grunted, his hands moving to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass refusing to push his tip any further in.
“I promise,” you whined, gripping at the pillow, “I’ll behave I promise I-fuck,” you whined as you felt his cock sink further in.
Sandor hissed as he felt your cunt squeeze around him as he pushed his way in till he felt himself fully inside. He left one more slap to your ass, smirking at the way you bit the pillow instead of protesting at the stinging slap, before he started to set a steady pace.
His thrusts were slow and precise at first, making your whole-body lurch forward as he fucked you and your fingers tightened in the sheets. He could hear the stifled whines you let out and reached forward to grab your hair once more, this time gentler as he turned your head till the pillow muffled your mouth. Before you could question him, you moaned into the fabric as his pace began to quicken.
His slow thrusts had turned into heavy pounds that shook your body and made a knot grow in your stomach. His spare hand moved to squeeze your hip one more time before slipping forward to rub fast circles onto your clit. His grunts and groans were like music to your ears as your legs began to quake but falling was not an option.
Sandor cursed at the way your cunt squeezed around his cock, sucking in breath as he screwed his eyes shut. Despite how hard it was for him not to finish right there he had a job to do. He bit his lip, opening his eyes to appreciate the sight beneath him.
He could hear your muffled moans through the pillow and felt the way your body jerked and squeezed around him. “Aw is my little princess gonna cum?” he teased, his thrusts growing harder, “does she deserve to cum around my cock?” he asked but your response was muffled. Sandor pulled your hair, lifting your mouth up from the pillow, “I asked you a question,”
“Please sir,” you moaned like music to his ears, “Fuck please let me please,” you begged.
“Do it then,” he grunted, shoving your face back into the pillow, “Cum around my cock like a good whore,” his words were all it took to push you over the edge as your peak crashed around you.
However, this was not going to make him stop. Instead, his thrusts became harder and less precise as he fucked you mercilessly chasing his high while you rode yours out with eyes rolled back into your skull. It didn’t take long for him to feel the familiar twitch and suddenly pull out. With only two more jerks his seed spilled across your ass as his eyes screwed shut.
“Fuck,” he gasped once he felt he could breathe again. Gently he moved his arms to lay you down on the bed.
You were too busy catching your breath to notice him searching for something till you felt him running a damp cloth over your ass to clean you up. “Still think I’m a brat?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath.
“Fuck yes. But you’re my brat,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics
#sandor clegane#sandor clegane smut#sandor clegane x reader#sandor clegane imagine#sandor smut#sandor x reader#sandor#the hound#the hound smut#the hound x reader#the hound imagine#game of thrones#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones smut#game of thrones imagine#kinktober
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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy
Warnings: Smut, cursing, AFAB! Reader, not proof read. Soft, maybe ooc Striker
You stumbled into the hotel room with your boyfriend, both of you tipsy from the bar down the street and both of you horny, grabbing at each others hair and clawing at each others backs. Striker kicked the door shut behind him as his lips never left yours, removing a hand from your hair to lock the door before you pulled him further into the room. You both tripped over the others feet, desperately undressing yourselves and the other. You tugged Strikers bandana off his neck as he shrugged his jacket off, both of you toeing your boots off as you fell back onto the bed. Striker smiled down at you as he began undressing the rest of himself, before he grabbed at your pants and nearly ripped them off of your body.
“Yer tellin me yer all hot n’ bothered cause of that random ass chick droolin’ over me?” He asked in a teasing way, breathily laughing as you grabbed him and tugged him so he was on top of you, your lips attaching to his neck. He groaned as you did so, clawing at your back as you sucked a dark hickey into the side of his throat.
“That bitch kept undressin’ you with her eyes and ya knew it, ya prick.” You growled into his ear, before kissing the hickey you just left on him, reattaching your lips to leave another hickey.
“Aw, dollface, ya know I don’ got no eyes for no one but you.” He grinned as his hand tangled into your hair, pulling at your hair to try and pry you off of his neck. “Hey, quit that shit and listen ta me for a sec.”
He tugged again and you let go of him, looking up at him in the eyes. He had a playful smile on his face still, but his eyes were a bit softer as he caressed your face, making you blush both from the gesture and the alcohol.
“I don’ love nobody but you, ya know that, right? Only reason I even acknowledged that bitch was to rile ya up, lil’ lady.” He said as he kissed your lips, down to your neck, to your bare chest, sliding down onto his knees on the floor as his kisses trailed down to your core. You moaned when he kissed your clothed pussy, before sliding your underwear off and tossing them aside with the rest of your clothes strung about the hotel room. He kissed and gently but the insides of your soft thighs, squeezing them with his hands to keep them apart as you bit your lip at his actions.
“Striker…” You moaned, your hips bucking up a little, desperate for his touch where you wanted.
“Lemme take my time, doll. So impatient…” he smirked up at you, loving how needy you were for him. “Wanna show ya yer the only girl fer me.”
You propped yourself onto your elbows to watch him kiss and suck hickeys into your thighs, licking over them when he finished and moved on to the next one. After a while, he finally put his mouth to work on your cunt, starting out sucking your clit, making you fall back and arch your back off the bed.
“Shit! S-Striker! Holy fuck!” You moaned as his tongue licked up and down your folds, his grip on your thighs tightening as they threatened to clamp around his head. He groaned into you, sending vibrations up your body and making you whimper as you tried to keep yourself quiet, not wanting to get kicked out of another hotel because of it.
You gasped when you felt his tongue slip into your hole, your hands flying to grasp at the sheets beneath you as your legs pressed against his hands, the pleasure beginning to become overwhelming. You panted out his name and several curses as he ate you out, letting go of one of your legs to finger you while his mouth worked at your clit.
“Baby, fuck! I’m gonna…oh my fuck!” You screamed as the coil inside of you snapped, your body trembling as your orgasm hit you like a truck. Striker licked you out through it, and cleaned you up with his tongue before standing up to lean over you, chuckling at your already fucked our face.
“Aw, you ain’t already tired are ya, sweetheart?” He asked as he brought his two fingers up to your mouth, pushing past your lips to let you taste yourself on his fingers and suck them clean for him. You nodded your head ‘no’, to which he smiled, “Good. Cause I want ya to ride me like a good girl, m’kay?”
It was your turn to grin smugly at him, flipping him over and kissing him passionately before pulling away from him.
“Well then get on that bed, cowboy.” You smirked, getting off of him to find his hat and put it on your head while he slid up to the middle of the bed, laying down and stroking his cock as he watched you crawl on top of him, your soft thighs caging him in as you leaned down to press your chest to his and lock your lips with his. With the hand not supporting you, you replaced his hand on his cock and stroked it for him, a moan escaping his mouth as his tongue danced with yours.
You eventually pulled away to sit up, aligning yourself with his cock and slowly sinking down into it. You both groaned at the sensation, Striker folding an arm behind his head to enjoy the show, the other rubbing your thigh comfortingly as you adjusted to him. You slowly started to lift yourself off his cock halfway before sinking back down, getting faster and easier as you went on. His eyes squeezed shut and he bared his teeth as you picked up the pace, the hand on your thigh digging it’s claws into your skin, making you hiss. Your hands found their way to his chest, using it to hold yourself up and to squeeze his pecs, your hips rolling and bouncing on him. Striker looked up at your breasts bouncing in his face, moaning as the sight and a hand reaching up to grope at them, the other still digging into your thigh. The both of you panted and moaned loudly, screaming each others names and cursing to yourselves from the pleasure you felt from the others body.
“Mother…fuck! Shit, Y/N! I’m close!” He warned you, head tossing back as you continued to grope at his body and riding the life out of him. “Goddamn, sweetheart, you’ve gotten good at this!”
You smiled proudly as you watched him stumble on his words below you, his usual smug smirk gone as his eyes slightly rolled back into his head. You bounced slightly faster, both of you whimpering at that as you both reached your highs, Striker’s hips shooting up into yours as he filled you, causing you to moan loudly. When you both calmed down, you fell back onto the bed beside him, not caring about the mess between you as you caught your breath. Striker kissed you on the cheek and stood up after a few minutes of settling down, going to bathroom and grabbing a washcloth to clean you up, before he tossed the now dirty rag and got right back into bed with you, pulling you close to him as he pulled the covers over both of you.
“Still jealous?” He asked, his cocky smile back on his tired face. You rolled your eyes, making him laugh before tilting your head to kiss him. “I’m teasin’ ya, pumpkin. I love ya.”
“I love ya too, I guess.” You grinned back at him, kissing him again as you cuddle into his warm body.
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RESTLESS NIGHTS d.dixon
☆ WORD COUNT - 2.2K
DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - for as long as you can remember, you've always suffered with insomnia. sometimes it was manageable, sometimes it wasn't. the only difference was then you didn't have daryl dixon to help you, now you did.
☆ WARNINGS - sleep deprivation, insomnia, mention of sleeping (lack of), crying, reference to bad childhood, mentions of eating/food, having no appetite, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
sleep never came easy to you.
you remembered being young, standing outside your mothers bedroom door and crying. fat tears would roll down your cheeks as you explained how your eyes simply couldn't will themselves closed anymore and that it was damn near impossible for you to sleep.
she'd always shone you back right to that little bedroom of yours. the walls would enclose on you and yet your eyes would shut, tiredness seeping over you.
yet sleep would never come.
a lot of time has passed since you were a child crying at your mothers door, begging for some kind of an out to this awful insomnia.
before the fall hit, you were a polite young lady that wore summer dresses and skirts all year 'round. you'd walk in through the white door, bell ringing as you entered your doctor's. he'd give you the capsuled tablets that helped you sleep. now, you couldn't even remember what they'd been called.
after the fall, you'd been stocked up, a reasonable amount. though not after long, the name had scratched off, sticker almost gone from the bottle completely. along the way, you met your group, your people, your family. they were more your family than your mother ever had been.
when you and your group found the prison, you deemed that you liked it there.
it had walls, safety, food, anything you ever could have asked for. but soon enough, your medication ran out and the sleepless nights haunted you again.
like today.
carol had made this sort of soup for lunch. you were sat at one of the tables, a spoon in your hand as you stirred it inside the bowl, zoning out. you wondered if it had gone cold by how long you'd been stirring it for. all you knew was that you were too tired to so much as move your arm.
unbeknownst to you, you'd been being watched. daryl dixon had taken a liking to you the moment he'd laid eyes on you. you pranced around with big smiles and happy rosey cheeks with your little dresses and skirts. you were so bubbly and happy, even when the entire world ended. most would think that a person like daryl would find it annoying, rather irritating. but in fact, he was attracted to it the moment he'd seen it. you were like a ray of sunshine, a beaming rainbow. whenever he was around you, he was smiling or laughing. rick almost fell off his horse when he heard daryl laugh for the first time, it was next to you, of course.
but lately, things hadn't been right.
he'd noticed the very first day you woke up with messier than usual hair, a hand running through it with an almost permanent pout etched to your lips, under eyes looking a little dark.
you'd only gotten worse since then.
the sound of a bowl hitting against the table brought you back to life. your doe eyes widened a little as you sat up a little straighter, big eyes gleaming at the man who took a seat at the table you were sitting at, right across from you. "hi, daryl." almost swooning at the mere sight of him.
"hey, pretty girl." yeah, definitely swooning. "wh's up with you? you've been stirrin' the damn soup cold."
you glanced down to your bowl of soup that you'd barely touched. "not hungry." you stated, pushing the bowl out in front of you. you sighed with pouty lips as you laid your chin on your hand.
lack of sleep tended to do that to you. one of two things would happen. one, you'd be craving something like crazy, whatever food it would be from cheese to fruit. or two, the lesser kind one, you'd lose your appetite almost completely. now was the lesser kind one. this one tended to happen when you didn't sleep for longer periods of time.
daryl's eyes were so full of concern and worry. "somethin' wrong?" not waiting to begin having his own soup, carol made a mean soup.
"nope." popping the 'p' sound because really, there wasn't anything wrong, at least nothing serious enough to tell anyone else, you thought. "just tired." tired was an understatement, your whole body was exhausted.
"yeah, i get that." nodding along and pursing his lips. though this behaviour had been going on quite a while. he never wanted to push you, but there were times where he felt like he had to do something. "you'd tell me if there was something wrong though, right?"
you hummed, eyes tracing his own. you were awfully tired and with electric blue eyes like his own, it was sort of hard not to get caught staring into them, whether you were tired or not. "'m just tired." you assured.
though the man didn't look as though he believed you. his eyes traced your own, as though they were trying to figure out what else was wrong.
finally, he sighed, knowing that you weren't going to tell him anything, not now. "alright, sweet girl." watching your cheeks go flush. "you know where to find me if you need me."
you nodded your head, rosy cheeks and pink lips in a smile. "thanks, daryl."
days passed awful slow when you were tired.
thankfully, you'd taken no naps throughout the day so you assumed that by the time night fell, you'd be tired enough to sleep your soul away.
but when the dark sky loomed over the prison, you ready in your cell for sleep to envelope you... you were met with sheer nothingness.
you huffed, closing your eyes and twisting your body.
you thought that if you kept trying, sleep would eventually come to you. you'd tried all the home remedies you could, you tried medication, though that was no longer an option. now, you had hardly any options. the only one that you could think of was shutting your eyes and praying for sleep.
but you knew a long time ago that there was no god in a world like your own.
you turned around for what felt like the hundredth time. even with your eyes strewn closed, a pout still rested on your lips and your brows were knit together closely.
you wondered if anyone else in the prison was awake.
then your mind travelled back to daryl dixon. he looked at you so full of concern and when he'd offered help, he meant it. you knew daryl the best out of anyone and you knew that daryl doesn't say things he doesn't mean. he was the type of man to stay quiet and if he did speak, it was only truth. that was what many people admired about him.
you hardly registered your sock covered feet on the cold concrete ground of the prison. sleepiness was holding so close to you that you hardly registered anything. you didn’t remember your feet guiding your body, turning the corner to reveal the next hallway. and you definitely didn’t recall stepping into daryl dixon’s cell, eyes slightly widening in the dark as you peered around, looking for him.
alas, his cell was empty.
you almost cursed yourself, thinking it was beyond stupid for you to come here in the first place. perhaps you should have just stayed in your cell and waited the night out. you could do one more night without sleep, right?
but before you could turn around, you heard the creak of the cell door. you whipped around to see daryl standing there, looking dishevelled as ever. “what’re you doin’ here, angel?” when you didn’t respond, he found his body moving closer to yours. “shouldn’t you be sleepin’?”
and maybe that was what set you off.
“i can’t.” but you didn’t speak the words with your usual joyish speech, where every word was elongated and practically cheered from your mouth. your voice was all croaky as it broke, like a child, waiting for your mother to open her bedroom door and let you in.
“hey, hey.” his hands were already stretching out, finding your face in the darkness. his fingers brushed against your cheeks, softening the reddened skin. “‘s okay, what’re you cryin’ for?” though his voice was filled with nothing but comfort, the way it softened to fit your own.
daryl dixon truly was one in a million.
you shrugged your shoulders, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, breaking the dam and sliding down your cheeks embarrassingly so. “i can’t sleep.” voice cracking again, but you didn’t stop there. “i’ve tried everything ‘n i can’t do it.” your head shaking, nose becoming red.
daryl wasn’t exactly new to insomnia. he’d felt it times on his own, usually after something drastic had happened or if something was yet to happen. like when carol’s daughter, sophia had been missing. he remembered not being able to sleep for weeks on end. he remembered glancing into the mirror, his eyes sunken and under eyes practically purple. come to think of it, that was exactly how you’d looked earlier.
he cursed himself for not realising sooner.
“‘s okay, baby, everything’s okay.” he heard your pathetic little sobs, practically whimpering as he took you into his arms. his large hand found the back of your head, steadying it by his chest as you cried, tears running down your cheeks as your own chest practically heaved.
you’d been so desperate for sleep that you hadn’t realised you’d been on the brink of tears. now that you were sobbing into the man’s chest, you found it in yourself to be a little embarrassed. but daryl wasn’t the type of person to let you feel that embarrassment. he merely cooed and shushed you, hand gently massaging the crown of your head.
“‘m sorry.” voice like fragile glass as you pulled away from him. “‘n now ‘m keeping you awake ‘n i―”
“hey,” catching your attention. even in the dead of night, with darkness consuming the room whole, you were still able to make out his rough features, and he could still trace your delicate ones. “you ain’ ever gotta say sorry to me, alright?” you nodded your head, eyes still full of watery liquid and lips puffy and red. “now c’mon, we’re gonna figure this out together.”
you could vaguely make out his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards his bed that was draped in many more blankets than your own.
you’d never realised just how comfortable daryl’s bed was, even through the many times you’d practically hopped into his cell, jumping on the bed excitedly to tell him some form of news that you’d heard, whether it was a piece of gossip from carol or something serious from rick, daryl had always been all ears.
it was very different to the state you were in now.
you still found yourself sniffling as daryl tucked the sheets over your body. the sheets were different than yours. usually, you hated feeling too many sheets on you, finding yourself feeling awfully trapped but when he was tucking you in so delicately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.
then you felt his arm gently plop over your middle, holding your back against his front.
gently, your two hands pushed themselves forward, grasping his much larger one. you fumbled with his fingers, pulling one in, sticking one out. even in the dark when you couldn’t so much as make out the shapes, you still found it sort of lulling.
the feeling of his breath hitting the back of your neck, the warmth of his body flowing into your own. you found your eyes gently shutting.
you wondered had it been this easy all along. If all you’d ever needed as just someone else. you didn’t know but deep down you knew. perhaps that was why you’d waited at your mothers door as a child, crying and begging for her to just open it and let you in while she’d shone you away, annoyed with your antics, wondering why she couldn’t get a normal child. and maybe that was why your feet unconsciously began walking towards daryl’s cell, because even your body knew that all you needed as someone to help you, someone to guide the way.
and daryl was more than happy to give you that.
for the first time in a long time, you found yourself almost succumbing to sleep.
it was almost scary. you wondered if your eyes would force themselves open or your mind would force yourself awake. your entire body feared that you’d blink and wake up in your own cell, had this all just been in your imagination due to your lack of sleep.
the mere thought made a shaky breath fall from your pretty lips.
and daryl was more than prepared to pull you closer towards him, his face practically in your hair. his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, hand finding your fingers and interlocking them before his arm stretched out around your body, pulling you as close as humanly possible. “not goin’ anywhere.” he mumbled, as though he were able to read your mind.
he spoke again but the words faded out as your tired mind finally put itself to rest.
perhaps you didn’t just need someone else. perhaps you just needed him.
main masterlist/daryl's masterlist
#daryl#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x you#daryl dixon x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl imagine#daryl dixon imagine#daryl drabble#daryl oneshot#daryl smut#daryl fluff#daryl angst#daryl dixon drabble#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon angst#the walking dead#twd#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd imagine#twd fluff#twd angst#twd oneshot#daryl the walking dead
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