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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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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.

—

“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.

12K notes · View notes

raggedyflowers · 5 months

Text

“When you try to rizz them up”

summary: one piece character reacting at you (trying) to rizz them up. it’s my first time writing smut so … don’t look at me I’m shy (may delete later)

character: Ace, Law, Sanji, Zoro x female reader

cr: NSFW 🔞, heavily flirting, suggestive words, semi public sex

Ace:

Drinking with Ace was not a smart idea ‘cause while the alcohol went directly on your brain, it seemed that Ace burned it as soon as it touched his lips. So it’s not a big surprise when at the end of the evening you were drunk, but he was perfectly fine. “So” you smirked at him, with a courage you usually didn’t have. “You catch fire only to the fist or even up the elbow?” it was such a dumb line that you should’ve feel embarrassed even if drunk, but Ace found it endearing. “You are so out your mind right now, y/n” he told you, helping you get to your room. “You make me out of my mind” you kept going, ignoring his laughter. “Whatever you say” he respond to you. “Usually I’m better at flirting” you mumble to yourself. “You’re going great, why don’t you try when your sober?” he asked you with a smirk, leavening you at the door at yours room without words. The next time you hanged out together, Ace kept an eye on you. “Try to remain sober this time, y/n” he winked at you. “I really wanna satisfy your curiosity”.

that night he did satisfy your curiosity… and not just that

you two found your way to Ace’s room and then he showed you how fast he can warm up the situation

He let you sit on his face and he spent the night eating you out

Law:

Your relationship with Law has always been private and even if someone could have said that he was cold with you, you know behind closed door Law was nothing but a loving and caring partner. It didn’t stop you to try to rizz him up in front of the rest of the Heart Pirates. You loved seeing him blushing, but most of all you loved what did come after. “You don’t need to use your devil fruit” you said to a confused Law. “You already have my heart”. You look satisfied the red cheek of your boyfriend who shock his head. “Why are you like that, y/n-ya?” he asked talking over the laughter of your crewmates. “Like what?” you asked innocently. “I just want you to shamble my organs with your dic —” you never finished the sentence since Law grabbed your arms and took you away.

“You already stopped being a brat, eh y/n-ya?” he asked after pinned you at the wall as soon as you two have entered in his room

You could’ve just bite your tongue for keeping your moans low

“Ah-ah” he said while slowly tracing your entrance with his tattooed fingers. “Don’t stop talking now. Let everyone hear you like before”

And then he push his fingers inside of you and you couldn’t do nothing but scream his name

Needles to say your organs were actually shambled that night

Sanji:

“You should wear the burgundy suit more often” you said to Sanji taking him aback. “Mmh?” he asked you, stopping cutting the vegetables. “I need something pretty to look at”. You always said things like that to him, joking mostly, but not entirely. And you loved seeing his cheek turning red after you called him pretty. “Move please, pretty boy” you said one day passing near to him and grabbing his waist to move him. “Y/n ~ ” he mumbled covered by your laugh. “Pretty, really?” he asked you and you cupped his check. “The prettiest” you said to him. “Not as pretty as you, my love” he told you back. “Wanna show me how much pretty you can be for me” you asked him with a mischievous smile.

he did show you how pretty he is

with his red cheek and sweet smile while he pounded into you

“you are the prettiest” he said you groping your breast while he kept his pace. “taking my cock so well”

but really he was the prettiest boys, especially when he lowered himself and started eating you out

Zoro:

One of your favourite activities on the Sunny was watching Zoro work out. You pretended to read a book but your eyes couldn’t help but to lingering on his sweaty body. “Your book is upside down” he said to you with a smirk. “Really?” you asked, without an ounce of shame. “Are you training on the forth swords styles?” Zoro looked at you with confusion. “You know, the other sword in your — ” you pointed at his pants. He smirked. “Wanna found out?” he smirked again.

he actually spent all night “practicing” with his forth sword

you never been more happy to indulge him

“do you like my sword style?” he asked you while keeping the brutal pace pounding into you

you wanted to say yes, but couldn’t form a single thought

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace d portgas #one piece smut #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 1 year

Text

More Than Enough: OT8 X fem!Reader

Pairing: OT8 x Fem!reader

Genre: smut...just loads of smut...hints of fluff sprinkled inside

Word Count: 14k

AU: sugar baby/sugar daddies, contracted dating, polyamorous.

Rating: Explicit, very

Summary: A good movie night turns into something steamier when the members discover you haven't done your laundry yet.

Tags: poly relationship, breast play, nipple play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of it too, gangbang, bukkake (sort of), fondling over clothes and under clothes, group sex, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, sex toys for men and women, blowjobs, handjobs, rough blowjobs/deep throating, slight edging, hella overstimulation, occasional degradation, multiple orgasms, somewhat bisezual sex, ateez!doms, sub!reader, mixed gentle and hard doms, breeding kink, protected sex until the very end so wrap it up because apparently I need to write that idk why it should be obvious but whatever, and lots of aftercare.

Next on Idol Companion

***

You pressed the ‘popcorn’ button on the microwave and hoped it didn’t burn. The popcorn coming out burnt would ruin everything. You spent all day fixing everything to work out: you bought more snacks and drinks, added movies to the watch list, and brought out blankets and pillows for everyone to sit on. The boys told you not to go through so much trouble for a simple movie night, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s hard to get everyone home at the same time. Nights are typically the easiest, so you managed to make it work out.

Waiting on popcorn, you turned to the refrigerator beside you. The members often posted small notes or reminders on the doors so everyone saw them. A few were written by you, but Seonghwa wrote most of them. On the side of the fridge, they’d pinned two calendars. One calendar showed the basic monthly flower and had the members’ overall scheduled days on it. Personal appointments, Wanteez shoots, photoshoots, live streams, and so on took up small boxes throughout the month. The one right underneath it happened to be an Ateez calendar, each month with a different group photo. You’d written down your own appointments or reminders for upcoming events there. You smiled softly when you spotted a post-it note plastered beside it.

‘Reminder: PLEASE GO TO YOUR AGENCY APPOINTMENTS!!! Love you so much, -Seonghwa.’ he’d drawn a small heart next to his name, which made you smile.

Someone posted another note right next to that one.

‘No, seriously. Please go. They’ll think we’re keeping you hostage. Love you lots -Jongho.’ Jongho had drawn two hearts, which also made you smile.

You giggled softly to yourself. They were both right, of course. You’d been missing appointments with the agency because you’d grown to hate them. Every agency meeting included mental and physical examinations. You’d sit down with a therapist to discuss how your relationship with the members is going, if you have any frustrations or complaints you’d like to share, and your overall mental health. Then, you’d leave the therapist for the doctor, who runs a full body check-up on you, sometimes including blood work which you hated because you dislike needles. Your company agent, Sungmi, tells you it is to make sure your body is working to its best ability.

Also, to make sure you’re free of pregnancies, diseases, or bodily traumas from sex.

You shuddered imagining what ‘bodily trauma’ might mean, but you’d heard stories. Your tests always came back clean, so why did you need to go? If you had an issue with the boys, you simply sat them down and told them. They listened to you; they discussed and solved issues with you instead of pushing you onto their manager. Other women in your industry told you they hardly talked to their ‘boyfriends’. Kira, another Companion, said she mainly worked with her group’s manager. You understood those situations called for agency meetings, but you didn’t see the need for yourself. Seeing Seonghwa’s note, you knew he wouldn’t let it go until you went. You might as well schedule it before Sungmi did.

The microwave alarm went off, and you withdrew the piping hot bag. You dumped it into the bowl, and sprayed a bit of butter. Mingi liked lots of butter on his, so you made a separate bowl for him. You knew he’d appreciate the consideration, but it was your job to know these things. As an ‘Idol Companion’, you are supposed to know things your partners like and do them to make them feel better. People who read about your situation online tend to think you’re simply a sex doll for kpop idols, and think they’re able to do it. You often shut down ignorance by telling people what you went through with your training. ‘Training’? Yes, ‘training’.

Because, sex and looks aren't the only part of the position. You told these people they needed to be ✨ interesting ✨. Learning the art of conversation and entertainment are two key ingredients. There are also lessons in psychology, literature, dance, music, art, and history. You said a proper Companion knew how to appeal to all kinds of people, not a singular type. A Companion needed to be charming, charismatic, and intelligent. If a man or woman wanted an idol to like them, they needed to be more than a pretty face. Nowadays, Companions don’t date an entire group like you do, since they find more stability with soloists or dating non-exclusively. People who do date groups usually have a second or third partner to share “the load” with, but that really depends on the company’s budget. Ateez had no such budget when they began, so when KQ approached your agency, they could only select one. Not that you minded. You’d gained enough experience by then to handle all eight idols. Still, it is no easy task, especially with your chaotic boys. You have seen many outsiders try and fail to go through the process because they thought it was all about ‘dating hot Korean idols’. You won’t lie; it is certainly a perk, but there’s more underneath the surface, you’d tell them.

‘You’re not a prostitute. You’re a companion, a friend, a partner.’

Mama Kim’s words rang in your head as you finished Mingi’s bowl, and pulled out a bag of chips. You’d gone out and bought the spicy ones Jonhgo liked, since he’d mentioned craving them yesterday. Little things. It was all about the ‘little things’.

“There you are, beautiful.” His shuffling feet alerted you to his presence and you looked over your shoulder to see Yunho walking into the kitchen. Very tall and broad shouldered, he ran his hand through his black hair and kissed your cheek. He looked over your face and hair, seeing the new style and length. “Gorgeous,” was all he said before pecking your lips. “I haven’t seen you all day,” he said, pecking your lips next and then grabbing a large bowl from the top shelf. “I thought you’d be home around lunch.”

“I ran some errands after my appointment,” you explained, trying to open the bag, “And then I went out to lunch with some friends before going to see my parents. I told them I’d stop by sometime this week, so I took my free day to go.”

“How are they?” he asked, leaning on the island counter. “Is your mom feeling better?”

“Much better,” you answered, struggling to open the chip bag. Your parents both moved closer to you when they retired, so that way you’re not so far from them. “She keeps asking when I’m going to bring all of you over again. I told her we’ve all been too busy, but I can only say that for so long.”

Yunho opened the bag for you with ease, filled the bowl, and looked at the calendar. “We have time off towards the end of the month,” he said. “We can work out a day then. I’d love to see your parents again.”

“We’re seeing YN’s parents?” Wooyoung walked into the room, white shirt hanging from his shoulders and black hair damp from a shower. “When?” He gave you a brief kiss then wrapped his arms around you. “I have to get your mom flowers.” He checked out your new hairstyle, and smiled, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks, and we’ll see them soon,” you said. “I was telling Yunho that she’s feeling better and wants us to visit.”

It took your parents a while to get used to your job; they thought it might be a bit much handling eight men. But, when they saw how happy the boys made you, they stopped questioning you. Honestly, they saw this polyamorous situation of eight boyfriends as a higher likelihood of marriage and pregnancy. Marriage meant financial security, stability, and someone would be looking after you when they’re gone. Pregnancy for them meant grandchildren they could dote over, spoil and brag about to their friends. You told them that you didn’t need a man or children to enjoy life or be happy, to which they said:

“Says the girl who has eight boyfriends.”

“We’ll be having some days off soon,” he said. “We can think of something then.”

Yunho left the kitchen with the chip bowls, leaving you and Wooyoung alone. The youngest moved to grab a popcorn bowl when he hesitated. Your cheeks burned when you realized that he’d felt it. You’d sort of hoped they didn’t notice. With everything you did today, laundry ended up on the bottom of the list. But, they’re your boyfriends and are also men, so you shouldn’t be so surprised.

And, yes, maybe you did hope one or two might notice.

“No panties?” Wooyoung grinned widely, pulling your body closer to his. “Naughty.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you excused. “Someone used up all the detergent and didn’t buy more, and I forgot to buy some when I went out today.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he smiled, unconvinced. “You just so happen to be wearing no panties,” he pressed you to the counter, “On a night when all eight of us are here?”

“It is a coincidence, I promise,” you replied, not protesting when his hands gripped your hips.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I believe you,” he planted more kisses on your lips. “Hm, perhaps we should go see your parents in a month or so. By then, we’ll have some good news to share-”

“-Wooyoung!”

He sealed over your shared laughter with another kiss before someone else walked into the kitchen. “Who are we sharing good news with?” Yeosang arrived next, wearing a hoodie over his shirt and lounge pants.

“YN’s parents want us to come over,” Wooyoung answered, releasing you and going to the fridge nearby to grab drinks for everyone.

“Ah, fun,” Yeosang grinned. “You know I don’t mind going.” Yeosang brought you into his arms next, giving you the gentlest of kisses, before he also paused. Yet, instead of saying anything, he questioned you with a look and then smirked when you bashfully turned away. “Love what you did to your hair,” he said instead, “And cool, I like hanging out with your dad.”

“Yeah, your dad’s a cool guy,” Wooyoung agreed. You smiled at their compliments, “Any idea what movie you want to watch, babe?”

“None at all,” you answered, watching Yeosang leave you to grab cups from the shelf. “I saved a whole bunch of movies earlier today, but I’ll let you guys pick. As long as it’s not another superhero movie; I’m getting so tired of those.”

“I’ll personally make sure it’s not," smiled Yeosang.

You followed the pair out of the kitchen into the living room. It's not by any means large, so the long sectional sofa took up the wall in front of the television. Seonghwa, Mingi, San and Hongjoong already occupied spaces in the room: Mingi took up the long chaise section of the sofa, with Yunho taking over the massage chair at the end. Seonghwa sat in the middle seat with Yeosang; San sat in the far right corner, with Wooyoung sitting beside Mingi and Hongjoong on the comfy armchair opposite the massage chair. You noticed one person still missing.

“Where’s Jongho?” you asked them, noticing the youngest one’s absence.

“Gaming,” answered San, bundling up underneath covers to avoid the chill in the room.

Leaving the living room, you went down the hall to the larger bedroom. Beside a bed up against the wall, Jongho sat at his computer with headphones on and absorbed in his game. You stood there a few seconds to see if he noticed you, but when he didn’t, you walked up to him and gingerly lifted his headphones from his ears. Jongho let out a cry of protest, but quieted when he saw you.

“Movie night,” you answered his questioning gaze. “Come watch it with us.”

“Hm,” he leaned back in the chair, pondering thoughtfully, “I don’t know. I’m kinda deep in my game here. I’m not sure I could go right now,” he gave you a sly smirk. You’d have to convince him.

“The game can wait,” you took his hand in yours and pouted, “I haven’t seen any of you all day. Come into the living room and sit with us. I got those spicy chips you like.”

His hand was so close to your body, he broke away to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you into his lap. Giggling from the sudden pull, he blindsided you with a kiss that started light and quickly became tender. It was then that Jongho noticed it:

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he said in your ear, lust making him exhale deeply. “I can feel it through your shorts.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you said. “It’s no big deal.”

“I feel bad for anyone sitting with you,” He gripped your thigh tenderly and said, “They’re going to have a hard time keeping their hands off you…especially when you’re not wearing a bra either.”

“But that’s not that new,” you replied, pushing hair from his face. “I rarely wear bras in the dorm. You’re all pretty immune to that.”

“Eh, not as immune as you think,” he disagreed. “I know there have been days where I avoided Braless YN so I don’t get inconvenient boners. Now, add no panties to that equation, and…you know what? I think I’m good here.”

“Oh hush,” you giggled, moving to slide off him, “You’re coming with me, Mister.”

“Or we can stay here,” he suggested, bringing you back to his lap, “And play while they watch the movie?”

“Another time,” you said, leaving his lap and taking his hand.

Jongho sighed defeatedly and followed you back into the living room. You took a seat with Mingi, and snuggled with him underneath the blanket. The winter chill became more noticeable in the lounge area than anywhere else in the dorm. You regretted not wearing more layers than the tanktop, sweatshirt, and shorts you’d pulled on. Making a mental note to finally do your laundry was interrupted by gentle lips pecking the cartilage of your ear.

"I missed you," Mingi said, kissing the spot again. "I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You did see me though,” you told him, flipping over to look at him properly. “You saw me this morning when you woke up.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” you laughed, recalling a groggy, disheveled Mingi leaving his room earlier that morning. “I said ‘morning, princess’ and you went ‘mmphrfmurmur’ and went into the bathroom.”

“I don’t remember that,” he replied, smiling softly. “I was half-asleep.”

“When did you go to bed?”

“Late.”

The Ateez way of saying ‘probably at 2 or 3am’. You’d gotten used to hearing this answer from any given member, so you said nothing else and moved onto another subject.

“What’d you do today?” he asked, putting an arm around you. At this, you saw a hint of realization hit him, but much like Yeosang, Mingi just kept on talking, “You were gone all day.”

"Going anywhere but to her appointments," said Seonghwa, already munching on popcorn while waiting on the others to pick a movie. "Sungmi called," he said, "She's supposed to call one of us if you miss too many. Why aren't you going, babe? You know you're supposed to."

"They're going to think we have you locked up in a bedroom somewhere if you don't go soon," joked Jongho, who’d taken a spot between Yeosang and Seonghwa.

"I don't need to go," you whined, turning over to look at him. "If there was something wrong with me, I'd know and I'd go."

"That doesn't matter," said Seonghwa. "Go to the appointment." He looked over at Hongjoong, who was arguing with Yeosang about the movie choices. "Hongjoong, tell her to go to her appointment. She listens to you."

"Nah, not that one! Let's watch the first one. That's the best one," he told Yeosang, not having heard Seonghwa.

"They're all lame, in my opinion," said San. "Does it have to be that one?”

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa threw a popcorn piece at Hongjoong, who looked at him affronted, "Tell YN to go to her agency appointments. Sungmi says she has to go or they're going to do a house visit."

"Why aren't you meeting with Sungmi?" He asked you curiously. "It’s not just for us, but it’s for your health.”

"They schedule them too early," you said, giving him your famous pouting expression.

"Then reschedule them for later in the day. You have to go to these appointments; it’s in the contract that you go at least every three or four months" he said.

"But I don't need to. I’m fine.”

"Oh, really?" A smirk slowly stretched across his face, "Maybe we should give you a reason to go, then? Since you don't have one?"

The others stifled laughter, and your cheeks burned again. The words 'bodily trauma' came back, and a shiver went up your spine. Not once have your partners pushed you beyond your limits or boundaries; they made sure you remained comfortable and safe as possible. Yet, the slight implication in Hongjoong’s question brought a creeping heat around your ears. You hid half your face to conceal your embarrassed smile.

"I'll go," you squeaked.

"What was that?" He asked, tilting his ear towards you.

"I'll go to the appointment tomorrow."

"Good girl," he smiled fondly. He turned to Seonghwa, "See? It's that easy." He turned back to Yeosang and San, “Let’s watch the first one. It’s so bad, it’s almost good.”

Seonghwa chucked another popcorn kernel at him, though ruined the effect by laughing. The group finally decided on a film, and settled in as it started to play. Mingi curled into the corner of the couch and put his arm around you underneath the blanket, so your back remained facing him. The warmth of him and the blanket fought off the winter air pressing into the glass windows. The movie, a sci-fi film featuring a scientist, a county sheriff, and a pair of college kids taking on a half-octopus/half-shark monster, proved as terrible as Hongjoong insisted it’d be. Though, the boys and you took this in spirit; you all made fun of the movie rather than take it seriously. You laid there in Mingi’s arms as you enjoyed their company. It felt good being surrounded by all of them at once, rather than in pairs or smaller groups.

A bikini clad girl happened to be screaming bloody murder when something else took your notice. At first, you thought the small bump might be bundled up fabric or simply your imagination. You focused your attention on the girl making feeble attempts to swim from the CGI shark-topus, but when Mingi shifted uncomfortably, you couldn’t help but move with him.

“I’m sorry,” Mingi mumbled in your ear, lips right against the edge, “I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said as quietly as possible. You did your best not to move too much, but the hardness poking your ass tempted you. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh?” Mingi slowly rocked his hips into you, the shaft of his length pushing into the fabric of your shorts. The lack of underwear caused an even more apparent warmth. His arms secured you close to him underneath the blanket, and he began kissing the crook of your neck. “Is that why you’re not wearing any underwear?”

“Haven’t done laundry yet,” you said. Thinking about it now, you realized how they might perceive this, especially when Mingi’s cock twitched against you. “I didn’t have any to wear.”

“And instead of washing some,” he began, “You decided to walk around without underwear? In this dorm?” you heard the accusation in his voice, and he laughed, “It sounds planned to me…and maybe I should give you what you want.”

“Mingi…” the heat from before crept over the rest of your body now, and the cool air no longer bothered you. "Here?"

"If that's what you want," he said, deep voice sending shivers to your core. "We can go to my bedroom instead. They can listen to us rather than watch this crappy movie." He kissed the crook of your neck, and said, "I know you like it when we overhear you…"

He wasn't wrong. You never said it out loud but anyone paying attention during sex would notice how aroused you became at being watched. Most of the members knew this, and the naughtier ones liked doing it within the vicinity of others. You gazed back into the room as Mingi groped and rubbed up on you. The other members sat near you; all of them remained focused on the movie playing in the living room, except for one. Hongjoong. He didn’t fully turn around, but he’d looked over to see you in Mingi’s arms. The light of the television illuminated the knowing smirk that went across his face. He scanned down your body, as if he could see through the thick blanket, and you bit back a whimper. He knew, even if nobody else noticed. Warmth began pooling between your legs as you pictured him coming over, pulling off the covers and pawing at you with Mingi. It wouldn’t be the first time. Your eyes stayed locked with his, and you gave a pleading expression. He glanced at the rest of the room as if to say, "Right here? You dirty girl."

You wouldn't have denied it either. The dirtiest fantasies of yours involved all of them ganging up on you, using your body any way they wanted and bringing you to climax multiple times. Hongjoong knew this because you’d confessed it to him; he said it’d be the hottest thing you ever did. However, you never brought it up to anyone else. You weren’t sure if you could physically handle all eight men taking advantage of you. You knew possibly three or four is manageable for you, but eight is excessive. You knew if you did that, you wouldn’t sit or walk right for a while; particularly with how horny and dirty some members get in the heat of the moment. The full on orgy would stay in your fantasies.

Mingi slipped his hands underneath your sweater, and you jumped at his cold fingers. Hongjoong didn’t look away; his leering didn’t alert anyone around him, so he kept watching. You dared to release a soft whimper when those hands grasped your breasts over your tank top. Mingi hummed in your ear, continuing to gradually grind into you. The movie’s volume drowned out any noises made between you, and your blanket concealed your movements. Hands over the tanktop and under your sweater, Mingi pinched and rolled your nipples gently.

“You really like when he watches, don’t you?” Mingi asked.

“A little.”

He let his lips linger on your shoulder, “I think it’s more than ‘a little’.”

The gesture sent waves of warmth to your lower half, where you started pushing back into Mingi’s hips subtly. You could feel Hongjoong casting occasional glances your way, which only added fuel to the fire. You felt Mingi’s length grow against you, the small bump getting steadily harder. Your pussy pulsed when he gave your tits another squeeze and pinched your nipples at the same time. Your thighs squeezed together for a form of friction, but wished for more.

“You’re not wearing a bra either. I can’t resist you when you’re braless.” He pecked the spot beneath your ear and said, “It’s torture…You do it on purpose,” he added the last bit as he rolled your nipples in his fingers.

A sudden gasp escaped you when a small surge of cold air snuck under the fleece blanket, and a hand slipped right between your thighs. You opened them to see Wooyoung right beside you on the floor. Dark eyes usually full of sweetness and innocence looked at you with seductive lust. His hand slid along the inner seam of your shorts; that dangerous seam connecting both sides together where he could feel your pussy the easiest. Merely the warmth of his hand built up your arousal further. His middle fingernail dragged against the seam, a very slight vibration coming from the friction.

“He’s not the only one,” said Wooyoung, clearly having overheard you both. “I like looking at them too, but I personally think you should be bottomless instead.” He pushed his finger to your sex oh-so-slightly, causing you to exhale deeply. He could no doubt feel your bare sex underneath the flimsy shorts, since he then lightly rolled his fingers around it. He smirked when you clenched your thighs around his hand. “That way, I can see this pussy whenever I want without so many layers in the way. You always keep it looking so pretty and yummy,” he gave a small growl before sealing his lips over yours. Mingi continued groping your tits while Wooyoung fondled your pussy. “I can't get enough of it."

"Me neither," agreed Mingi, who continued groping your chest and kissing you. "But your tits are my favorite part."

Mingi pulled the blanket off you and lifted your sweater and top over your chest. You gasped at the sudden exposure, but it did not last long. Mingi shifted around to let you lay on your back as both men started licking and sucking your nipples. The sensation of two mouths teasing your breasts and two hands roaming your body electrified you. You tried staying quiet as Mingi firmly sucked one nipple and Wooyoung slowly swirled his tongue around the other. Wooyoung kept tracing the inner seam to drive you wild, and you almost forgot the other men in the room. ‘Almost’ because another pair of hands soon joined in. Sliding up your thighs, Yunho kissed his way to your hips, sliding up the chaise section to your legs.

“What’s going on over here, hm?” he asked, dotting kisses on your thighs. “Is this movie too boring for you?”

“It sucks,” said Mingi, capturing your lips for a kiss. You moaned into his mouth, unable to stop yourself. “I found something more interesting to do instead.”

Yunho’s long arms reached up far enough to the curves of your breasts. He took up the one Mingi abandoned, and carefully circled his thumb around your hard nipple. You surrendered completely once Yunho’s fingers hooked the waistband of your shorts.

“Let’s get these off,” he said, kissing down your stomach as Wooyoung switched sides and suckled your other breast. You felt more exposed once Yunho pulled off your shorts to reveal the truth. “Oh god, no panties,” he breathed, “I knew it. I could tell when I saw you in the kitchen.”

“Me too,” said Wooyoung, who joined him in kissing down your body. “I told her she should walk around bottomless from now on. That way,” he went back to rubbing your sex and you squirmed at the new feeling, “I can see this whenever I want.”

“Fuck, if you did that,” Yunho moaned, sitting on the couch and spreading your legs, “You’d be sitting on my face nearly all day.”

“I’d love it,” you breathed in between Mingi’s kisses, “I love your tongues so much.”

“Oh, do you?” Wooyoung said, mischief in his voice as he knelt closer to your hips. He sat up fully to hover over your pussy. Having him and Yunho this close made your clit throb. “No wonder you flaunted it in the kitchen. It is where we eat after all…”

“I’m pretty hungry right now…” said Yunho, laying between your legs on the couch and swiping his tongue over your slit.

Mingi took over your nipples while Wooyoung and Yunho rested over your lower half. Being pinned down by Wooyoung’s arm, you couldn’t move away from the light brushes against your lips. One tongue already made you a whining mess; two tongues had your eyes rolling back. The tips of their tongues prodded between your folds carefully, sliding and licking them open until they found your clitoris. Yunho’s tongue licked over the underside while Wooyoung took over the top. Both of their tongues came together in the middle, creating this encompassing sensation that had you breaking away from Mingi to moan out loud. You didn’t care if the others heard you. You wanted them to hear you. You wanted all of them, at once, together. Hongjoong happened to be looking on longer as the three men groped and licked you. Your cheeks heated up from the sudden realization from his staring, and you looked away. It was when Wooyoung took your clit in his mouth, and moaned against it that you let go. Yunho, liking this reaction, did the same when his turn came. Both men began alternating: Yunho at your entrance and Wooyoung on your clit. You thought you might lose your mind.

You then reached down Mingi’s body to the boner pulsing against your side just to hear his deep, low groan in your ear. You rubbed along the tent forming in his shorts until you pushed it aside to let his cock out. Your mouth watered, feeling the thick muscle pulsate against your pelvis and picturing it elsewhere. You loved hearing the members moan when you had sex with them. You loved Wooyoung’s soft sighs and Yunho's throaty groans. Mingi was no exception. He moaned into your neck, groping your breasts still and rocking into your hand. You gripped it gently to wipe your fingers over the wrinkled underside, the sensitive part that made him harder. You loved pleasuring them as much as they loved pleasuring you.

“I’d gladly walk around naked,” you said to them, arching your back as Wooyoung and Yunho’s tongues flicked your sex, “If you guys do too. Living in a dorm with so many yummy cocks to choose from is a dream.”

They all chuckled as they pleased you. Then, another voice called out when a lamp turned on. “Hey, turn her around so the rest of us can watch too.”

It was Jongho, and his comment made all of you laugh. Yeosang, sitting beside him on the couch, flicked on the opposite lamp. A bit of shame heated your cheeks as dim lighting brought you into their view. No matter how long you’d been with them, having their attention on you still made you bashful. Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho let you sit up on the couch. You let Mingi pull off your sweater so you sat naked under their gaze. Their jaws dropped seeing you bare in front of them in the living room, a public place in your dorm. They still reacted this way whenever they saw you naked. Whether in the bedroom or somewhere else, every time was their first time. Nothing made you feel more desirable than having all of them entranced by your body.

“Lean back, baby,” Mingi said, tugging down his shorts and kneeling beside you.

You took his tip in your mouth at once, giving a soft moan when the hot tip touched your tongue. Yunho and Wooyoung knelt in front of you, each man holding one of your legs and continued eating you out together. Inch by inch, you drew Mingi further in; you held him by the base, cupping his balls in your hand at the same time so he had that extra stimulation. You looked up to see Mingi had stripped further down, his naked torso now visible and making him a jaw-dropping sight. Full lips parted in every moan, you saw the need for release etched into his features, but you refused to give him that. Not right away. The slew of moans the two men beneath you caused became muffled by Mingi’s dick; an act you’re certain drives him wild. Mingi liked pleasuring you while you pleasured him for this reason.

Slurping up the juices your spit and his precum made, you let your tongue linger under for a few moments before suckling the throbbing muscle. You could feel it pulse on your tongue and against your cheeks; more precum leaked inside and you swallowed greedily. All this made Mingi grab a hold of your hair and force you to the base. Letting him guide you, your hand moves in tandem with your mouth. The bundle of sensations coursing through your body caused trembling and sensitivity as Wooyoung and Yunho brought you closer to climax. You knew you'd explode from their tongues teasing your sex from top to bottom repeatedly. Their light flicking tightened the knots tightening between your legs.

"So soon, baby?" Yunho said, pecking along your inner thigh. "We've barely started."

"I can't help it," you whimpered. "It feels so good-Ah, Wooyoungie!"

Wooyoung responded with a growl he made sure you'd feel. His tongue slashed across your clit from side to side and you nearly collapsed from the sensation. Mingi pushed himself back into your mouth, grunting and groaning along with you. The climax burning in your lower stomach slowly built until you were shaking. You'd always been able to hold it back whenever you took on multiple partners, but the possibility of fulfilling your greatest fantasy charged it forward. You didn't know what the end result would be, and you couldn't wait for it.

"No, no, no," Wooyoung said, pulling away right as your orgasm touched the edge. "You hold onto that for now."

"You haven't been fucked yet," Yunho added. "You don't want to cum without anything inside you, do you?"

"But…but I don't know if I can," you pouted at him. "It tingles a lot."

They awed at this, and it was Mingi who spoke. "Just relax and enjoy this," Mingi sighed, pressing his tip to your mouth again.

“I’ll take your mind off it.”

San. You knew what he meant before he even approached. He positioned himself opposite Mingi; he stood on the couch and leaned on his side. Your mouth dropped open when he pulled his pants to his thighs. Having San exposed like this made you gravitate to him. Your body continued gradually coming down from the edging, so neither Wooyoung or Yunho touched you right away. They stuck to being spectators below, watching you along with everyone else.

Stroking Mingi’s wet cock, you opened your mouth for San. He groaned at the first touch of your tongue to his underside. San liked it when you took your time; he didn’t like hasty, half-assed sex. You licked him from base to tip without using your hand, so his shaft stayed on your face every lick. San groaned as he watched you trace the veins along his stiffness and suck on the tip each time. Concentrating on both Mingi and San made it easier to avoid stirring up your orgasm again. You turned to Mingi, and opened your mouth for him. He grabbed his base to smack the head on your tongue, sliding it along the length of your tongue before pushing into your mouth.

“Such a dirty girl,” San moaned, forcing your head back so both cocks settled over your mouth, “You can never have enough dick, can you?” When you shook your head, the room chuckled. “I think you’re going to get more than your fill of dick tonight, sweetie.”

“Especially when you’re so eager for more…”

Mingi held you by the hair as they took turns in your mouth. All around you, you could hear the other members talking and felt their eyes drinking you in. You didn’t feel an ounce of shame. They loved you, and you loved them. You had no reason to be ashamed of this kind of behavior. You liked having them watch. Before any of them ever touched you, you used to like letting them sneak peeks at you in the shower or in your bedroom, getting dressed. The largest turn on was when one member walked in on you with another, and he stayed to watch. They know you like being watched, and did it now just for you. When San plunged himself down into your throat, you received nothing but encouragement and praise.

“Hold it, hold it,” you heard Seonghwa’s deep voice instruct from nearby. “See how long you can keep that dick in your throat, baby.” Your throat tightened reflexively around the intrusive length, and you struggled for air for a few seconds. “Remember what I taught you,” he said, sounding closer now, “Relax and breathe through your nose.”

You tried. You really did, but you finally pulled away from San, coughing and gasping for air. You looked to see Seonghwa sitting where Wooyoung had been on your left, hand gently rubbing your inner thigh. Shirtless in lounge pants, Seonghwa was a vision of beauty. Black hair in an undercut, sharp features bare and perfect, he resembled a painting in a high end museum. How could you not love a face like his?

“I’m sorry,” you coughed, chest heaving up and down. “I tried.”

“That’s okay, angel,” he said, “Try it with Mingi’s now.”

Mingi guided you fully onto his dick, your lips brushing the hilt while his cock touched your throat. He isn’t as long or as large as San, so you managed it with ease. Seonghwa looked on intently. He liked seeing you give the other members blowjobs before getting one himself; he once said he liked having them warm you up for him. Mingi and San both groaned each time you took one of them in your throat. San moved in and out of it easily, enjoying the gagging sounds you made each time he did it; Mingi liked keeping you firmly down while Wooyoung and Yunho made you moan through your throat. The pleasure heightened when a tongue swiped over your soaked, stimulated pussy.

“Mm, tastes so good,” Seonghwa growled, making sure you felt it before he suckled the sensitive nub. “I could eat this all day, and never get bored.” He gave it a soft kiss, “Especially if she’s throating my cock while I do it.”

“Same” Wooyoung agreed, using his turn to make rapid swirling motions there. This instantly stoked the fires inside you again. Yet, every time you grew close, they pulled away. It became total torture that you never wanted to stop. “I could do this all day. I don’t care if my jaw locks up. Hearing her cum is worth it every time.”

The members laughed at his bold statement, but it only made you hornier. You went back to sucking Mingi’s dripping cock when something slim and long finally slid inside you. You looked to see Yunho’s mouth agape as he slowly pumped two fingers into your pussy. He shifted to the side somewhat so the rest of the room could see his fingers stretching your hole while the other two licked your clit. San had been fucking your mouth when Seonghwa and Wooyoung spread your lips further to greedily lap at the pearl hiding in the folds. The cries of pleasure were muffled by the thick cock filling your mouth, but they heard them nevertheless.

“I think she’s going to cum,” Yunho said smugly, maintaining the same pace throughout. “I can feel that pussy getting tighter and tighter.” He pulled them out to rub your juices over your clit and back down, your clit getting a break from tongues to enjoy fingers instead. Your mumbled whimper amused him, and he repeated the torturous motion again.

“I don’t know if I want her to cum yet,” Seonghwa pouted, kissing up your body to your nipple which he suckled softly. “I just got here. Let me see…” His hand replaced Yunho’s inside you, also going slow and steady. You could feel his fingers prod your g-spot briefly, making you see stars behind your eyelids. Each stroke had you whining, and sucking two different cocks added to this pleasure. “She is close,” he agreed with Yunho. “Look at her, she’s shaking,” you heard the taunt in his voice, and you switched over to Mingi once more. Your eyes met his and his jaw dropped, “I bet you want to cum really bad, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you gasped, taking a moment to breathe and stroking both San and Mingi.

“Let me…” Wooyoung stopped using his mouth and instead fingered you right as Seonghwa withdrew. “Ooh,” he cooed, “It’s squeezing my fingers every time I go in. Especially when I go in deep like this.”

He demonstrated by sinking his fingers into the last knuckle, pressing on your g-spot and making you cry out. He did this repeatedly a few times, and brought you so close you nearly went over. He pulled them out to rub over your clit once more. He started rubbing your clit up and down while Yunho’s fingers filled your pussy again. Seonghwa took occasional flicks and licked up the mess your juices made. It reminded you of the time San and Wooyoung tied you to your bed, where they teased and edged you the way you liked. You went back to sucking Mingi’s cock, the blond haired man groaning as you hollowed your cheeks for him. Seeing your shaking thighs and hearing your moans, the other members sensed your orgasm from afar.

“Come on, now. You know you want to cum.”

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, baby. We want to hear you cum.”

From across the room, your eyes locked with Hongjoong’s. He sat in the arm chair at the end of the couch, lounging casually and watching you like he’s watching his favorite tv program. The sight of him passively observing you somehow made you more sensitive.

You’d never tell a single soul just how much you enjoyed Hongjoong’s cock. You'd never reveal how his dick was the one you craved during lonely nights; how you loved the feel, the taste, and the size of him. He’d been your first, and he’d always carry that title with him. Yunho sunk his fingers deeper inside, moving them faster and angling them a bit higher; Wooyoung worked on your clit while Seonghwa reached up to suck your nipples. Hongjoong caught your gaze, and groped the bulge growing in his pants.

“Cum,” he mouthed out, biting his lower lip and eyeing you closely.

As if activated by his voice alone, you climaxed. Body stiffening on the couch, muscles contracting, your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm blew through you. You suddenly became so hyper aware of the men stimulating you; the men watching you in the room and eagerly awaiting their turn with you. Yunho kept the same pace during your orgasm, the motion of his fingers making your eyes roll back. It was absolute bliss.

Coming down from your orgasm, you saw Jongho and Yeosang preparing a space in the center of the living room. Jongho placed down blankets from around the couches, while Yeosang put pillows where you’d be more comfortable. Seonghwa guided you from the couch to a space on the floor, where he let you kneel down on a long pillow cushioning your knees. Taking up your hair again, this time he eased his cock into your mouth. Your throat already accustomed to it from Mingi and San, you took his cock with nearly no difficulty. The entry burned your throat every so often, and brought tears to your eyes. They brimmed your eyelashes, and trickled down the sides to your cheeks. Seonghwa only wiped them away with his thumb.

"Take it easy," he said gently. "You don't have to be so hasty with me."

Seonghwa never bragged about it, but they considered his dick ‘above average’. Not huge or disturbingly big, it still took a bit of effort where penetration was concerned. When he went in, you definitely felt him for sure. You gingerly sucked and licked him, not taking him in your throat until you felt ready to do so.

“Look at him,” Seonghwa told you, and you knew who he meant. “Look over at him while you suck me off.” You glanced over at Hongjoong, who’d started stroking himself under his pants. You wanted so badly to walk over and pleasure him yourself. But, you knew he wouldn’t want that. “You know how much he likes watching you be used like a little fuck doll. Give him something to watch.”

Seonghwa let out a low groan as you started sliding your mouth up and down on him. You felt the heat of Hongjoong’s eyes on your body; you felt them peeling away at you until he reached your core, where your dirtiest fantasies lay hidden. Opening your mouth, you stroked Seonghwa over your tongue so Hongjoong saw thin droplets of precum fall into your mouth. You enjoyed the salty taste, licking up from base to tip and spitting some onto it before sucking on it again. The arousal flared when Yunho took up the space next to you and grabbed your hand to wrap around his cock. After choking yourself on Seonghwa’s dick the way Hongjoong liked, you did the same to Yunho, who let out hoarse groans as you did it. Yunho never pressured or forced you to pick up speed; he liked letting it naturally play out between you both. Jerking Seonghwa at the same speed, strings of profanities and moans came while you took turns on each one. Soon, more drool leaked from the sides of your mouth, which you usually wiped away, but Hongjoong was watching. He liked you messy.

San knelt behind you. You knew it was him by the warm hands starting to roam your sides. He reached around to your pussy where he started stroking you lightly. Your clitoris still felt sensitive from your first orgasm, yet you craved more. One hand spreading your lips apart, the other moistened your entrance with the cum left inside you. You gasped around Yunho’s length when you felt something hard pressed to your entrance. San swirled his tip around your sex a few times, moaning softly before sinking it an inch or two inside. You let go of Seonghwa and Yunho to lean forward onto another pillow, arching your back to slide more of him inside. A whole new wave of euphoria arrived the moment he filled you completely. You lifted your head to realize Hongjoong was not that far from you, possibly a few feet. His eyes went from your face to where your body met San’s, and he stopped stroking himself.

“How’s that, baby?” San asked, starting off with a steady speed. “Hm?”

“So…So good,” you whimpered, “Go faster. Please.”

He didn’t disappoint. San drove his hips into you faster, and you felt his cock reach further inside. Right as he got into a proper rhythm, another member took the space in front of you. Jongho, the youngest of them all, smirked down at you. He held his dick out in front of you, slowly rubbing it as he’d done this entire time.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, scooting closer to you and lifting your head upright. “I’ve been dying to fuck your mouth all night.”

“Pl-please,” you said through gritted teeth as San held onto your hips and pulled you onto him.

“Then open up.”

He eased himself into your anticipating mouth. Jongho took no effort at all, and he always kept gentleness laced into the roughness. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself as far as he could, yet did not do so roughly. Your constant stream of whimpers and whines became stifled by the cock buried hilt deep in your mouth. Jongho’s precum added a new flavor to the mixture already there, and also left your cheeks and chin a mess. You could feel the other members around you, awaiting their turn while Hongjoong looked onwards. Even if you couldn’t see him, you knew he watched. Jongho occasionally released you so everyone heard your guttural, hoarse moans from San’s thrusting hips.

“You look so pretty like this, Noona,” Jongho huffed, using that affectionate formality he knew sparked something inside you. “All dirty and horny while we use your…your holes,” he said, pushing himself back into your mouth. “I could do this all day.”

“Me too…”

Yeosang knelt beside Jongho, who withdrew his member to let Yeosang go next. Much like Jongho, you had no trouble sucking him deeply and firmly. Suddenly, you became surrounded. Two hands grabbed your breasts and pinched your nipples, while a third hand languidly stroked your clit. From the sounds around you, Seonghwa and Yunho played with your nipples and Wooyoung once again touched you further down. A sharp smack on your ass came from Mingi, who took hold off both cheeks and spread them as San charged inside you. In a few long strokes, San stopped completely and something dripped onto your ass hole.

“Her ass is so nice,” Wooyoung moaned, no doubt looking on as Mingi rolled his thumb around your ass. “That’s another one I could eat all day if she let me…”

Wooyoung’s oral fixation had no bounds, and you loved it. “Touch it,” you moaned, taking Yeosang out to say it, “Please. I love it when you play with my ass.”

They all laughed softly, and Mingi smacked your ass again. “Is that so?” Wooyoung’s hand left your clit for your ass, smoothing over one cheek before giving it a sharp slap. “If that’s true, then maybe I should eat your ass more often.”

“I bet she’d cum just from that alone,” Mingi said, bending to lick the hole which caused you to cry with Jongho in your mouth. “I’d love to try one day.”

“She has,” Wooyoung told him. He joined in the teasing, spitting and swiping over it with Mingi. “She can be a real filthy slut when she wants to be.”

“The filthiest.” Hongjoong’s high voice reached you over the commotion, and you pushed yourself into San’s hips faster and harder. “She’s nothing but a dirty pervert who craves our dicks all day long.”

“Hyung!” Yeosang huffed with a laugh, even turning over to look at him.

Jongho and him moved to look at Hongjoong, but he only had eyes for you. That familiar glint of depraved lust winked at you, and you so badly wanted him to join. But, you knew he wouldn’t right away. Hongjoong managed his arousal way too well for your liking. The others could become almost feral when in the moment, but not Hongjoong. His cock stood up straight, laying on his stomach and twitching at the lightest ministrations but he did not give into that primal instinct inside him. Having him watching you this way brought you closer to the edge on San’s member, making you grunt in every push.

“Isn’t that right, YN?” he asked, running his fingers up and down the underside of his engorged hardon. A trickle of precum wet his fingers, and you licked your lips. He laughed, “Answer me.”

“Yes!” you squeaked as a finger started rolling around the rim of your ass. Wooyoung spat between your cheeks again, and he spread it around. “Oh fuck, yes! Yes, yes, yes! I am a filthy slut! I am!”

Your answer satisfied him, and he continued touching himself. “Show me then,” he said, “Show me what a slut you can really be.”

You continued working on both Yeosang and Jongo, switching between them every so often to pleasure them both while Wooyoung’s fingers pushed right into the brim of your ass. Seonghwa then lifted you up as far as San’s dick allowed and spoke into your ear.

“I want you to ride me,” he said, licking the edge of your ear to kiss your neck, “While your real owner watches you.” He rapidly began rubbing your sensitive clit, making you clench your thighs and squirm. “Because that’s what he is. We might date and fuck you, but you’re his. All his. I want him to see how good I fuck you when he’s not here to do it.”

San, having overheard the conversation being so close, added, “He loves watching us fuck you this way. He’s even asked me to fuck you in front of him before, you know.” He leaned close to your ear, “Be a good girl and ride Seonghwa for your owner.”

Seonghwa laid down beside you and the others released you. Yet, right as he did this, a small blue packet landed on his chest. You all looked up to see Hongjoong holding a box of condoms. Beside it, you spotted a bottle of lubricant and a gray shoe box. You gulped at the sight of the box. You knew what was inside, and it excited you. But knowing them, they won't pull those out right away.

"We have these for a reason," he said, putting the condoms on the couch where they could easily grab it. "Please use them."

Seonghwa smirked at him, and tore open the condom wrapper. Once he slid it over his cock, you straddled him. On sore knees, you sunk yourself onto him right away. Leaning forward, you kept your back arched as more hands rubbed over your body. Yeosang and Jongho took turns stimulating your clit as you started gradually rocking on Seonghwa’s dick, causing you to fall deeper into a whirl of pleasure. This new angle had his cock pressing into your g-spot again, and their hands only pushed it along. Wooyoung left your ass for your mouth, which you opened gladly to let him in. Seonghwa, with a perfect view of Wooyoung abusing your throat, moaned in utter satisfaction and pushed his hips into yours. It was the wet tongue and fingers on your ass that excited you immensely. San, most likely lying fully on his stomach in between Seonghwa’s legs, had pulled your buttocks apart to lap at your hole. Your muscles tensed once more as Seonghwa angled his body to bury deep inside you; the arms holding you up started trembling and you knew you’d give out right away.

“Lay down, baby,” Wooyoung said, kneeling down over Seonghwa’s head and bringing you at level with him, “That’s it…just relax and-Ah, fuck, hyung!”

“You shouldn’t have brought them so close to me,” Seonghwa chortled, and you saw his tongue flick over Wooyoung’s balls. He hummed around one and the vibration made Wooyoung wriggle over him. “Such a sensitive boy; just like our sweet YN.”

And so you both went to work on Wooyoung. The slim, dark-haired man whimpered and moaned at the two mouths pleasuring him. Your second climax finally arrived when Mingi’s fingers slipped into your ass without warning. The mixture of all the different sensations had you tearing up and shaking uncontrollably. Wooyoung’s cock sunk deep into your throat, just so he could feel you moaning around him.

“That’s it…Just like that,” Seonghwa moaned from underneath, “Cum all over my cock. I love feeling your pussy get tighter around..me…”

“Be nice and loud for Joong-hyung,” Mingi groaned in your ear, keeping his fingering careful and slow. “He loves hearing you cum like that. Yeah, just like that.”

He cooed at you when your orgasm strengthened and you grew louder. You finally stopped, shaking and quivering, as it came down. Every muscle in your body felt weak, but the burning desire to keep going overpowered the physical tiredness. It was everything you pictured it to be. All the nasty, self-disrespecting actions you always pictured yourself doing even despite your self-respect were coming true. The best part of it was Hongjoong’s approval of the treatment.

“Come here, angel.” Mingi grabbed a condom from the box next, and laid down next to Seonghwa. “Turn around for me,” he said and you did as told.

You expected him to slide himself into your pussy, but instead, he pushed his tip to your lubed ass hole. When you gasped, he paused, “I need you to relax, okay? Take a deep breath for me.” When you nodded and tried calming down, he said, “Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, “I’m going to fuck you in your ass now. You can go at any pace you want; don’t feel you have to go too fast or too hard. Fuck…yes, like that. Take it nice and easy, angel.”

He grunted when you gingerly sank halfway down on him. “Mingi-ah,” Hongjoong said, “Here.”

He passed Mingi the lubricant from the couch. Cold and sticky, Mingi poured a bit onto his length and then on you. While it made your ride easier, nothing compared to the stretch and full feeling it created. Anal always left a lasting impression, especially since it made you feel particularly stuck on him. Yeosang knelt down in front of you, giving soft kisses to your shoulder and collarbone.

“You’re doing such a great job, darling,” he praised, kissing the base of your neck. “I know you’re getting tired, but you only need to go a little longer, okay?” He massaged your bottom tenderly, pecking your lips and kissing you softly. You watched him take up the lube and squirt some onto his fingers. “Want me to finger you?” he asked, tracing cold digits across your heat, “While Mingi fills your ass? I know you love having more than one.”

“Yes,” you whined, sinking fully onto Mingi before slowly coming back up. “Please.”

Yeosang sunk two fingers into you, and you moaned loudly. He let you grind and brush into his palm each time you went down; he sometimes picked up the pace if he thought you’d grown too quiet. Out of habit, you grabbed his boner to stroke slowly. The addition of lube he poured on the tip had Yeosang softly panting in your ear. You’d been lost in the feeling of the two men pleasuring you that you didn’t notice Yunho coming up beside you with something small and pink in his hand.

“I think I know exactly what our pretty girl needs,” he said, voice full of mischief. “Just keep riding Mingi while we do the work for you.”

You looked at him to see a body wand in his hand. Your pussy instinctively clenched Yeosang’s fingers, and he pushed them further inside to wriggle the tips close to your g-spot. The gentle vibrating coming from the wand made you nearly dizzy from stimulation, creating squeals and high pitched cries whenever it rolled directly onto you. Yeosang removed his fingers so Yunho could place the head of the toy right over your entrance. You started bouncing on Mingi faster, the vibrations causing sharp tickling sensations that matched the feeling from behind. Yunho did not move away; he followed your hips wherever they went, even wiggling the wand from side to side. The members watched in awe as Mingi held you in place and started pushing into you.

“Yun…Ho…” you cried, tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation. “Yunho, it tingles!”

“I know, baby,” he smiled, “Hongjoong-hyung gave it to me for us to play with. Tell him how happy you are that he got it for you. Go on.”

“I’m ss-s-s-so ha-happy! Ah-”

Yeosang put his fingers back inside when you leaned back and Yunho tapped your clit with the wand. Your third climax hit you harder than the first two. Your body turned stiff, your head cocked to one side and eyes squeezed shut tightly. Yeosang waited until you’d fully stopped to slide his fingers between your parted lips. Sucking them eagerly, you let out several shaky breaths and did your best to stay up straight.

“You okay?” Yunho asked, tucking hair behind your ear. “Do you want to take a break?” When you shook your head, he said, “You don’t have to take all of us right now if you can’t. We won’t be upset. You’ve done so much already, baby.”

You turned your head to look at him, starting to ride Mingi again, “I want to keep going. I love it too much to stop now.”

He smiled and kissed you, “If you ever want to stop or have a break, you know the word to use, right?”

You nodded.

“What is it?” Yeosang asked, kissing down your chest.

“Buttercup…”

“That’s right. Good girl. Lay down on the couch for us,” Yeosang said, “Get comfortable.”

Yunho helped you over to the couch, where you rested against Yeosang in front of a large pillow and sunk into his comforting arms. Yunho lifted your ankles to his shoulders, and rolled on a condom before handing one to Yeosang. He waited until you settled down to sink inside you. Yeosang then pushed his own cock into your ass, since now Mingi stretched it enough that the pain did not burn so hotly. Both men worked you gently, watching you melt between them as more pleasure pulsed through you. Seonghwa came back up to the side of the couch, body wand in hand, and rolled the vibrating head over your nipple. The tickling feeling surged down in your loins where Yunho and Yeosang slowly pushed in and out of you. Jongho came beside the lower half where his fingers lightly ran over the lips of your pussy, making you squirm and tremble. Your walls clutched Yunho tightly, and this made him thrust deeper and faster.

“Are you going to come already?” Yunho panted, holding onto the backs of your knees as he moved. “Is your pussy that sensitive?”

“Ye-yes,” you nodded, huffing and puffing from exhaustion as the men used you. “It feels so…good…” you kept your eyes closed as they all worked on you. “Don’t stop no-now…I’ve wanted this for such a long-long time.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang asked, grabbing your breasts and holding them for Seonghwa’s toy to tease them more accurately. “Maybe Hongjoong is right. You are a dirty slut. Is this what you were thinking about when I caught you using your toys in the bathtub? You remember that, don’t you?”

You did. Vividly. You recalled Yeosang walking in by accident, seeing you sitting on the edge of the tub and holding a vibrator to your cunt. He’d joined you right away, fondling and kissing you while sliding the toy in and out. “Yes,” you moaned, “But I still liked it when it was just you.”

“So sweet,” Yeosang awed, thrusting up in time with Yunho now so they filled you together. “Go ahead and cum again for us. You can do it, baby. We know you can.”

A fourth orgasm erupted in a scream. Yunho and Yeosang kept the same pace, but Seonghwa and Jongho focused their efforts on your clit. Seonghwa pushed the toy down while Jongho held the lips apart. Sharp pain and pleasure mingled inside and you quaked in their embrace. They hardly gave you time to relax as Yunho and Yeosang withdrew before Jongho got his hands on you. Laying you on your side on the floor, he lifted one thigh above the other and slipped himself inside you immediately. It was then you noticed the box. A small gray shoebox with a designer label on the side. Hongjoong didn’t only bring the body wand. He brought the whole box. Jongho started pounding you right away, moaning your name and squeezing your tits while you stared at the box at Hongjoong’s feet. He gave you his devilish smirk and nodded to the toy box.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jongho asked, bending over to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You feel so good and I’m so fucking turned on by you.”

“Don’t stop,” you muttered, pushing into him and keeping his hands on your chest. The remains of your last orgasm, and the pure adrenaline coursing in your body kept you going at this point. “I want you to keep going. Please?”

Jongho, always needing reassurance you wanted him, started rocking himself deeply inside you. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you,” he admitted to you, kissing up your neck, “It’s why I like fucking you in my room when Yeosang and Wooyoung are there. I like watching you take more than one cock at a time.”

“Jongho,” you giggled, pushing back into him, “You naughty boy.”

“You make me naughty,” he smirked, pushing deep inside and staying there. “But,” he pinched your nipple gently, “There’s someone here who likes watching you more than me.” He kissed your cheek, and then said loudly, “Hm, I wonder what I should do with our girl next? Hongjoong-hyung?”

“Spread her legs open,” Hongjoong suggested, leaning back in his chair and looking on. “So we can see what her pussy looks like being abused by your dick.”

Jongho laughed, then lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder. Fully spread apart, Hongjoong was given a clear view of your soaked, sore pussy being stretched once more. Mingi pulled the gray box towards him, and rifled around before finding the bullet vibrator. A baby blue toy the size of an egg was then pressed to you and Jongho met from behind you. Both of you felt the light vibrations that made Jongho more desperate for release. While you cried and pleaded, Wooyoung came to level with your head and pushed himself into your open mouth. You did your best to suck him, but Jongho’s dick pushing to your core once more with Mingi’s toy buzzing around your sex, it became difficult.

“She can’t even suck my dick properly,” Wooyoung laughed, not upset or disappointed but amused. “Such a dumb little doll. Let me help you, baby.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer as he started sliding himself in and out of your mouth. Diving deep into your throat, you sputtered as a moan tried escaping you but was blocked off. “She’s loving this,” Mingi smirked, “I think we should do this more often just for her. I know she’d love that.”

“We don’t want to work her too hard though,” said Jongho, who pecked kisses along your leg and ankle. “It might hurt her a lot.”

“Nah, it’s healthy for cock hungry sluts to be gangbanged once in a while,” said Hongjoong. “They need to be fucked into oblivion so they remember what they’re good for.” He held back a moan as he said, “She needs to remember she’s just our little cum dump from time to time.”

Some members stifled laughter at his bold, cruel words but you only whined. Yes. Yes, that’s what you were: a toy for the members to release their frustration on. Companions do so much more for idols and idol groups, but sex is usually involved. You didn’t mind. You’d known this from the beginning; you lucked out having loving partners, since not all Idol Companions have such good experiences. You showed that side of you to them right now by submitting to their whims and pleasures.

Mingi put the toy right underneath the nub, and with a few more pumps from Jongho, you clamed up again. Another orgasm came so quick and hard, not even Wooyoung’s member stifled it this time. All the members cheered you on, encouraging you to cum one more time or spread yourself further to let Jongho go deeper. Hazy and dizzy, you collapsed onto the floor. You might as well be a pool of jelly. Your holes ached, your jaw burned, and you thought you’d pass out any moment. But, you had more to do. You hadn’t gotten the thing you wanted the most. The boys put you back on the couch, letting you sink back into comfort as Wooyoung grabbed an anal plug Mingi handed to him. Both men prepared you for the small pink plug before sliding it inside. Being on your back, the toy would be pushed in and out of you as Wooyoung sucked up the juices smeared on your thighs and leaked from your entrance. His warm tongue soothed but also pinched your clit whenever he touched on it.

“Wooyoung just fuck her already,” said San, joining in by flicking your clit with his tongue. “I’ll take care of this right here.”

“But I like eating her when she’s been fucked a few times,” he replied, licking up your thighs. “She’s so sensitive and responsive afterwards. I love hearing her mewling and whimpering like this.” He quickly rolled his tongue around your clit so you made those exact noises. San hurriedly joined in and both men eagerly ate you out. “Do you like that, YN?” asked Wooyoung, sucking on your clit and forcing the plug deep in your ass. “Hm, do you?”

You let out a stream of incoherent sentences, and they laughed. “Silly baby,” San awed, pouting and kissing your clit, “So fucked out she can’t even form a sentence.”

“Been fucked stupid,” Wooyoung smirked, “Exactly how I want her when I put my dick in her.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as both men took advantage of your weakened state. Wooyoung sat up right, condom already rolled on, and sunk himself into your aching, throbbing, burning hole. You could hardly see straight, the room becoming blurry in your glazed tears, and your body became numb to everything except the pleasure Wooyoung and San provided. It didn’t take very long for Wooyoung’s soft panting to turn into high moans, eyes full of need and desire as your pussy pulled him into you.

“Please cum, Wooyoungie,” you mumbled, reaching out to his chest and torso so he felt your hands on him. “I want you to cum all over me.”

“Say that again,” he moaned hurriedly, picking up speed, “Say that again.”

“I want you to cum all over me. Please, Wooyoung. Please?”

“Yes, yes, baby. I…I…”

He withdrew right away, tearing the condom off, and you looked down to see his glistening cock twitching as he stroked it. Thick droplets of white fell onto your lower stomach before shooting up to your chest, where the musky scent and sticky heat started to cover you. You admired Wooyoung’s lithe, slim body; his tanned skin beaded with sweat and black strands sticking to his temples and forehead. His lean muscles constricted, and his soft lips parted in every groan. He finally stopped with a few more pumps before San took his place. Lifting your legs up, he slipped on his own condom, and started fucking you right away.

“You just lay there, baby,” he said, “Be a good toy and let me use your pussy.”

“Yes, Sannie. Use my pussy to cum, please,” you panted.

“Do you want me to cum on you too or somewhere else?” he asked, bottoming up into you carefully.

“On me. Please. All over me. I want it all over.”

“Of course you do…” Hongjoong walked up beside you, crouching down to where your head laid and kissed your temple. “Any self-respecting slut loves being cummed on,” he leaned into your ear and traced light circles over your nipples. A faint, fresh scent came off his clothes and skin; he’d showered before the movie and it still clung to him. It added another layer of comfort and relaxation. “And being cummed in too,” he groaned in your ear before kissing it, “Just wait until it’s only you and me. I’m going to breed that pussy the way it’s meant to be. I’m going to breed you nice and hard and deep,” he gave your nipple a pinch, “And you’re going to take every drop and keep it in you.”

“Hongjoong, but…”

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he assured you. “I only want to see how pretty you look with my cum dripping from your holes. You’re already so beautiful covered in cum.”

“She always looks so-s-so good,” San huffed.

Like Wooyoung, he pulled out right when he orgasmed. San tilted his head back, jerking quickly so thin streamers fell over your stomach and breasts. Hongjoong and you looked on together, watching San pump himself until he’d been completely spent. Mingi, the one who started this whole thing, went afterwards. He didn’t waste time with seductive words or praises. He pushed right into you, and didn’t stop until he was a sweaty, panting mess jerking over you. His streams mainly landed on your breasts, clearly where he’d hoped to aim. Hongjoong, wiping up a clear strip of cum, put it to your lips to taste it.

“I wonder who will shoot into this slutty mouth,” Hongjoong said out loud, letting you suck more from his fingers. “They know how much you like to swallow their loads after they’ve fucked you.”

“Oh, I am,” Yeosang took his place beside you and pushed hair from your face. Hongjoong sat on the couch arm rest, still admiring your filthy, naked body like a work of art. “I want my sweet girl to drink every little drop I give her. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you said weakly.

You stuck out your tongue as Yeosang rubbed his tip over it. You had no energy to properly suck or jerk him off, but you gave soft, kitten licks to the head until he started shaking in front of you. He called out in a loud cry like his orgasm imploded inside him. Streaks of cum flew into your mouth and on your cheek, but you quickly caught them by latching your mouth to the tip. Hongjoong kept your hair out of the way, and encouraged you to open up so Yeosang saw you’d swallowed all of it.

“Good girl,” Yeosang rewarded you with a kiss, “Hongjoong better give you an extra special treat for behaving so well.”

“I will,” Hongjoong said fondly, as if doting on a child.

Seonghwa stood a foot away, looking over your body as if he’d never seen anything as lovely before. “You know how much I love your mouth too,” he told you, already at the cusp of his orgasm, “Open it for me, baby. Just like that.”

It didn’t take him much longer. What caught you off guard was Jongho, who’d taken Mingi’s place between your thighs. Both men came rather quickly, since they worked themselves up beforehand. Seonghwa slid himself in and out of your mouth while Jongho pounded you hard. Sucking Seonghwa off felt like eating a candy with a gooey center; it dribbled onto your tongue rather than outright shot into it. Seonghwa and Jongho both picked up their pace: Seonghwa’s cum leaked into your mouth even as his orgasm erupted through him; Jongho’s mainly trickled down over your pubic mound and the crevasses of your thighs. You swallowed the oozing cum, making sure Seonghwa saw you eagerly licking him clean before he withdrew.

“Look at you,” Yunho smiled, taking Jongho’s place, “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen covered in a bunch of cum.”

“Isn’t she a pretty sight?”

“The prettiest.”

Yunho sunk deep into your leaking pussy, and gave into those primal urges inside. His nails dug into your hips, and his balls slammed into your ass as he used your body. The momentum caused the plug inside you to move around, and you almost came again from it. Hongjoong leaned down to your ear, and gave it a soft nibble.

“Just one more, baby,” he said, “Then we’ll clean you up and I can breed you.”

The thought of being bred by Hongjoong excited you so much. Yunho’s cock pushed right into your center, and you started moaning. “I want you to, sir,” you whimpered into his ear. “I want you to breed me.” You’re not an idiot. You’re sleeping with several different men and you’re still young. You obviously take birth control, and they use protection to avoid pregnancies or diseases. But, the idea of Hongjoong’s bare cock pumping you full of his seed made you horny again.

“Of course, you do,” he said. “You’re a fuck doll that loves being cummed in as much as possible. It only makes sense I empty my balls inside you the way a good owner would, right?”

“Yes…”

“Fuck, hyung,” Yunho laughed in between moans, head back and pushing feverishly. “You’re terrible.”

“And she loves it.”

Yunho soon removed his condom to spill his own seed like the others. It created a pool between your breasts and stomach, the thicker strands sliding down your sides and some remaining on your chest and chin. Yunho, his long, broad body hovering over you, only stopped when the last clear drop fell on your stomach. You took a glance around the room to see the others slumped on the couch; their bodies clearly worn out from giving the best thing they ever could. The only one fully alert was Hongjoong, who chuckled and kissed your forehead. Yunho pulled out of you, and so did the plug. He muttered something about cleaning up later, but you hardly heard him.

Elation. Delight. Satisfaction. Only a few of the words to describe the feelings rolling inside you. A lopsided grin graced your face as you let your body melt into the couch where you laid. You wished to bask in the weightless after glow forever. It reminded you of the feeling after a long spa day, completely mellow. Hongjoong grabbed a wet towel he’d brought during his excursion for the toy box, and wiped most of the semen from your body. You loved his delicate, gentle touches; the care he always took when he looked after you. They all did aftercare in their own way, but it pretty much remained the same: baths or showers, snacks, water, and ice packs or lotions if needed. You heard about Companions who'd be left on the floor like garbage after rough sex. Your boys never did that to you. They loved you. Six years together proved as much to you.

As the others started pulling on underwear or shorts, Yeosang brought you a water bottle that you gulped down in a few swallows. It’d do nothing for the taste left in your mouth, but it hydrated you. He mentioned something about tea for your throat, and kissed your forehead. Each man gave you a cheek or forehead kiss before leaving the room; Hongjoong and Seonghwa were the ones who brought you to the bathtub Seonghwa prepared for you. Hongjoong sat beside it as you slunk into the warm water. You deeply inhaled the lavender scented wafting from the bubbles, resting back on the bath pillow Yunho bought you. Hongjoong dipped a soft washcloth into the soapy water to wipe your face and neck, occasionally kissing you. Every muscle in your body turned into putty, barely having energy to remain up without Hongjoong’s help and effort on your part. Your center stung from being penetrated in so many ways, and your clit felt sore from the constant action. You’ll certainly need to go to the agency clinic now. But not yet. There was one member who hadn’t taken you, and he is the one you wanted the most. You noticed the erection still in Hongjoong’s pants, and you knew it’d be balls deep in you soon enough.

“How do you do it?” you asked him quietly, looking up at him from your head rest.

“‘Do’ what, baby?”

“Hold back like that,” you explained. “You’ll have a raging hardon, but don't do anything about it right away.”

“Practice,” he smiled, running the cloth between your thighs. Not in a sensual way, but to simply clean anything the water didn’t remove naturally. You winced at the soft cloth on your pussy, so Hongjoong went more carefully as he went further down. “I used to edge myself a lot when I was younger. I liked the feeling of holding back as much as I could before finally cumming. It makes that final orgasm so much better. Not to mention,” he casted a side eye glance at you, “There are certain people whose pleasure I care about more than mine. You know, people who mean so much to me and who I enjoy pleasuring first?”

“Seonghwa?” you said, a teasing smile on your face.

“You, dummy,” he flicked some water at you and you both laughed. He peppered a few kisses on your lips, then said, “That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted to fuck you right here in this bathtub right now.”

“Then why don’t you?” you asked, hand reaching from the water to touch his knee. “I can take it. I promise.”

He smiled, taking your hand to wipe his cloth down your arm, “I know you can, but I know you’re tired too. I can wait, baby.”

Hongjoong kissed the inner part of your wrist, then continued washing you. Hongjoong held you close as he dried you off in his lap, not caring if you wet his clothes, and brought you into your bedroom. After helping you into bed, Hongjoong undressed completely, exposing his body to you one piece at a time until he stood naked. Keeping on the lamp beside your bed, he slipped underneath the sheets with you and locked his lips with yours. You wrapped yourself around him and he slid his arms underneath your shoulders. Hongjoong let his hard shaft slide over your clit a few times, using his own precum to slicken your folds. When you flinched, he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses on your neck, “Do you still want me to do this? I can just rub it out myself if you’re too stimulated. I don’t want you to go through any pain for me.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted you to do it.”

You reached into your bed side table where he’d left his flesh light the last time you slept together. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, pulling out a lube bottle from the opposite drawer and handing it to you. Sitting up despite your tiredness, you squirted a bit of lubricant onto his cock and coated it liberally. This motion alone had Hongjoong groaning and clutching your bed sheets. You really did love looking at his cock. The size and girth fit just right, never splitting or going too deep inside. You ran your fingers underneath the head, giggling when it twitched. Laying halfway on top of him, your thighs straddling one of his, you carefully sunk the fleshlight onto his cock. The groan of relief Hongjoong gave was enough to regenerate your arousal. His face scrunched up from pleasure, the pleasure he’d been withholding for a long time, was put permanently into your memory. When you looked down, you saw his dick filling the clear, silicone toy.

“I love your cock so much,” you said in his ear, “I get wet thinking about the things you can do to me with it.” You slowly started grinding into his thigh, humping him in lazy motions while dragging the fleshlight up and down. “I kept thinking you’d fuck me in front of the others, so you can show them that I’m yours. Show them that my body is yours,” you kissed his jawline, “That my pussy is yours.”

He laughed. The same laugh he’d do before his verses in songs. A mischievous, mocking laugh almost, imprinted on the lustful moans he released. “I don’t have to fuck you in front of them for them to know that,” he said, pulling you close and grabbing one of your breasts. “They already know whenever they hear you cumming for me.”

He slipped his other hand over your ass, giving a squeeze before feeling underneath it. The soft squelching sounds of the toy mixed with both your moans as you kissed. Hongjoong squeezed and fondled any part of you his hands could reach while you humped his leg gingerly. When you both became heated enough, Hongjoong pulled off the toy and rolled you onto your back. You prepared yourself for him to enter you by clutching the pillow under your head. Seeing you surrender yourself over to him, Hongjoong kissed you deeply while entering slowly inside you inch by inch. All the need and desire from the orgy came back, and soon Hongjoong’s growls and grunts filled your mouth. It didn’t take long for your lover to be quaking on top of you. A bit of thumb circles on your clit had you crying out his name again. Your hands slipped into his black hair as he kissed and bit down your neck, and across your collarbone; your hips pushed down into his simply to have more of him. You needed all of him. He sensed this from kissing you alone and bottomed up into you until you quivered in his arms.

“That’s it,” he hissed, “Go ahead and cum just one more time. I want to hear it; go on.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can, sweetie. Do it for me.”

The final orgasm came a bit fainter, but it still controlled you as it’d done the times before. You lost all sense as Hongjoong started going faster, causing your bed to hit the wall in light smacks. By the sloppy movements, and feral grunts, you knew he was close to finishing soon.

“Cum inside me,” you said in a small, quiet voice. It was that innocent voice he loved hearing you do when he dominated you. “Please, Joongie. Cum in my pussy, please.”

“I will, baby. I…I will…fuck…”

Spreading your legs far out, Hongjoong lifted your lower half as he emptied himself inside you. In a series of long, drawn out groans, Hongjoong kept himself deep inside you as he came. You could feel his dick twitch against your walls, and coating them with his semen. The strokes he did were short and hurried so he could keep every drop deep inside you. You liked the feeling, you realized. Your hands dragged down his shoulders to his arms where you grabbed his forearms for support. Making Hongjoong cum this way, this hard, fed your pride well. He didn’t pull out right away when he finished either; he rarely ever did. You both laid on your sides, your leg over his hips to keep him inside you a bit longer. That final feeling of relaxation clouded over you instantly, and you finally gave into it.

“Just go to sleep,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose and nuzzling it. “I’ll get the lights and clean you up.” He then chuckled, “That is, if Wooyoung doesn’t beat me to it.”

“Huh?”

Hongjoong grabbed one of the squishmallows from the head board and tossed it at the door. You gasped at the sight of Wooyoung with his phone held up, who cackled and put the phone down. You laughed with him as embarrassment flushed your cheeks, and you buried your head in Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Out!”

“I just came to get my charger,” Wooyoung laughed in his defense, “I gave it to YN-”

“-Use someone else’s charger!” he scolded, breaking from you to launch another stuffed animal.

Wooyoung continued laughing, wishing you goodnight and closing the door. You both heard his laughter as he walked down the hall, and you cuddled back to Hongjoong.

“How many videos does that make?” you asked in a joke. “A dozen?”

“More like a hundred,” Hongjoong replied, bringing you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “He takes photos of you too when you’re not looking. I remember catching him filming you showering a few years ago; when you first moved into the dorm instead of living in the company residency.” He rubbed your back soothingly, and kissed you again. “I’ll get him to delete them, if it bothers you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, shutting your eyes and basking in his warmth. You felt a prominent stickiness between your thighs, and knew it’d bother the hell out of you. But, you felt too tired to really do anything about it. “You have videos of me too.”

“Yeah, I do,” he grinned, flashing you his cheeky smile before kissing you once more. “Let me clean you up, then I’ll shut off the lights. Seonghwa will make you some tea for your throat.”

“Okay,” you yawned, stretching your sore body and drifting to sleep.

The last thing you remember is Hongjoong reaching for an ice pack you keep in a miniature fridge near the bed, feeling content and gratified. A part of you hoped they did it again, even if it did make you insanely exhausted and left you aching. You guessed you’d have to go to your appointment soon. ‘Bodily trauma’. Who would’ve guessed that?

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gtgbabie0 · 7 months

Note

This is kind of a silly request but how about reader giving Leon a kiss while wearing a lip plumping gloss and him feeling the literal tingles and him being like what the heck this is new. I saw this cute comment that someone said that when their partner mentioned the tingling their response was that their kisses are electric.

- Leon Kennedy x Reader

This is too cute!! Hope you enjoy my lovelies 💕💕

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“Hey sweetheart” Leon smiles walking over to where you’re sitting, crossed-legged on the bed. You’ve been piecing together the Lego bricks from the new set he had gotten you for your anniversary, eyebrows furrowed as you carefully follow the steps.

There’s something about the small frown that ghosts over the space between your eyebrows that makes his heart melt, despite the fact you’re currently ignoring him.

He tries again, this time taking a seat down next to you, the bed dipping slightly as he does so. “Having fun?” He says, watching as you study the instruction book. He chuckles when you look over at him with excitement in your eyes, nodding as you snap the colourful blocks together.

“Mhm, it’s almost done,” you tell him with a beam of happiness in your eyes, looking over at him as he reaches out his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, he smiles as you lean into his touch.

You’re almost inclined to put away the Legos and curl up with him, and the way his thumb grazes against your cheek certainly doesn’t help. The warmth from his touch makes you realise just how tense you’ve gotten, an ache that stretches across your shoulders and down your spine.

Leon notices as you roll your shoulders slightly, a small sigh falling from your lips when he starts to massage you with his big hands. “D’you wanna take a break?” He asks, shuffling closer to you.

You contemplate his offer for a second, glancing over at your empty water bottle and it’s only then you become aware of how dry your throat is. You reach over to the reusable bottle with a “Mhm, I need a drink” and before you can even stand up Leon is already grabbing the bottle.

“I’ll go angel” he says leaning to press a gentle kiss to your lips, the taste of whatever is on your lips only makes him smile against you deepening the kiss. The feeling makes you forget all about the plumping lip gloss you put on just a minute ago.

He doesn’t make it out of the bedroom before turning around with confusion in his eyes. Leon licks his lips with an almost comical panic, “What the hell is that?” He asks wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You can’t help but laugh at him, “What? It’s just lip gloss” You shrug biting back your smile. He shakes his head with urgency as he presses the tips of his fingers against his mouth as if he’s checking he’s still got lips.

“Baby, it’s like... pins and needles” he says taking the end of his shirt as he pulls it up to his mouth, wiping away the product. And if it wasn’t for the tingling sensation, that he’s currently freaking out over, he would have teased you about the way you’re so clearly eyeing his abs right now.

You giggle as he walks back over to you, sitting back down on the bed, “It’s not that bad. You’re so over dramatic” you tease, reaching over to brush his fringe away from his eyes.

“Over dramatic? Honey, I can’t feel them” he teases still prodding at his supple lips. You reach over to gently swat his hands away, “I guess our kisses are electric, huh?” he nudges your shoulder with his own, his eyes gleaming with joy as he chuckles at the slight eye roll you give him.

“Electric?” You repeat, trying to stifle the giggle that creeps into your throat.

He nods in earnest, leaning into you with a soft whisper against your ear, “So electric baby” and you can’t help but burst into laughter, a hand clamped over your mouth as he chuckles against your shoulder.

Leon pulls away for a moment, taking the opportunity to admire you as calm yourself down. His hand cups your jaw gently as he presses soft kisses to your lips, not minding the slight tingle that it causes.

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1K notes · View notes

the-karma-cafe · 3 months

Text

arthur morgan x reader ("thursdays")

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail.

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean.

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement).

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s.

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log.

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed.

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.”

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features.

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy.

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children.

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well.

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in.

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder.

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face.

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed.

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight.

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly.

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms.

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt.

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did.

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that.

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision.

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself.

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him.

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done.

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head.

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn.

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips…

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed.

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight?

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?”

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings.

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her.

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it.

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull.

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches.

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin.

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined…

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it.

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real.

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after.

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips.

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair.

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear.

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.”

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?”

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb.

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same.

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away.

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound.

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation.

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them.

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth.

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again.

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up.

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her.

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks.

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer.

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away.

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting.

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily.

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?”

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands.

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity.

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh.

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations.

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside.

“Arthur…” she whined.

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her.

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .”

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed.

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably.

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly.

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.”

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in.

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t.

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?”

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip.

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him.

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her.

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled.

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly.

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her.

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-”

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met.

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning.

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust.

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer.

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him.

She whined at the pressure, growing limper.

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back.

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers.

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.”

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes.

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye.

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them.

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her.

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.”

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #charles smith #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #lenny summers #sean macguire #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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chxrrybcmbs · 5 months

Text

Sweetest Thing

Synopsis: You join Sam and Bucky to assist them with the Flag Smashers. Since you're a telepath, you come in handy. One night, while Zemo and Sam are out, you and Bucky have a little heart to heart.

Warnings: angst and a little fluff 💝👍🏻

Word count: 1.3k

Note: I do not give permission for my work to copied or translated anywhere else but this blog.

Since The Blip, you started working more with Bucky. Assisting him and Sam when the fiasco with the Flag Smashers became bigger than expected. As a telepath, your abilities came in handy quite a bit. Nothing could be hidden from you, though you had a rule about invading peoples minds. You never did it without permission unless it was essential to an operation.

Bucky wouldn't admit it but he was nervous about working with you. His mind had been invaded so many times before. Molded to whatever was needed of him. But you showed your trustworthiness, and Sam vouched for you too. In time he began to ease up when you were around.

Often he'd find himself enjoying your company and preferring it to being alone like he usually was. He wasn't used to this feeling and he suppressed it as much as he could. He was unstable and never truly felt like he was worth all the trouble Steve had gone through for him. Even if he was free from the programming he still didn't feel comfortable and he was scared to let anyone else in.

Sam had forced himself in, somewhat against his will. But you, you were different. He didn't want to hurt you and he knew if you saw everything he was you'd turn and run.

One night, while Sam had taken Zemo off somewhere to gather more intelligence, it was just you and Bucky alone in the apartment.

The place was spacious, way too spacious for two people. Bucky was in the kitchen fixing himself a drink and you were sitting in the living room typing away on your laptop. As he watched you, he felt his heart rate speed up and he started feeling a nervous itch. Like he needed to move or he'd jump out of his skin. He took a sip of his drink and continued to observe you. Admire was a better word for it but he wasn't ready to admit that.

You were a pretty closed off person, didn't let a lot of people know much about you or where you came from. Other than what was on file. Bucky related to that in a way, he figured with your power it must be hard to let people in. Hearing thoughts and seeing someone's intentions before they act on them. He didn't realize he'd started tapping his foot anxiously until you spoke,

"You know, Sam did warn me about the staring thing." He stiffened and downed the rest of his drink as you closed your laptop.

"I'm used to people staring but it's usually after they find out what I can do. It's typically a disapproving, disgusted look but." You shook your head. Bucky felt like a deer in headlights. He hadn't meant to make you feel like he was disgusted by you. He just couldn't keep his eyes off you, they were drawn to you like magnets. He was wondering if you could sense it. Sense the feelings he'd been working to bury underneath layers and layers of gruff aloofness.

You stood up and walked over to the record player in the corner. You hadn't taken Zemo for a musical guy but he had an extensive record collection.

"Do you mind if I put on some music? It sort of helps keep me from hearing-" you waved your hands around your head mimicking the thoughts you often heard from unsuspecting strangers. If someone's mind wasn't strong enough, even without you trying you could hear them. Their deepest, darkest secrets and desires. Bucky nodded and you spun back around to place the record you chose onto the needle.

Music started gently drifting and echoing around the apartment. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, looking over at Bucky who was still standing stiff in the kitchen. You chuckled lightly as he averted his gaze to the floor,

"You don't have to ignore me either. I understand the staring, it's okay I'm not offended."

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes looking to you then back to the floor. His heart began to thump again and the song playing seemed to be spilling his secrets for him.

I wanna get close to you, tug at your ribbons and pearls

Just feel my heart go bump, baby

Feel it coming on through

He took in a breath and moved towards the living room. Finally leaving the sanctuary of the kitchen. He realized he hadn't spoken a single word and now he wasn't sure he could. He stood before you, a healthy distance away still, and parted his lips to speak but couldn't find the words just yet.

What he asked you to do next took you by surprise,

"I want you to read my mind." The statement was simple, but you never imagined him ever saying it.

"You want me to what?" You retorted, utterly floored at his request.

"I want you to read my mind. I'm- I can't express things correctly." He stuttered and you felt a twinge of pity.

"Why do you want me to read your mind?" You wondered, this was sort of sudden. You hadn't meant to make him feel guilty for staring. You truly didn't mind it, you kind of liked his attention if you were being honest.

"Just do it." He said, and you didn't argue any further. You closed your eyes and tuned the music into a low tone in your mind, you reached out to Bucky's mind. At first there was nothing, just emptiness and silence. Then, you saw flashes, images. Some you recognized but it wasn't from your perspective, but from his.

You saw Sam and the glares and eye rolls. The jokes and the sarcastic remarks. Then you saw yourself, laughing and smiling. Bucky seemed to hold onto those moments with you. He watched you more than you noticed and you felt that twinge in your heart. That pull on something you'd been ignoring since you agreed to work with them.

The warmth you felt from those memories of his was overwhelming. You knew you were blushing and you would deal with the embarrassment later. You were going to end the connection when you saw new flashes, Steve, Hydra, he still remembered everything. You pulled yourself out before you saw too much.

Tears were welling in your eyes as you opened them. You brought the sleeve of your shirt up to wipe them away quickly. Bucky still stood in that same spot, watching you. His face anticipating your rejection, readying himself for you to walk out the door.

"What did you see?" He asked, his voice a little more broken than he liked. You steeled yourself as you met his gaze.

"I saw myself. Your memories, with Sam and some with Steve." You didn't mention the ones of Hydra. That was something he probably didn't mean to reveal and you'd never speak of it.

"Bucky. I-" you paused, trying to gather your thoughts.

"It's okay." He said, shaking his head. "You don't have to reciprocate or respond or anything. I just wanted you to know and that was the only way I could do it." He looked down at his shoes and you felt that pull again. That tugging on your heart. He moved to turn around and you grabbed his hand, pulling him back to face you.

You reached up and kissed him. It took you both by surprise, but he kissed you back and you relaxed. You felt his arms hovering nervously at his sides and you broke the kiss to guide them to rest on your hips. You looked up into his blue eyes before going in to kiss him again, softer this time.

"You know." You whispered against his lips. "Next time you want to tell me something, just tell me." You joked and he flashed a smile as he leaned down to peck your lips.

"Understood." He mumbled.

When Sam and Zemo came back later that night, they found you both asleep on the couch. Your head on Bucky's chest and Bucky's arm around you, his head leaning back on the couch.

Zemo looked at Sam,

"I told you so."

"Shut up." Sam grumbled and left the room. Zemo smirked to himself, and went to his quarters. Leaving you and Bucky in each others embrace.

--------------------------------------------------------

Song referenced in the fic is Sweetest Thing by Gene Loves Jezebel

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastianstan #buckybarnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky oneshot

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superhaught · 1 month

Text

Breaking Down

(GIF by jamie-hayter)

Pairing(s): Leighton x Tatum, Leighton & Reader

Warnings: anxiety attack, slight angst

Word Count: 1900, Part 1/?

Part 2 / Part 3

Anonymous asked: Can you write about Leighton having a panic attack just after coming out to her dad in front of Tatum and Tatum's father ? Hurt comfort ?

Leighton was quiet for the remainder of the dinner. She smiled when she had to and answered politely when prompted to. Tatum kept glancing her way, brows knit together in concern. Leighton met her eyes and mouthed “I’m fine,” feigning a pleasant demeanor.

But she wasn’t fine. Far from it, actually. She didn’t want to come out. She didn’t want the fallout. She didn’t even realize she was saying it until it was too late and the words were already vomited out.

I’m gay.

The look on her dads face was seared into her mind. He wasn’t disgusted or anything that horrible, he was just… shocked. But what did she have to complain about? Him needing to take a few moments to process on the bench outside of the restaurant was hardly a traumatizing reaction. When she had gone out there to check on him, he was so quick to assure her that he loved and supported her. So why did she still feel like her insides were boiling?

Leighton was the last to stand up from the table, not realizing right away that the bill had long since been paid and they were starting to say their goodbyes. Tatum’s dad shook Leighton’s hand and gave her a polite pat on her back, saying something like, “I’m happy to have met you, Leighton. I think you’ll be very good for my daughter.” She smiled and nodded while repeatedly counting to twenty in her head.

Tatum gave Leighton’s upper arm a slight squeeze and whispered, “can I borrow you over here for a sec?”

Leighton nodded blankly, Tatum pulled her away to quiet a corner of the restaurant lobby while their dads continued to chat happily about the good old days.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“What?” Leighton asked, taking too long to process Tatum’s words, “oh, yeah. I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t seem fine…”

“Well, I am.” Leighton snapped. She didn’t mean to come across as harsh. She just… didn’t want to get into it. “Sorry… I am fine. That went as well as I could’ve hoped, so… it’s all good.”

Tatum raised an eyebrow, “Okay, but whatever you’re feeling is valid, you know? A neutral, or even a positive reaction doesn’t always make coming out any easier.”

Leighton inhaled through her nose and sandwiched Tatum’s hand in hers, “I’m feeling fine, Tatum. Really. I’m glad my dad knows, and I’m sure I’ll talk to my mom and brother soon. This is good.”

Leighton wasn’t lying, exactly. But that was far from the whole truth. She just didn’t know right now. She didn’t know how she was really feeling. She didn’t know why she didn’t want to be honest with Tatum about that. She didn’t know why she felt like all of the air was being sucked out of the room.

“Alright,” Tatum conceded, “well, just call me if you need anything, okay? I’m gonna go back with my dad to his hotel for another drink. See you later, babe.” Tatum gave a quick, chaste kiss that landed on the corner of Leighton’s mouth.

Leighton nodded. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

She said goodbye to her dad as he climbed into the back of his ride back to his hotel. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.

Leighton started walking back to campus on her own. One. Two. Three. Four.

She was nearly back at her dorm but she felt like her ribs were being compressed. The tips of her fingers were all pins and needles. She couldn’t get a full breath anymore.

Leighton sat down on a bench and gripped the edge of the seat with white knuckles.

You were on your way to your dorm from the library, finally finishing a study session for your upcoming chem exam. You usually never run into anyone on the path that you take but not this night.

Sat upon a bench next to the sidewalk was a blonde, hunched over with her head in her hands. You quickly recognized her; Leighton Murray was shaking and hyperventilating.

You look around quickly and then rush over to the bench, tossing your bag onto the ground and kneeling down in front of her.

“Leighton? Hey, Leighton… are you okay?” you ask softly.

The blonde gasped and sniffled, quickly sitting up and wiping her cheeks on the sleeve of her shirt. She muttered under her breath, “shit…”

“Are you hurt? Sick?”

She shook her head. She still wasn’t breathing normally. You felt like you recognized what might be happening, “Leighton, could you be having a panic attack?”

She nodded at this.

You didn’t know Leighton, well. You had been to some of the same events and parties. Run in some of the same circles. But you knew panic attacks. You knew what you would want someone to do for you.

You sat down on the bench next to her, “is it okay if I touch you?”

She didn’t respond immediately but she eventually nodded. You took off your jacket and draped it around her, and then wrapped your arms around her shoulders and started to give her a squeezing hug. At the contact, she quickly melted into you and started to sob. You weren’t surprised by this, you would’ve done the same.

“I want you to try breathing with me, okay? Just try to slow down, and breathe deeper…” you whispered. You made the pattern of your breathing obvious so that she could try to follow you, “try to match me, you’re doing great.”

You seemed to be helping. It took some time but she was able to focus on matching her breathing to yours.

Leighton coughed. You reached for your bag without pulling too far away from her and got your water bottle out, “do you want some water? It’ll help.”

She nodded and reached for it. You unscrewed the cap for her and she took it and poured water into her mouth.

She was quiet for another minute or so and took another drink before handing the bottle back to you. Her voice was shaky but her breathing seemed to have settled.

“Thank you…”

You nod, “Course, are you feeling better?”

“Mhmm…” she paused and wiped her face again, “why did you help me? You don’t even know me…”

You shrug, “I wasn’t just going to walk by.”

“How did you know what to do?”

“I’ve had panic attacks before. In my experience, they’re a lot scarier when you’re alone.”

She nodded and sat up a little straighter, “I must look like a fucking mess… I don’t like to let anyone see me like this.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “like what?”

She scoffed, “crying, my makeup running down my face…”

“Ohhh, you mean you don’t like people seeing you look human?” you tease, nudging her arm slightly.

Leighton laughed and wiped under her eyes with her thumbs.

“Here, if you’re so worried about it, I think I can help with that, too.” You rummage through your bag once more and produce a travel size pack of face wipes, handing them over to her.

She raised an eyebrow at you, “what are you? Some kind of genie for people having breakdowns?” Leighton took the wipes from your hand and cleaned her face.

You laugh, “No, nothing so glamorous. I just like being able to help when I can.”

She sighed, “well, it’s appreciated. Thank you, really. I kind of thought I was dying for a minute, is that stupid?”

“No, not at all. Panic attacks are mean like that. Have you had one before?”

“I guess so, now that I think about it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, they’re no fun.”

“Yeah…” she took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, I feel like an asshole, I don’t even know your name.”

You tell her not to worry about it and introduce yourself.

“What dorm are you heading to? Can I walk you back? Make sure you get there okay?”

She looks a little taken aback by your offer but she nods, “that would be really nice, actually, yeah.”

You stand and start walking. Leighton immediately groans, “god why am I wearing heels? Gimme a sec…” You stop as Leighton bends down to take her shoes off and resigns herself to finishing the walk barefoot.

“Oh gosh, no way you’re walking across a college campus barefoot, you’re taking my sneakers.”

Before she has a chance to protest, you’re already taking off your Adidas and passing them to her.

“What? Then you’re barefoot, that’s stupid!”

“I’m wearing socks, and this isn’t up for discussion. Just take them, please? I’ll carry your heels.”

Leighton stares at you like you’re an alien. To you, this doesn’t even seem like a big deal, but it clearly means something to her.

She shakes her head incredulously and slides your sneakers on her feet as you take her heels from her. You then continue the walk to her dorm building in silence for a bit.

“You’re… strange…” Leighton finally says.

“I am?”

“Yes. You’re not like most other people here. I feel like… you’re one of the only people I’ve met who isn’t completely self-interested.”

“Huh. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re just meeting shitty people, though.”

“Maybe… My roommates are pretty good, but they might’ve only given me a chance after I bought them all iPads.”

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“Oh, I bought their forgiveness with iPads. I think… I think I might be the most self-interested person here, actually.”

You shake your head, “no. No way.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Eh, I have a hunch. For one, I don’t think you’d still be talking to me if you were really as self-absorbed as you say. Also, I find that people who are completely self-interested, usually lack the self-awareness required for panic attacks to happen.”

She thinks about your words for a while and then shrugs, “I still think you’re strange. I’d rather believe that you’re the anomaly in the system and continue to pretend that I fit in just fine with the student body here.”

You smile, “you’re lucky that I take that as a compliment, Leighton Murray.”

You reach her building and she turns to face you, handing you her phone, “put your number in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… honestly, there’s no one else I’d rather go to if I find myself in that kind of situation again. Is… is that okay?”

She looks vulnerable then. You get the sense that you’ve seen a side of Leighton Murray that no one else is privy to.

“Sure, Leighton. That’s totally okay. You can come to me for other stuff, too, though. If you just want to talk, or hang out. I can be a strange friend as well as a strange emotional breakdown genie.”

She laughs. You take note of how light and sweet her laugh is. It makes your stomach float a little.

You put your contact information into her phone while she takes your sneakers off of her feet and then you trade belongings back, returning her phone and heels to her, “I hope you have a good night, Leighton. Try to get some good sleep, you’ll feel better for it.”

She smiles softly, “Thanks, genie. You too.” You watch her go inside the building before you walk away. You let out a sigh and think to yourself a sentiment that you don’t realize you share with a majority of the sapphic community at Essex: goddamn Leighton Murray.

Next Chapter

#leighton murray #leighton murray fanfiction #leighton x tatum #leighton murray & reader #leighton murray angst #my writing #writing requests #request fulfilled #slocg #renee rapp

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paleepeaches · 14 days

Text

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x oc #john wick smut #john wick fluff #keanu reeves #keanuverse

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deadsetromance · 9 months

Text

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon <3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #reader insert #x reader #my chemical romance #my chem #mcr #mcr fanfiction #mcr fanfic #fanfic #sfw #prtygoth

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whoistartaglia · 11 months

Text

“are you single?”

cyno x gn!reader

you tilt your head at the question. are you single?

“i don’t know,” you decide.

“you don’t know?” the guy asks.

you give a sidelong glance to the man on your left. cyno stands a little bit aways, leaning against the bar with your group of friends. they’re talking about something, and those his eyes don’t stray, you know all he’s listening to is you.

“well, i’m not sure,” you say, letting a hint of flirtatiousness creep into your voice. you give this man, this stranger at the bar, an arch smile. “why are you asking?”

“i was watching you from across the man,” he confesses. “can i buy you a drink?”

“i don’t think the guy i came with here would like that very much.”

it’s then that you feel a hand on your waist, a chest behind your back. you turn around and look up at a displeased cyno. whether he’s annoyed at you, at the random stranger in front of you, you don’t know. maybe both.

“they’re right. i don’t.” his voice is needles and thorns. the man opens his mouth to respond, but cyno cuts him off with a sharp, “leave us.”

the looks down at you, and you shrug. “sorry.”

he leaves, muttering obscenities under his breath. cyno watches him until he’s out the door, and then turns his piercing stare on you. it softens a fraction.

“what are you doing?”

“what am i doing?” you ask, swiveling in your chair to face him. he leans back and crosses his arms. “what are you doing?”

“well, i was having a lovely conversation before you interrupted it.”

“i did not,” you defend yourself. “in fact, i was having a lovely conversation as well.”

“oh, i’m sure,” cyno drawls. he sighs and covers his face with a hand. “we really need to stop doing this.”

“doing what?”

he removes the hand to look at you. “you know what.”

“no,” you shake your head. “i don’t.” you look over at your friends engrossed in their own conversations, at the bartender wiping the counter, the bard strumming softly in the corner. no one is paying attention to you and cyno. it’s just you and him right now. you continue in a softer voice, “i don’t know why we keeping running in circles, you after me until it’s me after you.”

“it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“but it is,” you respond. “you only looked at me tonight when that guy started showing interest.” you clasp your hands together, and fidget with your rings and bracelets while you wait for cyno’s response.

“that’s the one i gave you.”

you look up. “what?”

cyno takes you hand, and turns it over. the bracelet he got you on your most recent birthday catches in the firelight.

“oh, yes,” you say. “it’s the nicest piece of jewelry i own.”

cyno stares at it, twists it over as he thinks.

“if someone asked you who got it for, what would you say?”

“i don’t know.” you repeat the words that started this chain of events, now in a whispered hush than a coy tone. “i’m not sure.” you let dangerous words fall from your tongue. “what do you want me to say?”

a pause, a pause, a pause. the entire tavern is filled with laughter and chitchat, neither one louder than the silence betwen you and cyno.

“i’d prefer boyfriend,” he says at last.

“well. so you would i,” you admit. “but i can’t call you that unless you start acting like to actually want to be my boyfriend, and stop just telling me.”

you look down at your wrist, at cyno’s hand on it, so close yet so far, anything but his sharp stare. you can picture him walking away, going back to your friends, or even out the door and away from this tavern and town forever. the desert is large, and if cyno wanted to leave, he had only a few steps to take.

“okay.” you look up. a second later, stronger, “okay.” he draws up your other hand and sandwiches both of them between his own. “every day, i’ll show you.”

you nod faintly, praying to whatever archon will listen that he promise hold true. you think the conversation is over then. cyno’s friends wait for him, the bard is asleep, the fireplace is embers, and soon you will be rushed out for the night. but cyno turns and gestures to the bartender instead. two drinks, he orders.

one for him. one for you.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Sweetness - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel masterlist

Joel has done his best to forget about his birthday, and for good reason. Ellie, however, has other plans in mind. When she recruits their pretty neighbor in Jackson to put together a surprise for him, Joel is thrown for a real loop.

warnings | 18+ angst, that's pretty much it, this is just real fluffy

Joel does his best not to think about his birthday, for a plethora of reasons. September twenty-sixth, the day that everything came crumbling down all those years ago. The day he lost his babygirl.

All those years on the road, and then in the Boston QZ, it had been easy to keep it to himself, usually spending that wretched day drinking until he couldn’t think straight. Every year, the only gift he got was that of pure, blissful oblivion, and a pounding headache the next morning.

Since settling in Jackson, it’s been harder to keep this information under wraps. Ellie somehow managed to needle out of Tommy when his birthday was, and had declared that Joel needed to pick a new birthday after realizing how depressing that date truly is. When Joel refused to comply with her demand, Ellie designated it herself as April second. She had found an astrology book on the road and had firmly decided that Joel was an aries, whatever that meant.

That had been a few months ago, and Joel has just been hoping his annoyingly persistent companion has forgotten about her declaration. But when he meets his brother the morning of April second for their usual patrol shift, he quickly realizes he will not be so lucky.

“So, I’m under strict orders to wish you happy birthday, brother.” Joel thinks briefly that he’d like to smack the shit-eating grin off Tommy’s face, instead settling for a scowl and a huff.

“Goddamnit, was hoping she’d forgotten about that.” Tommy snorts, slapping Joel hard on the back.

“You should know by now, Joel. That one’s just about as stubborn as you.”

…

When he gets back to town after his shift, the rest of the afternoon is spent painfully responding to awkward birthday wishes, all said with the caveat that Ellie had told them to do it. Joel could throttle the kid by the time he gets home.

As he goes to open the door, however, it’s immediately slammed shut in his face, Ellie huffing on the other side.

“You can’t come in yet, old man! Just hold your horses!” Joel scrubs a hand down his face.

“Ellie! I’m really not in the mood for this shit.”

“I don’t care! It’s your birthday and what I say goes! Now sit down on the porch, I’ll let you in when we’re ready.” He can’t believe this kid, but he’s a little too worn down to not heed her instructions. Besides, he tried the door again, and it seemed that she had slid a chair under the handle to keep it from budging. He settles into the rocking chair on the porch, closing his eyes for a spell, even dozing off in the cooling Spring night.

He’s rather rudely awakened by Ellie kicking at his boots.

“Hey! Time to come in, old man. Got a real surprise for ya.” Joel groans as he stands from his seat, stiffly getting pulled inside by Ellie who immediately comes behind him on tip toes to cup her hands over his eyes.

“Ellie, would you please–”

“Shut it and walk, old man. It’s a surprise.” He huffs, begrudgingly letting her lead him through the house towards what he guesses is the kitchen.

When Ellie finally peels her hands away from his face, Joel is shocked to see her standing there. The pretty, young neighbor who Joel sees teaching the kids in the makeshift schoolyard from time to time. They’d only shared passing conversation, he’d catch her sometimes out in the garden in her backyard in the evenings. She always offered him a wide smile when he’d say hello.

She’s holding what Joel realizes is a cake, or he guesses you could call it that. It’s a short, square little thing that they’ve stuck two, lit taper candles in. She’s smiling softly at him and he can’t take his eyes away from hers, a frozen moment of time. Ellie startles him when she shouts in his ear.

“Happy birthday, old man!” Whatever spell had been cast is now broken. Suddenly, Joel feels very overwhelmed and angry. He can’t quite figure out why, so he does the one thing that does make sense to him. He turns heel and stomps straight out the door, heading down the street and ignoring Ellie’s shouts of his name. It’s not his fucking birthday, and he’s sick of all this pretend shit.

…

He winds up down at the bar, and even though it’s not his birthday, he revives his old tradition of trying to drink himself under the table. He doesn’t get far though before his brother is sitting down across from him.

“Now tell me why Ellie showed up on my doorstep in a complete fit because some asshole fled his own damn birthday party.” Joel just sighs, hanging his head.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Nope, that doesn’t work for me. ‘Cause not only did you piss Ellie off, but I’m pretty sure you broke that sweet little thing’s heart.”

“I’d hardly call Ellie a sweet little–” “Fuck, Joel. I’m not talking about Ellie.” He huffs her name, raising his eyebrows at his brother, and Joel’s stomach churns.

He hadn’t even been thinking about her, that shy smile she shared with him before he ran off. He thinks about the cake she had been balancing in her arms, that she had probably helped Ellie make it, put a lot of time and effort and resources into something he was too chickenshit to even acknowledge. Joel feels terrible, and he knows it’s not the booze talking. He brings his palms over his face, pressing his fingers lightly into his eyes, kneading at a quick-forming headache.

“Joel, no one’s saying you gotta enjoy your birthday. But I’m saying you gotta stop being a dick to people who are trying to care for you, man. Ellie may be a little… enthusiastic. But Christ, Joel, she loves you like a father.” Joel glances at Tommy, sighing.

“And that neighbor of yours. Well, if you can’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of you I’ll smack you around myself, maybe then you’ll see the way she looks at you.” Joel scoffs at that, shaking his head. He figures his brother is just trying to convince him to apologize to her. There’s no way in hell she’s actually been looking at him the way his brother is insinuating. She’s her, lovely and pretty and popular around town. And he’s him. Enough said.

“Alright, Tommy, alright. I’ll apologize to them, both. Just, fuck, get off my ass.” His brother smirks at him as Joel rises from the table. He’s had enough of people for the night.

“You better make it right, brother. And, hey, happy birthday you old shit.” Joel flips off his grinning brother, heading out into the darkening night towards home.

…

As he nears his home he sees that all the lights are off. Ellie must have stomped off to a friend’s house, too pissed at him to stick around. He’s going to have some serious apologizing to do tomorrow. The glowing ember of a cigarette catches his eye on the porch next door. He can see her silhouette in the faint glow of light coming from her house’s windows. She’s sitting, wrapped in a blanket, taking long drags and letting the smoke wisp out harshly.

He doesn’t know why, but his feet carry him over to her house, she tilts her head at him where he stands at the steps of her porch.

“Well, Ellie and I thought you may have skipped town, you looked so upset in that kitchen.” She blows a billow of smoke out the corner of her mouth, watching him carefully. Joel clears his throat.

“Don’t know why you smoke those. S’no good for you.” She scoffs, but stamps out the butt of her cigarette beneath her boot.

“S’that all you came over here to say? My own little public service announcement?” He shakes his head, swallowing hard.

“Want to apologize. For earlier. I just– fuck– I wasn’t expecting that. Didn’t really know how to react.” She sighs looking off just over the top of his head. Joel wishes she’d meet his eyes again.

“It’s ok, Joel. It was stupid, really. Ellie asked for my help, and I like that kid. Wanted to do something nice for you. But I see now that it was silly.” Joel steps up onto the porch, trying to get a better look at her downturned face.

“It wasn’t stupid. I was stupid. What you did was real nice. I just– I’m not used to–” “Not being in constant life-threatening danger?” She quirks an eyebrow at him, he sighs. She scoots over on the bench seat, a silent invitation for him to join her. He does, sitting down with his elbows on his thighs, looking at her over his shoulder.

“I get it, really. I know that may be hard to believe. But I wasn’t always so lucky to be somewhere like Jackson.” She glances at him before looking back down at her hands in her lap.

“I had a little brother. Jack was his name. Back before, well before. He was only two years younger than me, and I never let him forget it. But damn I loved him. And he loved me. Every year, he insisted on being the one to make my birthday cake. And, Christ, they were bad. He’d get our mom to pick up the Betty Crocker mix from the store, you know? And the canned frosting. But he’d always manage to do something real weird to it.” She laughs lightly, but Joel can see the shimmer in her eyes.

“There was one year, he baked gummy worms into the cake. Fuck, it was so gross, the worms sort of melted into the batter so it was this sticky, rainbow mess. I told him it looked like a gnome had vomited on a platter.” Joel feels his mouth pulling up into a smile. She sighs.

“When I lost him… well, every year without him on that stupid day just reminds me that he’s gone.” She clears her throat before harshly swiping under her eyes.

“I don’t know why I told you all that. I guess just to say that I get it. And that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just figured it’d be nice for someone to have a good birthday” Joel sits back on the bench, letting his arm rest along the top of the chair behind her.

“When is yours?” She finally turns and looks at him, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“Your birthday, when is it?” Her face softens.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” His mouth quirks at that and he nods.

She leans into his side, cupping her hand over his ear conspiratorially and whispers the date to him. Joel’s breath hitches at the close contact. He hums when she leans back.

“You know, today isn’t my birthday, not really.” Her eyes widen at him, he laughs softly.

“It’s really, uh, September twenty-sixth, you know, the day that everything–” she brings one of her hands to rest on his knee, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t say I blame you for choosing a new one.” He snorts at that.

“Oh, I didn’t choose it.” She clicks her tongue, nodding and huffing a laugh at that, muttering Ellie’s name under her breath. She gives his knee another squeeze.

“Well, your secret is safe with me so long as mine is safe with you.” He nods, bringing his hand to rest on top of hers. She flips her palm and entwines their fingers. A warmth breaks out in Joel’s chest at the way her thumb strokes the side of his hand.

“C’mon. It’s still your not-birthday and I left that cake in your kitchen. Better not let it go to waste.”

…

That’s how Joel finds himself sitting at his dining room table, on a day that’s not his birthday, as the prettiest lady in Jackson lights candles in the cake she’s put in front of him.

“I’m not gonna sing to you, seeing as it’s not really your birthday. But go ahead and blow out the candles, handsome.” He feels like he’s going to break out in hives under her gaze. He’d be hard pressed to admit that he’s really just blushing at her words. He complies with her order.

She offers him a fork before sitting down next to him, and they both dig into the pan. Joel’s pleasantly surprised at his first bite and she grins around her fork at his reaction.

“There’s no sprinkles or frosting, but I’d say Ellie and I did a pretty good job, given the circumstances of course.” Joel hums.

“I can’t believe you went through all that effort. Don’t know the last time I had something like this.” She waves his words away.

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, how else was I supposed to woo you?” Joel chokes on the bite of cake he just swallowed. She giggles as he regains his composure, only slightly.

“Woo me? You’re trying to woo me?” She shrugs, going a little shy in her glances at him.

“I thought I was being obvious. But you don’t exactly make it easy, Joel Miller.” Joel’s dumbstruck at her words. He sits back in his chair.

“Christ– I just– why would you want anything to do with me?” She huffs, setting her fork down and resting her chin in her palm.

“Well, now that you ask, I don’t know. You were kind of an asshole this afternoon.” His face goes slack at that but she just laughs. It makes his heart kick in his chest.

“I’m kidding, Joel. But yeah, I may have been harboring a little crush on you since you moved in here.” Joel’s still speechless, he feels like his brain has been jostled around in his skull. She breaks the silence with a big yawn, checking her watch as she stretches.

“Well, I’ll let you chew on that, in more ways than one. I better head home.” She’s already standing and walking towards his front door and Joel is a bumbling mess as he follows behind her. He keeps trying to start to say something, but all that comes out is a stammered “I– you– uh– well.”

He finally manages to spit something out, “thank you, for the, um, not-birthday cake, and for everything.” Her mouth turns up in a lopsided smile. Joel’s brain finally seems to be back online, and he continues.

“I, um, wouldn’t be opposed to that. To you wooing me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, stepping closer to him.

“Oh, you wouldn’t?” Joel shakes his head.

“No. Uh, consider me wooed.” He’s rewarded with a grin from her and he’s got that warm feeling in his chest again.

“Hmm, well in that case–” She steps in a bit closer, bringing her palms to his chest and lifting up to press a quick kiss to his lips. Joel freezes for a moment, but he snaps out of it quick enough to bring his hands to her hips, dipping in to chase after her lips for a deeper, longer kiss.

She pulls away first, a bubble of laughter, before leaning back in for a chaste peck. He presses his forehead to hers. What she says comes out in a whisper.

“Happy not-really-your-birthday, Joel Miller. I’ll see you later.” She’s slipping out of his grasp and out his front door, not before hollering back at him to save some of the cake for Ellie. Joel stands, staring dumbly at the door, running his fingers over his mouth, searching for remnants of their kiss.

He thinks to himself that this has been the best not-real-birthday he’s had in a very long time.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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k-hotchoisan · 8 months

Text

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #choi san smut #ateez san #san x you #san x y/n #san x reader #j

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maggie-margret-blog · 2 months

Text

Friends with Tattoo Benefits

Mingi was one of those guys you just couldn’t replicate. he had a sort of passion for life that was kinda hard to find in people.I had been seeing him as an artist for a little over a year now, slowly but surely filling my arms and mid section with ink. He was talented and enthusiastic about each new project I threw his way, may it be big or small. Mingi himself only had a handful of tattoos littering his milkish skin,but claimed he was in it for the arts, not the personal experience. I had a theory he was just a bitch about pain or needles, nevertheless I never bothered him about it during our sessions. And he couldn’t lie about the money either. It was good fucking money.

Mingi had become somewhat of a best friend, mixed in with all the other things that come with being in close contact for so long.

We had first met that one fateful morning, 2am to be exact, when I had decided that drunk tattoos would be a hilarious idea. In hindsight it was a wonderful memory and honestly I was better for the experience. My young, college ego had been inflated and a stupid decision was just what I needed to keep my head on my shoulders. The night had just begun for me and my friends, bar hopping and partying at each frat house we could bare to see the inside of. All the ones I had seen prior were rat nests, and yet I chose to place myself there. A few of my friends had tagged along one Friday in search of some of my famous shenanigans. Modesty forbid I ever keep my thrills to myself.

“C’mon let’s dip, this place sucks.” Renel quoted as she threw down a pink solo cup onto the frat house floor. We had only been there about 30 minutes and already we were feeling the effects of poor party planning. A dozen or more drunk college girls stood in a tight circle, grinding on any available guy, and in some cases other gals as Salt Shaker boomed from the shitty stereo system. Since the Ying Yang twins weren’t the vibe for the night, I wholeheartedly agreed- “Let’s get the fuck out!”

“I’m barely drunk! Give me a fucking minute!” San hollered over the loud music, grabbing onto Renel’s ponytail and stopping her from moving any further towards the door. “There’s smoke in my eyes, this drink taste like dog shit and my thong is literally splitting my asshole in half, San.” Renel growled as she swatted his hands away. “That’s your fault. Just take it off and sit down.” He laughed, knowing he was only egging her on. “Fine, here-“ Renel said smuggly as she reaches under her sequined skirt, pulling the lacey garment down her legs and stepping out of it. “Woah Ren-“ I began, on my for her to grab the thong and shove it in San’s pocket. “I’ll go sit down.”

“San you asshole.” I laugh lightly, never quiet getting over those two’s battles. “Remind me to give this back to her. If Yunho ever finds out I have his girlfriend’s thong in my pants, he’ll kill me.” He chortles. “I don’t think I will. You deserve a beating.” I joke.

“Tryna get rid of me?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s twice my size. I’m dead.”

“You’re a good guy, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m heading out. I’m meeting my friend downtown.” Hongjoon, another one of chipper friends, said as he pushed past us towards the exit. “Who?” I called out as the sixth drink I had been nursing finally began to hit me. Whatever this shit was was weak, and disgusting. Yet, I was still drowning my weekend stresses in it.

“Mingi. You know that tattoo guy I was talking about.” Hongjoon enthused. This guy was always so happy for some reason. “Are you getting a tattoo?” I asked again.

“Yeah why? You wanna come?”

“I’ll go. Anything to get me out of here.” I agree hastily as I set the solo cup I had been drinking from down. “I’m drunk enough I’ll go.” San called, as if he hadn’t been complaining of the opposite just minutes ago. “Go tell Renel.” I bark as I follow Hongjoon out into the yard.

Once San and Renel had caught up to us, we were already halfway downtown, passing bar after bar and collectively agreeing that we should all go to each one. “If we keep this up I’ll literally never make my appointment.” Joon whined as he threw back one last shot. “Fine, okay let’s go.” San gave a unionized answer for us all. “Mingi’s gonna kill me. He’s supposed to be closing and I’m already 20 minutes late.”

“We’re almost there Joon, calm down.” San said with a hint of a slur. With that statement we came up upon the shop. The neon light was already off, but a man sat at the counter with his head down to scroll on his phone.

“Hey Mingi! Sorry I’m so late!” Joon said sorrowfully as he brought his hands together and bowed shallowly. “Hey, no don’t worry about it. I was just chilling out.” The man spoke as he raised from the counter and reached out for Hongjoon’s hand. The whole place reminded me of a mechanic’s shop. Sort of industrial and gray, but art was strewn across the walls and a few neon light had been added to spruce up the place.

The size of this man had me speechless, though my drunken stupor may have exaggerated it. Mingi was maybe 6’0 and broad in the shoulders and chest. I could tell by the way his black compression shirt stretched over his muscles, rippling in their definition. With the buzz already prominent in my head, this man looked like a playground to me. All I wanted to do was climb him. I could feel a flush flooding my cheeks as he and Hongjoon giggled and joked over sketches and last minute ideas. I could just play it off as a liquor blush, but I knew it was because of him. Fuck he was attractive. He was just so big and handsome.

“Shouldn’t take too long. Maybe an hour.” Mingi said softly as he looked over the small design. It seemed to be just a simple spiderweb with a few intricacies.

As soon as Hongjoon laid down on the sterilized bed, he was snoring. Joon had never once been awake during a session. Either this was a result of the alcohol, or the pain was a sickening comfort for him. Either way he was out. I spent m my time, however, inspecting the artist and the way he did every little thing. His gloves were blue like they had at a doctor’s office, tight and defining over his veined hands. The tips of his thick fingers were gripping the gun firmly with a controlled pressure. His focus and precision were evident in both his work and how he carried out his task. Why was everything about him so alluring?

“Joon? Are you good buddy?” Mingi asked after working on the piece for a good hour. It was swollen and puffed, but I could already tell it would heal beautifully. “Yeah, I’m cool.” Joon said groggily.

San and Renel were sleeping across the waiting room chair at this point, San’s jacket draped over Ren’s legs. That’s small detail made me chuckle. Sure they had their differences, but if she was naked from the waist down in public, he’d protect her. “Dude sick, thank you.” Joon said as he looked over his Achilles heel, now inked and decorated. “No problem man. Now pay me and go home.” Mingi laughed lightly as he pushed Joon towards the front.

“How much?” I asked as an interception. “Hm?” Mingi cocked his head to the side as I stood from my seat, still a little wobbly from all the alcohol in my system.“How much for a small tattoo? A really little one.” I asked. I hadn’t known how I would get close to him, but this was the perfect opportunity. This way I really inspect him up close. Stare deep into his concentrated expression and analyze his eyes. Oh fuck, those eyes.

“Uh, all depends I guess. Why, do you want one?” He questioned as he handed Hongjoon a pen to sign his receipt. I nodded vigorously as I popped up from the plastic chair. I had no clue what I was doing, or why I just agreed to get a tattoo on the spot, but here I was. “Cool, give me a minute.” Mingi said with a smile, showing off his row of beautiful teeth. They weren’t straight but who cared? Not me! He was so cute!

“We’re gonna head out. I’ll get her back to Yunho.” Hongjoon said as he shook Renel awake for a minute or so. “Okay,” I said shortly as a twinge of turmoil erupted in my stomach. Sure this was kind of what I wanted, to be alone with this new hunk, but now I was alone alone? My body shivered involuntarily, spine tingling and adjusting at the thought. “Where’re you going San?” My voice was timid, a gleaming ray of hope in eye as i asked. I was praying that he could be talked into staying with me. “I’m going home so I don’t die. You know how Woo is if I’m not in before sunrise.” I only nodded at the statement as the unsettling feeling began to sober me. But I couldn’t pass this up!

“This way m’lady.” Mingi’s voice broke my illusion of loneliness as all my prior thoughts raced back in. He was the reason I stayed anyway. “Thank you.” I punctuated with a head nod as we walked back to where Hongjoon had just been napping. “Now, what’s going on? What’re we doing?” Mingi asked as he sat back against the counter, arms crossed to expose the few tattoos he had. Though not plentiful, they were big and loud. The one he sported on his left forearm was a colorful mural of what seemed to be hyper realistic squid. The body was red and luminescent with a somewhat manly aura somehow. It was an interesting choice for sure, but it was executed beautifully so I had to admire it for that reason. His right arm was detailed in black and white, a few odd and ends tattooed on his skin, probably to represent certain things. I did notice a small KQ prominent on the first knuckle of his index finger. KQ had been a music club hosted on my campus for years.

I laughed internally at the thought of this big, beefy man singing in a choir, or performing The Newsies at the campus theater. He didn’t seem the type. “Anything I guess. Maybe something coquette-ish.” I babbled, unable to tear my eyes away from Mingi’s form in front of me. I stood sheepishly in front of him, a facade of confidence saving me face, but only a little bit since I was still kind of drunk. “Coquette-ish? Like the frilly bows and Victorian shit?” His voice reverberated is low bass over the air. I watched his mouth and nose as he repeated what I had said, then nodded. He nodded along and choked down a chuckle.

Mingi drew up a tiny little design, detailed with a small, pink ribbon tied into a bow with a pearl accent. It was actually very cute and even my sober mind loved it. Something tiny and coquettish. I was so happy with it.

“You know I don’t usually do walk ins.” He said as he etched a stencil. “Oh? Why start tonight?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, feeling the heat rising from his body. “If I’m being honest I thought you were cute. And I’d rather you get a good drunk tattoo instead of one you’ll regret.” He chuckled lightly, but my face turned red at the mention of his attraction. He thought I was cute? “Now where do you want it?” Mingi asked as he turned to look at me, now just inches from my face. I had practically been his shell for the last 15 minutes as I watched him sketch, so the sudden movement surprised me. I stumbled backwards a bit, and was sure to fall of Mingi hadn’t gripped onto my belt, pulling me back to stability. His hand was nestled between our two bodies, now practically sandwiched together. I couldn’t help myself as the moment dragged on, but I looked forward at the chest I was now level with. Traveling upwards, my eyes met his. They pooled with a twinge of worry and one other emotion I couldn’t quite express. “Sorry,” I mumbled briefly as I stepped back, only for his hand to stay firm on my leather belt. “No, no it’s okay. Are you alright?” He questioned, unmoving from his position. “Y-yes I’m fine.”

The air was thick and heavy around us. The room wasn’t too big so that might have had something to do with it, but probably not. It was more likely the tension between us that simmered. His hand stayed on my belt, even going as far as to tighten his grip. “How drub are you?” He asks suddenly.

“I’m, I’m practically sober.” I answered.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N-no I don’t.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“Tattoo shop.”

“Be more specific.” He hummed lowly as his hand pulled me closer, my hip flush against his thigh.

“Flaming Ink, downtown Astoria,” I answered again, quieter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked finally, lowering himself to my level so he could see my expression clearly. My face was burning as it was, so for him to face me directly turned me to mush. And to kiss him? Oh fuck I could’ve vomited with how nervous I was!

I nodded slowly as the larger man braced my jaw in his palm, gently pulling me forward and pressing a hunger pained kiss to my lips. I was taken aback by the way he was already desperate for the contact. To be fair, so was I. The kiss only lasted about 3 seconds before he pulled away, lips parted and eyes droopy. The flecks of his dyed hair fell into his line of sight. The image in front of me was borderline erotic to say the least. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were nowhere near finished.

Hastily, my arms found perch on his shoulders and I reconnected our lips, lapping at the pillowy petals and melting as he returned the favor. He tugged me closer, hands finally leaving my belt and landing on my waist, pulling my hips to his own. This was all too much yet I couldn’t (wouldn’t) stop myself. I had only wanted him for an hour or so, but that was an hour too long with out him.

Our lip lock progressed into something else entirely, and what that was I didn’t know. Something primal. Something languid and wet. Before I could count his teeth with my tongue, his hands were burrowed down the back of my jeans, fingers gripping at my ass haphazardly. The hum of the overhead lights was enough of a lullaby to keep us in the moment. Soft murmurs from the radio entwined around us and took the lead. “Mingi,” I said hushly, placing a hand on his chest. Oh finally I got to feel it. The muscles tensed under my touch and I watched the nipple harden from under the shirt. “Hm?” He acknowledged my plea and stopped himself. “I’m sorry it was all so fast, I-“ he began to explain himself, hands leaving my behind.

“No, no keep it there. I’m just— kinda you know, worked up.” I heaved as I kept eye contact with him. Those eyes, those honey brown eyes. Somehow the orange and yellow tendrils of hair complimented his eyes perfectly, encasing them in a warm, golden light. He was beautiful.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” His breath fans over neck slightly.

“Yeah, just not used to it.” I admit.

As far as sexual experiences went, I was dim in the subject. Yet, this was fueling a fire I never knew I had.

“Do you wanna stop?” Mingi asks as he’s pulling away.

“No! No I don’t want to!”

With that answer, Mingi was back to exploring what was exposed of my skin. Hands, finger tips, nails. I could feel everything as he lit each of my nerve endings on fire. Each swipe of his tongue left a burning trail in its path. “Fuck-“ I whispered internally, somehow finding my hands curled in his hair, entangling in the locks and pulling at the roots. The feeling of his lips on my neck made my stomach turn and twist with excitement.

How could this happen so fast? How was this really real? Was I dreaming?

No I couldn’t be dreaming. I could feel Mingi’s curious hands pushing up my shirt, folding the fabric upwards and letting it pool onto top of my breasts. Mingi pressed open mouthed kissed on my chest, tugging cheekily at the lining of my bra, teasing the nipple as he let it free. “Pretty.” Mingi’s voice vibrated against my skin, sending shivers down my entire being. Never in a hundred years could I explain myself and my behavior. I hadn’t been this kind of girl. Sure I partied and went a little crazy sometimes, but I had been strict with dating and sex. I never fucked on a first date. Hell, we had just met, never even went out. Renel would never believe me if I told her what was happening.

My brain was fuzzy as we continued in some sort of soft foreplay. His thick fingers had found their way down the front of my jeans, rubbing generously on my stiffening clit and entrance. My breath hitched as one found its way inside of me, petting at the spongy g-spot. I couldn’t keep my knees from buckling under that sort of pressure. I remembered stumbling around in an attempt to find something solid to hold onto, or at least steady myself on as he rid me of my clothes. I could remember removing his skin tight shirt and finally getting an eyeful of his sculptured physique. He was carved artfully as if by a woman with taste and experience. My hands explored his torso, slowly but surely making their way down my boxers. I ran a polished nail down the shaft of his throbbing cock, only to grab the entirety and grace it with a few passing pumps. His belt and jeans found themselves on the floor along with mine.

I had no time to feel the inevitable embarrassment. “Mingi-“ I moaned as he took the initiative to set me on the table, lips now working down my stomach and hips. A strong hand pushed gently on my chest and gestured for me to lay back and I followed with no hesitation. The icy sensation of the vinyl coating made me shiver, but I recovered as soon as his fingers hooked to the hem of my panties. My breathe caught in my throat, Mingi dragging the garment down my legs and letting them fall where they may.

“You’re sure you’re good with this?” He asked once more, looking down at me from his standing position. His eyes were soft and concerned but I could tell he was barely hanging on. His lids sat halfway across his iris, cutting off the light to his eyes. He looked dark and sexy, but alluring. The tattoos that weren’t apparent earlier were now proudly on display.

I only reeled back slightly at the sight of his miniature. Well, you could hardly call it miniature, but you know what I meant. The dick held itself proudly, the tip a dark pink and mushroomed, while the rod was stained a lighter hue, coursing with a few deliciously placed veins.

With as tender of intentions as possible, I reached to caress the decorated man’s chest and feel the heat emitting from the skin. He was as soft as satin, the feeling becoming addictive against my fingertips. His hands traveled to meet mine, bringing the appendage to his lips and leaving a few short kisses on the palm before holding it above my head. Our fingers intertwined as his other hand cradled the soft underside of my knee, pushing it upwards.

“I’m sure.” I said finally, eyes meeting his and he came closer, pressing gentle and reassuring kisses to my cheek and neck.

“Good,” he hummed.

Another blurry moment flashed as he said a few sweet things then continued to move his body. Soon enough I was in a comfortable position with a hand in his and one helping him push inside. My head fell backward as a silent sigh left my lips. Oh shit. “Oh Mingi-“ the words fell fluidly as he breached past my entrance. The stretch alone brought me back to reality, only to be pulled back into whatever sensual scene this was as he began to adjust. His breath was low but not indistinguishable, I could tell he was already feeling good. A second or so passed in silence until the pit in my stomach had grown twice it’s normal size.

“You can move.” I say, slight circling my hips. A pained hiss left Mingi’s plump lips. He takes the bottom in between his teeth and nods as his hips break their isolation

I felt as though my lungs had been palpated, deprived of air and squeezed to the brink. I felt like I was drowning but I couldn’t stop this. This was all too good. Mingi moved with a steady rhythm and intensity. His hands roamed my chest, poking and prodding at my breasts and using them for leverage for his powerful thrusts. I almost felt ridiculous as lewd noises leaked from my throat. My body shook with excitement and my voice was shaky with adrenaline.

“So cute. I can’t fucking stand it.” He growled next to my ear as he punctuated each word with a particularly sharp thrust. I couldn’t believe I had come here to accompany Hongjoon on a drunken tattoo venture, and ended up fucking the artist.

His motions grabbed me as wild, someone with experience in pleasure. Mingi’s body was following a natural progression as the bulbous head of his well endowed cock nestled against my cervix with each violent bash of our hips. A slight shake wracked my muscles and joints as the pressure and endurance of our position grew tiresome. I was exhausted but so ready to reach a peak with him. Coils tightened in my abdomen when Mingi’s voice sounded, moans and small grunts of praise echoed from him.

“Fuck-so good-“ he panted into my neck as his body curled around mine, encasing me in a lustful embrace. Mingi’s toned arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist while his forehead dropped to my collarbone. I could feel the change in angles as he hoisted my torso upwards to meet his, somewhat suspended in air. The erratic pace and movements of his hips reminded me of some crazed animal in heat. I felt the same way though. My body was craving each and every thing Mingi would give to me. His now harsh grips left marks on my skin that I wild find later; they’d bring back me memories of this night and how desperately I would be chasing a feeling like this again.

Creaks and screeches wailed from the legs of the table, yet Mingi couldn’t have cared any less. My arms gripped around his waist, in a way, propelling him forward. “Mingi!” My voice grew weaker in the moment. I was coming close.

“Mmm- fuck…” Mingi groaned against my skin, lips flattening to my chest and hair falling messily over my shoulder. I let my body speak for me as the intensity of his movements and brought me higher and higher. My walls closed around him, clenching in an effort to warn him that I was there. “Mingi! Uh! Gonna cum-“ I moan directly into the man’s ear, hoping to affect him the way I wanted to. “Mm- go ahead baby. You can cum.” His breath was hot as he lifted his head to face me, pressing a kiss to my lips as he quickened his pace. I couldn’t stop the chorus of moans, colored in shock as he pushed me over the edge.

I lay in waves of bliss. One surge after the other. If I was being honest, I had never cum first in any of my previous encounters. This was a once in a lifetime experience for me and I wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful.

Mingi stalls briefly before sighing in satisfaction as he pulls out of me. My body immediately misses the weight of him inside of me, closing around nothing but air and slick ejaculat. My chest is heaving as I caught my breath, warm fuzzy feelings filling my body. Never had I ever had an orgasm quite like that.

It was soon interrupted at the sound of Mingi’s hand sliding over his still hard erection. I had been so caught up in my own pleasure that I forgot that he hadn’t cum yet. I peak downward at the beautiful man, his face scrunched a bit as he leans over my body. Without much thought I place my smaller hand in his. I can see a smirk forming on his lips as he allows me to help him rub his moistened dick. His eyes open slightly as we make contact, gazes holding intently as waves of pleasure flood his system. I never break eye contact as he reaches his final breath, our hands slow and a loud cry erupts from the man.

“Oh shit- oh fuck-“ Mingi mumbles quietly, forehead nudged to mine as he unloads on my stomach. I was quick to find Mingi’s jaw and yank his sight forward, our eyes meeting once again. “You’re so pretty.” I kiss him before he can answer my statement.

“Me?” He huffs confused. His string brow bone dips in concern of the comment. “Yes, you. You’re very pretty.” I reply, pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.” He says genuinely as heaves and tries to catch his breath.

——

“Soooo…. Do you still want that tattoo?” Mingi jokes as he holds the collar of my shirt open above me, placing it down over my head and resting it on my shoulders.

“I might have to take a rain check on that. I’m kinda tired.” My voice was hoarse and losing volume by the minute. A mix of drinking and calling his name for an hour would do the trick.

“Anytime, really. I do actually do tattoos. I swear. I’m not just a whore.” He laughs, looking down at me as I finish dressing myself and heave a sigh.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll be back?” He questioned, flicking the light switch and opening the door for me. It was almost 5 am and I had no alibi for when Renel inevitably asks what kept me out so late. My cheeks flushed as I thought over the details. I might just tell her, just to see her reaction. If I knew anything about Renel, it was that she’d flip if I told her I fucked the tattoo guy.

“I’ll be back. For that tattoo and also… you know, if you ever wanna…” I led the the statement, looking down at my hands as he walked along side me towards the dorms. “I’m down. You know for tattoos… and… yeah.” He agreed. It was barely dawn, but I could tell his cheeks were as red as mine.

As soon as we reached my dormitory, I turned to face the man who had just made my night. I craned my neck upwards to face him. Gosh he was beautiful, especially in the light of the rising sun. “Thank you so much for tonight Mingi. And for walking me home.”

“Of course. Anytime, really. Have a good night.” He said gently.

“Or I guess morning. Have a Good morning.” He repeated. I chuckled slightly, placing a hand on his chest gingerly and pushing myself to stand on my tiptoes. I was hoping Mingi would get the idea and thankfully he did. His strong hands embraced me one last time as we shared a kiss. Nothing lustful or suggestive. A light, sweet, tender kiss.

“Have a good morning Mingi.” I said finally as we broke the kiss and I ran off towards the dorm doors.

“Tell me EVERYTHING!” A shrill voice echoed throughout the whole room as Renel surprised me at the door. My heart nearly burst out of my chest.

“Girl, sit down. You’re gonna love this!”

~The End~

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