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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

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6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.”

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?”

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door.

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega.

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know.

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door.

It’s going to be a long week.

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent.

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller.

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged.

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat.

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much.

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things.

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?”

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.”

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.”

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?”

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.”

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks.

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom.

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom.

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.”

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable.

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.”

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.”

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert.

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up.

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort.

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room.

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega.

Their omega.

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient.

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right.

Maybe they did need you after all.

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water.

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while.

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back.

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.”

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?”

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.”

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.”

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?”

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room.

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest.

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips.

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back.

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain.

You went into heat.

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark.

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over.

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs.

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears.

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week.

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort.

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this.

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence.

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?”

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb.

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.”

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure.

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.”

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks.

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.”

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.”

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done.

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all.

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him.

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.”

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could.

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks.

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again.

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks.

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame.

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days.

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?”

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.”

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall.

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw.

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside.

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.”

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent.

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases.

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through.

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in.

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-”

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.”

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.”

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh.

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.”

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still.

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-”

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face.

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.”

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it.

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta.

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.”

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees.

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha.

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.”

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it.

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s.

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks.

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole.

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass.

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.”

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either.

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before.

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets.

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again.

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.”

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.”

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank.

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again.

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further.

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.”

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise.

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more.

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!”

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is.

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!”

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done.

They’re both in for a long night.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #x reader #captain price x reader #John price x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #soap x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #Omegaverse

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 months

Text

I'm having thoughts about Zhongli again and I am compelled to share.

Just imagine what it would be like to be united in holy matrimony with this man. How did you even end up in such a situation? The possibilities are endless but the one I'm personally thinking most of at the moment is how you feel the need to find a husband.

Due to familial and societal pressure, you are at that age in which you are expected to be wed. You are far too old to be alone, one needs a life companion!

Enter the gentle and kind Mr Zhongli, who you befriend in mere minutes. The man is like sweet, cool spring on a hot summer day - exactly what you need. He listens to your hour long rants with a gentle smile as he nurses his drink carefully as the sun sets peacefully across Liyue Harbor. The topics are not always related to your issues as you feel bad to pester him so much, despite his insistence that you are just fine.

He enjoys hearing you talk. He stated so countless times.

You just don't believe him.

His golden eyes shine so brightly whenever he sees you approach him - how could they not? The former archon cannot recall such a peaceful time in his entire existence but with you added into the mix, he feels his old heart best just a smidge quicker than it ought to.

It was not difficult to worm his way in your life, truly. He has the charisma, character and looks to help him achieve anything he might need. He's not above setting up some chance encounters with your family and friends to put a good word for himself by being kind to them. It's all very practical and tactical.

On a fine spring evening, you happened to indulge in too much wine for your own good. And like little fox, he proposed the question of you marrying him. He has a job, a comfortable place to live in and your family already approves of him. Not to mention that you already get along so dashingly well!

Naturally, you didn't take him seriously. You also didn't take the piece of paper in his hand seriously at all.

You don't remember the pleased smirk on his face when you signed that document. Nor do you remember him walking you home, tucking you to bed and placing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

All was a foggy blur.

Come daylight, you awake, groggy and feeling like throwing up yesterday's breakfast.

The commotion outside your room forces you awake however.

The moment you crack open the door, your family was all over you - Mr Zhongli had come to pick you up! Weepy aunts and jealous cousins swarmed you like crazy, congratulating you on your new marriage. With large smiles they said that your now husband had dropped by earlier to check up on you, but did not wish to disturb your slumber.

He's so kind!

Your family had already packed your bags for you as you slept. Zhongli even helped out a little.

Oh how lucky you were to have a husband like him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #genshin impact #yandere zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader

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goosita · 5 months

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idk idk thinkin about billy’s hands

the way his palms are rough and dry and his fingers have calluses that catch on your skin. his hands are always so warm, so gentle with you wherever they land on your body. he touches you like you’re the finest piece of pottery he’s ever been given, as if one wrong move could put a crack in your pretty glaze.

those same hands that slide soothingly down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the warm sun outside. he’s pressed against your back, his chest broad and firm behind you and you can feel billy’s breath behind your ear when he praises you. “good job, honey. keep your arms just like that, hm? and when you’re ready, you squeeze that trigger. don’t just pull on it,” he tells you. his voice drops even lower as his touch skims down your back slowly, then his long fingers are curling around either side of your waist. “squeeze it,” billy whispers, his grip bearing down on your body. squeezing you.

you take a deep breath and aim as best you can at the glass bottle perched on the fence post, carefully squeezing the trigger on his revolver. the shot rings out and kicks you back just a little, but billy’s right there behind you to keep you steady. the green glass shatters and you hear his delighted chuckle, feel his lips peppering kisses along your cheek and jaw.

“look at that, baby! you’re a natural,” billy praises. “my girl’s gonna take my title, huh? fastest gun in the west?” it makes you giggle, such happiness and pride radiating from the man you adore so much. his words make your cheeks flush with heat every time he calls you his girl.

billy uses those hands you never stop thinking about to gently pull his revolver from your grip, setting it aside to spin you around so you can face him. his hat blocks the sun from both of your faces where he stands, and his eyes match the shade of the sky. he brings his hands up to cup your jaw, brushing his thumbs along your cheeks reverently.

“what’s that pretty blush for, baby?” he asks, voice airy and sweet. the corner of his mouth ticks up in a grin. he dips his head down just enough to kiss your cheek, then smiles and presses a matching one to the other side. “is it ‘cus i called you my girl?” he teases, delight running through him as you make a little sound in the back of your throat. he loves to rile you up, make you putty in his hold. “think i ain’t noticed how you get all shy on me when i say it? its just about the cutest thing i could ever imagine.”

one hand continues to hold your jaw and you don’t even realize you’ve tipped your head into his touch, leaning your cheek into his palm like a cat being given affection. his other hand goes to brush away a strand of hair that came loose in the breeze. billy’s hands are so strong, have caused so much damage in his young life. they’ve worked hard and played even harder. his hands are steady, quick. your gunslinger.

“you are my girl, ain’t you? c’mon, honey, say it. please?” billy asks with a pretty grin.

“yeah, billy. i’m your girl.”

#aaaaa idk man i got the brainrot so bad #also feel free to make requests or come yell in my asks abt billy or tom or coryo #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth billy the kid #william h bonney

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luveline · 2 months

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hi jade!!

if you’re still taking hurt/comfort requests could i request poly marauders and how they all respond to one of remus’ chronic pain flare ups/his chronic pain in general? i think you did one with reader a while ago so feel free to ignore if it feels too repetitive. i love the way you write remus and his chronic pain it means a lot to me as someone who has chronic pain too!! sometime when i have a flare up i reread all your remus fic and it makes me feel so much better ♥️

thank you lovely!! modern au, fem, 1k

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” James whispers.

You wipe the lip of the bowl, the steam that’s billowing from it fragrant with fresh chopped basil and warm on your cheeks. “You do, Jamie, you’ll just say what you always say to him.”

“I feel like he must get very tired of me, I just verbal diarrhoea at him while he’s crying.”

You give James a loving smile. “And he appreciates it, I promise. Are you gonna come in and keep us company?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe you can have a look if he’s up for both of us and come and get me?”

James is too much a sweetheart. He’s been taking care of Remus for years and he’s still never sure if he’s doing the right thing, especially when Sirius isn’t there. You promise James you’ll come and get him as soon as Remus says it’s okay, which he most likely will, and start up the stairs with Remus’ dinner tray to the master bedroom.

Remus thankfully isn’t crying now despite a rough morning. He’s sitting against the headboard with his jaw locked and a loose neck pillow on his shoulders for support, the TV on a low volume opposite and lighting his face.

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Please.”

You flick it on. “Your soup. Did you want toast?”

“No… Thank you.” You put the tray on his lap carefully. He tips his head up, smiling weakly. “Thanks, dove.”

“You’re welcome.” You sit down at the top of the bed with him. “Can I stay?”

He’s insistent that you stay. You’ve not got much to say while he eats, his small mouthfuls a mixture of relief and wincing, but you take up station by his worst leg and run a loving hand up and down the front of it. When you’re sure he’s alright, you let your hand slide under, your finger to the soft part behind his knee and pushing downward.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you say, beginning the familiar motions of a massage.

“I don’t think you could,” he says over the lip of his glass of water.

You turn away from him with a smile. Even poorly, he’s a wild flirt. “You’ll have to tell James he’s allowed to come and see you. He doesn’t want to be annoying.”

“I’ll shout for him.” He sighs and holds his tray on either handle. “Jamie!” he calls, sounding himself but admittedly heartbreakingly tired. “Can you come here? Please?”

James is straight up the stairs. He was probably waiting on the bottom step. “Yeah?” he asks, his irises like mint two pence pieces, his hand sliding down the door frame.

“Can you move this for me? And sit down?”

It’s as lovely an invitation from him as any when said so tenderly. James walks around to Remus opposite side, putting his tray on the wide window sill before situating himself in the mountain of blankets. It must be weird to be someone’s boyfriend but to have been their best friend for a long time before it; they fit together effortlessly in some ways and maintain a certain shyness in others. James has no problem sitting as close to Remus as he can, but he doesn’t look at him right away, not until Remus leans up to kiss James’ brown cheek.

“You’re never annoying,” Remus says.

James wraps an arm behind Remus’ back, confident though cautious not to hurt him. “If you say so,” he says sincerely.

Time slugs slowly for you all when Remus is in pain, but eventually he has to lay down, his leg twitching frantically in your hold, his nose pressed hard to James’ arm. You persuade some painkillers into him and stay at his side with his water bottle, your cheek resting on his shoulder.

You get out your phone to text Sirius. He’ll get upset if he isn’t in the know.

Hi Siri, Remus is in lots of pain, has had 600mg of ibuprofen and three co-codamol because he hasn’t had any paracetamol yet, is that okay?

Sirius texts back quickly. That’s fine, don’t give him anything else even if he asks for it, three co-codamol is one too many

Sirius again, on the way home. do we need anything from the shop ? miss you lovely

You’d smile if you weren’t worried about the boy shaking under your cheek. I miss you too, don’t worry about getting anything

Sirius does worry, you can hear the crinkle of a shopping bag when he gets home a few minutes later. “He was quick,” you say, sitting up to kiss Remus’ cheek. “He’s gonna hog you now.”

“Love you, dove.”

“I love you.”

Remus tries to savour that through the hot pain rushing all over. His pain is strange, it always has been, disobeying reason and often people’s belief. Half of it is a mystery, the other misery, and you and the boys have always believed him nonetheless. He’s never treated as childish or dramatic, only cared for, James’ endless stories and Sirius’ stern concern, and now you, his sweetheart, with all your soft touches and tone. You speak to him like he’s your favourite person on earth, voice underlain with fondness, always. And you’re selfless more often than not as you are right this moment, moving back to his leg, giving Sirius room to crawl breathlessly into bed beside him.

“Hello, gorgeous. What’s hurting tonight?” Sirius asks.

Not said to undermine him, Sirius just needs to know. He wants to fix everything.

“My back and my legs, mostly,” Remus confesses through a shiver. He’ll cry soon. No one will make him feel bad for it.

“Maybe you should try laying on your front for a bit, yeah? James can still harass you,” —Sirius brings his hand to Remus’ cheek and strokes it gently with the bends of his knuckles— “it’s less pressure on your back, is all.”

Remus feels himself calming already. It’s hard to feel hopeless when he’s well looked after.

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gurugirl · 9 months

Note

STOPPPPP IT THE SHORTS ARE SO SHORT! WTF THE TIGER IS SHOWING! OMG Y/N WOULD GO CRAZYYYYYYY OVER IT. okok so maybe y/n gets jealous that Harry was wearing such short shorts in public that she ends up getting moody and Harry makes it up to her by letting her ride his thigh and fucks her saying stuff like “y’know this cock belongs to you darling” and stuff 😩😩

HAPPY FRIDAY YOU GUYS!!!

PLEASE I've been looking at these pics all day. What is this man thinking????????? I cannot handle him. He's such a tease. And I wrote this way too fast. Sorry if it sucks but this picture deserves a smut piece written about it. He's too fucking hot.

1.6k words

warning: mostly plotless smut, not proofread whatsoever

Y/n was used to Harry being ogled. Always the hottest guy in the room with the most charisma and charm. Everyone flocked to him and everyone's eyes always followed him. He was magnetic. And he knew it too.

As much as she realized she had nothing to worry about she still got jealous of the attention he constantly got. He didn't even need to try. He could be wearing a backwards baseball cap and loose jeans with a t-shirt and people would still be after her man.

And today, their little break away from the business of life led them to a relaxing little outing in the Italian sun. Before they'd even left the villa she eyed his short green trunks and how his fit torso was in full view, the long sleeved shirt draped over his shoulders, totally unbuttoned.

Biting her tongue, she figured she was being silly wishing he'd cover up a bit. She certainly wouldn't take well to him telling her to cover up, not that he'd ever.

But once they were on the beach and about to board their private yacht she did notice women and men alike watching him. His bronzed chiseled abs and pecs peeking out from the shirt, and of course he'd tucked his shorts up a bit to protect the mesh lining from chafing this inner thighs (he always did that because he said his package was too large to sit comfortably in the lining and it gave him a little extra support). His strong thighs on full view holding his tall frame upright as he carried both of their bags.

"Come on," he held his hand out to her as he helped her up into the boat safely.

He could tell she was a little pouty. He knew her too well. Knew he was being eye fucked by half the beach as they walked to the yacht they'd rented for the afternoon.

"What's wrong, love?" He grinned as he pulled at the strap of her bathing suit teasingly.

"Nothing. Just looking forward to getting out onto the ocean."

Harry crowded her space, stepping in front of her so she couldn't look at anything but him, "Yeah? Is that it? You seem to have been awfully quiet all morning. Nothing else you want to talk about?"

She looked up at him and the smirk he wore told her that he knew just what she was pouting about. But she just shook her head and crossed her arms, "Nope."

The low chuckle that fell from his chest as he pushed her arms down and grasped her wrists made her cheeks warm up, "Liar. You're jealous."

Harry kind of liked that she got jealous. Because in all truth, he'd get jealous when anyone would look at her just the same.

"Am not."

Harry walked her backward as the driver of the yacht began to move the boat out to sea, "Let's go down into the suite for a bit. Need to show you something," he gestured toward the door that lead to the stairs to get to the lower level.

She huffed as she carefully stepped down into the furnished room. It was small but there was a counter with a TV above it, a mini bar with fridge, a bathroom, a sitting area and a bed in the center.

Harry closed and locked the door before grasping Y/n's arms and pushing her toward the bed, pressing his chest into her back and speaking into her ear in a dark baritone, "Let's figure out what's got you so moody. Maybe I can help."

She tried to keep her composure but his voice and his skin and his hands always melted her poise.

When he felt her relax into his hold he smiled and kissed the back of her neck, bringing her into the bed with him, "There we go."

Y/n climbed into the middle of the bed and sat on her bottom as Harry spread out next to her, "Hop on. Let's talk."

She looked down at his lap and back into his eyes. She knew his plan. It always worked.

Biting the inside of her cheek she quietly moved to straddle his lap but he stopped her from fully spanning his thighs with hers, "Just sit on the tiger for a minute."

She looked up at him like he was crazy but settled herself right over his thigh, the crotch of her swimsuit right on top of the inked tiger on his strong thigh.

"Good girl. See that," he looked down to how she was sitting on him, "No one else gets to do that. Just cause they can see it doesn't mean they can fuck themselves on me like this. Know you like that, don't you?"

She nodded bit her bottom lip.

"That's right." Harry put his hands at her hips and pulled her up and then pushed her back a bit, "Let's see you do it. Show me who this belongs to."

Once Harry got her momentum going she rocked over his taut, muscular thigh gently. Harry kissed her softly and moaned, "See? What they don't know is that this tiger gets his face fucked by the prettiest little pussy. Gets to have your scent all over it. Cause you own it. Don't you, love?"

"Yes." She squeaked pathetically.

She was already so turned on and it wasn't because of the way she was rubbing her cloth-covered clit over his thigh. It was the way he was speaking to her. She could feel herself getting wet slowly and the faster she rocked she noticed Harry's large bulge under his short green trunks.

"Getting him coated, love. Good job, honey. You need a little more? Want to come?"

"Y- yes. I do, Harry..." She lowered her hand from his shoulder to cup his thickened cock, "want this."

"Mmm... want my cock? Want to fuck yourself on my cock? Fuck what's yours?"

She nodded and the look in his eyes turned quickly from soft green to dark and lusty, "Take your bottoms off right now."

She quickly got up to her knees and pulled her swim bottoms down her legs as Harry pulled his green trunks off, his cock bobbing heavily as he leaned his back into the headboard.

She climbed after him, desperate to have him inside of her and she whined as she grasped him and placed his hot, thick crown at her entrance. She paused as she looked him in the eyes but Harry needed her just as much. He put his hands at her waist and pushed her down onto him, groaning lowly at the relief.

"Fuck. This cock is all yours, Y/n. Every bit of me is all yours, darling."

She keened as she felt him inside her guts so deep it ached.

Slowly she began rolling her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy down over him, keeping her clit satisfyingly smeared against his pelivs.

"It's mine," she whined as she put her hands on his shoulders and rocked quickly, the sound of her wet pussy sucking his cock in deep sounded between them.

"Yes it is. Fuck it like you mean it, Y/n. Want to see you own it. Need you to milk me dry."

Y/n gasped when Harry put his hands under her thighs and helped her ride him properly. It was always a task to fuck him this way but so worth the view and the orgasm.

She wanted to make him come so hard. Make him dizzy and mushy and drain his balls of everything he had. She wanted his come inside of her where it belonged. Because it was hers. No one could have Harry in this way. He was her man.

"Yes, baby. Riding me so good. Fuck yourself on me deep, honey. Make yourself come on me baby. Take what's yours, Y/n."

Her chest was getting hot and her thighs were burning as their wet skin slopped together each time she dropped down onto his cock, tucking him deep inside of her so his balls were up against her ass.

Looking down between their bodies it was a sticky, creamy mess. The trimmed hair at the base of Harry's shaft was white with cream and his girthy cock was stretching her out so beautifully.

"Harry! Oh my god. I'm gonna come!"

"Yeah?" Harry widened his thighs and bent his knees the slightest bit so he could take her over the edge and fuck into her so deep she could feel his come in her womb. The moment he began to move his hips into her she yelped and gasped and her fingers dug into his shoulders sharply, "Who's cock is this, baby? Tell me who it belongs to, honey," his words were grunted.

"It's mine! You're mine, Harry!" Her world was spinning as she jolted up each time he punched into her from his position below. His fingers dug into her ass and he clenched his teeth as he began to throb.

"S'right. This cock is yours. I'm yours, Y/n. Fucking gonna make me come aren't you, baby?"

She nodded and then her mouth dropped open and she grew silent as her orgasm washed over her body. Her ears rang as she pulsed over his cock.

Harry choked out a loud moan and filled her to the brim with himself as he stilled his hips and his thigh trembled at the exertion.

Gasps and soft inhaled breaths were stifled when Y/n pushed her lips to his and pressed her chest into his tightly, her arms wrapping around him.

Harry grunted a laugh and pinched her bottom and she jumped.

"Told you I could help. All better now?" Harry cooed at his sweet girl.

Pulling back to look at him she smiled, "All better now."

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eleteo125 · 7 months

Text

"Be Mine or You Will Burn"

Rollo x GN!Reader

AN: Me and my friend are Rollo fans and they've inspired me to write this idea out 🤣

You were simply just walking around admiring the scenery of Noble Bell where you went back to the cathedral to appreciate the artistry of the stain glass. Each panel depicting how Judge Claude Frollo and his accomplishments.

Rollo, the school’s student council president has welcomed the NRC students by giving them a tour but his obvious disdain for magic users made it clear that he was rushing to get the tour done as fast as possible to get away from them. Heck you would even bet that the only reason he was able to get through the whole tour was because he only set his attention towards you barely minding the other guests. He sometimes casts a watchful eye on them but other than that he doesn’t particularly engage with them compared to you.

With those signs in display, everyone from NRC has come to the conclusion that them being invited here has an ulterior motive to it. Briefly shaking those thoughts from your mind, you admired the lights coming through the different colored windows surrounding you in a colorful halo.

My what a beautiful sight indeed.

Magic wielder or not, you’re still a student from NRC so of course Rollo has kept a close eye on you when freely strolling around the school. But he can’t help the fact that you’re devoid of any magic at all has him deeply fascinated. And to think to mingle around those…ahem.

Do not be fooled he’s only keeping watch of you because he can tell that everyone from NRC are quite attached to you especially that dragon fae. What better way to keep them in check when he has you close and in his clutches.

Walking towards you he silently stood in behind you. He held in a small chuckle as he saw you’re awestruck face looking at the beautiful work of art. “Impressed?”

Jumping a little bit in surprise, you quickly looked behind to see him “O-oh! Yes, I haven’t seen a stained glass window in person before, just through pictures.” You confessed

“Hmph of course such beauty is painstakingly crafted by hand of course you won’t see a lot of it. Craftsmanship that took people’s skill and talent with no assistance from cheap tricks everyone reveres.” He spits

“Magic?”

Rollo stayed silent at your question.

You decide to let go of the subject with his sudden silence. Instead you walked closer to the window to admire the small details. It was such detailed you can’t even imagine how long it would take to finish such a large piece.

Too lost in thought, you started to reach your hand out to the window but you’re once again surprised when you felt a strong grip around your wrist.

You were about to apologize but instead freeze up when you felt him step closer behind you. You tried to step forward to get some distance since you’re starting to get flustered at our position but realized that you don’t have much space to move in since you’re very close to the window.

“I’m sorry but those were just cleaned by the careful hands of our cleaners hands off please.” He whispered in your ear.

You shuddered at his closeness and the sensation of him speaking carefully so close to your ear. “I-I understand.” You stuttered while unconsciously leaning into his ‘embrace’.

He seems to have lost himself also since he buried his nose in your hair while his other hand rubbed your free arm.

You two stayed like that for who knows how long just basking in each other’s contact. “Why not transfer here, I can tell how ‘generous’ the headmaster is in your current school.”

“I can’t” you managed to mumble out after almost melting at the close soud of his voice yet again.

“You’re surrounding yourself with magic that is as deadly as fire.”

You leaned closer “Fire can be useful too.” You whispered

You felt his sigh in your ear and your knees almost gave up but he held you up when he sensed you were about to fall.

“Consider it.” He kissed behind your ear “Be mine or you will burn.

He carefully let you go after making sure you won’t collapse to your knees before walking put and leaving you under colorful light.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm #twst rollo #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rollo flamme

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solarmorrigan · 8 months

Text

TW: Discussion of suicide, suicidal ideation, child neglect. Nothing happens in the fic (all hurt/comfort, I promise), but it's very frankly talked about, so please proceed with care <3

It takes three weeks.

(In reality, it takes longer than that. It takes until after Steve realizes he’s spending more time at Eddie and Wayne’s new place than he is at his own house. It takes until after Eddie has asked Steve to just move in with them already. It takes until after Steve has packed his things up, and carefully cleaned up the house, and set the thermostat, and informed the pool cleaners, and paid a neighbor to check the mail every few days, and – he hadn’t felt right, just leaving, even though Eddie had repeatedly told him he didn’t owe anyone anything. But it had taken until after all of that, and then–)

Steve had left them a note, a new number where he could be reached, and it had taken three weeks before they came looking. Before they even noticed.

It isn’t a fight, in the end.

His parents are angry that he’d just up and left the house, but they’re much less so when he explains everything he’d set in place before he’d gone.

They want to know if he’ll be asking them for anything else after this (not if he’s safe, not if he’s happy, just if he’s going to keep being a burden).

He tells them no.

And that’s– that’s it.

That’s it.

His mom tells him they’ll call him around Christmas, let him know if they’ll be in town, and then his parents just let him go.

They get up and they leave his living room and they leave his home and they leave Steve’s life and they leave and they don’t look back and they– well, they’d left a long time ago, hadn’t they? A long, long time ago.

Steve is sitting at the end of Eddie’s bed (his and Eddie’s bed, now, their bed; Steve’s still getting used to that, but in a good way), feeling the sort of empty he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen. He’s just sort of staring at the carpet, and then he’s staring at Eddie’s ridiculous polka dot socks as Eddie steps in front of him.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “You, uh… okay?”

It’s kind of a ridiculous question – the answer is obvious, and Eddie clearly knows that, but it’s a way to start a conversation without shouting, “Your parents are ungrateful pieces of shit who never appreciated you,” like he probably wants to (and has before), and Steve appreciates his restraint.

He nods a little, stops, shrugs.

“I kind of thought I was over this,” he says. “Over feeling… left behind by them. Shouldn’t still hurt, right?”

“It’s– it’s okay if it does. It’s shit, Steve. They’re shit,” Eddie says (yep, Steve called it). “You’re allowed to be hurt.”

Steve shrugs again.

“It’s funny,” he says, even though it isn’t, “but I used to wonder how long it would take them to notice if I died.”

He’d never had an active plan, really, though there had been plenty of ways around the house to accomplish the task. He’d never really even looked at it as being suicidal, just angry and bitter and lonely. He hadn’t felt miserable all the time, hadn’t felt like there was nothing in the world worth living for – it’s not like he’d been depressed, it had just been a wild, almost satisfying thought that occurred from time to time. The ultimate way to prove a point. To make them see.

And if the urge got too strong, and his head got too full, and his chest felt too hollow, and the house felt too empty, he’d just go out and find something to do. Simple as that.

“I wondered if it would only be a day or two, or if they would come home, like, weeks later and find what was left of me just… floating in the pool or rotting in the bathtub or some shit. And I guess I just got my answer.” He laughs, managing to sound completely humorless even in the attempt, and glances up at Eddie. “Three weeks. How decomposed do you think I’d be by now?”

Except Eddie doesn’t pick up the bit. He’s just staring at Steve, wide-eyed, cheeks a little red, eyes a little wet, and – shit.

“Shit, Ed, I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” Eddie cuts in, voice thick with a shaking kind of intensity, “say shit like that. Fucking don’t ever– Steve–”

“No, Eddie, I’m sorry, I haven’t thought about that in years, this whole thing with my parents, it just… it reminded me, that’s all,” Steve says, even if that isn’t strictly true.

He’s thought about it plenty, he just hasn’t really had the urge to follow through since the first time he took a bat to a demogorgon’s head. He’d traded that empty feeling for one of purpose, of knowing he was needed, and had readily put himself between everyone else and the danger they were facing, because at least that way he filled a space.

(Maybe he’d traded it a little too easily. Maybe there isn’t a lot of difference between using yourself as bait to lure in a demodog and thinking about where all the sharp things are in the house. Maybe that’s something Steve doesn’t need to unpack right now.)

Eddie stumbles forwards, reaching out and cupping Steve’s face in his hands, angling him upwards so Eddie fills his field of vision.

“I would notice,” Eddie says firmly. “I would notice.”

“I– I know you would, Eddie. I told you–”

“Robin would notice. Dustin – all those little shits we hang out with, both Wheelers, Wayne, fuckin’ Byers– we would notice right away, Steve, I swear to fuck, we would,” Eddie goes on, and something is suddenly sticking in Steve’s throat.

“I– I know,” Steve manages to choke out, and shit, why are his eyes wet now? He’s never cried over this feeling before, and it should be too fucking late to start now – except with everything happening, with his parents, with the way Eddie is staring at him like he’s about to disappear–

Eddie bends one leg up until he’s got a knee to one side of Steve’s hip, half-kneeling over him without boxing him in because he knows Steve can’t stand that, and he rests his weight there so he can lean in and press his lips to Steve’s forehead, kissing him, murmuring against the skin like he’s praying.

“We see you, baby.”

And that one hurts.

It fucking aches, like Eddie has somehow managed to reach back four years and jam a thumb into the bruise seventeen-year-old Steve had constantly been carrying under his ribs, and Steve of right now reaches out and grabs Eddie’s shirt and thinks for a moment that he wants to shove him away, but his next breath heaves out like a sob and he can only pull Eddie closer.

“We see you,” Eddie says again, soft but unignorable, before he presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead.

Yeah, Steve thinks, you see right through me.

It’s a terrifying feeling, and Steve wants to swallow it up and keep inside of him where he can feel it forever. He nods against Eddie’s lips, sucking in a sharp breath so he can speak again.

“Okay,” Steve says, clutching more tightly to Eddie’s shirt. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes against the unwanted tears and lets himself feel, instead – the warmth of Eddie over and around him, the near bruising grip Eddie still has on his jaw, the softness of his lips against his forehead, and he thinks that this is what he’d been searching for, all those years ago.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this wanted, and somehow he doubts he’ll ever have to worry about going without it again.

[Prompt: Forehead kisses]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiesteve #stranger things #hopeful ending! I swear!#solar wrote

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volensnolenss · 5 months

Text

You look pretty cold

—✦ SUMMARY: They won't let you freeze in this weather, so they'll find all the ways to keep you warm;

— CHARACTERS: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna;

— CONTENT: sfw! fluff, soft;

✧˚.𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

The prickly snow crunched pleasantly underfoot, leaving your footprints on itself; its creaking seemed deafening, and the silence of the birds brought an even more intimidating atmosphere. Satoru persuaded you to go with him on his student's mission so that you both could be with them in case something went wrong. Still, being with you is a great time for him, whether it's rain or tornado.

“Beautiful weather, isn't it?” Satoru addressed you with a note of sarcasm as you walked, hugging yourself, trying to keep warm in every way, “The weather would have been fine if I had stayed in the building.”

“Honey, a place needs to be changed.” you looked at him angrily and he didn't let you say a word, Gojo started talking again, “Oh, by the way, your eyelashes are white, just like mine!” He took out his phone and immediately took a picture of you, giggling at your face.

“I'm cold, Satoru!” You snorted, acting like a teen who was forcibly sent outside.

“Mmm, wait, I'm going to...” He got distracted and instantly disappeared, leaving you alone among the trees, wrapped in a cold blanket of snow, so you were with an old building. This time you decided to keep quiet and wait for the students to finish.

Less than a few minutes later, he suddenly returned, “I'm here!” You immediately turned around when you heard his voice coming from behind you.

“This is to keep you warm.” Satoru handed you hot coffee, which warmed you instantly; its aroma and hot steam pleasantly bathed your face.

“Well? Do you like?” He hugged you from behind and stood up so that as few snowflakes as possible fell on you.

“It's very sweet... but it's much warmer for me, thank you, Satoru.” You kissed him on the cheek when he moved his head towards you. Gojo, pleased, looked up, looking at the snow-white sky and at the same time thinking about you, how lucky he was to meet you, “Everything is for my angel.”

✧˚.𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

You and Nanami were walking through the evening snow-covered city, going to solve certain important cases. Yellow lanterns burned brightly, shimmering with falling flakes of fluffy snow, which decorated various signs, roofs of houses and skyscrapers.

“You look great, but aren't you cold?” Make no doubt, he likes what you're wearing: a beautiful long dress and a coat on top, but agree that this is not enough to stay warm, “No, Kento, everything is fine.” You felt like a soldier, trying to keep your teeth from trembling.

“Are you sure?” The temperature seemed to get even lower under the onslaught of his calmly dangerous tone and posed question, “Of course.”

He knows you too well, it's just useless for you to lie to him. Despite all his seriousness in his actions and words, there is always a piece of care and concern for you in them. “Stop it.” You immediately froze and stared at him, “But I...”

“No, darling, now listen to me.” He shook his head and took off his warm wool scarf and wrapped it carefully around your neck, trying not to spoil your curls. The smooth fabric felt good against your skin, which needed it the most, but especially Kento's attention and attentiveness.

You batted your long eyelashes at his deadpan smile, “Are you comfortable? Did I overdo it?” Nanami approached you again, adjusting the scarf, but you touched his gentle hands, “Everything is fine, Ken!” You broke into a smile and, grabbing his forearm, you pressed your head against him.

“What a gallant and wonderful man I live with. You won't mind if I take it from you, will you?” You looked at him with your trademark look, which he always obeys.

“Only if you don't freeze.”

“Your love warms me up.”

✧˚.𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

He'll set fire to everything and everyone to keep you warm

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thesuperiorrobin · 4 months

Text

Winter season~

‪‪❤︎‬ Pairing: Single Dad!Damian Wayne x Fem!Nanny!Reader

‪‪❤︎‬ Word count: 1.5k

‪‪❤︎‬ Warnings: none!

I do know know if I spelled the write term from father in Arabic correctly, asked a friend who speaks it and she told me she calls her dad “baba”. But if I did use the wrong term or spilled it wrong let me know please!

Christmas seemed to be the only holiday the twins looked forward to all year, but then again what kid doesn’t? The twins are settled beside you, on their feet with red and white plastic balls in hand, debating on which color should cover the tall tree.

“Red should go on the tree,” Amir says, placing the red ornaments on the tree and watching it dangle. The little girl huffs slapping the ornament onto the ground. The plastic ball makes a noise as it comes in contact with the wooden floor. You frown.

“Ew no!” Fatima sticks her tongue at her brother, who’s older by seven minutes. “Red was last year! We do white this year!”

“Nuh-uh!” The boy shakes his head roughly, kneeling to pick up his decoration before waving it at his sister's face. “It’s Red! It’ll look so much cooler!”

“I don’t want cooler! I want pretty! So white!” You listen to the twins bicker back and forth for a few minutes before sighing heavily, snatching both decors off their hands and placing them on the tree.

“We’ll use both this year and that's final” the young set of twins let out grumbles as their little hands pick up their color ornaments and start decorating the bottom of the tree while you stick with the top part they can't reach. A normal person would take about thirty minutes to an hour to finish decorating a Christmas tree, but being stuck with two stubborn children took a lot longer than it should have been. You take a step back to admire the work you and the two children have put in, most of the ornaments fell at the bottom a clear indication that the twins did help while yours were scattered around—barely touching.

Fatima tugs at the hem of your shirt—taking your attention off the tree and onto her. She’s holding something in her hand—they look like Christmas ornaments but they weren’t from the boxes that you had initially picked out. “We made some in class for our last day! Can we put them on the tree?” She seemed to hesitate with the last sentence and all you could do was nod, a bright smile on your face.

“Of course! Where do you want to put them”

“on the top!” They shout. A chuckle erupts from your throat as you pick them up one by one, Amir’s then Fatima's. Their homemade decoration is placed next to each—you examine them carefully. You can tell who’s who by the snowmen are lined up. There are four snowmen on their balls, which leaves you confused.

“Who’s the fourth snowman?”

“That one’s you!” The little girl, who’s still in your arms, giggles. A soft smile forms on your lips as your heart warms.

“Can I light up the tree now?” You nod down at the little boy who gives you a toothy grin and skips behind the tree. It takes a few before the lights around the tree light up and green, red, and white fill your visions.

“Still think we should have gone with white, but this will do” You roll your eyes playfully, bringing Fatima onto the ground carefully.

“Do you have your Christmas list done? Or do you two need more time?” you question, they answer quickly “mines in my room!”

“Mines in my backpack!” And before you can set an answer the twins are sprinting off in different directions. You leave behind and with a sigh, you sit done on the comfortable couch in the room. A smile paints your lips the longer you stare at the colorful tree in front of you. Not long after the twins leave they come running back with a piece of paper in their small hands.

Fatima hands you hers, and you aren’t shocked by the many things she’s asking for this year. You read the list carefully and your eyes land on a certain bullet point.

“A real-life shark?”

“Mhm!” She hums “We learned about them and I thought they were pretty so I want one!”

“Well let’s wait and see what Santa can do” You smile at the little girl and Amir hands you his, he doesn’t ask for much but you are surprised to see only four things on the small piece of paper.

“No toys this year?”

“I’m too old for them” he huffs “I’m a big kid now so I don’t need any toys” You hum

“Not asking for Nerf guns?”

“I outgrew them” his answer hesitated. You scan their list one more time before you send them to get ready for bed, they protest but go on their way, dragging their behind them. A small laugh comes from your throat as you shake your head. The Christmas tree disappears from your sight as you leave the room with the letters still in your hand. The walk to his office is short, as you are faced with the dark brown wooden door you bring your arm up—hand in a fist as you knock on the door three times.

You wait until there is a faint ‘come in’ from the other side. The door lets out a small creek as you open it, stepping foot into the room, there Sits the infamous Damian Wayne, at his desk signing away at papers that lay below him. He places his pen down, forgetting about the papers once he feels your presence.

You wave the letters around with a bright smile “I got their Christmas list!” The letters slide across his desk as you pass them over to him, and with an exhausted sigh, you drag yourself to the couch a few steps away and plop yourself down, head resting on the arm set. Damian scans his children's list, chuckling at His daughter’s list as he reads a few things off hers.

“A shark?” You hum in response. He moves on to his oldest son, head tilted in confusion. “Four things? Not even a single toy?”

“He secretly wants more Nerf guns” He hums. Damian takes a look at your exhausted form, chuckling.

“I assume my stubborn children burned you out today?”

“Wasn’t so bad today, just a small argument about the tree ornaments”

“Fighting over what color they should be again?”

“Yeah, but in the end we went with both red and white. So no more arguing” It’s silent between you two, taking in the quietness before it’s gone. The sound of pen against paper stops and it goes unnoticed by you. Damian’s paper is forgotten once more, taking in your figure as you lay still on the couch with an arm over your eyes. Your breathing is even but you aren’t sleeping, he could tell by the way you softly hum to keep yourself from dozing off.

The soft sound of steps breaks his gaze, green eyes land on his closed door, seconds before it’s slammed open to reveal his blood dressed in colorful sleepwear. Their giggles fill the room—each running to whom they land their eyes on first. Fatima runs to her father, running behind his desk and jumping in his arms, trying to get a look at what lies on top Thankfully Damian hid the letters as soon as he heard them. Amir Runs to you, finding a place beside you seeing as you’re no longer lying down.

“Did you see the tree baba?!”

Fatima exclaims eyes shining brightly as she stares up at her father, Damian shakes his head, much to the little girl's disappointment. “Not yet ‘Amira, I’ve been busy” his accent runs as he pinches the small frown off the little girl's face, Fatima lets out a small giggle, slapping her father's hand off her cheeks.

“The white kinda ruins it” Amir murmurs quickly, and you cover his mouth, frowning. Fatima sends a glare at her older twin, green eyes staring at the side of his face viciously. The small boy takes your hand off his mouth turning to his sister to repeat his sentence to her face.

“I said-“

“he said ‘let’s go brush our teeth!” He cuts him off, not wanting to deal with the Wayne twin's outburst so late in the night, you grab ahold of his hand before reaching your hand out to the little girl who jumps off her father's lap and runs to you—grasping your hand in hers.

“But that’s not what I said” he protested

“Yes it was, now come. Your father has work to finish, us interrupting him means he won’t be able to read you stories before bed.”

Damian can only stare at the scene in front of him, his children clinging to you as you drag them out of his study. His children were never the way they are now, always quiet and kept to themselves, but once you came you seemed to break them out of that habit. You were what they needed and it’s a Christmas miracle that you were able to win them over so easily. The other Nannies couldn’t do what you did, quitting after a week or so his children were so difficult, but he couldn’t blame them they got that trait from him.

Once you’re out of his sight he goes back to signing, but something tells him to look over their list one more time and he does, scanning over until he flips over the paper. His ears tune red and his skin feels warm when he reads the single bullet point.

“Make Miss Y/N our mother!”

Written in bold letters.

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne headcanon

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

hello !! if it’s not too much of a bother can you write another piece featuring Lion 🫶 maybe another angsty piece, maybe a lil lion + farah combo or something else like lion and gaz getting separated from the 141 during a mission and having to fight their way back to the extraction point (?). totally up to you !!! also thank u for keeping us well fed 🙇‍♀️

Lions and Ibexes

PAIRING: John Price x Wife!Reader 'Codename Lion'

SYNOPSIS: Impulsive was what John always called you - affectionately, of course. But he sure does worry when you disappear without him.

WORDCOUNT: 4.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, death, canon typical violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, banter, no connection to 'I'll Take the Night Shift' except codenames, protective!Price, suggestive jokes, etc.

A/N: I wanna give Farah a big smooch on her forehead.

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

“So this is the woman that the Captain won’t keep quiet about,” you smirk and place your hand into Farah Karim’s, eyes shimmering as you both share a tight grip.

“Commander,” greeting the black-haired woman, your light gear hangs off of you easily and efficiently; clean and well-taken care of.

“Lion,” she nods, smirking back. “A pleasure.”

“Please,” you huff a laugh, “I wish it could be.” Expressions dim as you instantly get to work, the hot sun and dry air sticking to your flesh like a second skin of humidity. Releasing Farah’s hand you sigh and look around the old town, skimming over the forms of other Urzikstan Liberation Force soldiers.

Farah does the same, breathing lowly.

“On that, I believe you’d be right.” Brown eyes flick to yours, looking you over before the woman nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” your feet push you onward, following behind the Commander as your wedding band clinks against your chest. Held on that long chain, a hand comes up to brush it carefully, letting the man who wears the mirrored piece bring you comfort even from so far away.

John was set to ship out in two days—there were some other important operations that had taken precedence. While you could have stayed behind with him, as you had wanted to do, a plea from one of the far-distant operators of One-Four-One had caught your ear. The name Farah Karim was known.

If you didn’t offer assistance, you’d never feel right with yourself. One call to Laswell and it was all set up.

“I’ll be there in two days,” John had muttered into your scalp as you both lay in bed, tight to one another; lashes fluttering. “Wait for me, yeah? No running off.”

Your smirk had made him sigh a chuckle. “No stunts of heroics, my Love? Please, do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know?”

“Well,” the words are uttered into his neck and John pulls you tighter into him. “I think that’s just about the most romantic thing to happen to someone.”

Smiling to yourself, you bring the ring to your lips and kiss it lightly before letting it drop. In your head, John is still in your shared flat in London, and you’ll be back by the hour. If only.

“You contacted Laswell and said you had encountered more of Barkov's remaining cells?” Your voice carries easy authority; ingrained confidence.

Farah looks back and nods firmly.

“They’ve taken over a town in the mountains, my forces can’t break the line.” She sighs aggressively and you stare with a sliding frown. “Even dead, Barkov cannot leave my people alone.”

In the back of your throat, you hum, “Well, parasites tend to be resilient.” Farah leads you into a home with maps on the tables and low talking of strategies from others. They pause when you enter and you nod politely. Many here knew your husband as the Commander did—all those years back when he was still only a Lieutenant and had broken Farah and her brother Hadir out from the Russian’s jail; labeled as prisoners of war.

John had told you about it during one of the many late nights in your joint offices. Eyes tired and his hands playing with your hair.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask genially, standing near the table and placing your hands down on it—standard M4A1 resting over your chest and your secondary weapon strapped to your thigh. Unlike most, you’d opted for lighter gear to allow you to move faster.

Fewer packs sit on your vest, and the gleam of the knife on your shoulder was a testament to your preference to close, silent, encounters. Though you liked to use your silver tongue to get out of situations, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work in this instance.

“Captain Price told me you’re one of the best undercover agents he’s seen.” You perk at this, looking over with raised brows.

“Hell,” your chuckle echoes, “when you said he couldn’t keep quiet I thought you were exaggerating.”

Farah smiles cheekily at you before pointing to the map of a mountain town surrounded by red Xs.

“My soldiers have marked off choke points all around the area. They’re the only pathways to the town, but heavily guarded.” She glances around the room and you hear her sigh heavily. “I wouldn’t have asked for assistance unless I knew I needed it. I’d prefer to leave foreign fighters out of this conflict, unlike my enemy.”

“I understand,” your head shakes. “It’s your home—I’ll go where you need me to. John should be here in two days to assist.”

Farah’s face flashes with surprise, her full brows rising on her head. “Price is coming?”

You shrug and laugh, “he’s stubborn.”

The woman chuffs before moving to fold her arms over her chest. “I think perhaps he’s more of a smitten husband, hm?” At the sheepish expression on your face and dipping eyes, Farah barks a laugh.

The band around your neck clinks into the stock of your gun as you stand to your full height.

“Is it that obvious,” you tease, tilting your head to her. You knew it was.

“I believe the simple action of asking is proof enough, Lion.” The commander looks at her work on the table, smiling easily but focusing still on her plan of attack. “But, regardless, I give my thanks for flying out on such short notice.”

“We help our own.” Resting your hands on the body of your weapon, you smile fondly. “Now, who do I need to kill?”

—

As it turns out, killing was the very baseline of what you needed to do.

Shuffling into the dark armor of the dead Russian soldier at your feet, you grunt at the slick spread of blood on the ground as you strap arm braces to your limbs.

“Heavy as all hell,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the large helmet and shoving it over your head with a puff of air.

Farah was going to lead a distraction on the far side of the western choke point while you slipped into the ranks, placing packs of C4 in some of the large-stocked weapons buildings. Easy enough for you, you admitted. You’d done things like this a million times over.

When all was said and done, slipping your knife into the new belt at your waist, you gaze down at the dead man with a huff of air; seeing the blood still pooling from the very obvious signs of a slit up the left armpit. You blink and stuff your wedding band down your shirt.

“Bad day, buddy,” grabbing his legs, you bare your heels and drag the body behind a large outcropping of rocks—long streaks of crimson left behind. “I’d hate to be you right now.”

Grunting, you drop the limp flesh with a thump like a paper-towel roll meeting the counter.

Shuffling back into the open, your feet make tracks to get you closer toward your targets. You hike the small pouch Farah gave you farther up your back without a word more.

John had always said you were quick-witted, but when he got here he’d lose that hat of his in disbelief. The truth was that you had forgotten what little of the Russian language you’d initially known, and the situation you found yourself in now was frankly not ideal.

C’mon Lion, you think to yourself, just pick up social cues and you’ll be good.

Oh, your husband was going to lose his shit.

—

“Come again?” The Captain barks. “What do you fuckin’ mean she’s in the base?!”

“I just explained it,” Farah levels, raising a brow. Blue eyes narrow with a growl until the Commander's lips flicker in a smirk. “We just had word three minutes ago. She’s fine, Captain.” Fingers find John’s nose bridge, digging deep into the flesh in large exasperation and worry.

He had caught a C17 and came here a day early after he’d gotten a bad feeling—internal wife radar going off as it usually did when you placed yourself in danger without him. Which was more often than not.

I told her not to be impulsive.

John sighs long and low, shaking his head. “Farah…you sent her in alone?”

“She is quite capable, Price.”

“I fucking…” He stops himself and puts his hands on the table in the center of the building. Men and women were snickering from the corners, sending amused glances. “I know.”

Farah sends a glance to her soldiers and they turn away to cover their smiling mouths. Enjoyment was in her tone as she grabs the walkie-talkie from the table top and clips it to her vest.

“There were more men than we anticipated—she had to be more careful when placing the charges. Captain,” John glares up at her when his eyes leave the maps. The Commander teases, “She is fine.”

As if on cue, the radio fizzles with your voice. Farah looks down with surprise and the Brit's eyes snap to it immediately; body tense.

There’s a moment of garbled static where the Captain feels his heart beating out of his chest. The panic that had snapped through him when you hadn’t come out to greet him when he’d landed was primal; genuine fear stuck in his bones like spiky grass. The bond the two of you had was closer than anything on this plane of existence. It was rare to not see one without the other.

Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

“You should tell your men to move unless they want to be scorched, Farah!” The woman in the room smiles ferally and raises a smug brow as she looks at John.

“Copy, Lion. You have my thanks.”

“I didn’t know you could improvise Russian—it’s like the Slavic blood just entered my body!” The Brit covers his eyes with his hand and groans at the base of his throat.

“Tell her to get her arse back here before she gets bloody shot.” John takes off his bucket hat and tosses it to the table with a gloved hand, punching his hair back from his forehead. “Giving me gray hairs,” he grunts.

Farah laughs and says eagerly into the walkie, “Someone’s here to say hello.”

“...Oh, fuck.” Your panting breath clears and after a long glare at the device, John hears you say in a slow and awkward tone, “Hello, my Love!”

Farah tilts the radio closer to him and looks highly pleased.

“Get back here. Now.” John grunts out, fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them. “I told you to wait for me.”

You laugh nervously, deflecting, “...did you, Dear? I guess I misheard you.” The Brit’s jaw clenches but Farah can speak before he can.

“Lion, are all the charges set, then?” You seem thankful for the distraction, sighing over the line.

“All good over here! I just need the O.K from your men and then it’s about to get a whole lot brighter.”

“I’ll relay the news—get away, as far as you can.”

“Already on it,” your breathy chuckle exits and you pause before saying. “See you soon, Love!”

Tiny blue eyes bug, “Wait–!” The line clicks off and Farah is already tapping into the frequency for her soldiers, turning slightly away to converse in quick Arabic.

—

Evening rolls around and you jog back into the Liberation Force’s base, greeting the guards stationed with a breathless sigh; utterly sweaty but happy you’d gotten half a ride back from some locals. You’re back in your original gear, sear marks on your cheeks and hair slightly burned, but nonetheless unharmed.

Everyone welcomes you back with handshakes and pats on your shoulders—brushes to your arm as people pass. You guide yourself back to the main building with chuckles and deep smiles of achievement.

“Someone’s happy.” John’s voice freezes you halfway into the home and you cringe like a leaf. After a moment your eyebrows slide up with a cheeky smile.

“John,” you draw out his name and turn, seeing him leaning against the house with his arms crossed and legs stiff. He looks unimpressed in all of his handsome glory. “Well, don’t you look nice—did you trim your beard before coming out?”

Walking slowly towards him, you loop your hands around his waist and press kisses into his neck sweetly. The man sighs long and you feel his large palms rest on your hips heavily. You blink innocently into his orbs.

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Love.” The glint in his expression eggs you on as his nose tints down to touch yours. You smile brightly, seeing the wrinkles on his forehead dim as he melts into you easily.

Whispering, you utter to the air, “I’d say you like my tongue, you brute. Tell me often enough.” Not a beat is missed, but you feel his cheeks go slightly red.

“Keep it on a leash and maybe I’d like it more, yeah?” You snort loudly, head dipping only to feel his lips press into your scalp; his smile is teasing as his beard drags against you.

John breathes you in along with the scent of sand. One of his hands travels up to lock into the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your necklace. The one that mirrors his own down to the very dents and scratches.

“You alright?” The words are a murmur into your flesh. You let him play with your wedding band as your smile softens to the same sensation of warm pelts on a wooden floor.

There was no use telling you to stop your crusades, the Brit knew that. You did what you wanted and damn the consequences; John was stuck with damage control but knew you had the skills and know-how to break all odds. You still held that same fire that the woman he married wore like a crown of fangs without fail.

“Always,” you reassure him, hugging his waist tighter and staring into his eyes.

The both of you lapse into a delicate hold. John’s arms cage you in and you’d have it no other way as fingers drag over warm flesh, never mind the brutal dig of gear or the stain of blood. Neither could keep you away from the other.

“When will you stop making my heart rip out of my chest, Sweetheart?” John asks, smirking down at you. “Trying to give me a heart attack before forty, eh?”

“Oh, please,” you whisper against his lips, eyes alight with mischief as he watches you closely—pulse pounding against yours. He could never be angry at you. “We both know that if you have one, I’ll be having one too. We’ll end up being brain-dead at the same damn time, no doubt.”

He laughs against you lowly, having to pull back to shake his head at your bland confession. “You’re fuckin’ mental, Love.” He breathes in soft puffs of breath. You gaze up at him, laced with affection and care, as he rests his forehead on yours. “Ah, but that’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all a bit crazy.”

“You might be a little bit higher on the metaphorical scale,” you tease, face serious but eyes betraying you. They always would when it came to John; the only person to break through that ‘cunning nuisance’ that everyone always mentioned in your file.

“Really, now?” He blinks, smirking and rubbing at your hip absentmindedly and leaning closer—pushing your neck to the side.

“Just a bit,” you huff, not even realizing.

Before you can utter another word, firm lips capture you like a beast in iron bars, bulky forearms stuck at the curve of your spine. You chirp into John’s mouth in surprise but melt into him as his large purr resonates into your bloodstream. Singing, you bring your hands to his cheeks, digging through those bristles to feel the burn on your hands.

Humming, your husband nuzzles his nose into your cheek like a dog would, letting him take in your scent as you feel your legs go weak. You enjoy the worship he gives you; always would. Your body is tightly held against his own and you gladly would have shown him how much you enjoyed him being here if only for the small fact you needed to talk to Farah.

With one last pass of his reddened lips, you slip back and kiss his bristly cheek with a chuckle.

“Later.”

He groans into you. “Tease.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” You laugh loudly, moving out of his hold to walk into the house as he follows at your heels. John’s hands go to the top of his vest collar to rest.

He leans down and whispers, “Don’t need to, Love.”

Your face burns for him and only him as he grumbles out chuckles at your blown pupils. Huffing, you turn and roll your eyes, trying to dispel your flaming blood. Farah waits for you and with a happy glance up she comes from around the table and claps you on both shoulders. You grunt in surprise but grip her elbows with a laugh.

“Barkov’s remaining cell was wiped out—my soldiers are hunting down the remnants as we speak.” She squeezes your gear and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lion, for coming out when you did. The Captain was not wrong in his assessment.”

You turn your head to the side and glance back at John. “Hear that my Love, I’ve heard you talk about me. That’s so precious.”

His face goes red under his beard, and his feet shuffle as you and Farah share a joking glance. John releases under-the-breath grumbles before the Commander addresses him. The woman releases you but speaks past your person.

“Some of my younger soldiers wanted you to mentor them with the use of their weapons, do you plan on staying the night?” You and John share a look, a seeming telepathic communication going on.

He nods at you and you smile. “Only tonight, we ship out at first light. I’ll do what I’m able.”

“Then you also have my thanks. They’ll learn much, I’m sure. Lion,” John comes and gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving. You watch him go for a moment before rubbing at your dirty neck while you listen to Farah. “Come with me, there’s fresh water on the roof.”

“Oh,” you perk, suddenly realizing the fatigue in your bones and the dryness of your throat. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

As you both ascend the stairs to the roof, there’s a still silence that falls, a calm nothingness. When you finally stand on the flat roof, you look over the vast land as Farah hands you a chilled water bottle from a mini-fridge. You take it with a small nod in thanks.

“Nice view,” you motion with the bottle before taking a long sip—downing half of it in one go.

Farah smiles and hums. “Urzikatan is a beautiful place,” you listen and wipe at your mouth; seeing people walk the streets below as the red sun grows even lower. In the wind, your nose twitches to sand and dust, with some hint of floral notes and arid cleanliness. Farah’s face seeps with a low sadness when she looks out to the land and you pause your drinking. Brows pulling in, you watch her.

“Farah?” You ask, carefully. It’s a moment before she responds.

“I…” She crosses her arms and sets her feet. “I wonder if this place will ever see its freedom. We’ve been fighting for so long already. My family has known war more than anything else.” Brown eyes drift to you from the side of her eye.

There’s a tightness in your chest. You can’t imagine what Farah feels right now, what she has felt. Years of this…and still her home is under foreign subjugation. A frown grows on your face and you put the half-full bottle to the small wooden table near the roof’s corner.

“You’ll get your sovereignty, Farah.” You try your best to speak your mind to the woman but remain truthful to your belief. Farah stares out as you sigh lowly. “Maybe not now—maybe not in this generation—but someday the sun is going to set on a free Urzikatan. You’re plenty strong enough to assure that and you’ve done a proper job so far. The frames are already set.”

The Commander hums and gazes at her soldiers below as they mull about, laughing with each other and enjoying the company of their fellow countrymen.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?” Farah asks you, and you study her genuine interest in her own thoughts. “Who we would be if nothing ever happened to us.”

You stare for a moment, skull tilting down to gaze at the top of the roof. It’s not an easy question to answer.

“Sometimes,” your lips admit. Farch eagerly pivots to your form like you hold the greatest answer imaginable. She’s been through so much—losing her family, and her home. Humming, your eyes shift to the setting sun; blinking at it. Against all of this, your lips flinch up into a smile. “But not often.”

Farah’s eager gaze turns confused, her brows furrowing deeply with a scrunched face.

“Because right here, right now,” John walks down the street below, and your eyes fall to him as easily as a leaf dances to the ground. The expression on your face eases. “It couldn’t have happened if there were never bad days.” Your husband looks up, and you see him pause among the ranks of other fighters. You chuckle softly, head tilting to the side.

John stares at you as if you’re the only person to exist, moving one hand from his vest to jerk two fingers in a subtle greeting. Farsh watches the interaction closely, tension loosening from her body. Your head nods slowly to your husband and you say to the woman, absent-minded, “I’m right where I need to be…And the sun has never looked brighter.”

Farah huffs a laugh, eyes running back and forth between the two of you.

“He loves you,” she says, “deeply.”

“God,” your laugh echoes, “I sure hope so.” The both of you laugh.

It felt easy to speak to the Commander, truthfully. Being surrounded by four men all of the time can get catty even with such a strong bond as you had with One-Four-One.

You dare to share more.

"In my mind, John and I are still in Hertfordshire for our wedding,” The words come out of you slowly, unwrapping emotions one layer at a time as if swaddled in a dark veil of internal nostalgia. You watch John as he walks along, oddly sad but filled with something that makes you want to take him up into your arms with a wet laugh. “Sitting back on the grassy hills outside of town in my gown and him in his tux. The wind is cold…but neither of us can find it in ourselves to shiver. The sun's setting on our heads and making everything glow gold. His fingers are running through my hair…” You pause and hear Farah’s soft breath in the air, but you don’t look at her. Your eyes stay stuck on one person only. “When I die,” your words continue, “I can't ask for anything more than just a glimpse of that again. Just a flicker of that hill. Of those blue eyes looking into mine. I don't think it would be all that bad if I could live in that moment for senseless eternity. If I could live in it for only one second."

John looks back at you from over his shoulder, your form shrouded in the setting sun as he slowly walks away from you. You gaze with melted eyes, the ring around your neck shining all the brighter.

“I’m right where I need to be,” finishing, you turn your glossy eyes to Farah, who stares with a wide pull to her lids. “And you need to believe that even if you never get to see that freedom—that hill—you’ll make sure someone else can climb it just an inch farther.”

It’s a long moment before Farah answers.

“The both of you will do this until one of you dies, hm?” You blink before you shrug.

“Not one.” Your tone is easy, and John’s shadow turns a corner; out of sight. “I’d never let him go without me.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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cursingtoji · 9 months

Note

HI BABES I LOVED WHAT YOU WROTE FOR AKI 😭 I was hoping to request another but it’s fine if u don’t wanna do two pieces from the same person! But if you do I’d love see how you write 42 and 44 with Toji 🫣

𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓮𝔁

& ❛ Are you sure you want this? ❜ ┊ fem!reader x soft dom!toji, unprotected, raw, p in the v without c, creampie, kinda stablished relationship, sucking fingers, praising, prone bone, domestic┊ The Clichés ™

“Oh my, to what do I own the pleasure?” you become aware of the finger messing with your clit before you open your eyes, you arch your back meeting the erect clothed cock behind you.

“Huh?” his nuzzles your neck. The room was silent, you know it’s morning already, your curtains are still closed but sunshine peeks from the bottom and top giving the room enough light for Toji to get turned on by the simple sight of you sleeping next to him.

“I haven’t woken up with you by my side for weeks now, baby” you caress his arm and mewl at the slow circle movements he has on your clit, his other arm comes up and wiggles his away under your head until you’re pretty much using his shoulder as your pillow and he’s sneaking his hand into the collar of your t-shirt to feel your soft mound “Is this your day off?” you ask closing your eyes and becoming relaxed in his hold.

Toji nods slowly, “The next days should be easier too” he looks down at you with his gorgeous green orbs and starts to grind on your ass, “gotta get you used to awaking up with me again.”

“If I knew today was you day off… I would’ve made something special” you murmur between sighs of pleasure.

“Oh yeah?” his raspy voice against your ear gives you goosebumps, “Like what?”

“Mm I would’ve changed the sheets to that silk one you like…” your hand rub his bicep, “would’ve bought bacon to make you for breakfast” you turn your head slightly to kiss his jaw.

“What else?” he kisses the side of your mouth and you peck his lips in return.

“Maybe worn a more sexy camisole” he laughs tugging your old ass sleeping shirt from Disneyland, the princess print on it had faded a long time ago, toji called her ‘cursed spirit’ since her face was pretty much gone.

“You’re sexy no matter what” he presses the morning wood against you harder, the fabric of his boxers already had a patch of precum “But yeah this thing is ugly as fuck” he pushes your shirt up, hiding the print and exposing your tits to the cold bedroom.

“Also I would’ve bought more condoms” you whisper and Toji backs away a few inches to look you straight in the face.

“We’re out of condoms?” he asks in disbelief.

“I told you at least three times to get some on your way back!”

“Princess, I barely have the strength to shower when I get home, I ain’t stopping at a fucking drugstore. You should’ve gotten it” he attempts to retrieve his hand from you but you grab it back.

“Toji~” you whine looking up at him “You know…” you reach back to rub your palm against his bulge, breasts still out and nipples hard “We could go without them” his eyebrows rise at your suggestion, even his dick twitch against your hand.

“Y’wanna go raw?” he confirms.

“I mean… you’ll have to pull out—“

He snorts “Please” your hand is taken from his bulge so he can shove his underwear down and put yours to side squeezing his dick between your thighs “If I’m fucking you raw I’m coming inside” his length rubs your puffy lips, you look down to see his tip peaking from the front of your underwear as he thrusts slowly, finding comfort between your warm thighs and wet cunt.

“Are you sure about this?” you murmur carefully but yelp as he pinches one of your nipples.

“You tell me, doll, sure you ready to have my cum filling you up? ‘Cause I don’t think I will stop after the first time” he angles his hip to hit your clit with every shallow thrust of his hips.

“I’m o-okay with that” you arch your back more, pushing your breasts into his palm as he closes it around one.

Toji pushes in slowly, having played with your clit before you woken up made you pretty wet already, he drops his head to your neck stopping once he’s halfway in, your gummy walls around his cock are enough to make him cum on the spot but that’s would be too soon.

“Toji~” you whine his name wiggling your hips before he grabs it hard.

“Stay still, doll, gimme a second” his hot breath fans over your sweet spot, you cry his name again and he leaves the comfort of your tits to push two fingers in your mouth, which you take gladly sucking and swirling your tongue around, “Yer killing me” he confesses bringing you closer to him and pushing the rest of his length in.

So far you had only used condoms with each other, so the burning sensation of his dick stretching you out with no lube except your own arousal was enough for you to get lost in the sensation, Toji was no stranger to the feeling, but feeling it with you was a new aphrodisiac to him, so warm and so wet…

He pops his fingers off your mouth, turning your head to the side so he can have a taste of you while bringing the wet digits down to your clit. You moan on his lips, pushing your panties all the way down so he can have more space to touch you.

“So… full” he drinks your sounds pressing your little nub and holding it there to tease you into try to wiggle out of the stimulation.

it’s unusual for Toji to take his time like this, of course he never leaves you unsatisfied even if he has to fuck you through his own orgasm at an animalistic pace. But this morning he’s too pussy drunk to go at his normal pace, now he just wants to nibble at your ear whispering how good you feel and how gorgeous you are while having your pussy gripping him hard when he’s pulling out.

“Relax, kid, I’m not going anywhere” he lets go of your clit to hook his hand on the back of your knees raising your leg to hold it over his own, you look down and can’t stop the curse leaving your lips when you see his thick glossy cock parting you, “Take this out, will you?” he tugs at your shirt and you giggle while discarding the item.

Toji pulls out and softly pushes your hips so you’re laying on your stomach, “That’s it, good girl” he praises finding his way back inside you. With this new position his entire body weight is on top of you, he tries put some weight on his arm to not crush you.

The older man kisses your shoulder blades while moving his hips and flexing his glutes to fuck his swollen cock back into your needy hole. The air is hot and smells of sex, you can practically feel Toji’s navel against your asscheeks. With his whole torso pressing you into the mattress it’s difficult for you to touch him and he senses that, lacing your fingers with his and giving your palm a comforting squeeze.

He keeps pounding, even though he’s going light, the bed still hits the wall, a squeaking sound echoing through the dark room.

“Toji, I’m close” you press you face into the pillow, your walls have a tight hold on him.

“Doll, how am I supposed to use a condom again after getting a taste of this?” he punctuates with his hand cupping your cunt after his palm creep in between your body and mattress, feeling how it stretches to take him into your warm cave.

“Toji” you warn.

“Cum for me, doll, lemme feel you” he spreads your cheeks, cock hitting even deeper as your toes dig into the mattress. Toji squeezes your ass hard enough to leave a mark “That’s right, fuck—“ he groans with his face on your hair, his thrusts become sloppy and before you realize he’s also climaxing. Hot stripes of cum fill your insides to the point you feel like orgasming again, “Fuck… me” he lets out a breathy moan, his hand is still laced with yours, you bring it closer to your face kissing his veins while coming down from your high.

Toji groans when he pulls out, delicately rolling you over as he sits on his knees taking both your legs and spreading them to shamelessly stare at your oozing hole.

“Toji, that’s too—“ you try to close your legs but his grip is firm.

“Relax, just admiring my artwork” his eyes are glued to your pussy, he scoops the cum running down and pushes back in.

“Baby, too much~” he watches your toes curl in the air.

“Too much? I told I wasn’t stopping after the first time” he kisses your ankle, dark hooded eyes devouring his small flustered girlfriend.

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” you propose.

“Of course” he looks around the bed looking for the red fabric of your underwear and taking it, leading your feet in and delicately moving until it covers you, he gives your pussy light taps “Keep it in for me, will you?”

“I can’t, gotta pee” his dark eyes turn playful.

“And you waited until I put your panties back to tell me that?” he pushes your legs off him as he looks for his own clothes.

“Can you gimme my shirt?” you point to the ‘cursed spirit’ shirt on the floor.

“No” he takes it and makes a ball, throwing at the dirty laundry basket across the room.

“Toji! I like that shirt” you whine sitting up covering your chest with your arm.

“Shut it, brat” he opens a drawer, taking a band shirt of his and throwing at you. You bite down on a smile, noticing it was one of his personal favourite shirts.

#toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #— the cliches ™#my new fav divider in the end

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reminiscingtonight · 6 months

Note

Hoodie ;)

I've already done a blurb for this but I actually loved it so much so I thought why not do another one

Hoodie Blurb II:

It was a fool proof plan.

There's this one particular hoodie of hers that you've taken a liking to. It's one of Leah's original pieces of clothing that she got when she first signed for Arsenal all those years ago. So it's sentimental to her in a way.

So for course you wanted it for yourself.

No matter how many times Leah takes it back, not matter how deep on her side of the dresser she hides the worn-down, ratty looking thing, it somehow always ends up back in your possession.

So Leah rolls with it.

It comes to her as a late-night thought. As she's watching your peaceful form sleeping so soundly next to her Leah knows she wants you to be hers. For good.

You're off having lunch with Steph when she does it. Having just done the laundry, it's one of the rare times you've left the hoodie to Leah's care. So slipping the tiny box into the front pocket, Leah carefully folds the hoodie back up, making sure to take extra care to plop it closer to your half of the drawer when putting it away.

When she grabs a pair of socks the next day, Leah's happy to see the piece of clothing gone.

Now all she has to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It isn't until the third day has passed and you still haven't said anything about her engagement ring that Leah musters up the courage to say something.

"Babe, have you seen my favorite hoodie?"

"Nope." you pop the 'p,' not even glancing away from the television. But the smile playing on your lips tells Leah you know exactly where it is.

"Well I'm cold. Do you mind finding it for me?"

If anything, you seem to relax into the couch some more, propping your hands up behind your head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks."

Leah narrows her eyes at the pet name. "Muffin-buns, why not?"

At that, you look up, not able to keep a straight face at her choice of words. "'Muffin-buns'?"

"Would you prefer 'honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'?"

It's quiet as you stare at Leah. Leah does nothing but stare right back.

The silence only lasts three seconds before you're both howling, laughing at the ridiculous pet name.

Clutching her stomach, Leah's wiping away her tears when you shove hard at her shoulder.

"'Honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'? Baby, why?"

Leah muffles her snort into your hairline as you snuggle into her side, scoffing under your breath about how much you hate her. Here Leah only feels her love for you grow. This is the type of afternoons she wants to have for the rest of her life. Wrapped up around you, swapping jokes and laughter. Leah's heart beats for you and only you and she wants you to know it.

Before Leah can bring up her hoodie again however, you beat her to the punch.

And she instantly feels the ice settle in her veins.

"Katie was shivering after practice today so I let her borrow it. She said she'd return it tomorrow though!"

You've long passed out on the couch, the tiredness of today's training catching up to you. Slipping away into the guest bedroom, Leah closes the door shut before pulling out her phone.

To her relief, Katie's contact picture lights up the screen before she has a chance to press call herself.

"Katie--" Leah starts... Only to be interrupted by a loud, angered Irish accent.

"Mate! Of all of the places in the world, why would you hide your goddamn ring in your stupid little hoodie?! Caitlin nearly passed out thinking I was going to propose when I pulled it out! And then she cussed me out when I told her it wasn't mine!"

Leah cringes. "In my defense, (Y/N) was not supposed to loan you out the hoodie."

There's a slight pause on the other side of the phone. And then a sharp sigh. "Please don't tell me this was you plan for proposing to (Y/N)."

Leah bites her lip. "Okay, I won't."

"Leah!"

Send me a fic title

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

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bitchfitch · 5 months

Text

After years and years of having a schedule that was more a halfhearted shrug than a neat itinerary, there was a certain peace to finally having a dinner time routine.

Rice in the cooker, wild game cuts in the oven with whatever vegetables hadn't gone off since his last trip into town. The timer set for ten minutes longer than the meal ever actually needed. His stomach couldn't handle meat still pink with a memory of life anymore.

While it cooked he'd place a tarp before the back door. The blue plastic wrinkled along the lines by which he always found it folded.

Then he'd step out into the cool evening to where his freshest trophy would be hanging just beyond the edge of the creaky porch. It a was a deer today, it's back hooves tied to the rafter so it's blood could drain from the dainty gash across it's throat. This wasn't a necessity, it just lessened the mess he would eventually have to deal with.

He untied it, and carried it to rest it in the center of the tarp before pulling the corners up to encase it in crinkly darkness. The bright green climbing rope being used to bind the package closed while he made a note to himself to dig out the hank of rope again so he could cut a new, less gnawed on, piece for tomorrow's meal time.

He could hear the thing coming up the staircase from the basement. Stairs were difficult for it, always had to crawl up them on its hands and knees. Stopping every few steps to gather itself against vertigo.

"What's cooking?" it called in a chipper voice, its bruise darkened fingers scrabling at the lower edge of the door. Its cracked nails adding to the deep gouges in the old wood. "What's cooking?" it repeated like a scratched record. Its clawing growing more frenzied as it got more and more excited at the prospect of meal time.

"Deer." he responded, dragging the bundle to the locked door.

"Einer!" it said, its voice being stolen from a long gone day at the lake, "Home," it whined with defeat borrowed from a day it never saw, then a garbled growl as it's limited repertoire of echos ran up against a concept it didn't have the words to express.

"You know that's not how it works," Einer sighs with some glimmer of fondness. "Who am I?"

"Einer!" a perfect echo of what it had said before.

"Where are we?"

"Home."

"Who are you?"

The growl came on its cue, exactly as it had every miserable day since Einer managed to trap it and establish this little test of whether or not it might be able to be reasoned with today.

"Good, good. To your spot please."

It scrambled back down the stairs, heavy thunks sounding as its excited crawling turned into more of a controlled series of falls.

Then a loud metallic racket bounded forth from the vent slats in the floor as it slapped at the ancient pipe that connected the furnace to the rest of the cabin's mostly defunct air ducts. Their way of signaling when it was well and clear away from the stairs where it might damn them both by attacking its caretaker.

He undid the bolts on the door quickly yanking it open before kicking the plastic wrapped deer down the stairs and slamming the door shut again. The unspoken race between them commencing as he rushed to get the bolts and locks latched once more before it could get up the stairs in an opportunity fueled bout of blood frenzy.

Einer won today. He's won every day so far.

Its fingers appear under the edge of the door again, its breath ragged and sounding wet with too much spit as it uselessly dug into the steel toe of his boot.

"You know where your dinner is," he took a step and waited to see if he'd be granted one moment of clarity as it came down from it's frenzy.

It churred, a soft animal sound he didn't think something so human looking should be able to make. Its fingers stilled, then disappeared back into the darkness beyond the door before returning. Its hand palm side up this time.

He was quick to crouch, carefully curling his fingers against it's. Its skin porcelain, smooth and cold against the callouses he had earned in his time caring for it.

"Einer," it said, this echo being taken from a gentle memory of two lovers in their wedding bed, before its touch disappeared and it began its clumzy trek back down the stairs.

He always stayed knelt there a little too long, wondering if it knew he lingered there. If it cared. Before standing and checking to see if his meal was over done to his liking.

#animal death #einers husband came back wrong and he Adapted instead of being a whiner about it #Get you a man on his level

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untoldstar · 1 year

Text

rich! yandere x fem reader pt.2

tw: yandere themes, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power

“Thank you for squeezing us into your schedule, we hope you’ll take our offer into consideration. Please, take your time when coming to a decision” the man stands up gathering his papers swiftly and putting them in his briefcase, warner stands up, he has an expensive suit on the dark color of it dripping with luxury, its fit highlighting his muscular build, broad shoulders, perfect posture but his stature is still relaxed, he smiles politely at the man and nods "I'll think it over carefully, let me see you out" he leads the man outside exchange farewells and a handshake, once the man is out and the door is shut he lets out a sigh, that meeting lasted much longer than he expected, he walks across the office towards his desk, his office is spacious, wide shelves containing books, awards, files, on one side of the room a comfortable leather couch and sofa chair with a table in front of them, on the other side of it a small bar, his desk is intimidatingly long and behind it, the entire wall is glass overlooking the beautiful city.

He sits down on his desk chair and turns towards his monitor, his eyes softening once they settle on the screen, a soft smile ghosting his lips "my apologies my love, that took longer than I had expected" on his screen was a security camera footage, live footage of you working diligently at your job, he has access to security cameras everywhere and he installed a few in your house, he leans back in his chair watching you, he considers this a form of spending time with you, as well as making sure no one at your job crosses the line and causes him to get his hands dirty, once a co-worker of yours had thought he was high and mighty because he had gotten a promotion, a client of yours screwed up and caused a big commotion in the office and of course, he was blaming you for it, he watched the man raise his voice at you, he felt pride swell in his chest when you kept your composure and handled the situation like a professional, never cracking once, he loved that about you, still..the man was trash, there was no use for him around you, the next day news spread that he had been fired, he let out a low chuckle in amusement when the microphone on your computer caught you grumbling "serves him right" under your breath.

He's aware of sexual harassment in the workplace so when a filthy man in your office invaded your space when you were alone and groped you he wasted no time in throwing him in a ditch somewhere, not before cutting off his filthy hands for touching you of course, you were such a sweet pretty thing, he can't control the fact everyone wants a piece of you so he takes it upon himself to welcome anyone who tries to make a move on you, look at you, touch you or hurt you, he likes to see how confident they are in their actions for the irony of how pathetic they are when they're on their knees bleeding and pleading for mercy, you're more than capable of course but you're his love, anyone who touches you doesn't deserve to breathe.

He saw you rest your head on your desk "you poor thing you must be so exhausted" if you accept him he would make it all better for you, he'd give you his heart and soul if everything in the world wasn't enough for you, you still don't accept his gifts, at least you don't use them anyway, most of his gifts ended up being sent back or thrown out, except his most recent gift, the lingerie set he sent you is tucked deep in your closet, this piqued his curiosity, did you actually like his gift? were you planning on using it?

His head was in the clouds by now, he was starting to be convinced that you were happy with his gift, that you were finally ready for him, that you'd maybe show up at his doorstep, his present under your clothes, his breath hitched at the thought of what he bought you touching your soft skin.

He snapped back to reality when something on the screen caught his attention, you were talking and laughing with a man as you gathered your belongings, what raised his confusion is him leading you out of the office with his hand resting on your back, were you leaving with him?

He switched to the security camera of the parking lot and sure enough, he saw you getting in a car that wasn't yours with another man. He reached for his phone inside his suit and dialed a number, the line almost immediately picks up, the person on the other line waits patiently for orders, warner doesn't hesitate before he orders in a cold flat tone "follow her" he hangs up, his dark eyes set on the screen.

'my love..who is that man?'

#fem reader #yandere oc #rich yandere #obsessive yandere #rich yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #male yandere #yandere fanfiction

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months

Note

Hear me out.... Steven with a praise kink 👀

You jokingly call him a good boy (because I call him my human golden retriever) and BAM. Confused boner! You take advantage of it and keep teasing him.

(Marc and Jake would never let him live it down, either)

Ijcioajfidi HELP. THIS. AHHH. I’m not sure why chess playing came into my brain. But here we are, reader likes and plays chess and is pretty good at it.

(Side note: in one typo I wrote ‘chestboard’ instead of ‘chessboard’. You just know my subconscious is thinking about Steven’s boobs.)

Good Boy

Steven Grant x F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: INSTANT BONER, p in v sex, teasing, swearing, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 2147

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“So, think about how you would stop me.” You said as you looked from the chessboard to Steven.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, his glasses pushed high on his nose. A few rough curls dangled over his forehead as he bit softly at his thumb in thought.

“I could move here?”

“That’s really good.” You smile. “Excellent move, because you’ve also stopped my bishop.” You point to the piece on the board.

Steven smiled. He liked chess, played against the computer occasionally. But it wasn’t much more than a way to pass the time.

However when he found out that you had won some amateur competitions when you were in school, and that you still played regularly, his excitement at the prospect of playing a game with you was so completely heart-warming that you instantly said yes.

In the first game, you’d been determined to go easy on him. Just to get a feel of Steven as a player. You’d accidentally won in less than ten minutes.

There had been a small tinge of panic, a worry that, like some of the previous partners you’d had, he would be annoyed. Instead Steven grinned, thrilled that you’d beaten him and sung your praises until you were so positively overwhelmed you had had to kiss him repeatedly to get him to stop.

This was your second game. He had asked in that delightfully enthusiastic way he had if you could play again, “if it’s not too much trouble love, and you want to of course, don’t want to be annoying, do I? No. But I’d love it if you could teach me some strategies?”

“So I’m going to move here,” you picked up your knight and moved it slowly.

Steven frowned. “But then I can take it?”

“I know.” You grinned.

He paused and looked at you, unable to stop himself from smiling at your glee and then nodded. “Okie dokie, there’s something I’m not seeing then.”

“Is there?” Your innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second.

“There definitely is.”

You chuckled, looking back to the board. “Good boy. Look, take your time, but don’t worry if you can’t find it, I’ll explain.”

There was a long pause. You frowned a little and glanced back to him. His eyes were a little wide, his cheeks dusted with pink. He was sitting stiffly now, his hand clenched into a fist with his knuckles pressed against his mouth.

“Steven?”

“Hmm.” The sound was too quick. He didn’t look up from the board.

“You okay?”

He nodded, a short sharp and very un-Steven-like movement.

You paused for a second, looking at his features carefully as you wondered if Marc or Jake had fronted suddenly. Though, why they would try to hide it from you, you weren’t sure.

On further inspection you were pretty sure that it was Steven.

“You sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled and swallowed, looking through the board and not seeing it.

“Okay…” You swallowed, watched him for a moment longer before you pointed at your rook. “If you take my knight, I’m going to take your pawn with my rook and you’ll be in check. You can’t take the rook with your queen because then you’d be in check here. So you’d have to move your king like this, and then I could move my other bishop and you’d be in checkmate.”

You looked up at him, chewing your bottom lip. Had he had enough? Was he bored? Fed up of your explanations?

“Okay. Right. So I won’t do that, I’ll move here.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at you.

You nodded, watching his move. “Good, so…”

The moment ‘good’ left your mouth Steven sucked in a breath, shuddering.

A sound you very much recognised.

Oh.

You quickly thought over your previous conversion: move this piece, are you okay, take your time, good boy-

Good boy. That was it.

A small smile stretched across your lips. Steven was still staring, fixated, at the chessboard and didn’t notice. He moved his piece silently.

You waited a beat before you spoke. “That’s a great move Steven, good boy.”

He shivered straight away, his breathing hitched. He tried to cover the sound with his hand as he closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong Steven?” You teased slowly.

His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and embarrassed.

“Don’t you like being called a good boy?”

The smallest groan grumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing.

“Or, is it that you like it a little too much? Hmm? Being my good boy?”

His skin flushed with heat as he glared at you. His eyes dark.

“What?” You bit your lip as you grinned. “A good boy would answer questions when asked.”

“Please.” He whispered.

“Please what?”

“Please stop. Marc’s taking the piss.”

You frowned, the playful tease dropping from your tone. “Why’s Marc taking the piss?” You’d done kinker stuff with all of them, Steven liking being called a ‘good boy’ wasn’t really something to write home about.

Steven sighed, pouting a little as he closed his eyes and took his hand away from his mouth. “Because I’ve got a hard on.”

You bit back the giggle that wanted to spill from your chest. Something about him having to close his eyes to say it was just so perfect. “So?”

“It happened the second you said it.”

“The very second?”

“Hmm.” Steven kept his eyes closed. Interesting.

“So literally, I said it, instant boner.”

“Yep.”

You couldn’t resist one playful tease. “So, if you’re in a park and you hear some say good boy to their dog, is it bam, erection?”

Steven shifted a little as you said those two words, trying his hardest not to moan. His cock was pressing, painfully hard, against the stiff material of his jeans. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s never happened before. And now- Marc, shut the fuck up.” His voice was a little needy until it came time to address his alter.

“Marc behave.” You said kindly. “So… it’s only ever happened now?”

“Hmm.”

“When I said it?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens when I say it again?” You whispered.

Steven squirmed a little, even the thought of you saying it getting him hot under the collar. “Feels… nice. Sort of.” He pushed at his throbbing cock with the heel of his hand and opened his eyes, his head slightly drooped.

“Sort of?”

“Yeah, like… you know, he jumps to attention every time you say it.” He blinked heavily, his cheeks burning. God, you must think he was a right little freak.

“Good boy.”

He groaned, unable to stop the sound in time and looked up at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t nice that you were making fun of him like Marc and… oh.

Realisation dawned. You were biting your lip and smiling. You liked it. A lot.

Steven swallowed audibly.

Slowly you stood and walked around the table to stand beside him. Steven pushed out his chair a little, angling it so that he was facing you. He went to stand but you gently pressed on his shoulder. He followed your command and stayed sitting down, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

He played at his jumper sleeve nervously as you watched him. His dick hard and pulsating with need, throbbing in time to his heartbeat.

He swallowed again. “Love-”

“Good boy.”

He moaned softly, screwing his face up as his cock twitched at your words.

You bent down quickly, grabbing hold of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. Using his brief surprise to slip your tongue into his mouth and push him back against the chair.

Steven whimpered against you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders and the back of your neck as you ravaged his mouth and robbed him of his breath.

“Good boy.” You muttered between the kisses, swallowing his hushed whimpers and soft moans. Revelling in the way he pulled you tighter, needy and desperate for anything you’d give him.

You brushed your hand against his groin, squeezing the outline of his cock.

“Fuck!” Steven hissed, clawing at your top and thrusting up into your touch. The rest of his words were lost as you kissed him hard and lightly bit his bottom lip.

You trailed your lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking at his pulse point and pushing him even further back into the seat.

His breathy moans sent a wave of heat along your spine to your core, twisted in your belly and overwhelmed every thought.

You squeezed his cock again, the heat of him radiating through your hand. “Good boy.”

The words barely left your lip before Steven answered you with an accompanying groan, his length twitching against your palm.

You moaned, so dizzily high with the sounds of his pleasure. Without thinking you undo his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his calves in a hurried motion with a little help from Steven as he raises his hips. His cock springs free, needy and weeping with need.

You take him in hand, stroking him twice before pulling his jumper over his head. He whines at the loss, chasing your mouth and kissing you urgently the second the material is off and on the floor.

With your lips desperately pressed to his you pull down your own trousers and underwear, kicking one leg free and not bothering about the other as you take his length back in your hand and straddle his thighs.

Him being so worked up, so desperate for you when you hadn’t even touched him is a stronger aphrodisiac that anything you��d ever experienced.

You don’t even give him a second to react before you’re lining him up with your already soaking entrance and slowly sinking down. “Such a good boy Steven,” you breathe, your voice rising in pitch at the end as he inches deeper, his thick cock splitting you so wide.

He moans headily, pressing his face into your chest and mouthing at the tops of your breast through your top.

“Love, you’re so wet.” He bites his bottom hip, his fingers pressing against your waist hard enough to leave bruises.

You pull at the back of his hair slightly, scratching your nails along his scalp as he finally bottoms out. He pulses within you, twitching and aching and so, so close already.

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you Steven?”

He whined against you as you rocked your hips, quickly starting to lift yourself up and sink back down, setting a brutal pace as you began to bounce on his cock.

“Such a good boy letting me use you like this.”

Steven moaned, chasing your hips and thrusting deep. He was drunk on you, needed you. Every moment, every word you said sent waves of pleasure through his body and made his head spin.

Even in his intoxicated state his muscle memory kicked in, bucking up into you perfectly to make you see stars. Each spot that would break you apart memorised and stored deep within his very soul.

He fucked up into you harder, growling with his desperate need. His leg kicked out and caught against the table's edge, rocking the chessboard and knocking pieces over.

The sound just loud enough to register in his mind. “Sorry, I-“

“Doesn’t matter Steven, please,” you moaned. At this angle the head of him constantly pressed so deep, rubbing consistently over that special spot and not even giving you a chance to breathe. No pause or reprieve from the oncoming onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake you.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whined, your thighs shaking and thrusts growing sloppy.

Steven growled, grabbing hold of your hips and pistoning upwards, not allowing your pleasure to dip. “Please, please, please, cum on my cock, please love, please. Tell me I’m your-”

“You’re my good boy.” You came dizzyingly hard, your fingers digging into Steven’s shoulders and leaving marks.

But he didn’t care. Couldn't care as you squeezed and fluttered around him, moaning ‘good boy’, and shaking as you fell apart in ecstasy.

Steven gasped, the air catching in his throat, the pleasure so potent it was like his heart stopped. He came deep, hot and thick, his hips still thrusting to prolong your high and to fuck his spend deeper into you.

You held each other tightly as you recovered, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin. It was only then that you pulled off your top and bra, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothing.

Steven nuzzled into you, softly kissing along your collarbone as you stroked his hair.

He chuckled suddenly and you moved back every so slightly to look him in the eyes.

“What?”

He grinned, dreamy and love sick, up at you. “Marc’s changed his mind. He’d quite like you to call him ‘good boy’ too.”

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Thank you for reading!

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