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distantdarlings · 6 months

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HOUSE PRIDE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, degradation, name-calling, jealousy, fem reader, language, dom!Theo--honestly, this is just depraved

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Pyramids - Frank Ocean

---

You pressed your face to your hands, breathing deeply. You couldn’t believe what you were fucking hearing. The pounding in your head refused to subside as he kept demanding an answer.

“Hello? Do you wanna explain why you were practically throwing yourself on Riddle today at lunch?” the brunette demanded, his eyes widened and wild. Your hands dropped and you made eye contact with the boy. You were in disbelief.

“Throwing myself at him? You dick, I tripped and fell on him! That’s just number one! Number two: you are not my fucking boyfriend,” you shouted, “I can throw myself on whoever I want, whenever I want!”

Theo locked his jaw and pursed his lips slightly. A tell of his that meant he was very angry. He didn’t usually speak much after he pushed past this point. More like, just crossed his arms and stared at you, eye bordering on twitching. You scoffed and held your hands out, waiting for a response from him. He said nothing.

“I don’t need you to tell me who to give attention to, Theo. You are not my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend. I tripped and fell against Mattheo this morning and we both laughed it off, so why can’t you?”

“You just tripped and fell on him and his hands landed on your ass? Oh, whoops, just an accident!” he mocked you.

“I don’t know if his hands were on my ass or not, he may have been trying to stabilize me as quickly as he could—but besides the point, who gives a fuck if he was touching my ass? It’s not like you’ve been too eager to do anything anytime soon!” you shout, blood rushing through your ears and cheeks. Shit. You did not mean to say that. His head shot back and his eyes widened slightly. You kept the anger imprinted on your face to attempt to hide the embarrassment you were feeling so strongly. Hopefully, he would think this was a super-confident confession written in a rage. Still, he said nothing.

“Oh, forget it! To hell with you, Theo!” you screamed, grabbing your robes and running out of his dorm room. He said nothing and made no move to stop you. Your feet carried you down the hallway and into your own room.

None of your roommates were here. You figured they were all in different dorms, preparing for the common room party in a few hours. Once every couple of months, some of the Slytherins—usually seniors—will get together and prepare a “house” party. They’re always fun, high-energy, and filled to the brim with Slytherin pride. Merlin, you loved them.

You had originally declined to go tonight. You had some leftover work that was due on Monday and you almost thought that Theo would invite you to Hogsmeade or something, but you should have known better than that. It seems all he’s concerned about is his reputation.

You tugged through the buttons on your uniform top and ripped it off your shoulders. You pulled your skirt and socks off, holding the end of your bed for balance. There were a couple of nice outfits shoved in the trunk beneath the bedframe—you figured something in there would do. You reached up and let your hair down from its elastic, allowing it to fall to its natural length. The ends of the waved strands tickled your skin as you yanked the trunk into the open. Inside were a couple of different combinations, all saved up for special occasions. And if anyone asked you, making Theo Nott as jealous as you possibly could was a very special occasion.

Your eyes fell on a specific top. A long sleeve, skin-tight sweetheart neckline that plunged a little deeper than it should, and a flared, darkened skirt. You reckoned it was simple and sexy. It practically bled Theo’s name all over your body, claiming you as his, though you pretended like you hated that. He never needed to know it, but you secretly loved how jealous he became when you had the smallest interactions with other people. You blow a curled hair out of your face. The fucker could have been running down the halls with a red tapestry taped to his back and you still wouldn’t call him a red flag. He was just what you wanted; what you’d wanted for years. Whether or not he’d ever actually act on your feelings for each other, you belonged to him and he belonged to you.

You slipped the outfit on, mussed up your hair a bit, and applied a light layer of makeup. With the two tests, three project due dates, and eighteen assignments you’d had this week, you could use a bit of a touch-up. Hopefully, you didn’t sweat it off by the end of the night—though, that was sort of the goal.

You grabbed your wand and slipped it into your back pocket, patting it twice for good luck, and pushed through the dorm door. Down the hallway, you could hear the faint pounding of music. Your heart raced, keeping in time with the deep bass pushing past the walls. Was this a good idea? For a few moments, you stood in front of your door, pondering your options. Your plan for this evening could either end really well or really badly or you could avoid the possibilities completely and stay in like you originally planned. A deep sigh left you as your eyes slid closed. Who cared? This was your life and, you’d said it earlier, Theo was not your boyfriend and you intended on finishing what you’d started with Mattheo earlier this morning.

Deep cool colors swirled throughout the common room, echoing off of every shadow and highlight in the moulding. Everywhere you looked there was another Slytherin scarf or Quidditch team hat. One boy even wore a Slytherin flag around his neck like a cape. You laughed at the absurd outfit. These parties were most definitely one of the best things about being a Slytherin. Say what you will about the house, but they could throw a fucking party.

You slid through swaying bodies, feeling the bass echo deep in your chest, rattling your ribcage. A couple of your friends were scattered throughout the crowd and slipped in gracefully with their personal friends. As you passed by them, they waved or flashed you a bright smile, all of which you returned. You would come back and talk but, for now, you were looking for someone specific.

There was a table set up in front of the fireplace, decked out with green and black decorations, and overflowing with tall glasses of firewhisky. Your eyes skated along the length of the furniture until it reached a familiar body. You smirked and grabbed a drink before making your way over.

Enzo stood against the edge of the table, discussing something with one of the “bartenders.” When you stopped in front of him, his lips ceased and his eyes found your chest, then your eyes. His lips remained parted. Sweet, sweet Enzo.

“Hey, En, I was wondering if you’d seen Mattheo, anywhere?” you smiled. He said nothing for a few seconds before stuttering back to life like an old car.

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen him anywhere…uh, why do you need—um, I mean, did you need to talk to him?” he stumbled, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. The boy he’d been talking to—some fifth-year—snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the two of you to pour a couple more drinks. You stepped closer to Enzo, feeling his body heat on you. The shoes you were wearing granted you a couple more inches of height, which, consequently, put your hairline just above his. His eyes were angled slightly upward as he watched you.

You waved him against you. He leaned in. The confidence burning through you tonight was more than you’d felt in a long time. You felt hurt and angry and frustrated. You could fix one of those quickly. You traced the skin above his ear, pushing a small tuft of copper hair back. A small shudder went through his body as you pressed your lips against his ear.

“I just wanted to dance and was looking for a boy who’d dance with me,” you said slowly. “I thought Mattheo would be the best but maybe you could…you know…”

You pulled away and smiled sweetly, placing a deep innocence into your eyes, watching as his lips parted and closed multiple times. You tilted your head to the right, allowing your eyes to switch from his eyes to his lips ever so briefly.

“I haven’t seen Mattheo, I’ll dance with you,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. You smiled brightly and grabbed one of the hands hanging limply by his side. You felt his warm skin beneath yours as you tugged him toward the center of the dancing mass. You were pretty sure you recognized the song playing and proceeded to work all of its beats throughout your body, encouraging Enzo to join you.

“Come on, En!” you laughed. “You’re supposed to dance with me.” He seemed to shock out of a momentary stupor. You felt good tonight and you hoped it was showing on your face and body. He still didn’t move and you reckoned he was going to take some physical guiding.

As the song slowed slightly, you grabbed both of his hands and slid them around your hips. His breath shuddered through his lips as you began moving the two of you. You dropped your hands to his belt and guided his hips a bit, biting back a smile. He had all of the facilities for these particular…activities, he was just really nervous. Soon enough, though, his hips were moving on their own.

You turned around and placed your back against his chest. Without prompting, his hands dropped down to your hips, gripping them firmly. He moved you against him to every beat of the song. To be honest, he was placing a little bit of blush in your stomach. One of your arms raised to wrap loosely around his neck.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed in his ear, cradling the base of his neck with your hand. One of his hands raised to hold your arm against him as the other stayed intact on your hip. A crooked smile found its way onto his lips as the both of you felt every rhythm the other was putting out. Fuck, maybe you’d picked the wrong boy all along. The way Enzo was grabbing your hips and ever so slowly grinding against your ass had your lips parting in a slow gasp.

“Like this?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Merlin, help you.

If anything could have pulled you out of your current situation, it was the burning eyes you felt against you pouring into your skin like a brand. You gasped a bit and looked away from Enzo. Almost immediately, you found Theo’s eyes on the two of you. Enzo noticed your sudden change of attention and glanced up, finding the older’s eyes. Like he’d been branded himself, his hands faded away from you and, almost as quickly, so did he. Fucker. So much for sticking by you.

You were used to it by now, though. Where you were involved, Theo was, too. Even though you weren’t actually together, everyone knew you were Theo’s. Anytime you were hanging out with another boy, he always found out. Even if it was just for a school assignment.

His jaw was clenched and ticking. His eyes were lidded and ice-cold, angled right at you. You rolled your eyes and huffed, stomping off through the crowd. He couldn’t get whatever he wanted all the time. He needed to pick. He needed to officially claim you as his, take you on dates, buy you gifts, and all that nonsense or he needed to leave you the hell alone. He couldn’t have it both ways.

You finally came upon the end of the crowd and the staircase leading to the girl’s dorms. You hurried up the steps, not even caring if he was behind you or ignoring you or with a different girl.

The hallway was completely empty, everybody down at the party or taking an early night. You rushed across the winding floors, trying your best to get to your room before Theo changed his mind. You just wanted to get out of your clothes and makeup and go to bed. Your dorm door appeared around the corner followed by an immense sense of relief.

Your hand closed around the doorknob and—a hand closed tightly around your arm and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as the perpetrator slammed you roughly into the wall just beside the door. It was Theo. He was livid, his breath coming out in hard slants, and his eyes so darkened they appeared black. You swallowed thickly, your breath rushing out of you just as his was. The two of you heard your hearts pounding in tandem.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded, his face inches from yours. Your eyes glanced down from his to his lips, watching the changes in his anger. He waited impatiently for an answer for too long before you realized it wasn’t meant to be a rhetorical question.

He grabbed your arm once more and pulled you away from the wall. A swift flick of his wand and a fury like no other, and he was pulling you into your empty dorm room. It was almost completely dark by now.

“You want some attention, huh?” he said, casting a flame into the stove set in the middle of the room, his grip on your arm never weakening. He slammed his wand down on your bedside table and pushed you onto your bed. You fell roughly against the mattress, your hands holding you up into a sitting position. He stared down at you wildly, like an angry parent.

“Answer me,” he growled. Your eyes bore the same innocence you’d given to Enzo earlier and you knew that he’d only last a few minutes like this. Already, his facade was flickering and his gaze was softening.

“I just—I don’t know, Teddy, I—”

“You just, you—you, you…fucking spit it out,” he mocked you. Body betraying your mind, heat pooled in your lower stomach as his face got closer and closer to yours and he got angrier and angrier. If it was anyone else, you’d have gotten embarrassed or angry but with Theo…it was a different feeling.

“All out of confidence, hmm? What happened, baby, you had plenty out there when you were grinding your ass all over Lorenzo Berkshire in front of everyone!”

“What’s wrong with Enzo?” you squeaked, your thumbs rolling over the other.

“He’s not me, you stupid girl,” he roared, his words perking your chest. You pressed your thighs together discreetly, never losing eye contact with him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you.

“Are you serious? Are you fucking turned on right now?” he asked. He had seen you. You didn’t say anything. His hand reached around and roughly gripped your hair, his fingers tugging deliciously on your scalp. He held your head back.

“Answer me, baby,” he whispered, his voice a thousand times different. “Does it turn you on when I shout at you? When you get me jealous and worked up?” The way he was looking down at you had you gulping against the strain being placed on your throat. You nodded.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he laughed darkly, the sinister tone in his voice echoing in your stomach. His hand let go of your hair and grabbed your jaw tightly. He held your face up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you fucking belong to?” An eyebrow quirked. You nodded once more, anticipation hitting you like a train. He smirked, releasing your jaw by pushing you back roughly. Your back came into contact with the bed, the material nearly knocking the breath out of you.

He crawled over you slowly, letting his lips ghost over your exposed cleavage, neck, chin, lips. He paused and allowed his breath to pour into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, the scent of it burning your lips. He pushed his tongue out and gently traced it over your bottom lip. Your lips parted in a gasp at the contact. Just as soon as your mouth had opened, his had covered it, suffocating all breath. You moaned into him, feeling the way his body held you tightly against the mattress.

You raised your hand to place your fingers beneath his shirt, but one of his hands reached down and grabbed yours with a speed your intoxicated brain wasn’t capable of comprehending right now. He raised them above your head and held them with a grip like a vice, his fingers violent and unyielding. You’d definitely have bruises in the morning.

You bucked your hips against him, trying to illicit some contact between your core and his. He grunted at the touch before pulling back and roughly turning you over, pressing your chest into the mattress.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled into your ear, still holding your hands tightly above you. “Do as I fucking say. I’m going to pull this skirt up and I’m going to fuck you and you’re not going to say a word but my name. Do you understand me?” You nodded frantically, impatiently waiting for some contact.

“Keep your hands there,” he instructed as he slowly let them go. You curled your fingers around the edge of the bed to keep them locked in place. You didn’t dare disobey him.

Behind you, you could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he pulled it from his jeans and dropped it to the floor. The anticipation was killing you, your thighs pressing tightly together for a chance at some friction. The heat between them was beginning to become too much.

He pressed bruising kisses along the side of your neck, trailing them down your shoulder. His teeth cut along the flesh, ripping blacks and blues into the sensitive skin. You whimpered at the feeling, knowing good and well he just wanted everyone to see whose you were.

His fingers ghosted along the outsides of your thighs, tracing the chills that appeared in their wake. You shuddered against the sheets, waiting to feel everything he was about to do. You couldn’t see any of his movements and, for whatever reason, that amplified the feeling by a million.

There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of rustling clothing. No part of him touched you and you found yourself becoming more and more desperate by the moment. You reckoned he was removing unnecessary items of his outfit but if he didn’t do something soon, you were going to start pitching a fit.

Then his thumb pressed against your thin undergarments, right where you needed him the very most. An awfully audible moan left your lips and your spine arched against his touch. Merlin help anyone who walked by this dorm or, worse, tried to come in.

“Please, baby,” you sighed, your fingers clenching tightly against the mattress. His hand roughly grabbed your hair once more, tugging your head back.

“My name only, you dumb slut,” he insulted before pushing your head back into the sheets. One hand held your head to the bed as the other lined his hips up with yours.

No matter how many times the two of you did this, you’d never get used to it. He was just so much better than any of the other boys in school. And there were a lot of them too. None of them felt like Theo and he knew it, too. He knew that you would always come back to him. He was impossible to leave. His touch and rough, degrading words were addictive and you couldn’t stay away from him. Your friends had told you over and over again that you needed to drop him and completely move on but you just couldn’t. He was the closest thing to a drug you had.

He tucked a finger beneath your undergarments and slid them over to the side. He placed a hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he ordered. You complied. He spread the material over his fingers slowly, coating each one thoroughly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand disappear and reintroduce itself with your core. The tips of his soaked fingers skirted between the slit of your skin, lathering you in his touch. Just as he’d instructed, his name poured from your lips like a prayer.

He pulled his hands away and quickly replaced them with a dark, warm heat that pressed into you agonizingly slowly, stretching every part of you out.

“Fuck, it’s been a while,” he groaned breathlessly, pushing into you until he bottomed out. His lips curve just above your ear, every moan and whisper touching your mind like a soft hand. As he began to move, they became louder and made less sense to either of you. His name curled around the room. You worshipped him. The reverence you placed on every syllable touched his chest and slid down to his core. He gasped into your ear. You sounded so fucking good.

It didn’t matter if he fucked every girl in Hogwarts, none of them could ever compare to you.

“Theo, baby, you feel so good,” you screamed, the words vibrating your skin.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed. You moaned aloud as he pressed an especially sharp thrust against you. “I know, I know.”

“Please, please, please,” you babbled, your words pathetic and useless. His hips never ceased their brutal pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “Are you my girl? Or are you Enzo’s?” He growled the last part, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair. You yelped at the feeling, tilting your head back to relieve some of the pain.

“No, no! I’m yours, Teddy, I’m all yours, please,” you begged.

“That’s right, baby.” He released your hair. Every movement of his body brought you closer and closer to your end. His hands gripping your hips and pulling himself toward his own, his lips curling against your ear, his weight holding you perfectly in place.

Neither of you would last much longer and you both knew that. Every deep push of his hips drove you further into your pleasure as you began to close around him, gradually coaxing a release out of him. One of his hands dropped down to trace tight circles against you, ignoring the way your hips quaked to get away from the overstimulation. You were done for.

Every sound pouring from his lips began to mingle with yours a bit closer as he pushed you through both of your final breaths. His hips got slower and his grip loosened on your waist. The loss of his support sent your weakened body falling back down to the mattress. A breathless chuckle came from him as he laid down beside you, his shimmering skin luminescent in the moonlight. You presented him with a tired smile.

“Could Enzo fuck you like that?” he asked, a proud smirk imprinted on his lips.

“I don’t know—I’ll let you know when I find out.”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #hogwarts fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle

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roosterr · 3 months

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i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

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islayhawkin · 3 months

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Let me take care of you

Newt x f!reader (clint x jeff mentioned- if you don't ship it just ignore it lol)

2,8k

Summery: newt accidentally overhears you talking about liking him but he thinks you were talking about minho

Request: Hello can you do a newt x fem!reader when the reader is a medjack and talk about (I forget if it’s Clint or Jeff) how she is love with him but she didn’t realize he was behind her ? Please

Misunderstandings; hurt/comfort, angst

A/N: okay this escalated pretty quick into angst whoops

Can be read as a part 2 of 'let me help you'

It was a usual morning in the glade. The runners were getting ready to start their rounds. Alby started to wake everyone up and frypan made breakfest ready.

You and jeff on the other hand were already in the med-hut to check up on a slicer who almost got his arm chopped off yesterday. Jeff held his fingers to the boys neck.

"He's still alive."

You hummed in relief.

"Lost much blood?"

You collected the things to change the bandage on the young boys arm.

"Nah seems pretty good."

You handed jeff a container of warmed up water and a cloth. "Thanks" jeff muttered as he began removing the blood soaked bandage from the arm. You sat down next to the bed and gave jeff a helping hand whenever he needed.

"How are things with clint?" You gave Jeff a teasing grin. Jeff sighed.

"There are no 'things' between me and clint." But he gave up long ago to deny it convincingly in front of you.

"You looked shucking cute cuddled up yesterday evening." You grinned as you took the dirty cloth and water bowl from him.

Jeff scoffed. "Oh yeah what about you lovebirds then? I'm pretty sure you two were the ones cuddled up. Half the glade was probably jealous." He took the new bandage from your hand. A blush coated your cheeks but you smiled softly at the memory. "Yeah we were quite close yesterday."

You realised that the boy jeff was currently treating was still fast asleep. "Nothing wakes him up does it?" You pointed to him.

Jeff chuckled. "He sleeps like a rock. But don't try to distract me. I'm telling you, you need to ask him out."

"Because you're the expert in that?" You raised your brow.

Jeff rolled his eyes and sat down too after finishing the bandage. "No. Because it is so clearly obvious to everyone. Do you know why the boys don't try anything anymore with you?"

You blinked confused. "No...?" "Newt threatens them. They're afraid they'll be banished or beaten to a pulp if they try something with you."

You were speachless for a moment. "What...? No newt doesn't do that... I know he's protective. That's why they set up the rules but he never uses violence."

"Well he does when you are involved. You remember how gally was brought in with a bashed in face? That was newt. Gally, as gally is, apperently said a lot of disrespectful stuff about you which he could not tolerate."

Your heart beat a bit faster. Newt did this for you? You knew newt avoided violence and stuck to order as much as he was capable off. And that he completely neglected these believes as soon as you were involved was weirdly...sweet.

"So I'm telling you- he cares about you very deeply. Almost concerningly so. And everyone of the boys is aware how you two look at eachother."

You couldn't contain your bright smile. "I never knew that. That is very sweet." You sighed dreamily. "He's just so adorable."

Jeff laughed quietly. "I tell you he's beaten someone up and you call him adorable?"

You glare at him with a pout. "You know that's not what I mean. He's just- so handsome. Even when his hair is touseled of sweat at the end of the day. I don't know how he does it. I could listen to his voice all day too. Every time I see him I just want to squeeze him out of excitment."

"I'm sure he is." Jeff muttered with a grin.

"He always looks out for everyone and rather neglects his own needs than others. I'd rather he wouldn't but I like that about him. He also has everything in control. I mean alby is the leader but he's the leader in the background. He always notices when something is wrong and asks about it. When he laughs he has these really cute crinkles on his nose. Sorry I'm rambling."

Jeff leaned forward. "Then do something about it. Honestly in the eyes of everyone you're already-"

Newt cleared his throat as he stood awkwardly in the doorway of the med-hut. He had walked in a minute ago and heard you talking about someone. At first he thought you might actually be talking about him but his self-consciousness told him you were probably talking about minho. You two always were so close. Minho was a phisical guy. He was muscular. Had great humor. Of course newt understood why you'd fall for minho. After all it was his best friend. But it still stung. A lot.

Newt didn't mean to eavesdrop but he couldn't really find a good moment to interrupt until he couldn't stand hearing more.

His face showed a friendly expression but his eyes wouldn't meet your face.

You on the other hand were turning around to look at newt with wide eyes. You didn't know how long he stood there. How much he heard. If he even heard anything so you tried to slow your heartbeat and act normally.

Jeff glanced between you two as if he was watching a very interesting story unfold before his eyes.

"I uh. I need to get some supplies for the runners. They're about to start. But maybe you'd like to bring it yourself to minho?"His eyes were lowered to the ground.

"Yes of course. No problem." You hastily stood up and collected the small supplies for the runners. As soon as you finished speaking newt was already gone again.

You stilled as you realised this and turned to jeff with wide eyes. "Do you think he heard?"

"He heard something."

"Why did he storm off then?"

Jeff raised his shoulders. "You should probably go talk to him."

***

You did try and talk to him but after the encounter Newts behavior changed. He clearly tried to avoid you. He was a lot more in his room. Even locked up so alby couldn't get in to sleep. He almost worked aggressively hard as a track-hoe. Not stopping to work at dinner time and starting to work before the others were even up.

The others noticed too of course. Newt was the glue after all. Without Newts full help the glade got into a more chaotic state. Alby needed to scream around a lot more. He even seemed to be angry at newt for acting this way.

He didn't come to the med-hut anymore. Neither for his limp nor to pick you up for sleep.

For you and frankly everybody else it was a unreasonable change of behavior. You knew the things he overheard in the med-hut were the trigger for this but you could not fathom why he'd be so distraught because of it.

But to Newt it was perfectly reasonable. You were in love with minho and the latter obviously in love with you. The whole glade seemed to be. You were the only girl. What chance did he have.Newt saw it clearly. You always were with minho. Sometimes even disapearing with him into the woods. He didn't even want to think about what you did. You always kissed minhos cheek. Hugged him a lot. Minho always flirted with you.

And it was even worse that minho was his best friend. He loved minho dearly. They've been through everything together. And he couldn't bare the thought of losing you both when you two were so close.

This reaction to the pain he felt in his chest may have seemed overdramatic to a outsider but to newt it wasn't only about 'not getting a chance with you'. It made him realise that the love he felt for you, the hope you gave him, was all in his head. He needed your love. Desperately. And he didn't know how to cope without it again.

This worried you. A lot.The behavior reminded you of the time after his incident. How you first got to know him after waking up in the glade. He seemed broken then and he did now.It made you realise that nothing really changed about newt. He was still that small kid that you first met.

What worried you even more was his self-harming behavior. Not taking any consideration about the state of his body.

He didn't stop working even when alby told him to. Sometimes he didn't show up for dinner because of it. You always took a extra ration from frypan and brought it up to his room.

You knocked softly on the locked wooden door. "Newt?" There was no answer. "Newt I brought you dinner. You need to eat something."

Silence.

You almost layed the plate down in front of the door again when the door opened a bit.

Newt couldn't help but take that glimpse of your care.

You gave him a smile. "Hey." You held the plate out in front of you. "Here. You missed dinner."

Newt took the plate from your hands hesitantely and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Thanks."

Before he could close the door again you held the door open with your foot. "Newt what's wrong? I know I've been asking this constantly the last few days but I worry about you. The whole glade does. You're not acting like yourself." Your voice was soft.

He shrugged carelessly. "Maybe I just have my period." He tried to joke. You were glad he attempted a joke again. But you also knew it was his way of distracting of the matter at hand.

You gave him a look. "We both know that is not the reason."

Newt sighed. "There is nothing wrong. I'd like to sleep."

You scanned his face desperate for a answer. "Is all this about what you heard me talking about?"

Newt froze up. "I never heard anythin'. Good night." He closed the door and locked it. He leaned his back against the door and took deep breaths. Blinking away tears.The situation didn't stop him from defending you though. On the contrary. He got more angry. More irretable. The usual calm and collected newt was overcome with a more emotional one.

Minho and alby gave you a explicit instruction to get throught to him at breakfast table that morning.

And you were determined to do so today. This has been going on for a few days too long for your liking. When you made your way over to the gardens in search of him the sign you were met with made a stabbing pain in your heart. Newt was working in the garden as usual. Pulling vegatables out, getting new fertilizer, sowing new ones. You normally loved watching him work. But today the pain was evident on his face. His limp finally catching up with the pressure he was constantly putting on it. You saw him stumble a few times but he pushed through obviously.

Until he just...collapsed. His leg gave out under him. You could see him staying layed on the ground. His face on the earth. Exhausted. Suddenly his lanky frame you oh so loved looked a bit too skinny for your liking.

You hurriedly made your way over to him. When he noticed you he tried to scramble up fastly which only made his limp buckle under his weight again. He cursed under his breath.You kneeled down beside him and gripped his arm and a hand around his waist. "Shuck newt. What are you doing..."

"I'm fine. I'm fi-" he struggled to get up again with the few strength he had left.

You pulled him down against you by the waist again. "Stop it." There was a plea in your voice. "Stop it newt. You're hurting yourself."

He still struggled against your hold. "Let go. There is nothing...wrong" his voice cracked.

You didn't let him go. He turned his head away from you as a tear rolled down his cheek and he started to shake slightly.

Everything hurt him. His body. His mind. Only your soft touch gave him comfort.

"Shh." You turned his head to you gently. He didn't meet your eye but you could see in them the pain he was in. You wiped the tear away with your thumb.

"Come on. I'll take care of you." You stroked a dirty strand of hair out of his face and helped him stand up. A lot of his weight leaned on you as you led him into the med-hut. Clint looked up startled when he saw you carry a half limp newt in.

"Out." You ordered him but added a thankful smile.

Clint nodded with a glance at newt and scrambled out of the hut. Newt let himself fall down onto a bed. You took a blanket and tucked him into it, started to boil water on the fire and pushed another pillow under his head.

"I will be right back. Don't go anywhere." Newt watched how you gave him a sweet smile and made your way outside again.You came back with a bowl of food and a bottle of water, shut the door to the med-hut to build as much privacy as possible.

You sat yourself down on the side of his bed and showed him your loot. "What do you want?" A loving smile thrown his way.

"Carrot" he cracked out.

You put the rest of the food aside and handed him the carrot. He moved up to rest his back against the wall and hesitantely began to eat the carrot under your careful watch. The silence engulfed the room for a while only the cracks of the carrot being heard.

You made a heating pad with the boiling water meanwhile and pulled the leg of newts trousers up to gently lay the warm pad onto his throbbing knee.

You did what you always did. Care for him. Take care of him. He had missed this terribly. But he hadn't forgotten what had happened.

He looked at you a long moment. Watched your every move. He felt like he hadn't been able to look at you proberly for way too long. "Do you-" he swallowed. "Do you like my voice too?" His voice was timid. He wasn't sure why he chose that detail to ask.

"What?" You ask perplexed and looked up at his face.

"Nevermind" his voice was still raw.

"Of course I like your voice. How do you come to that question?"

Newt didn't know how to answer that question so he stayed silent.

You sighed and slid nearer to him on the bed. "Newt what's wrong? Please tell me. You are in a horrible condition. I'm worried. Everyone is worried."

"I- heard you. The other day. Talking about minho. You should give him a go if you feel that way about him."

You blinked. To you his talk was making none sense at all.

"but uh-" he swallowed. "Can I still come to you if you...?"

You frowned. "I'm not sure what you're talking about newt. Of course you can come to me. Always. You know that. But what has this to do with minho-?" The words now registered completely in your brain. "You think I was talking about Minho?"

Newt looked away painfully. "Yes I suppose it was obvious for a while..."

You shook your head in realisation. "Newt."

His eyes snapped up to yours. "I wasn't talking about minho. I was talking about you."

Newt thought he hadn't heard right. "W-what?"

"Yes. I mean minho is great. I love him too. But he's not you."

"You like all that about...me ?"

"Of course. You are...amazing." You laughed quietly.

Newt was speechless.

Your heart was beating a lot more faster than normally but you tried to ignore it. Taking a deep breath. "May I...lay with you?" You whispered.

He never wanted- needed anything more. But his brain was in freeze and he could only nod his head.

You cautiously layed down next to him and crawled your body under the blanket too. You were very clode to eachother. You could feel the presence of his body next to you. He felt himself relax in the presense of your body next to him. Your small breath tickling his cheek.

You decided to let your instincts take over and slid your hand around his waist gingerly. Newts body tensed up and he sucked in a small breath at the sudden contact.

"Thank you." He breathed out. His body relaxing again.

"For what?" You whispered.

"Loving me. Pulling me out. Caring for me. Without you I'd probably would have taken another go at that jump long ago." His self humor shone through.

You smiled but lightly squeezed him. "Don't joke about that. I'm glad you feel that way. Thank you too."

"For what?" He retorted my own question back.

"Being you. Looking out for me. I heard the boys were threatened by you?"

A blush formed on his cheeks. "Yeah they were saying disrespectful stuff and I can't let them wander around thinking they can try whatever they want with you."

You smiled. "Always holding the order up."

"It's my job." You looked at his big brown eyes.

"Please don't punish yourself like this again. Don't shut yourself off like this. I'm not sure why you're punishing yourself. You don't have to tell me. But I don't want you to do it. Please? At least talk to me."

"I'll try."

#newt x reader #newt tmr #newt maze runner #hurt/comfort #newt imagine #the maze runner #tmr #Clint x jeff

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ja3hwa · 4 months

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♡ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : It's been so long since you've seen your boys. And when the youngest comes knocking on your door, the new life you had only just managed to build comes crashing down.

『Word count』 : 4.8k

-> Genre: Mafia au. Angst. Fluff.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Ot8 Ateez x Reader

[Warnings] : lots of heart ache. The reader is beside herself a lot. Blood. Gore. Death. Torture. Reader gets kidnapped. Tears. Hugging. Lots of cry. Grovelling (we stan a good grovel). And yeah, lots of angst but fluffy at the end. Kissing. Mingi got a dirty mind. Whoops.

Note: uh, so hi. Ahha It's been a while... I finally decided to actually finish the alt ending of this fic. I've had people ask for more, and I honestly forgot about it. But then i saw someone send in THIS request, and it made me want to finish this. So this can be read as a stand-alone. But if you want to read part 1 and the other ending. Go ahead, otherwise enjoyyyyy ♡

Part one | Other Ending

Masterlist | Navigation

You were alone. Wandering through life with nothing to hold onto. You were going underwater, and no one was around to help you above the heavy waves. You were numb. Heartbreak ridding you of happiness… Or so you thought.

Through a bottle or two... Maybe three or four. You found at the end of it. You were just as unhappy as you were before you took the first sip. You needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of personality. A completely new life. So there you were two towns over. Maybe not a whole country away from the old you, but this was just as good. A new apartment. New job. Architectural design. You enjoyed it, so dearly. It became something that kept you going. That kept you waking up. You were fighting for a glimpse of happiness in mornings that were still hard, and nights were just as restless as ever.

You were alone. Yes. But you tried.

It's been two whole years. You think you’d forgotten everything by now. But the biggest, deepest pain didn’t seem to heal as quickly as everyone says it does. Fucking Liars…

You were having a break from your long hours of sketching a new mansion floor plan, a private owner wanted it done within the week and for a heavy price and as much as it was a distraction you couldn't help but think how the design the private buyer seemed to want a floor plan that resembled something that one of your old lovers would have loved. The vintage vibe with a green and gold theme matched Mingi and Yunho perfectly. Your brain almost thought maybe they were the private buyer. But why would they go to you after what you had ‘apparently done’ to them? Before you could dwell on the idea anymore, the sound of your doorbell broke your gaze from the large sketch in front of you.

You question why someone would be visiting you at this hour, given that most of your clients would email you beforehand and your ‘friends’ would text. So, who could possibly be at your door? Your heart thumped strangely as if your body knew who was beyond the large oak before you. A ball started to form at the base of your throat. Was this anxiousness you were feeling? Gripping the silver handle, you creek the door open slowly, and when your gaze met the other person you feel your heart stop.

“Hi…”

You looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression, tilting your head in confusion. Hi? After all these years, hi is what he starts with. What does he take you for? A hopeless woman needing a man to catch her when she falls?

You go to shut the door without a second thought, but he catches it in his strong arms. The same arms that used to hold you. Shield you from all the danger―no stop you didn’t need them when you were completely broken and you most certainly don’t need them now.

“Please let me explain. Honey, I just…” He was scrambling to find his words, his breath catching his throat like he was running a marathon prior to this interaction. “I wanted to see you…tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho.” You finally spoke, silently yelling at yourself for sounding so shaky in your voice when you wanted to be mad, tone-deaf, blunt. But here you are, wanting to cry cause of the anger surging through you. Why must you always cry when you get mad. “You don’t get to come here after almost two fucking years, call me honey and tell me how much you miss me and think I’ll just fall back into your arms as if nothing happened.”

“T-that’s not what I want nor expect from you. I just want―I don’t care what you want. Now get off my porch.” You cut him off, slamming the door in his face before breaking down the minute you heard the latch click. Your legs buckle, sliding down the door before your knees hit the ground, sobbing into your hands. Your heart was breaking all over again, just like the night you left. You wanted nothing more than to run after him, beg him to hold you. But you couldn’t. They hurt you so much. How do you even begin to forgive them for what happened all those years ago?

Through the next months, you kept receiving letters, flowers, and gift boxes. Even teddy bears. Why would they give you teddy bears? You think they would have known you from being with them for so long. Throwing yet another soft plush toy on the ever-growing pile that sat in your office. You were beginning to become sick of it. You thought after you yelled at Jongho, he and the others would have gotten the hint, but you guess being dumped by eight mob bosses wasn’t as easy as you thought.

Sighing, you click your tongue, looking at the stack of letters you have yet to burn. You can’t even be bothered to open them, not wanting to even listen to anything they might have to say. But another part of you was curious. Maybe one letter couldn’t hurt, right? Reaching for the one on the top, your fingers grasp the small paper. It’s rough against your skin. Like the paper was made from a poor-quality tree. Odd? Why would your ex-lovers gift you such cheap gifts? Not that you were expecting high-priced gifts, but they had enough money to buy half the world, so you think them getting something with a heavier price tag wouldn’t matter. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t adding up.

But before you could think of anything else, a loud, almost anger-filled knock comes from the front door. Your body was suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps erode all over your skin as a sickening feeling clouds your head. Grabbing your letter opener―just in case―you walk slowly towards the noise. Thoughts ran through your head in time with the beats of your racing heart. You knew walking towards the suspicious noise was a bad idea, but what else could you do? Whoever was there would know you were home by the lights being on or how your car is parked in the driveway. You couldn’t just pretend you weren’t home, no matter how hard you wanted to try.

Your fingers graze the door handle, feeling your breath hitch. You twist it slowly until you hear the creek of the door hinges swing inwards. You brace yourself for whoever it was, but what you are met with confused you. The porch was empty?

No one in sight…

But you certainly heard a loud knock. You were going crazy… were you? You huff, straightening up, feeling relief wash over you. Maybe it was some kids pranking the neighbours again, and you were their target for the day. Who knows. You click the door closed, but you lock it this time because even though you see no threat, you wanted to be sure. Entering your office again you walk over to the letters in order to continue what you were doing but when your eyes gaze over the pieces of paper you notice the one you were going to open wasn’t on the table. Where did you go? You thought, placing the letter opener on the table so you could place your hand on the edge of the oak desk so you could look under it. You looked everywhere and couldn’t seem to find it. It was like it had vanished. But…was that a flash? Something caught your eye.

Looking at the teddy bears, you see the letter sitting in the lap of one of the plushies. Tilting your head you notice a little red flash like as if there was a recor―Your eyes snap open stumbling back slightly before turning to run but your body is met with a very broad object and then before you can get any baring on what or who was in behind of you, everything went black.

It was like the world was spinning, your head pinging with an aching pain from the left side of your skull. You tried to open your eyes and look around, but you quickly figured out you were blindfolded and bound to what seemed to be a chair. Typical. Why is it that whenever someone gets kidnapped, they get tied to an old wooden chair? Why couldn’t it be a couch or one of those soft deck chairs? You could hear some scampering around you, three, maybe four people had entered the room you were in. You can smell their shitty cheap cologne that they most likely think bend women at the knees. You knew what kind of people they were before even seeing them.

“Well well. Looks like my men have caught a pretty mouse of us to play with.” The heavy voice echoed around the room, hinting to you that you were most likely in an open area. A warehouse, maybe? “You are gonna be my ticket to freedom songbird.”

You had to cringe at the pet name that fell from his lips. The name you were known as in the mafia world. More specifically, Ateez’s Songbird. You tried to sit still, hoping to show a fraudulent sense of confidence, but in reality, you were petrified. You no longer had the eight men you loved dearly to save you. Then again, you had no one to save you. Most of your friends lived out of town and wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you begged. You were alone with these men. Blindfolded and at their will. The man you assume was talking before lifted your blindfold off, seeing your eyes suddenly gaze upon the piercing light from the headlamp above you. You can see your suspicions were correct, four men ranging from sizable jock build to more lean ones but in the end, they were all ghastly, staring you down as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

“I want to know where Ateez is….” The grunt that escaped from the immoral male smelled of booze and low-quality cigars. His eyes were painted his redness, as if he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. He was boarding insanity at this rate by his expression. “Well come on, I know you know where they are, and to be blunt, I need them dead. You know business and all.” He rambles, walking around your figure while you sit there listening to his utter bullshit. His words remind you of when a villain in the story starts blabbering to the captor about how they needed to defeat the hero in order to take over the world. But in this case, both sides are just as villainous as each other, and the “world” that’s referenced is stocks… weapons, contraband, drugs, money. The list goes on and on.

“Why are you so quiet, Songbird? Protecting your lovers?”

Now that one made you laugh, shaking your head in annoyance. Argh, what you would give to be home with a strong whiskey in hand right now. Your reaction sent a shocked expression to the disgusting man's face. He expected you to plea, beg for him to not hurt Ateez, to not hurt the loves of your life and yet here you sit, laughing right in his face like he had just said the most entertaining thing to you.

“I don’t know where they are.” You finally spoke, a sadistic smile painted your face. To never backed down from his gaze, almost trying to intimidate him with your blazed stare. “Why would I know, or care where they are? They don’t care about me.”

His paced. Fuck. He thought. Did his men really just kidnap you for no reason? He was going to shoot someone for this. He began to sweat, you were his only hope of getting the men he hates, attention. And now you were useless. His hand raked through his hair, coming down to scratch the stubble on his chin. What is he going to do with you now? Looking back at you his eyes slid down your body from head to toe, as if he was a predator sizing up his prey. You felt a sudden uneasiness. Maybe telling the man that held your life in his hand you were useless, wasn’t your greatest idea.

He moved away, whispering to one of his men before he sent him off, turning back to you straight after. He stepped one foot in front of the other in a slow and formed way, as if he had come up with the best plan in history. His devious smile brought a lump in your throat and the way he leaned down in front of you, placing both hands on the chair arms so he was face to face with you. “Well, little dove. We can find other uses for you, hmm?”

An idea popped into your head, and maybe it was your hotheadedness or your sheer stubbornness to do things out of spite. Bringing your body back slacked against the chair frame, you watched as his smirk grew, thinking he had finally managed to scare you, but before he could react, you whipped your head forward. Your forehead smashes against his nose with a sickening crack, and a blood-curtailing scream follows. The man gripped his nose with a sharp hiss. You could see blood pouring down like a waterfall from his nose, spilling all over his clothes and floor. Your blurred vision and ache in your skull doesn’t last long as you shake your head. You can see his men crowding around him to see if he is okay.

“Bitch!” He swore, standing up straight from his crouched position to stomp over to you and slap you clean in your face, making you and the chair fall over, smacking your side against the concrete. You can feel your wrist twist before popping out of place from the impact. Your elbow scraped against the harsh floor along with your arm, making you feel the sensation of your blood escaping through the broken skin. A cut on the top of your head also spilled some blood onto the floor making a headache begin to form. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Get the kit. I wanna teach this whore a lesson.” He spat out some blood that spilled into his mouth from his nose.

“whore? I thought it was bitch? Or as it little dove?” you need to shut your mouth but you choose to keep pushing his buttons. Idiot. He kicked you square in the gut making you hitch your breath before almost coughing up a lung at the pain. Your watered eyes could now barely see as you tried to blink the tears away. You spot out the corner of your eye a bag of what you could only guess, torture tools. Great, now you really fucked up.

You had passed out at least two or three times, and every time, you were woken up by ice-cold water to the face. The temperature of the water stung your opened wounds and burned at your hot red flesh. Time was absent to you, not knowing how long you’d been sitting, tied to the comfortable chair. God, your limbs were gonna ache once you were able to get out. that’s if you get out.

Maybe you will die here. The irony. Dying in a place of crime in a life of anguish when you so desperately tried to run from it. To try so hard to clean up and forget the darkness that lingered in your past. But in truth, you missed. As sicken as it sounded. You missed the violence, the thrill, the wealth and power. You missed being feared by your enemies and adored by your lovers. Call you sadistic for finding nostalgia in torture, but it was true. Even if you were the one who was currently being hurt, you couldn’t help but smile weakly.

“I found her!!” A muffled voice and sounds of gunshots echoed around you. But you were so dazed you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the noise. Your eyes were fuzzed, and blood tainted your view. Everything was happening so fast until you saw the stillness.

“Y-yuyu?” Your eyes glossed, seeing a blurred figure that resembled Yunho. But it couldn’t be him, could it? You must be dreaming, finally getting ready to leave this plane, but why would your guardian angel look like Yunho?

“I’ve got you, baby. Hold on.” You had already passed out for the final time before you would hear another word slip from your ex-lover's mouth. His rough hands gripped the rope that bounded your hands, cutting it away with his pocket knife. He snaked his arm under your legs and on your lower back, picking you up from the old wooden chair with ease. Your blood had pooled on the floor and now trailed behind Yunho as he jogged with you in his arms. His suit was now tainted red from you, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was getting you to safety and maybe killing some assholes along the way.

To say you couldn’t explain the pain surging through your body was correct. You had never experienced such torture before, and man, you were definitely regretting some of the stupid shit you had said to the low-life mob boss earlier. Your vision was still so blurred, and your head was ringing. You could faintly see a bedside with a clock on it. But the face was dark like it was unplugged. You know this place. You remembered the smell of vanilla and pine. You remembered the dark spruce bed frame and emerald forest green bed sheets. You weren’t thinking when you started to snuggle into the bedding, inhaling the comforting scent.

You missed his smell. You missed being in this bed. God, you didn’t realize how much you missed them. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to forgive them. But the comfort…. tears were falling from your cheeks onto the silk pillow. You were sobbing, and your mind was beside itself. One part screaming at you, telling you to suck it up and leave. But on the other side, you were so tired. So, so…tired…. and all you wanted was your boys.

“Sugar…” You froze, hearing the man that belonged to the bedroom. His deep voice, velvet and smooth. You could hear a crack in it like he had been in tears prior. You didn’t move, frozen with fear, because you knew if you looked at him in those beautiful brown eyes, you would be done for. “Baby, are you awake?”

He knew you were, but he didn’t want to approach you without knowing if it was okay. He knew by the way you looked at them last time you saw them that you had feared them. Something he never wanted to see in your beautiful innocent gaze. Torment that he and the others caused. He would never forgive himself, so he understood if you never did either. “I want to go home…”

You didn’t know what else to say. So god damned scared to stay cause if you did, you might not leave. And you couldn’t do that. What they put you through. You couldn’t possibly begin a relationship with them again… right? “Mingi, please take me home…” you felt so small calling for him, you didn’t want to be surrounded by his scent but at the same time, you didn’t so much as budge from the covers. You didn’t want him to be near you, but yet when he sat down on the edge of the bed, your body was screaming to be held by him. Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to end up like this? Why was this your ending with them?

Mingi couldn’t find his wording, his hand coming up to your covered shoulders, putting a firm but gentle touch on it. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, kiss you. Make love to you while repeating how sorry he was over and over while he caused you to come over and over. “I missed you…” His voice cracked. “We all have…” better now than never to explain himself, right? “After the first couple of weeks, we found out that those pictures were faked. A way to manipulate us into crumbling our empire. They thought if they could put us all at each other's throats. I guess they won…”

“How did you find they were fake?” You asked in a whisper, keeping your face covered with the bed sheet.

“Another anonymous tip went off that San was ‘sneaking’ around with some guy. But Wooyoung was quick to debunk it cause San was with him that whole week. So we quickly found out that this was a ploy to rip us all apart… which worked.” Mingi regretted every word he spoke. They managed to find out San was innocent quicker than you. San was lucky he had an alibi, though unlike you, that was away without their knowledge, just trying to buy a gift for your anniversary... god, they were so stupid...

“It...Worked?” You were confused about that since it only caused you to leave. From your knowledge, the boys were all still together? Mingi sighed, standing up, which caused you to peek out from your hiding spot to see him pouring a whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. Before downing the amber-coloured liquor.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong became obsessed with work. They’ve become biter…” He took another shot of the harsh liquor. “Cruel… The number of people they’ve put in the dungeons just from looking in their direction wrong.”

You felt sick, flashes of them yelling at you, cursing you. The image of them with that anger plus a gun. You felt sorry for any of the suckers that were unlucky enough to gaze at them wrong. You tangled your fingers into the soft sheets, playing with the velvet fabric. You note how the hand that had popped out earlier was still slightly swollen and numb, making you barely able to feel the fabric on your right fingertips. “W-What about the others…”

“Jongho spent most of his time looking for you. Spying on you. Seeing all the achievements you have made.” He sounded proud of you for a moment like he sought knowledge of your life from the youngest. “Yeosang drove himself into his computer work, taking on small tasks in the outer parts of the city. If we hadn’t said we brought you home, he would have still been hiding somewhere.” He flicked his hand in the air, scoffing slightly.

“San and Wooyoung changed the most when you left. They became lost without you, distant… different. Like the sunshine was ripped from their life, and darkness consumed them.”

He took a seat at the end of the bed again. You had sat up, crossing your legs, eyeing his figure. He has gotten bigger than the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up, and from what your memory could recall, Yunho was bigger as well. The way his arms felt being around you as he carried you to safety were definitely bulkier. “And what about you? Yunho?”

He huffed, glancing up at you. His hand was so close to your covered legs. So close yet so far. “Yunho and I are…fine. We missed you.”

You knew fine meant they were both struggling just as much as the others. You shifted, moving a little closer to him. Your heart was still aching, but your body was craving to feel some warmth. and at this point, you were so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. Tired of anyone telling you who or how to live your life? who cares if you run back to your exes? Who cared if you decided you move back with them? It’s not like you have friends or family that would tell you otherwise. All you had was them. Eight cruel mob bosses who would do anything for you and who were scared when they thought you had betrayed them. “I missed you too.”

His wide, glossy eyes snapped to yours. Like he had just heard someone spill the secret to life itself. His mouth went dry, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spill his guts about how much he missed your smile and missed your laugh. Missed the way you would tease him for being too clingy, but yet you were just as clingy in the next breath. He missed the way your body would melt against his on cold nights, searching for warmth. Or how you would fit so perfectly around his….

“Min…You mind is wondering…” You knew his tells, and you knew he was sinking into his mind.

“I uh…I’m just trying to find the words to say I’m sorry without it sounding like it was an excuse.”

“I believe you’re sorry, mingi. I believe you are all sorry. It doesn’t change or fix what happened. And it’s going to take time for me to trust you all again. But…” You leaned over, placing your hand on his shaking thigh. “I do forgive you.”

He broke.

“We don’t deserve your forgiveness. We don’t deserve you…” Tears were falling down his red cheeks, making you jump to wipe each one away without a second thought. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you noted the smell of the whiskey on his breath and the warmth of his body radiating to yours.

“You might not deserve me. But who is here to tell me to stay away…” he gave you a smile. You didn’t want to forgive him or the others fully per se, but you did want this push-and-pull game. This cruel twisted game of forbidden love.

“The others are going to want to see you…” He spoke cautiously, afraid you might recoil away from him if he spoke too loudly. You just sighed, lowering your hands into your lap once again, sitting back. You could feel your wounds with every movement, but it wasn’t as painful as before. They must have given you some painkillers prior to when you were passed out. You were about to speak when a sudden thud was heard, quickly followed by a bunch of hushed whispers. You couldn’t help but smirk at the childishness, for angry mafia kings they sure know how to act like goofballs.

“They’re outside aren’t they?” You cocked your brow, giving Mingi a simple straight expression. He just rubbed the back of his neck with a small whisper of, ‘Sorry.’

You rolled your eyes, telling him to let them in. Your heart might have been racing faster than a race car, but you tried to hide the growing anxiousness with a plain expression. You were going to hear them all out. You were going to hug San and Wooyoung as they sobbed on the end of your bed with mumblers of ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You were going to give Yeosang a knowing look, so he knew that his silence was accepted and that you weren’t mad. You were going to thank Yunho for saving you, and he was going to kiss your palm as you held his cheek briefly.

And you were going to cry.

Sob at how Hongjoong sat on his knees, grovelling for your forgiveness and pleading how he was so messed up for not believing you. You’d all cry seeing the leader so vulnerable. And Seonghwa. Your darling, hwa… you would see such sorrow in his eyes. But you would let him kiss your cheek, hold you for a moment. Let him have you for a moment while you get your mind into check.

This was not a redemption. This was not forgetting. But a new chance.

Not a new chapter but a new book entirely.

You were going to grow, do your own thing. Be with them while you find yourself. And maybe, just maybe. You’d take Jongho’s offer all those years ago…and finally say yes…

— ♡

668 notes · View notes

luffysscraps · 7 months

Text

Throat choke;🔞;Drabble;Ft; Monkey D. Luffy

Cw;NSFW;Fem reader;Spit kink;Choking;Gross Luffy;Sloppy sex

“Mo~More~! D-deeper~ open wider~!” Luffy requested so much from you when he knew you had your throat filled with his cock. Your head hung over the bedside while his hips were leveled with your head. His hips would snap and thrust into your mouth at a very quick pace, choking you every time his length reached the back of your throat. His balls would slap against your face with every thrust, giving your skin a colored mark in the shape of his testicles and whiff of his musk.

Tears flowed down your face from you gagging on his cock. His hands gripped the sides of your face to hold you steady like you were nothing but his toy. “S-soo~ good~! Aha~ ahh~!” God He’s so loud, if the bed rocking didn’t give it away his moans and groans sure will. You felt his drool fly from out of his mouth and onto your breasts coating it in his slime. From the side of your face all the way to your stomach was covered in hickies and love bites. The male had devoured you earlier and now it was your turn to be his little toy.

You felt him in your skull, he was fucking your brains out with every single thrust. He would go in fast spurts, fucking you into oblivion before he stops, holds your head firmly on his balls while his whole dick is inside of your mouth. He stopped briefly to pant and catch his breath, unintentionally choking you with his dick. The skin of his balls sticking to your nostrils, not allowing you to breath and suffocating you silently. Your eye’s sclera turn red from the lack of oxygen, your eyes roll to the back of your head as you tug on his thigh, desperately trying to get his attention so you can breath again.

“Whoops, sorry-“ Is all he says as he pulls his length out of your mouth. You cough and gag, tears streaming down your face and you feel a bit light headed. It was an honest mistake! You should really tell him when you can’t breath!

Anyways, he’s back on it in seconds. Recovering his stamina faster then you can your need to breath. Right after apologizing for choking you, he’s right back at it. Shoving his dick down your throat, his dick stretching the skin around your throat causing a bulge to show in your throat. You whine and moan sending vibrations up his cock that only seem to motivate him more in chasing his orgasm. “Sooo~ Good~ Hahaha~! Y/N~! Your mouth is so tight! Gonna empty my balls down your throat~!” Luffy cries out, he’s rambling almost like a mad man as he fucks your throat. Spitting a bit when he speaks, causing it to splash on your face and chest.

Your eyes roll back as his speed somehow increases, you didn’t think he could get any faster but he does. His size hits the back of your throat with strength and speed, so hard and so rapidly your throat would be sore in the morning. Your mouth making naughty sounds from the gargling and gagging on his dick. His moans and skin slapping mixing with the noises causing the room to sound like nothing less then a porn shoot.

Luffy throws his head back and slams his length down your throat one last time. “Ugh-UGHA~! C-Cumming~!” He speaks babbles as his loads shoots to the back of your throat, only stopped from going down it by the latex condom around his length. He squirms and jolts as his seed keeps flowing, his dick twitching and throbbing with every shot, shooting his sticky cum down your throat. You feel the condom filling inside of your throat, a bag of cum now lodged in your gullet.

Once he was finished, he pulled out panting, the weight of his cum causing the condom to shimmy off of him a bit. The ball of cum still stuck in your throat as he’s panting besides you. “Hah…ha…” He pants out above you, sweat grazing his abs as he can only think about the blissful Ecstasy he had just moments ago. Your face turns red as you gag and inhale on the ball of cum stuck in your throat.

You try to force it out with a couple of hard blows but you were too weak and tired from being fucked out. It’s only when Luffy feels your weak fingers tapping on his thighs and your hics and coughs does he notice the condom’s end is still in your throat. He’s about to pull it out to help you but he only watches as finally one of your gags kicked the latex bag out of your throat. The cum bag covered in your spit sat and rolled down your face as you were panting trying to recover your breath.

He stared at you with wide eyes. His dick instantly hard again from the gross and sexy sight of you. His face filled with red, he knows it’s a long shot because you look half conscious at this point but…

“One more.” He begs like he did the last time and before you know it your throat is clogged with his cock once again.

825 notes · View notes

wifeofasith · 6 months

Text

Warnings — Angst & Fluff, Professor x Student relationship, reader feels inferior, implied smut, descriptions of sex, inappropriate touching (brief), degrading (brief), reader's jealous, Anakin has anger issues, word 'homicidal' mentioned, neglection, Anakin is slightly aggressive.

Word count — 2.3k

Notes — Another lovely request, loved it! I'm not too good at angst because anything that doesn't involve Anakin being head over heels for the reader makes my heart ache, whoops. Also, REAL sorry if somebody's name's Janette, I love the name but reader calls her a slut.

"Dismissed." Professor Skywalker tosses his glasses aside and leans back in his chair. A delicate frown is present between his eyebrows.

He hadn't looked at you once.

An hour-and-a-half-long lecture and not one stare at you. Not a glance at the outfit you so carefully picked for him; the absence of his touch was already unbearable, but the way he avoided your darting eyes broke your heart. You wanted him to look at you. To look at you the way he does at night.

You look at his hands, slender fingers gripping the chalk; they're supposed to be on you. Gripping your hips to push himself deeper into you, holding your wrists, caressing your waist, and kneading the delicate flesh of your thighs when he pushes them back over his broad shoulders... Why isn't he looking at you?

You stuff your books into your tote, zipping it up with a forceful pull, purposely creating an irritating sound in your last attempts to get his attention. You feel a disappointed twitch in your eyebrow when he remains seated, toying with his pen while staring down at somebody else's essay.

One of the students makes her way towards his desk, slipping him another report while batting her lashes in an attempt to ease his feelings about turning in late. She leans forward, pointing at something while trying to explain herself, a cover up to push her clevage to his eye level. He takes her paper and piles it up with all the other works, nodding at the little tease and sending her off with a comment about how he won't tolerate it ever again. You wonder if his pants get a little bit tighter at the sight of her too.

You leave last. You always do. Despite his obvious uninterest in entertaining your need for his attention, you give him one last chance.

"I'll pick you up at six." He mutters, still not looking at you.

Your silence obviously disturbs him; you don't greet his preposition with a smile and an eager puppy-like nod like you usually do.

"That's alright with you, darlin'?" He adds with a raspy voice, glancing in your direction.

Your heart sinks and insides flutter when the vibration of his tone reaches your ears. How can he do this to you? How can he pretend like you don't exist and then dare to offer his nighttime company? And yet, you want nothing else but to feel his lips all over your body again, even at the price of your dignity. You find enough self-respect to slam the door in his face.

With 6 p.m. approaching, you find yourself sitting at your vanity mirror and trying to decide if your body's mere worth is some cheap lip gloss and a skimpy dress for your professor to tear off as soon as he parks his black Chevy somewhere secluded enough.

Before you know it, he's outside your house. You watch him get out of his car, flicking the ashes of his cigarette onto the concrete and tossing the butt somewhere in the grass. He adjusts the collar of his shirt and knocks on your door.

You wait. Ten seconds, twenty, half a minute. Your heartbeat increases with each passing blink of time, and you're pretty sure he knows you're doing it on purpose. Eventually, you decide that you won't offer for him to come in. Grabbing your jacket and purse, you make your way out.

"Hi, love." He greets you with a smile, which is entirely different from how he's behaving during lectures. He's welcoming, almost sweet; maybe it's just a silly trick to make you crave his attention, thus allowing him to strip you off your panties quicker.

Anakin leans in to peck your cheek, which you dodge by turning around to lock your doors. He waits for the lock to click in place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against your back.

"You're mad. Why?" His lips brush over your clothed shoulder.

He can feel how your body quivers when you swallow a lump that's been in your throat since 8 a.m. You hate how loving he can be; you hate how he manipulates you with his touch, making you feel like you're more than just a naive student for him. You hate it, and you crave it. His hands are warm on your waist, and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter from the forming tears.

"Darlin'?" He kisses your pulse point gently, waiting for you to speak.

"Let's go." You blink the wetness off your eyelids and head towards his car. Your sides instantly shiver when they aren't shielded by his grip.

Anakin starts the car in silence, giving you an uncomfortable look at how you didn't even allow him to open the door for you. The engine roars to life, and he's about to drive off when he leans across your body.

"Seatbelt, darlin'." He doesn't wait for you to reach for it — he's already buckling you in.

"Why don't you look at me?" You begin speaking when he's out on the road.

"What do you mean, bunny? I am. You look gorgeous. Like every night." His hand leaves the gearstick and finds place on your knee, gently caressing the inside of your thigh.

"During lectures. You'd rather look at some slut like Janette instead of me." You cut him off, complaining about the unfairness of his actions.

"And you?" He laughs. Mockingly. "You are not a slut? Spreading your legs whenever I call you." His hand on your thigh glides up to brush against your panties. "But you like it when I call you that, don't you?"

He doesn't take you seriously at all. He is oblivious to the fact that his words claw a gaping hole in your chest, leaving your heart sore and lungs collapsing at the attempts to hold your pains. You push his hand off your core in a disgusted manner and shut your legs close.

"You're seriously mad at me?" He shifts gears, and you feel how the vehicle starts speeding, your body tensing in alertness.

You know he's not going to hurt you, not physically, and yet you can't stop shuddering. Your cheeks heat up once more, and this time there is no strength in you to stop the inevitable.

"I treat you well, don't I? Do you know how you'd be treated if I were somebody else?!" The highway is ending as he's taking a turn towards your usual spot of desire. His tone is increasing with every word.

"Drive me home!" You slap the panel, hysteria in your voice is present as thick tears drop onto your lap.

"You're not going anywhere!" He stops the car on the sidewalk, not making his full way into the forest. That's when he can finally see your mascara-stained cheeks.

Anakin groans at the sight; his fingers curl into fists as he pounds onto the steering wheel. "You're so fucking-" He groans again, trying to stop himself from saying something he'll regret later, and leans to rest his head, sighing deeply.

The car fills with your sobs and sniffles. You sit there, buckled up like a child who's been denied candy, and weep. Anakin lets out a sigh and frees himself from the seatbelt, clicking yours off too.

"Come here."

"No! I'm done doing this; I'm done letting you use me like I'm worthless!"

He sighs again, rubbing his face aggressively, trying his best to contain his anger and focus on how your whines are hurting his ears and heart.

"It's okay, come here, bunny." He places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you to lean on his shoulder. Pathetically, you wrap your arms around his neck and continue sobbing into his button-up. "There she is; come here." He grabs you by the waist and pulls, guiding you to climb out of your seat and onto his lap.

Unfortunately, his gesture only forces more tears. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He cradles your quivering body to his chest, one arm wrapped around your legs and the other keeping you in place by your back.

"Silly girl, you've ruined your make up." He wipes your cheeks with his sleeve, black ink staining the cotton. "I'd never force you, you know that? If you don't want to, you don't need to go with me, yeah?" His anger seems to be ceasing, and you wish your despair was too. His attempts to comfort you are bittersweet.

"You said I was the prettiest girl... You always say that; you touch me, you- you... How can you do this? Why don't I matter to you?" Words spill from your mouth; endless thoughts are rushing through your mind, and your tongue is unable to catch up with all of them. And his hands. His hands, his hands, his hands. His hands are holding you, caressing you, wiping away your tears, and it hurts, hurts, hurts so bad you want to tear his perfect face off his skull and drive his stupid Camaro into a lake.

"You are, you are the prettiest girl; you're the perfect girl, bunny, my perfect girl, okay? Of course you matter." He seems to be pretty unaware of your homicidal ideas because he keeps stroking your hair, trying to console you. "Of course you matter; look at me." He cups your cheek and forces you to face him.

"Why won't you look at me?" You manage to form a full sentence, uninterrupted by little sniffles.

"Well because..." He sighs. "You know it's not right. We can't have people know about us." His finger gently brushes a strand of your hair off your cheek. "You're my student. A good one at that; I wouldn't want anybody to think your A's are earned with your pretty little pussy." He chuckles at his crappy attempt to make you laugh.

"So you'd rather hurt me?" Your eyebrows furrow, and anger slowly replaces sadness at how naive he thinks you are. "What could a little glance give away? A little praise? A text message about my pretty clothes when nobody's looking?!" Anakin is getting a taste of his own medicine, feeling the exact same emotions you feel when he shouts at you for being sensitive.

"Well, that's the thing, darlin', somebody is always looking. I don't want to risk it; you have to understand..." He coos at you gently, his lips pressing against your cheeks. "You're such a sweet girl; I can't put you at risk, why don't you get it?"

You knew that it wasn't just you. He had to protect himself too; he was a well-respected professor, his career was great, he was loved, but... But still. Your little heart couldn't comprehend the fact that your love wasn't enough for him. That he didn't love you a bit more to show some affection that wouldn't involve an orgasm eventually.

"I just... I just want to feel like I matter..." You sniffle the last tears away; there is disappointment in your voice. You are aware that this relationship is not meant to go anywhere, and you wish he'd deny that. Even if deep down, you both would know it's a lie.

"You do, bunny, of course you do. Do you have any idea how it's hurting me too? To have you crying in my arms..." Anakin cradles you closer to himself. "I just wish you could be happy, sweet girl. I'm sorry I've done this to your heart, I'm sorry for ever laying my hands on you..." He kisses your cheek, trailing up to your temple, and sighs. "I'm so sorry, darlin'..."

You sit there in silence, the headlights of cars passing in the distance casting short flashes of light over you both. The car's getting colder, and Anakin tries his best to embrace you and keep your body warm.

"Let's get you home, bunny." He caresses the back of your head, touching it so delicately that you'd think you were made of porcelain. "You should get some rest."

Home? No. No, no no no. You don't want to go home. You want to stay. You want to be held, and you need his arms to caress you. You can't go home and rot in self-pity the whole night. You need him.

But you can't say that; the words are stuck in your throat, and you're pretty sure he wouldn't be able to understand the depth of your feelings. So you cling onto him, your arms squeeze his body impossibly close, as if doing that could close a wound that's open inside of you.

Anakin chuckles softly. "You don't want to go, do you?" He nuzzles his nose into your cheek and kisses it. "That's okay. I don't want to let go of you either. I just love holding you, precious."

"Can I stay with you?" You hesitantly whisper in the crook of his neck; his skin shivers under your lips.

"For the night?" He pulls away slightly to gaze into your eyes. Tomorrow's Saturday, and you can seriously see him considering bringing you home.

"I don't want to be alone."

He smiles warmly, his hand cups your cheek once again, and gently kisses your lips, lingering for a moment. "I was about to ask you." He smiles and pecks your forehead. You know he's lying, but he couldn't tell you no when your doe eyes stare at him pleadingly and the thought of you crying yourself to sleep stabs his heart.

"Let's go, bunny. Get you a milkshake, mmm? Then I'll cuddle my princess to sleep. I can't bear seeing your little heart ache." He urges you to move off his lap and back into your seat.

You can swear his hands were trembling ever so slightly when he put the key back into ignition and started the car. Maybe this time he'll love you in a way so the pleasure fills your heart instead.

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inkedobsidian · 1 year

Text

~The Addams - S.R~

summary: The team get to meet Spencers mystery girlfriend at a Halloween party

pairing: Y/N X Spencer Reid

warnings: none shits fluffy

word count: 788

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

It wasn't rare for the team to spend holidays together, Halloween was always a fun one. The costumes mixed with the drinks always made for an eventful time. Only this time the gang had an addition, Spencer Reid's girlfriend. None of them had met her yet but there was excitement in the air. Everyone agreed on matching outfits to make it a bit more entertaining. Aaron had managed to convince Beth to take a train ride from New York to join him as Mr. and Mrs. Smith. JJ and Will had turned up as Sandy and Danny from Grease, the outfit in particular earned one too many whoops from Penelope as JJ walked down the steps in the black jumpsuit. Last but not least was the incredible duo of Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan as the one and only Superman and Lois Lane. Penelope had somehow managed to convince Derek to only wear the lycra suit, and that choice in itself earned whoops from all of the team.

The was an obvious air of intrigue as the time kept creeping and Spencer had not arrived yet with his mystery woman, the team knew nothing about her at all. Derek Morgan put it the best when he said 'She'd have to be one hell of a woman to keep up with you,' and my god he was right. Everyone's heads snapped towards the door as they heard the click of the closing patio door. They looked up to Spencer stood alone in a black and white pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back and sprayed to look black.

"Here he is! Pretty boy himself now where is this mystery woman?" Derek said clapping his hands and walking towards Spencer who remained standing at the stairs leading to the garden. Spencer let the smile spread across his face as Derek embraced him with a hug and his signature pat on the back. The rest of the team followed suit and walked towards Spencer eagerly awaiting the arrival of his date.

"She's just parking now, insisted we took her car as it quote unquote looks cooler," Spencer said laughing looking towards the door, also waiting with eager nerves for the team to meet her. Garcia didn't waste a moment taking his arms in her hands and making him do a small spin to show her the outfit.

"Gomez Addams?" Penelope says half sure. Before Spencer could answer her the front door opened and Y/N through the house towards the patio. Spencer turned opening an arm to welcome her.

"And my Morticia," The team could not deny that they were in shock the moment she walked through the door. Everyone had spoken about what they thought she looked like, what outfit they'd be wearing. Almost anything you could speculate about they had talked about it. Penelope even phoned Emily to talk about it, and she also promised to send a photo.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," She said smiling leaning into Spencer's open arm. Y/N had the perfect Morticia outfit; the long black hair, the long low-cut black dress, and the dark makeup. Penelope was, of course, the first person to step forward and take Y/N's hands in hers.

"I am Pen-"

"Penelope Garcia, I have heard so much about you!" Y/N cut her off with pure excitement on her face. Penelope recoiled a little in shock, she didn't know if it was the shock that Spencer had spoken about her or the shock that Y/N seemed so excited to meet her.

"You spoke about me?" Penelope says pulling back to see Spencer's face turn pinkish at the comment.

"Spencer has spoken about all of you in great detail, and trust me he remembers everything," Y/N says laughing embracing Penelope in a hug. Derek took that moment to ruffle Spencer's hair in true big brother fashion.

"Well since you know everything about me, please follow me and tell me EVERYTHING about you!" Penelope tried her best to lead Y/N across the grass towards an empty table, handing her a glass of champagne on the way past. Spencer remained stood on the patio steps with the rest of the team.

"It's nice to see you happy Spencer." Hotch's voice rose above the quiet chittering of the group as they all continued their conversations.

"It's nice to introduce her to you guys finally," Spencer said not taking his gaze off her, even though she was deep in conversation she could feel his gaze on her from the distance across the garden and she couldn't take the rose tint out of her cheeks because of it. It was the first time Y/N had met the team but it certainly wouldn't be the last, Penelope demanded that of her.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

Text

obey me characters hands hcs (demon brothers, dateables, + side characters)

college has whooped my ass but your girl has officially graduated with two degrees!! finally!! hopefully i will be able to get out more writing soon. i think i am also going to tweak my request rules in the coming days to make writing easier on myself and my schedule, so expect that soon. anyways enjoy these random headcanons that came to mind one night out of nowhere

content warnings: none

Lucifer

lucifer is usually wearing gloves, so you rarely get to see or feel his hands. so when you do, it's a treat.

his hands are cold, but not unbearably so. they perpetually feel like he's been out in the cold just a few minutes too long. when he touches your bare skin, it makes you jump-- but keep them close for a few minutes and you'll chase the cold away completely.

his hands are soft. probably not super surprising considering he's always wearing gloves, but it's still pleasant.

he's got big ass, strong hands. they may be soft, but that doesn't mean they're weak. lucifer is the type of person that could open a jar for you with such ease that he'd almost look disappointed in your weak little human arms. if he's in a good mood, he might tease you about it.

he's pretty pale, so you can see the color of his veins under his skin. he's also got just a few prominent veins-- nothing excessive, but just enough to hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

his nails are always pristine. he's the avatar of pride. do you think he'd willingly walk around with chipped nail polish? if something somehow happens, they will be redone by the next day, almost like they'd never chipped in the first place. either he'll call asmo over to fix them, or fix them himself, depending on how much time he has.

Mammon

mammon has pleasantly warm hands. sometimes they get a little sweaty, but it's not much of a problem honestly. he's like a nice little heating pack on a winter day. because his hands are warm, though, yours usually feel cold to him... and he will complain. it's mammon.

his hands are also pretty soft. gotta look nice, y'know? i can see him keeping lotion (and chapstick-- not relevant here but it's worth a mention regardless) on his person pretty often. this came about bc he got tired of the lotion he borrowed from asmo smelling all perfume-y getting him odd looks.

this man is always wearing at least one ring and you cannot convince me otherwise. i can see him wearing a lot of matching gold ring sets. they just look like they belong on him, y'know?

i think he's got a few subtle veins across his hands. he knows that people like that, so i think he's pretty proud of his hands. he even takes care to avoid chipping or otherwise messing up his nails so the whole look will stay cohesive.

Leviathan

oh you know this man's hands are clammy as fuck. sorry bud. facts are facts.

he's blessed with very pretty hands. his nails just grow in a pretty shape (and asmo makes sure to keep them that way), his fingers are slender and proportional, his hands are a normal size, and his skin stays pretty moisturized, even in harsh weather. he doesn't have to try. which is good, because we all know he wouldn't.

i think levi actually hates the feeling of rings and hand jewelry. he'd fidget with it too much and eventually become so aware of it that he'd need to take it off before he goes crazy. if he gets married and wears a traditional wedding ring, it would have to fit perfectly and be very comfortable for him to eventually get used to it.

levi picks at the pads of his fingers a lot when he's anxious, but he's not super prone to scaring there, so it isn't super noticeable. he'll go through bursts of trying to break this habit where he covers his poor hands in vaseline, but nothing even quite breaks him of it.

Satan

satan has hands crafted by god specifically to play piano and look nice holding books. look at him. there's no way he'd have ugly hands. they're soft and pretty, but i think he has to put more effort than expected into maintaining them.

he's another one that i think would be anti-ring for much of the same reason as levi. i think it would just feel odd on his fingers and he'd get irritated by their presence. he's okay wearing bracelets though.

his hands, slender and pretty as they remain, are also quite strong. he's the avatar of wrath, after all. he's probably the second or third best to go to when you need a tough jar opened.

his nails and cuticles always look presentable, but i think he finds grooming them unpleasant. he lets asmo do it for him-- the younger one's chattering distracts him from the irritating feeling of pushed back cuticles and trimmed hangnails. his hands aren't naturally soft, either, but asmo has developed a routine for him so they stay nice with a bit of regular (secret) effort. satan's all about seeming effortlessly perfect, after all, and his hands are no exception.

Asmo

softest hands in the entire cast. simeon and mephistopheles are good competitors, but this is not a battle he will lose.

his nails are always perfectly manicured and soft. he's got a million different lotions scatter across his room, the HoL, RAD, etc., all to make sure he never encounters even a hint of dry skin. he's got emergency nail polish, too, just incase a nail were to chip while he's out and about.

asmo reaches a lot for daintier, tasteful jewelry. think small rings, delicate bracelets, pretty gemstones, the works. he's very particular about matching the jewelry both to his outfit AND his nails.

he doesn't have any visible veins, so his hands seem inhumanly perfect at times. he likes this. compliment his hands and he'll swoon-- not that he cares more about them than the rest of his body, but because it shows you notice the smaller details he puts effort into, and he appreciates it.

Beel

big boy's got big ass hands. even if you're grown yourself, putting your palms against his will make you feel like a kid again. he could palm a basketball like shaq.

he's got his fair share of callouses. i think he mostly leaves them alone because they serve the purpose of improving his grip, which is nice for the gym or fangol. asmo probably gets on him for it, but beel doesn't care enough to do something about it. i can also see him having quite a few prominent veins on both hands.

his hands fluctuate in temperature a LOT. it's pretty unpredictable, too. you can touch his hand and find it scorching hot, then touch it again ten minutes later to find it eerily lukewarm. nobody knows why this happens.

beel has to be very conscious of his hygiene, or his hands will get really dirty in a matter of minutes. he's constantly eating and touching things, so he needs to either be careful or have a napkin on hand. i think lucifer carries hand sanitizer for this exact reason (although he won't admit it).

Belphegor

belphegor's hands are upsettingly lukewarm. it's like touching things or inclimate weather has no effect on him. they're always lazily warm, like a glass of water sitting out in the sun.

his hands stay soft mainly because he doesn't do much with them. he is, however, prone to hangnails. he's lazily bite them off and accidentally cause more in the process-- not that he particularly cares.

he leaves nail and hand maintenance in asmo's hands. he'll let the fifth born do anything to them so long as he gets to sleep through it.

not anti-jewelry/rings per se, but doesn't care enough about it to a) put any on, or b) make sure he doesn't lose whatever he's wearing that day. if it somehow falls off, the most you're getting from him is a quick look around, unless the piece was really meaningful and/or borrowed.

Diavolo

is anyone surprised to hear that diavolo has massive, strong hands? no? didn't think so.

he's got really thick fingers, too. you feel like a toddler comparing hand sizes with him. he's just a mountain of a man.

his hands are always hot but never sweaty. it's comforting most of the times, but if you're already hot his touch is like fire. dawg. don't touch me. i'm sweating. his entire body is like this, too.

his nails are always very particularly manicured (it's an image thing) and fairly soft. he cares enough to use lotion but not enough to carry it. he's not one to be super vain in that regard.

there's a tasteful amount of veinage on this prince's hands. enough to be attractive, but not enough to make him seen overworked or to age him.

Barbatos

definitively the coldest fucking hands in the entire cast. barbatos' hands are cold enough to wake the dead with just a touch.

his hands are always covered by gloves as well, so they're not as rough as you'd expect. still, though, the butler is always keeping his hands busy, so i imagine there are still some minor calluses across his hands. nothing enough to be super noticable, but still there.

he's got long, slender fingers. very regal. his hands themselves are average sized. compared to someone like diavolo, though, they're dainty.

his hands are also very pale, but for some reason you can't spot a single vein. it's odd. you can see the tendons and bones shift when he moves so you know his hands are built like normal... but something about the veins just seems so odd. mammon tricked luke into thinking barbatos doesn't have any blood, so that's why no one can see his veins. this is wrong, but luke is too polite to ask about it. (the real explanation is that, although he's pale, he's got pretty thick skin-- demon perks-- so you don't really see much below it).

Simeon

simeon's hands are pleasantly warm at all times. you can feel the heat through his gloves. it's just a very comforting thing-- he'll hold your hand anytime you ask, so don't be afraid to ask if you're a little chilly or in need of some reassurance.

when he takes the gloves off, his hands are silky smooth. did you expect anything different? i can see him being very methodical abut hygiene in general, and in this case i think he's always using a nice lotion on his hands before he puts his gloves on for the day. when they come off, his hands are soft and sweet-smelling-- like cocoa butter and vanilla.

he doesn't paint his nails or anything, but they always look very nice. his liberal use of lotion pairs well with his other grooming habits. his cuticles are never overgrown, his nails are always short and uniform, and his nail beds are healthy and clear. it's minor, but it just adds to the overwhelming perfection that simeon exudes.

Solomon

solomon's hands are somehow both clammy AND cold. pick a struggle, peepaw.

on the plus side, his hands are soft. even in the winter, solomon never has to worry about rough knuckles or dry skin. which is good, because you cannot convince me that this man would remember to regularly apply lotion. he's a menace.

his hands are pale, like the rest of them, but also more veiny than i think most would anticipate. he's got one prominent one heading to his ring finger, and the rest are a bit smaller but still noticeable. his pale skin allows you to see the blue of his veins underneath. they're interesting to just stare at at watch move when he flexes his fingers.

i can see him wearing a ring or two on occasion. i don't think he'd care a whole lot about the aesthetics, but i think he'd put in enough effort to wear gold when his outfit has gold and switch to silver when wearing outfits with silver in them. it's a small thing, but it lets your know he's putting in at least a little thought.

Luke

luke has got such little, cute hands. his fingers are small and a little stubby, just like his nails. his nails also grow slowly, too, so he doesn't have to do much to keep them presentable.

unfortunately, they're often a little sticky. he bakes a lot, and while he's not usually dirty or messy, he's still young and somehow just attracts stickiness like any other child. it's especially bad when he uses honey in his recipes-- his hands are perpetually sticky for like two or three days after, no matter how often he washes his hands.

luke is a nervous little child, and for that i could see him being someone that picks at his cuticles. simeon gently discourages this habit, but at the end of the day he can't do much but make sure they heal properly.

BONUS:

Thirteen

she gives barbatos a run for his money in the cold hand competition. her fingers are ice. unlike barbatos, she will use this to her advantage. you'll find her frigid fingers on the back of your neck or under the hem of your shirt when you least expect it. she doesn't have any reason to do this. she just thinks it's funny.

her hands are a little dry, mainly around the knuckles. she strikes me as someone that constantly rubs her dry hands together and bitches about needing lotion, while simultaneously never remembering her own. she probably bums a dab of lotion off of someone ever day (i'm thinking asmo).

her nails are always really nice. they're just naturally shaped really well, round at the top and pretty straight. they're strong and don't break easy, which is good, because a hangnail can throw off her concentration for an entire afternoon.

Raphael

like belphegor, raphael's hands are an upsetting temperature-- no matter how warm or cold your hands are, his feel lukewarm against yours. it should literally be impossible, but then again, a lot of things you've encountered in the devildom should be impossible.

he's got some calluses. they're pretty interesting, honestly-- if he was a human, he'd have the bumpy, dry hands of a weathered veteran or lonely woodworker, all rough skin and long years embedded into his flesh. but he's an angel. the calluses on his hands are small and fairly easy to miss if you don't touch him. but run your hand along the ridges of his fingers or the fatty parts of his palms and you'll find them just fine.

raphael has really pretty nail beds. something about the way they look is just so clean and nice. he never has overgrown cuticles or anything, either. just really nice hands for a man that does not spare a single thought to the way they look.

Mephistopheles

this man has hands like butter. they're just so soft and luxurious. you think they'd be a bit more rugged seeing as he's a rich boy with a penchant for horseback riding, but no. i can see him being very anal about his hands. they're always soft with not a callous or imperfection in sight.

speaking of perfect, this motherfucker has amazing nails. they're just a tad longer than you'd expect to be traditionally "masculine", but that just enhances how slender and pretty his fingers look. no wonder he's always pointing and gesturing so dramatically-- he's gotta show off all that hard work!

pretty boy here just has really nice, strong hands. not really veiny, but very smooth and even. his palms are a bit lighter than his skintone, naturally, but across the board there's no discoloration or scarring to be seen. you can tell he's a noble just by looking at his hands.

he's usually in those gloves but, if not, i could see him being a rings kinda guy. only tasteful ones, though, and in moderation. not like mammon.

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dingus11111 · 2 months

Text

Heya! Request from @legendaryflowercheesecake

Night Creature!Edouard x Night Creature!Male Reader PT. 2!!

Warnings: NSFW because of his dream, male!reader, teratophilia, Soft Edouard, OOC (whoops), jealous!reader, bottom!male!reader.

PT. 1!!

Soft breathing puffed onto your left ear. You were sitting in Edouard’s lap, sleeping. You took comfort in his large frame enveloping you to seemingly protect you from the dangers of the world. You slept peacefully. Edouard smiled softly, relishing in the moment. Soaking up the feelings that he felt. His eye’s began to close as he brought one of his arms to caress your back lovingly.

“Sleep well..” Edouard mumbled.

He began to drift to sleep. A dream popped into his brain. A happy dream. A good dream. He dreamt of being free with you in his arms. Of him kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. Of him holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Of him kissing you, and gently making love to you.

He dreamt of him pinning you to a mattress so that you were comfortable. He would put your legs over his shoulders and press his forehead to yours. The hands covering his eyes would be open. His blue, piercing gaze would wash over your sight like the clear, blue ocean would to sand. He would stroke your cock to the rhythm of his thrusts. A composer to your music made up of your moans. The lewd, slick noises your hole would create. The sounds of your sharp nails against his back. He would make a symphony out of you that you would wish to experience eternally. He would make you orgasm over and over, making you feel pleasure almost unimaginable. He wanted nothing more than that.

CLANK!

Edouard’s eyes shot open and so did yours. You quickly looked behind you and got off of his lap. The woman behind the metal bars of the cell was just as surprised as both of you were.

The woman had black locks that had metal jewelry in them. Her skin was dark and beautiful. She was wearing a light mustard vest with a white, long sleeve shirt underneath. A thick, red belt was situated at her waist. The belt had accents of sky blue, black, and yellow. She had black, comfortable looking pants on that made you almost jealous of her due to you only wearing a loincloth.

“Annette!” Edouard leaped forward.

“So he knows her.” You thought.

Annette looked at you and then back at Edouard.

“Who or what is that?” Annette asked.

Edouard stepped towards you and picked you up with ease, carrying you bridal style. You blushed softly.

“This is M/N.” Edouard introduced you.

“Oh.” She replied, sounding almost hurt.

You grumbled ever so slightly at Annette. You just found out who she is, and you already don’t exactly like her.

Suddenly, a vampire and a few night creatures began to chase after Annette. They were too busy with her to realize that you and Edouard were both in the same cell. You hugged Edouard deeply.

“Never let me go.” You mumbled.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Hope you enjoyed! I got kinda lazy with this one. 😭😭😭

#fanfiction #castlevania #castlevania nocturne #x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader smut #castlevania edouard #x bottom male reader #sub male reader #male reader #castlevania x reader

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okkalo · 3 months

Note

What about a request of Mikey confessing to his crush in the aftermath of Kanto Incident?

hi anon! this was my first time writing mikey,, hope i did him right,, also sorry for the wait!! i kept doubting everything i wrote and kinda restarted lolz…anyways! hope u enjoy!! <3

i tried not to include spoilers so this should be safe for readers who haven’t gotten to the kanto incident yet!!

mikey x gn! reader

“y/n, you came.” mikey’s voice made you turn your attention back towards him. he was dressed in his usual comfy attire with his hair half up, nothing out of the sorts by the sight but it still felt off. perhaps it was because of the time apart from him.

“mikey, hi,” you greeted with a smile, one that paired so perfectly with the afternoon wind that he’d be a fool not to adore. he walked up to you, sitting down next to you in such casual light, almost as if you two were never apart. despite his easiness, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous—something mikey was quick to catch onto.

he moves his upper body so that his shoulder collides with yours, nudging you slightly to the side. your narrowed eyes that were quick to point at him only made him smile.

“what was that for?”

of course, he just shrugs, playing innocent, “whoops.”

you can’t help but scoff, sending your shoulder into his to give him a harder nudge. mikey only giggles at it, unaffected. if anything, he’s happy you loosened up, reminding him of the person he fell for.

“you’re such a child, mikey,” you sighed, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes catch onto his boyish giggles for a moment longer. something in you swirled at the sight, it was no secret that you missed him.

“stop lookin’ at me like that, i’d think you have a crush on me or somethin’,” he mumbled, his hand giving your thigh a nudge as he looked forward to the scenery. while he acted nonchalant, you panicked on the inside, your widened eyes giving it away. did he know?

“who said i have a crush on you?” you hastily asked, trying to play it off.

“really, you don’t?” he suddenly shot his head towards you, his eyes widened in surprise. “i thought you liked me back,” he mumbled, as if they were the easiest words to say in the world.

“i never—wait what?” you immediately paused in your words to look over to him now, cheeks slightly pink as you two looked at each other with the same widened eyes. “you like me?”

“i like you a lot,” he confessed, his eyes relaxing only to narrow, now scanning you. “you don’t like me back?”

well, that was unexpected.

“no! i do!” you immediately correct him, now feeling foolish as you were hard contradicting yourself. mikey, confused even further, just stared at you, mouth agape as he tried to read you. just as he was about to break the silence, his stomach instead took the honors of voicing how hungry it was.

“you’re hungry? of course, you’re hungry, you’re mikey—let’s go eat,” your speedy words only gave away how flustered you were at the situation. before you could go too far, however, he was quick to pull you by your wrist back down to him, your faces just inches from the other.

“can i do this?” he asked in a muttered voice, his eyes indicating exactly what he meant as he looked at your lips.

and god, if only he knew what that did to your stomach, which was swirling with butterflies. still, your eyes meeting his, you could only give a small nod, not trusting your words to do the rest.

he was quick to move in, one hand on your cheek as his lips slid against yours. he was surprisingly gentle, against all things you knew about mikey, his kiss was gentle and short. he greeted you once again with a smile as both of your eyes fluttered open to meet each other once more.

he opened his mouth to say something, though his stomach was quick to cut in once again, groaning. you couldn’t help but giggle, the moment already making your heart pace with excitement. he only gave a soft chuckle, his hand reaching out to nudge your arm.

“let's get something to eat first, i’m hungry,” he spoke softly as he moved to stand up, his hand immediately reaching down to help you stand. “then let’s talk.”

unedited. thanks for reading!

#me scratching my head trying to think if mikey would do this #like mikey should make the most sense since we always see him #but he’s so confusing to me #writing this midway and this gives chifuyu vibes #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x reader

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say-al0e · 11 months

Text

Night Changes

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

Summary: Jake’s set on skinny dipping. You’re afraid of what that means for your friendship. But he’s always got a plan. | Ft. “How many times have you jerked off to me?” + “Shut up and take your pants off.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Slight exhibitionism (they’re in a pool but it’s private?), feelings, anxiety, one mention of a guy being creepy (not Jake), unprotected PinV, unrealistic understandings of the Navy and definitely unrealistic expectations of pool sex.

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k (whoops, welcome back I guess)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“Jake, nothing you can say will convince me to go skinny dipping.”

Quiet laughter, amused and unbothered by your reluctance to yield - yet, as Jake had you wrapped around his finger and knew you would give in sooner rather than later - filled the small backyard as he grinned. From the corner of your eye, you could see him; bathed in the warm glow of lights, strung up around the back porch for moments like this. Soft shadows were cast across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw and slope of his neck as he reached for his rapidly warming beer and you were struck, if only briefly, by the thought that he looked like a leading man from some cheesy film.

Just as quickly as the thought crossed your mind, however, Jake brought you back to the conversation at hand. “And why not?”

With a sigh, you tipped your head to the side to take him in, eyes narrowed as you allowed the question to linger. It was rare to see him dressed down - you’d gotten so used to seeing him in khaki that anything else almost seemed wrong - but he looked effortless in the soft button-down he’d left mostly unbuttoned. Leave had given him the opportunity to destress, to relax on the beach and enjoy a few deep breaths, and you were still surprised he’d chosen to spend most of it with you.

Yet, here you were, for the eighth night in a row.

For the eighth night in a row, you found yourself at Jake’s side. Rather than sitting on a beach, you found yourself surrounded by the warm night air - still and sticky and lingering in the verge of stifling - lounging on a soft deck chair in his backyard.

California summer had yet to arrive but you were already dreading it as a spring heatwave, accompanied by sunny skies and too-high electric bills, nearly made you miss the chill of the east coast. But, try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret taking the opportunity as your gaze drifted to Jake’s face once more.

That teasing grin of his made your heart beat just a touch too fast, an occurrence you were slowly growing used to, and your breath feel that much harder to catch. But it was pointless. Though you hadn’t known Jake for that long, you knew him well enough to know that for all the pretty smiles and flirty remarks, none of it meant what you so desperately hoped it would.

Falling for Jake Seresin would only end in disappointment so you hid your lovesick sigh behind a roll of your eyes as you reached for your own drink.

“For one,” you began, sparing a glance around the backyard he’d finally gotten to make use of, “this fence is ridiculously low and I can’t say I have any intentions of flashing your neighbors.” While you had no doubt they were already asleep - they were an elderly couple, in bed with the sun every evening and capable of tuning out every noise you made - you were enjoying Jake’s attempts to convince you.

“Two, Coyote’s just going to dinner. He’ll be back eventually,” you reminded him, raising a brow as he laughed. His lips parted to interject but you waved him off with a dismissive hand. “And three,” you directed your full attention to him, then, ��who says I want to see you naked?”

Jake shook his head in exaggerated disbelief as he laughed. His knee nudged your own as he shifted in his chair, ensuring your full attention was on him as he met your eyes. “One, I’m well aware of where we are and how low the fence is. You know my neighbors are asleep and won’t wake up until the sun rises. Two, he’s out on a date. He’s not coming back tonight.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous then - flirty and honeyed, exactly what he used to get his way with beautiful women at the Hard Deck - and made you want to roll your eyes as he eyed the skin exposed by your shorts. “Three,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “I’ve seen the way you look at me. When we’re at the beach, or the pool, or the bar… You definitely want to see me naked.”

Every word was true, brazenly honest in a way only Jake could get away with, and he knew it. Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of openly admitting just how badly you wanted that - how badly you wanted him. “Your ego does not need my validation, Jake.”

As he always seemed to be, Jake remained unbothered by your rolling eyes and refusal to admit what you both knew to be true. Instead, he simply took a moment to soak in the sight of you.

Those green eyes blazed a path across your skin, gaze sharp and warm with every sweep across exposed thighs and a sliver of stomach. Jake was never shy about checking you out, always appreciative of the view you allowed him, and this moment was no different. Even as every fiber of your being begged for him to look elsewhere, to give you a moment to catch your breath, he simply swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and returned his gaze to yours.

“I’m not too proud to admit that I want your validation, sweetheart.”

There was little you could do to stop the shaking breath that escaped your lips - one you knew Jake heard clearly, if the amused twitch of his mouth was any indicator. That drawl grew a little thicker with every beer he drank, accent stronger and voice a little rougher; when combined with the weight of his gaze, the honey of his voice, the way it all dipped a little lower any time he had a specific request for it, reduced your thoughts to few and far between. Forming a coherent sentence was difficult, but you managed to retain enough self-preservation to know that this was a bad idea.

“Still no.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed playfully then. He’d always been able to read you, to tell what you were thinking with startling ease, and you could see that he was searching for discomfort. The moment you seriously told him to drop it, to let this fantasy of romping around in the moonlight go, he would without a second of hesitation. But this was the game you both loved to play.

Toeing the line between friendship and something more, between playful banter and a simmering desire that left you certain you could fall in love with Jake Seresin - if he’d only fall with you - had become your normal. From the moment you met, there’d been something simmering beneath the surface but, as of late, it seemed to be bubbling higher than usual. Every conversation had grown heavier, weighed down by the potential future you were certain only you saw, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Neither could Jake, it seemed, as he offered, “What if I promise to change your oil?”

Jake never seemed the handyman type - he never seemed the type to get dirty, full stop - but he’d proven himself capable. And where you were concerned, it seemed he had no qualms about maintaining his perfect appearance. “You promised to do that anyway,” you reminded him, pausing to take a sip of your drink. “After that skeevy guy wouldn’t leave me alone at the mechanic’s last time.”

A flash of annoyance crossed his face - not at you, you knew, but at the memory of your call when things had gotten more uncomfortable than you were willing to handle alone - before he nodded. “Yeah, you’re not goin’ back there. Alright, what if I promise to change the air filter in your apartment?”

“Even though the hall closet is creepy and I hate it?”

That smile returned, softer but more assured - he’d chosen the best bargaining chip and he knew it. “Especially because the hall closet is creepy and you hate it. Any other demands, sweetheart?”

“I kind of like hearing you beg.” Jake’s brows winged up at your teasing comment, unable to hide his surprise as you tipped your head to hide your smile. The innuendos were his forte, tossed out any time you gave him a half a chance, but you see his grin growing just a touch larger as you shrugged. “Throw in on-demand spider killing when you’re home and I’m in.”

“I don’t beg, darlin’, but for you? I’d consider it.” Jake struck a nerve and he could tell. When you flustered, choking down a sip of your drink to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest at the mental image of Jake begging - for you, no less - he grinned. It was triumphant, easy in the knowledge that he’d won, as he declared, “All you gotta do is give me a call and I’m there. No begging necessary.”

Though the comment dripped innuendo, was teasing and designed to see you fluster, Jake meant it wholeheartedly. He’d proven himself loyal, eager to answer your call even when he probably shouldn’t, and softened just for you.

Moments like that - when Jake seemed a little softer around the edges, so willing to give you whatever you asked for without expectation - answered the question your friends seemed most stuck on. What had you seen in Jake, the flirty jerk at the bar, that they couldn’t?

They saw the pretty smiles and the subtle flexing at the bar. They heard the flirty remarks and thinly veiled innuendos. They witnessed the flattery he heaped on the women before you - and then you, when he’d given you his full attention - and the way he softened, just a little, in your presence. But they had yet to see the Jake you found yourself falling for hard and fast.

This Jake, the one who laughed and teased and could still be a pain in the ass, all while keeping a sharp eye on your feelings - ready to redirect in an effort to make you comfortable the moment he took a step too far - was one only you got the privilege to see. This Jake, the one who would still change your oil and the air filter in your apartment and kill all the spiders, regardless of whether you let him see you naked, was one you were glad to keep to yourself. And even though you feared losing him the moment you fell into bed with him, you still found yourself relenting.

“Fine.” Despite your best attempt at nonchalance, you knew Jake could hear the waver in your agreement. While you were eager, excited to see him, you found yourself suddenly afraid. There was no guarantee he’d like what he saw, no one guarantee he’d be able to look you in the eye after, so you demanded, “You have to close your eyes when I take off my clothes.”

Triumphant, Jake rolled his eyes at your demand and eyed your exposed thighs once more. “Sure,” he agreed easily, shrugging off the doubt he realized you carried. “But it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he reminded you, lifting his beer.

Jake swore up and down that it was an accident and that he hadn’t seen much. He had a bad habit of entering rooms without knocking and you were inclined to believe him. He’d still been able to look you in the eye, hadn’t treated you any differently, but that did little to stop you from teasing him as it kept you from thinking too hard. “That’s only because you have no sense of decorum and just burst into rooms like you own the place.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jake stood from his chair. He paused for a moment to down the rest of his beer before offering you a hand. “Shut up and take off your pants.”

As you stood, skin growing warmer with every passing second - hopeful that Jake couldn’t feel the searing heat of your palm as he clasped it in his own - you kicked off your sandals. “You first, cowboy.”

Instead of teasingly insisting you lead the way, Jake grinned. He was shameless, reveled in the attention he was given at the beach - truly enjoyed the feeling of being seen - so without a moment of hesitation, he flew through the remaining buttons of his shirt and tossed it onto the lounge chair. With every inch of skin exposed, you could feel your heart rate climbing higher. He was right, you’d savored the sight of him shirtless on a beach or in the pool any chance you were given and this was certainly no exception.

Knowing that you would see all of him - whether you intended to or not - had your breath catching in your throat as his hands fell to the waistband of his shorts. “You can look.” Jake laughed, entirely unbothered at the idea of standing before you bare, when you shifted your gaze from the exposed dip of his hip to the fence to your left. “I’m sure you’ll like what you see.”

As tempted as you were, you shook your head. “Damn ego.” It wasn’t quite as sharp as you intended, nowhere near as strong, but it made Jake laugh a little harder as you caught sight of his shorts - sans briefs, because of course - joining his shirt on the chair. “Get in the water and turn away so I can get undressed.”

“You’re really takin’ all the fun outta this, you know?” Despite his complaint - teasing and entirely a joke, ready to be walked back the moment you took offense - he complied. You heard the splash of water as he jumped in, followed by a sharp sound of surprise at the temperature, before he continued. “You’re just delayin’ the inevitable, sweetheart. We’ll both see somethin’ when you get in.”

Again, Jake was right. You knew that - didn’t need that honeyed drawl that made you weak in the knees to spell it out for you - but delaying the inevitable made it easier to toss your own shirt into the pile he’d created. It helped you swallow the potentiality of destroying your friendship with Jake for one night of fun, helped you swallow that there was very likely no future in which this turned into something more, and you held onto that delay like a lifeline as you shook your head.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, cowboy.”

Behind you, a splash sounded and told you that Jake was giving you the space you needed. He often attempted to push you out of your comfort zone, to encourage you to try new things, but this was one moment he knew you needed. So instead of watching, eyeing you in a way you only dreamed of, he took to splashing around the water as you reached for the waistband of your shorts with shaking fingers.

Though you were eager to keep your friendship with Jake as it was, you knew that there would eventually be a tipping point. Everything you’d built was tenuous, lingering on that fine line between platonic and romantic, and would come to a head sooner rather than later. The line you’d been toeing would be crossed and, as much as it pained you to come to that realization, you knew that it would be easier to handle whatever came now rather than later on when you’d fallen too far to pull yourself free.

Jake wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, you knew that and attempted to brace yourself as you fully committed to giving yourself one moment with him - an unforgettable night in which you felt the full measure of his desire - but you still held tight to an ounce of hope as you shucked off your bra and panties.

Following Jake’s lead, you jumped straight into the water.

When you emerged, nearly freezing as your overheated body adjusted to the water, Jake cheered. It was quiet enough to avoid waking the neighbors but still managed to make you fluster as you felt anxious laughter bubbling in your throat. This was new and you knew Jake could tell as he swam to the shallow end.

“Sometimes, you just gotta live a little, sweetheart.”

Jake stood in the shallow end, ran a hand through his dripping hair, and made no effort to hide his laughter as you turned your attention to the stars. “You know, I always saw people do this in movies and thought it’d be fun.” When you spared him a quick glance, pointedly meeting his eyes rather than allowing yourself to peek, Jake raised a brow in question. “It’s not bad."

True to his word, Jake kept his eyes above the water - though it would’ve been almost too easy for him to steal a glance at your bare body. Even as he began to swim once more, floating closer slowly, he was careful not to let his gaze wander. “We used to do this all the time,” he admitted, drifting deeper into the pool. “Spent our summers in the water. Didn’t matter if we had suits or not. Summer after I graduated, I spent most every night at the creek.”

The soft combination of lights - moonlight, lights strung up around the yard - cast soft shadows across Jake’s body as he swam. Though you tried your hardest not to look, it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and shoulders as he pushed through the water. Every inch of him was beautiful, almost annoyingly so, but you swallowed your creeping lust with a playful scoff.

“You’re telling me you went swimming in wild Texas water, naked?” When Jake shrugged, unfazed, you shook your head and allowed yourself to float a little closer. “I’m amazed you made it out with all your appendages still attached.”

“Appendages?” His nose wrinkled at your choice of words before he lifted his hand to flick water in your direction. “You’re such a fucking nerd, sweetheart.”

Very little space remained between you, with the pair of you having closed it almost entirely, but the closer you drew, the deeper into your own head you fell. While time with Jake had been as easy as breathing, natural and without thought most days, you suddenly felt paralyzed by the possibilities.

As he always seemed to, however, Jake noticed. He noticed your inability to really look at him, the way you glanced up at the sky or around the backyard instead of at him, and your hesitance to truly move. Jake noticed more than most people tended to give him credit for and you realized that as he urged, “Stop thinking. Just let go. Have fun.”

A part of you wanted to argue that it wasn’t as easy as it sounded, that letting go seemed impossible in that moment, but you bit your tongue. You allowed the part of yourself that had already given into the inevitable to take hold, to allow your shoulders to relax and your body to sink into the water, as you hummed.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s just swim.”

Jake lingered nearby, close enough that you could reach out and brush his arm if you turned just so, but kept enough space between you as you tried to calm your racing heart and even your breathing. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to think that hard about. It was Jake and, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

“You were right,” you finally relented, after a few peaceful minutes of silence. “This is nice.”

The water was warm enough to be pleasant but cool enough to ease the burning of your skin. And as time wore on, you forgot about your lack of a suit and focused on the feeling of drifting in the moonlight. Jake, on the other hand, had spent the few moments of quiet studying your face. And when you turned to meet his gaze, you found him already looking at you.

“I’m usually right,” he teased, grin a little softer than you were expecting. “It’s a gift.”

“Don’t push it, cowboy.”

Despite his earlier chivalry, Jake’s eyes roved your skin. You wondered how much was visible in the low light, if he could really see anything, but his face gave nothing away as he swam just a little closer. Green eyes grew darker, clouding with a heady combination of lust and something so tender it nearly made your heart beat out of your chest, as his gaze returned to yours.

“You never said I couldn’t look when you were in the water.” The reminder was soft, teasing, but it made you laugh and you knew that was his goal. In a moment of anxiety, you lifted an arm to cover your chest, and diverted your eyes as you shook your head. Jake, however, gave you no room to wallow in your hesitance. “No need to hide, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.”

Another step closer, the warmth of his body warming the water around you even as you took a step back. With every inch, you drew closer to the wall and he lifted his hand to cover the concrete edge. “Jake.”

Those eyes, nearly blown black in the dim light of the backyard, shifted. The playful amusement you’d grown used to softened as he searched your face. Jake was never what you would call hesitant, always so steadfast and certain in his actions, but you appreciated the care he took to keep you comfortable as he waited just a beat for your breathing to even.

“Nothing has to happen here.” His voice was low, soft but serious as he reached out to cup your cheek. “If you want to get out, forget all about this and go watch a movie, we can,” he offered, thumb carefully brushing across your heated skin. “I only want this if you do.”

There was never a doubt in your mind that the moment you said the word, Jake would back off and forget any of this ever happened. The moment you said no, he’d climb out of the pool and search for towels, maybe even order takeout as you both lounged on his couch and placed bets on when Coyote would return home. He never pushed, never crossed your boundaries, and you were grateful for his patience. While it often seemed to be in short supply for everyone else, Jake seemed to have an endless amount reserved for you.

Regardless of how the night ended, this was something you wanted. You’d longed for Jake’s touch since the moment you met, longed to feel his skin pressed to yours, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know. “I… is this a one time thing?”

The answer wouldn’t change much as even if it was, you didn’t think you could pretend. There was no turning back, no forgetting the warmth radiating from Jake’s body even as he kept a few inches of space between you, but you needed an answer.

And if Jake was surprised by the question, he didn’t let on. Instead, he shook his head. The amusement you expected was absent as he regarded the question with a brevity you didn’t expect. “No.” It was certain, so confident that it nearly caught you off guard, but he carried on. “I can’t promise forever, but I want to see where this goes,” he admitted. “I’m here until you get tired of me.”

Occasional self-doubt bled through Jake’s certainty. There were moments he seemed to wonder if he was worth anything more than one night, if he had more to offer than sex and bravado, but you knew he did. You’d spent more time with Jake than with anyone else in recent months and there was no future in which you saw yourself growing tired of him.

“I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Little else seemed appropriate to say, little else seemed to matter in that moment. With Jake so close, green eyes focused entirely on you as he admitted that he wanted to explore a future that saw you falling together, all you could think about was giving in to the urge to kiss him.

So, you did.

As your hands lifted, one to the back of his neck - fingers tangling in the damp strands of hair - and the other to his bicep, Jake’s shoulders relaxed. He melted into your touch, heartbeat racing beneath the tips of your fingers, as you sank into one another. His body was impossibly warm, skin searing beneath your palms as you pressed yourself forward, and you reveled in it as your mouth sought his.

Jake’s lips, soft and warm, curved into a soft smile as his free hand found your waist. The beat of your heart felt too fast, too heavy, even as you attempted to focus on the feeling of his thrumming away beneath the tips of your fingers. To know that you had an effect on him, to know that you flustered him in the same way he flustered you, did wonders for your confidence as you pressed yourself even closer.

When his tongue pressed to the seam of your lips, eager to deep the kiss and sink entirely into you, the reprieve of the water was lost. There was only heat; the wall of muscle that was Jake’s body, the soft press of his hands as they gripped your hip, his mouth as he swallowed your noises of pleasure eagerly, his heavy groan as you forgot yourself and pressed even closer.

The press of Jake’s body against yours was distracting, silenced every thought that raced through your brain. You’d imagined this a thousand times before, dreamt about it more often than you cared to admit, but as his hands began to wander, you realized that nothing could live up to the reality.

With every swipe of his fingers, touch teasing as he brushed along the expanse of your stomach - up your sides, just beneath the swell of your breast, right above your hip - your body grew warmer. It was all dizzying, more than you could’ve ever asked for and better than you dared to hope.

Any thought of the future, the past, the moments in between, all ceased to exist as Jake nipped at your bottom lip. And when you broke the kiss to catch your breath, he simply redirected. His lips brushed along the curve of your jaw, down your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the damp skin.

Warm hands trailed lower, fingers wrapping around your thigh and lifting to hitch it over his hip as his teeth nipped at the pulse point just beneath your ear. “Thought about this,” he admitted, voice a deep rasp against your skin as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw. “Think about touching you every time I touch myself lately.”

The image of Jake touching himself, getting off to the thought of you, with his body pressed so close to yours was enough to make your body feel as if it’d been submerged in static. The tips of your fingers and toes tingled as the white hot ball in the pit of your stomach grew impossibly hotter. Every inch of him was painfully present - the taut muscles of his shoulders and back, the flex of his stomach with every move he made, the hard and heavy press of his cock against your hip - and made you desperate to feel him as you attempted to formulate a question.

“You’ve… how…?”

Luckily, Jake managed to follow your train of thought where you failed. “How many times have I jerked off to you?” A hum, this one of contemplation as his mouth dipped lower, lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I’ve lost track, sweetheart,” he admitted, pausing only to mouth at the valley of your breasts. “I haven’t taken anyone home in months,” he reminded you. “Just wanted you. Thinkin’ about you was the next best thing.”

As difficult as it was to formulate a coherent sentence, you blinked through the static. “Thought about you.” It was breathless, a confession floating in the wind as Jake’s hands lifted to your breasts, touch certain as he kneaded the soft skin. “Wanted this, you.”

“I know.” You half-expected him to make a joke, to question who wouldn’t want him, but it never came. Instead, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You’re not subtle, sweetheart.”

Jake laughed, grin wide as you rolled your eyes, but offered no resistance as you used the hand on the back of his neck to recapture his mouth in a searing kiss. After a moment of allowing you to lead, he took charge and caged you against the wall. His hands fell lower, trailed down the expanse of your stomach to the plush of your thighs, as his tongue explored the warmth of your mouth.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled the pit of your stomach. Lust clouded your every thought and made it difficult for you to do much more than tug at the damp strands of hair as you felt the twitch of his cock against your hip. He made it difficult for you to do more than groan against his mouth, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety you’d felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers.

With every swipe of his tongue, his fingers, his warm skin pressed to yours, you suddenly couldn’t remember a time where being this close to him made you feel anything other than wanted. Jake had a way of making you feel as if you were the only person in the world, the only one worthy of his time and attention, and you reveled in it as his hands smoothed over your thighs.

“Jake.”

The plea was muffled, breathed against his mouth, but Jake understood. His hum of acknowledgement was accompanied by a nip to your bottom lip. “I know, sweetheart.” His hand dipped between your thighs then, fingers ghosting along the sensitive inner skin as he met your eyes. “Gonna give you what you want.”

Soft hands ghosted along your thighs, pressing closer and closer to your aching center as Jake leaned in to nose at the hinge of your jaw. A plea for more was on the tip of your tongue, a request for him to just touch you, but before you could ask, his fingers swiped through your folds. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sent a jolt down your spine.

At your sharp exhale, Jake’s mouth curved into a grin. There was little question that he was eager to hear just how good he made you feel and you had no qualms about giving him what he wanted. While you imagined he would tease, take his time to work you into a frenzy, the moment called for something more and you knew that. His touch wasn’t frenzied, there was no rush to get you off before seeking his own pleasure, but he didn’t hesitate to dive in headfirst.

There was a deliberateness to the swipe of his fingers through your folds, a sharp precision that had your vision whiting at the edges as he finally sank a finger into your heat, and you felt your body arch into his as he shifted even closer. The grip of his fingers pressed to your thigh, holding you upright as those green eyes searched your face, would likely leave a bruise but you couldn’t wait to feel the evidence of his touch in the morning.

As he focused on your pleasure, the press of his cock against your hip grew more noticeable with every swipe of his fingers. The hard, heavy appendage twitched with each moan that escaped your mouth, with every gasp as his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, and you couldn’t help but reach out for him.

Though the water and low light made it difficult to see much, you could clearly see the size of him as your fingers swiped at the sensitive head. The thought of feeling him, of taking all that he had to give, made you clench around his fingers as Jake groaned.

“Don’t remember what our plans were for tomorrow,” he drawled, accent thicker than you’d ever heard it, “but if you think I’m lettin’ you leave my bed, you’re crazy.”

The press of his fingers grew more insistent with every swipe of your hand, with every brush of your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, and with every gasp that left your lips. He mouthed at your damp skin, breath fanning over the column of your throat and leaving you with goosebumps, as his thumb circled your aching clit.

“Jake.” He hummed, nosing at the hinge of your jaw, as your fingers tugged at his hair. “Want to come with you,” you pleaded, eager to finally feel him after spending so long imagining this moment. “Please.”

Some small part of you expected a taunt, a tease that called him a gentleman who wanted to get you off first, but he seemed just as desperate as you. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he acquiesced, hand leaving your center after a final swipe to your bundle of nerves. Even as you whined at the loss, he shushed you. “Gimme a second.”

Jake shifted, tapped your leg to encourage you to wrap it around his waist, before dragging his cock through your folds. He smirked at the shaking of your limbs, body strung tight as you waited to finally feel him, and kept his eyes trained on your face as he took a brief moment to tease.

The head of his cock caught at your entrance, pulling a soft gasp from your mouth as your hand fell to his bicep. You tipped your head to return your mouth to his, desperate to kiss him once more, as he began to press forward.

Every inch of Jake filling you felt impossible, too much but not quite enough, and you allowed yourself a moment to revel in the feeling. Having him so close, being full of him, after spending so long imagining how he’d feel was overwhelming in the best way. And he eagerly swallowed your noises of pleasure, took them in stride as he gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him buried deep.

“Feel even better than I imagined.” His admission lingered on the edge of breathless, words nearly slurred as he waited for your permission to move. “Feel like heave, sweetheart.”

When you gave him the green light, he set a pace that had you seeing stars. And with every thrust of his hips, his composure began to slip, gradually losing himself in the warmth of your body - in the reality of the moment at hand. Words failed you both, too caught up in the feeling of one another to breathe more than a few words of pleasure. The only thing you could focus on was the searing warmth of his chest pressed to yours, the sting of his fingers digging into your thigh, the ache as he stretched you so completely.

Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but Jake, ceased to exist. With every press of his hips, with every swipe of his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves, his pace began to falter. You were both tumbling closer to the edge, falling into the abyss, and your cries were reduced to little but his name.

Jake didn’t seem to mind, however, as every cry that left your lips spurred him on. “I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing impossibly closer. His hips moved faster, sending water sloshing around you both, as he pushed you higher and higher.

As you barreled over the edge, vision whiting at the edges and lips parting, Jake’s mouth met yours. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, noises he knew would actually wake the neighbors, and slowed his pace to make the ride easier to handle. Even still, he followed shortly after with a groan of his own.

The feeling of him filling you drew a gasp, the warmth of his spend searing you from within as you clenched around him. That saw Jake nipping at your bottom lip in warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he teased, grinning when you laughed weakly. “We should get out, get cleaned up.”

“I’m not sure my legs work.” The joke made him roll his eyes, though you could see the way his chest puffed in pride as he waded the pair of you toward the stairs.

“My job’s not done, then. Told you,” he began, grinning as he took your hand in his, “you’re not leavin’ my bed tomorrow.”

Jake’s hand was warm, strong and careful as he helped you out of the pool. The promise was enough to make you laugh, eager for a future you were certain didn’t exist less than an hour ago. There was little you needed to say, not when you knew there was time to say it all later. So, you simply followed along and decided you were grateful for skinny dipping and whatever other changes the night would bring.

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Author’s Note: I can’t believe it’s been so long since I posted a fic, I’m so sorry. Literally, I’ve been to a whole different country since I last posted (I think? I’m pretty sure I last posted like two weeks before I went to Germany). Anyway. Only perk of my life falling apart? I write to pretend it’s not. :) So! Enjoy this, you’ll see more friends to lovers and other stuff. Also, rusty smut, my bad. I’m gonna keep working on it!

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt

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

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alcoholfreenayeon · 4 months

Note

Hi can I request a yuqi from gidle x male reader smut where they’ve been dating for a while and after a concert reader takes her out to eat then when they get back home they have fluffy sex then take a shower together then when he wakes up the next morning she’s cooking breakfast in his shirt

A/N: This is it, my first male!reader fic. I hope you like it, I know it took me a while but it was mostly due to my exams😭.

Light My Fire

CW: m!reader x Yuqi, slight smut, some fluff, nsfw

You watched in awe as your girlfriend put on a performance of a lifetime, singing and dancing like there’s no tomorrow. That’s how she always performed but you always felt just as awestruck as the first time you watched her perform. You whooped and applauded with the crowd and a few songs later, the show was done. It was quite short by a Kpop concert standard but you preferred it this way. So you could spend some time after the show with her as well since she wouldn’t be too tired.

You had a nice dinner reservation and wanted to treat her. Usually, Yuqi liked to treat you and besides its not exactly easy to make a dinner date a big surprise or special when your partner is a superstar but you try your best and being the sweet girl she is, she always seems over the moon even over the smallest of things you do for her.

Nevertheless, you meet her backstage where she is already ready to go and greets you with a hug.

“Did you like the-”, she begins but you’ve memorized her questions through previous experiences.

“Yes it was amazing. Yes you looked really pretty and hot. No, I didn’t look at any other girls. And yes I have something planned for us.”, you interrupt her with small smilie, answering all the questions she was going to ask before she even had a chance to ask them.

She looked at you blankly for a few seconds before pouting but ended up almost immediately laughing and giving you a gentle push, “so annoying”.

You chuckled, “Come on let’s go, we don’t wanna be late.”

It didn’t take too long to reach the restaurant, about 20 minutes, you both were discussing the concert and seeing some of the clips people had posted online. Dinner wasn’t too fancy but you both liked it regardless and soon after you reached home.

The two of you on the couch, Yuqi resting her head on your shoulder, she traced imaginary lines on your chest and you both cuddled for a while in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. Then out of nowhere, she kissed you once. And then again. Pulling back after a few seconds and staring at you longingly. You felt your heartbeat quicken and leaned in slowly and she did the same.

As you both leaned in and began to kiss, it quickly turned into a full on make out session and pretty soon Yuqi was tugging on your clothes trying to take them off. You did the same and pretty soon, well not exactly soon. It took a few minutes for you both to be exposed because neither of you were willing to stop kissing to undress. Only after excessive tugging at each others clothes did you two eventually give in for a few moments.

Soon after, you found yourself on your back with Yuqi on top of you, her hands on your chest, breathing heavily, riding you slowly. You placed your hands at her hips and watched as she gracefully began to ride you.

This continued for a few minutes before Yuqi removed your hands from her hips and instead pinned them to either side of your head and leaned in kissing you hungrily while also grinding sensually.

The two of you just couldn’t get enough of each other, staring at each other with love, lust, longing and kissing every few moments. A few minutes later, you both felt your releases approaching rapidly.

“Yuqi….”, you say sighing, letting her know your close.

She said nothing and grabbing your face with both hands and kissing you passionately while you wrapped your hands around her back as she began to grind faster. You couldn’t help yourself either, your hips buckling as you began to thrust upwards as well, trying to be in rhythm with her movements.

Soon after, you felt the pressure build up and eventually got your release, sighing hard into a kiss while Yuqi squeezed your face tightly, shuddering slightly while she got hers.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments while your highs slowly faded. Taking a deep breath, Yuqi shifted and moved to the side, resting her head on your chest, an arm wrapped around you.

You take a deep breath and sigh, trying to relax when suddenly Yuqi grabs your hand and tries drag you up.

“Give me a minute”, you try to protest feeling comfortable and sleepy.

“Ah hah!”, she frowns, “No, you’ll sleep. Come with me!”.

“I just did”, you say cheekily, your eyes closed.

“Fine, do as you like, I’m going to shower so your loss”, she replies back triumphantly, knowing you’ll give in.

You kiss your teeth and groan loudly while stretching knowing you can’t miss this chance and get up in one swift move, following Yuqi with your hands on her shoulders,leaning your head at the back of hers.

As you both enter the shower, the next dilemma starts, you like cold showers but didn’t want one right now because of how sleepy you were feeling while Yuqi likes hot showers but wanted to take a cold one because she wanted you to stay awake so you both could cuddle.

Both of you understood each other’s intentions almost immediately and reached for the shower valve together.

“It’s okay, I got it Yuqi”, you say unconvincingly with a smile.

“What are you talking about?”, Yuqi says mischievously.

Neither of you budges, and you both just smile at each other until you decide to take a risk. You let go of the valve and without warning begin to tickle Yuqi who couldn’t react quick enough and moved back helplessly reflexively.

“Hey! Stop! This isn’t fair!”, she squealed, laughing uncontrollably.

It was too late though, you were now in front of her, blocking her access to the valve, smiling victoriously at her while she pouted.

You set the temperature as lukewarm hoping it’s a good enough compromise and you both begin showering, washing each other. Once your done showering, you dry yourself off and go to bed while Yuqi dries herself off and does her self care routine before she comes to bed. You try to wait for her but end up dozing off before she comes.

You wake up hours later to find Yuqi is still missing. You turn towards her side of the bed and find it a bit warm so she only woke up recently you assume. You stretch and get up, brushing and going to the kitchen.

You find her in one of your shirts, obviously it was too big for her and she really looked unbelievably cute in it. She was making some eggs as you walked in behind her, hugging her and kissing her cheek for a moment before pulling back.

She leaned in happily before continuing cooking and finishing the eggs while you began to toast the bread. In a couple of minutes you both were at the table having breakfast in silence, giving each other knowing looks and smiling happily, your hand on hers.

#kpop girls #ask me anything #answered asks #gidle kpop #gidle x reader #gidle smut #gidle yuqi #gidle #kpop headcanons #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #reader x idol #gidle fluff #yuqi x reader #yuqi smut #yuqi fluff #song yuqi

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louloulemons-posts · 9 months

Text

Instagram II (E.M Ver)

Modern!Eddie X Reader

Summary : More Eddie, Reader and the stranger things gang being cuties on IG

A/N : I really enjoyed making the first part of this and so many of you seemed to enjoy it 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Liked by : EdsMunson, Buckley, S.Harrington and Others …

@Y/Nsgram : My boys so cute 🥺

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EdsMunson : You’re the cutest 🖤

- Y/Nsgram : no you 🤍

— S.Harrington : 🤢

CeceWheeler : you two are the cutest 🥲

— Y/Nsgram : 🤍

Liked by : Y/Nsgram, ThatHendersonKid, SinclairCas, S.Harrington and others …

@EdsMunson : Almost there

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JohnnyByers : 👀

WillZeWizard : Can’t wait to see it!

- EdsMunson : Thanks for drawing it for me Kid

Y/Nsgram : Let’s go baby 🤍

- EdsMunson : can’t wait for it babe, with me forever

CeceWheeler : Matching tats? @EdsMunson @Y/Nsgram

- Y/Nsgram : he’s getting my face tattooed on his ass ✌️

Liked by : EdsMunson, Buckley, MadMaxx, S.Harrington, ThatHendersonKid and others …

Y/Nsgram : they’re so cool 😎

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EzSinclair : Eddie and Steve’s faces 💀

- Y/Nsgram : you should have seen the landing

— EzSinclair : Did you film it??

—- Y/Nsgram : show you later 👀

—— EdsMunson : Don’t you dare

——- Y/Nsgram : fight me

MadMaxx : This was so funny

ThatHendersonKid : This should become a tradition

Liked by : VickieVic, Y/Nsgram, CeceWheeler, S.Harrington and others …

@Buckley : 📸

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Y/Nsgram : They’re all of @VickieVic

- Buckley : Ngl 90% are of you from when you stole my camera

CeceWheeler : @JohnnyByers looks like your whole room

- WillZeWizard : so true 🙄

— JohnnyByers : don’t bully me

VickieVic : Need more of us 🩷

Liked by : Buckley, EdsMunson, ThatHendersonKid, MadMax, Y/Nsgram and others …

@S.Harrington : Partners in crime

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Buckley : Besties 👯‍♀️

Y/Nsgram : give me photo creds you ass wipe

- S.Harrington : photo creds to this shit head

ThatHendersonKid : Why are you so dirty?

- S.Harrington : Went on an journey

Liked by : Y/Nsgram, MadMaxx, GarethTheGreat, CeceWheeler and Others …

@EdsMunson : “Eds look a cat!” *proceeds to throw self out of window*

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Y/Nsgram : I NEEDED to stroke it

- EdsMunson : babe there’s a thing called a door

CeceWheeler : Not as bad as when she ran into a road to go and stroke one @Buckley

- Buckley : LMAOO

— EdsMunson : WHAT ????!!??????

—- Y/Nsgram : NANCY WJIEIISKKSN

—— CeceWheeler : Whoops

Liked by : S.Harrington, CeceWheeler, Buckley, JohnnyByers and others …

@Y/Nsgram : Favourite people

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CeceWheeler : Love u

- Y/Nsgram : 🤍

S.Harrington : This was such a good day

- JohnnyByers : one of the best

EdsMunson : ‘Favourite people’ I AM YOUR BOYFRIEND

- Y/Nsgram : and ..?

— EdsMunson : EXCUSE ME

—- Y/Nsgram : you’re my favouritest person 🤍

Liked by : GarethTheGreat, EdsMunson, Buckley and others …

@Y/Nsgram : 👀

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Buckley : Girl-

- Y/Nsgram : i said nothing

— CeceWheeler : Those eyes said it all

S.Harrington : Weird

- Y/Nsgram : favourite necklace honestly

— S.Harrington : Necklace?

—- EdsMunson : BABE

—— S.Harrington : OH MY GOD

——- Y/Nsgram : I said what i said

~ These comments have been restricted ~

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

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ladyosiriscreates · 4 months

Note

hi lady osiris!! thank you for offering to take my soap request 💛

can we get a little something about soap x stressed out reader? where she’s had a super long, difficult week?? how would he help her unwind?

Oh I do love this, as someone who is a permanently exhausted pigeon herself and stressed to the max. Let's explore shall we?

Please forgive me, I've never written an x reader before so I do hope you enjoy lovey!

Soap x Fem!Reader for sweet @soapsgf 4.1k words

Tags: Comfort, Smut, mans is good with his hands and better with his mouth. m on v, unprotected sex, fluff, so much fluff.

It had never been uncommon for John Mactavish to fill the silence with his voice, the lilt of it a familiar sound within your apartment. But he'd noticed little changes through the week, what silence did remain wasn't comforting, the dishes and clutter piling up around you even as your eyes darted anxiously about, making tallies on an ever growing list of things needed to be done.

He noted the way you counted on your fingers, twisting and pinching at the skin of your knuckles as if looking for something to ground yourself. Your hands always seeking in their restlessness, a mind that couldn’t quiet even in your sleep.

“M’eudail… What's eating at you? You know I can help you better if we talk about this…” He beckoned, nearly pleading as he drew you into his arms. “Ye cannae deny it at this point, I’ve watched you circle the kitchen four times holding a glass and doing nothing with it.”

“The dishes-” you gasped, pressing your palm to your forehead and groaning. “That’s right, I have to do the dishes so I can take back the casserole dish to Diane, and then I can clean the counter, and make-”

His lips cut off your words, silencing them as his hands found your cheeks, thumbs massaging at the supple flesh. “Fuck the dishes and fuck Diane, she’s been a right cunt lately anyways, I remember you complaining about her monday. She can wait a day or two more for a damn casserole dish. Now. Do ye work tomorrow?” He asked, forehead gently pressed to yours. It was the first he’d felt you relax in days as you melted beneath his touch, your only reply a soft nod to his question.

The glass was stolen from your hand and placed onto the counter as he turned and ushered you towards your bedroom. A sacred place often shared between the two of you. Though he hadn’t moved in yet, it didn’t stop either of you from sharing a wardrobe, having drawers in each other's dressers, a toothbrush in each other's holders, and more haircare products than two people could ever possibly use. Your room was a haven, draped in soft pink and gray blankets with candles and trinkets brought back from his deployments. His favorite was a large glass jar full of rocks. On every deployment since you’d met, before you even started dating he’d brought back a rock, writing in sharpie the day he had picked it up for you. You each set your favorite rock in front of the jar to always be well and truly displayed- the pair having been chosen on one of your first dates together. You’d gone camping, and at the lakes rocky beach you proposed a game. Find rocks that looks like the others eye colors, closest to matching won. It had been almost too easy a win for you, finding a rock so bright and blue-gray with speckles of quartz that made it glitter. The smug look on your face when you’d found it, the gentle whoop and cheer as you won had been more than enough for him to fall in love right then and there.

Gone was that smile from your face, something that ached at him as he closed his eyes for a moment to picture its light. “Yer gonna rest here, okay? I’ll go wash Diane’s damned casserole dish. Ye can take it to work with you in the morning. S’alright if I stay here with you tonight? Miss my girl.” He teased, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and lifting you up onto the edge of the bed. It never failed to surprise you just how easily he lifted your weight, tossing you around like his own personal ragdoll from time to time.

He set you on the bed, slowly peeling away layers of clothes and tossing them into a nearly full hamper before bringing out one of his tee shirts and pulling it over your frame. “There’s my bonnie little thing.”

“‘M not a thing.” You muttered, biting down on the inside of your cheek indignantly- just to hear his soft laugh.

“Yer right, not a thing. No… M’eudail, yer everything.” He mused, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before drawing his arms about you and nestling your anxious body back to the sheets. “...I know you’re not ready to talk about it now, that you need to sort through the things in your head yourself first before you can explain it… but I’m here, I will be here until the day you no longer let me stand beside you.” He promised, the words flowing forth like water from a spring. It comforted him just as much as he hoped it comforted you when he felt you nuzzle into his chest, eyes closed and breathing beginning to settle.

But for all your stress, the things you wouldn't talk about- you didn't snap. You didn't take it out on him or silence him. He almost wished you would. Anything to hear your voice and coax you back to him. Johnny knew you tended to isolate when your mind climbed to new and stressed heights, so to be allowed this glimpse into your mind, to be walked hand in hand through the turbulence of your soul- it was a greater gift than he knew how to accept. Only to hope that you would allow him to do it for the rest of your lives.

“Ye don’t know it yet…” he whispered against your settling form, kisses pressed to the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair. He was glad you fell asleep quickly, keeping his words soft as not to rouse you. “But you saved me. Took a man with aimless devotion to his work and grounded him. Brought him back from a ledge so many walk off. I used to dread coming home, craved the firefight and relentless rush of fighting for my life. But god damn it all, you’ve given me something real to fight for. Now you’re just the one thing I come home to. I wake up glad for you… I guess, what I’m trying to say- know we haven’t said it yet… but I’m in love with you. The good, the bad, every piece of you that you show to me just gives me more to love. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t wait for you to wake up so I can say it to your face.”

He waited an hour or so more before temporarily untangling your limbs, taking his phone to the living room and sitting down to make a call. A familiar voice made him smile, though it sounded annoyed to be woken so late.

“Tavish, what do y’need?” Price asked, clearing his throat of sleep. “Better be good if yer waking me up for it.”

“Aye, know you need yer beauty sleep, Cap. But I’m hoping to get the next couple of days off.” He exclaimed, knee bouncing as he rested his other arm over his knee.

“Everything okay? Not in trouble are you?” He followed up, clearly more alert. Because while not as bad as Simon, getting Johnny to take time off from work was like pulling teeth. “No one died?”

This caused a small laugh to escape him, unable to contain his own humored emotion. “No, Sir. No one died… i… ah.” he cleared his throat. “My girl needs me. She’s having a tough time, and always makes herself available f’r me… ‘bout time I returned the favor. ‘M gonna tell her I love her.”

The silence that spread between them was thick, nearly audible surprise in Price’s voice when he spoke again. “How long-”

“Eight months. Last time you sent me on leave for a month, I met her picking up some books for my ma and sis. I didn’t want to say ‘nything till I knew it was… serious. But it’s serious… I think this is it for me Cap. She is it for me.” He exclaimed, eyes warm as he stared at the coffee table before him. “She feels like home just as much if not more than the 141 does. She’s patient with me, accepts that she may never understand what I do but will never stop me from doing it… I want you all to meet her soon.”

Price’s voice was notably softer now, pride swelling within him. It was all he’d ever hoped for his boys, to find something just as important to him as the work. To open themselves up in ways he hadn’t yet been able to. “Is a week enough?”

“Cap- I was only asking for a few days-” Johnny began.

“A week. If she’s having a hard time, give ‘er the world… show her the meaning behind your feelings and your words, Tav. Do Simon and Kyle know?” He asked.

“They’ve had inklings… but you’re the first person I’ve confirmed anything to.” Johnny admitted, turning over a book that rested on the edge of the coffee table, the phone resting comfortably in his other hand. “Thank you, Cap. I… can’t wait for you guys to meet her. She’s absolutely brilliant… and mine. ‘M not sharin…” He exclaimed.

Their conversation ended with pleasantries and the agreed upon reasoning that would be put on his paperwork before he returned to bed, pulling you back into his arms to keep you there till morning came.

He pretended to remain sleepy and nestled in after you kissed his forehead goodbye, only jumping from the bed when he heard the door lock behind you. So much to do and so little time to do it. Eight hours and counting as he cracked his knuckles, putting on some dance-y pop music to get the day going. There was nothing like hearing a scottish lilted rendition of Dirty Mind by 3OH!3 and Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. And he made sure to record little bouts of it between chores, saving the videos to show you later.

His start was the rest of the dishes, picking them up from all over the apartment, handwashing what needed a bit of extra help before loading the rest into the dishwasher and running it. Next, he took your laundry, sorting it and starting the largest load he could. All of this was about you, for you… his love. To ease the burden resting on your shoulders, the weight that threatened to bend you till you broke.

While the dishes and laundry ran, he swept and vacuumed, rearranging the furniture to make sure no spot was missed. Your books were stacked on the coffee table, his sketchbook and pencils set beside it. It was your best friend he called next, asking for the recipe for her chicken and gnocchi that you loved so dearly, making a quick run to the grocery store to pick up ingredients. There he also picked up an assortment of desserts, cannolis, ice cream, and cheesecake, a lactose intolerant persons nightmare… or daydream, knowing how willing to ignore their intolerance most were. When you texted to say that work was making you stay a couple hours extra, he only sighed in relief. While it annoyed him that they were keeping you from coming home to him, he was glad for more time to better set up his surprise.

Some people would think perhaps it was strange to buy three of the same candle, but now that he was back in your apartment, he put one on the coffee table, one on your desk, and the third in the kitchen. Sweet Mint and Grapefruit. Something comforting and uplifting, just like how he hoped to have you. On the chair closest to the door, he laid out soft pajamas, intent to have you out of your work clothes and leaving that world behind you, if even only for the weekend. Clothes were folded and put away from the laundry, your bed made as a pot simmered on the stove. The realization that he loved you had hit him like a freight train, making his heart soar and sing, so to see you so stressed and pained… he felt it at his core.

The door unlocking had him perked like a dog, vaulting the back of your couch to meet you at the door, his hands on your forearms with an earsplitting smile. “Mo ghràdh…” He swallowed, watching as the startled confusion faded to recognition, a tired and strained smile pressing to your lips.

“Johnny, sunshine… lemme get my shoes and stuff off- WHATAREYOUDOING JOHN AIDAN MACTAVISH-”

But your shriek only spurned him further, soft laughter tearing from his throat as he lifted you easily past the threshold and taking your bag to set it on the ground. “Turn your brain off, Mo ghràdh. Just let me handle… everything.” He cooed, catching your eyes as they wandered about your freshly spotless apartment.

“Johnny… when did you…” but your words stalled again as he sank to his knees before you, eyes light with hunger and reverence.

“Called into work. I’m yours for the whole next week… Cap pulled some strings for me.” He explained, watching your eyes widen and water. Any words of dissent fell away as his hands smoothed over your hips, bringing his face to your abdomen as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your clothes. “Ya had a long day, hen… tha’s not lost on me… and the weeks been so hard for ya… just let me take care of it, let me take care of you. Can ye be a good girl and let me do that for you?” Johnny hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Only when he felt you melt into his touch, your eyes closing a nod consenting to his actions, did he continue. His hands left your hips to remove your shoes and socks, a kiss pressed to your clothed knee as he did. “My pretty bird… so sweet for me… working so hard to make everyone happy, you just forget about yourself do ye? Not a soul in this world deserves your kindness, your smile… hell, let alone me. The fact that I get it at all?” He sighed contently, tugging the waistband of your pants down, and your underwear with it. “Perhaps that’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven… and I couldn’t be more glad for it. Glad for you to have waltzed your way into my life and made a home in my heart.”

The flush that had grown on your cheeks, the warmth that spread through your body as his touch wandered over beautifully scarred skin, kissing freckles and dimples, anything that could be considered an imperfection by a society that had forgotten what love and devotion truly were. His hands caressed from thigh to waist, bringing your shirt up over your arms, guiding you forward just enough that he could pull it over your head and press his lips to your forehead once more. “Yer perfect f’me… so perfect.” He breathed, pushing up on his knees to wrap his arms around you, chin resting just at the lowest part of your sternum as he flicked his fingers, your bra coming undone and falling slack off your shoulders.

He relished in the sigh that left your lips, enjoying that bras existed only so he could remove them from your beautifully painted body. “My cliodna, my venus, my very own aphrodite. Not a single thing in this world is more precious than my girl…”

“Johnny…” You groaned, turning your head away to hide the ever growing flush at your cheeks.

“Please look at me…” He bid, eyes wide and almost puppyish as he pressed ticklish kisses to your naval, facial hair gently scratching at the skin to make you jump into him. When he saw your gaze back upon him, a boyish grin crossed his face, wedging your legs apart as he walked you back to the door to lean against it. “Oh, Mo ghràdh, don’t look at me like that, makes it hard to think.” Johnny teased, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. “Hold on if you need to, but I promise I’ve got you.”

And when he looked at you like that, as if he were a man gazing upon salvation, how could you not believe him?

Any thoughts were quickly interrupted by his kisses as they trailed lower before pressing against the sensitive apex at the top of your heat. Unbeknownst to you, his devotion had already taken affect as he felt wetness against his tongue, savoring the ragged gasp that left your lips like a starved man.

Fingers dug at the fleshy part of your hips, his chin inclining as his lashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he began a sweet and unyielding pace. He was yours, so deeply and entirely yours as he doted upon your body, seeking only to hear those familiar and sweet moans that showed just how you were feeling. Because while your mind may betray you, your voice and body never could, not when he was between your legs.

Your hands fell to the longer, thickened and somewhat curly hair of his mohawk, fingers curling into it as you momentarily debated whether to push him back or- no, no, you pulled him closer, hips canting against his lips with a breathy cry as his other hand slipped down between your legs, two fingers finding their way inside to curl and thrust against the spongy heat that craved to be full. As you whispered a soft apology for pulling his hair so roughly, you were silenced by his own moan, your eyes meeting for only a moment as you caught sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils. It was a romantics painting in its own right, the visual opposition of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel, this angel full of endearing passion and idolization.

Your eyes rolled back as his tongue delved deeper, circling your clit as he traced letters over it, something only for him as he savored your sweetness upon his tongue.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U. Over and over until he felt your hips begin to tremble, leg buckling as you grew nearer and nearer to release. On different terms, he would have stopped, wanting to draw out and prolong your pleasure as long as he could, torturing you with your release- but not today. Not now, no. That was for a day where his focus was on not only you.

“Sunshine-” you whispered, the breath stuttered along with your hips when his fingers curled against that spot deep inside you, stars bursting in front of your open eyes as your vision went white. Did you scream? Did you moan? You briefly felt a bit of pain on your tongue, a metallic taste spreading across it as you subconsciously bit down, weak whimpers sending your body trembling and tumbling forward into your Johnny.

He was all too happy to sustain you, holding you up and pinning your hips to the door as he lapped up the thick and creamy juices that spilled onto his tongue, face glistening when he finally pulled away with a rough gasp. “All that f’me, princess?” he hummed, rubbing his chin across the inside of your thigh, just to feel your sensitive and overstimulated body jump beneath his touch.

Johnny stood then, carrying you to the bathroom and turning on the shower. It was easy to ignore- well, not easy, but he was more than willing to ignore the aching strain in his pants as he guided you through a shower, your sweet, starstruck gaze on his as you kissed the taste of yourself off his tongue. He didn’t care as his clothes got wet, making sure to take his time as he ran the loufa over your body, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the day before cleaning each part of you more gently and tenderly. Your hair was washed, your scalp massaged as he hummed softly to you, crooning sweet words of praise and pride. “My pretty girl… so perfect f’me… look at you… jus’ look at you… so gorgeous.”

When the shower ended you were wrapped in a still warm towel and whisked back to the living room, your feet barely touching the ground long enough for you to register it. So this was what it meant to be loved? The words hadn’t been shared between you two, not yet, but it was undeniable now. These acts of service were hardly acts at all, only the truest form of love and devotion as he dressed you just as slowly and tenderly as he’d undressed you.

“Wait…” you slurred, lashes fluttering as you glanced around. “What’s that…”

A cheeky smile crossed his face as he pulled your nightshirt over your body. “Might’ve called your friend for a bit of help…” he exclaimed, taking you to the kitchen and grabbing two bowls. “Think you can eat fer me? I know it’s hard when yer stressed so… thought I might tempt you.” Johnny laughed.

Bowls of food were brought to the table, and when you hesitated to take a bite, he ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth and lifted the spoon to it, feeding you slowly. “There we go… tha’s a good girl… don’t gotta eat it all, just gotta eat enough for me. I’m here, I’m with you… won’t make you talk about it…” He stated, watching as your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the love and devotion shown to you.

“I love you.” You blurted, the words causing your eyes to widen. Stress had melted away as his hands had earlier explored your body, but now it was back, tension coiling in your chest. “I mean-”

“I love you, too.” Johnny exclaimed softly, a slow smile gracing his face- like the sun cresting the horizon after a rainy night. “I love you. Tha gaol agam ort. You and I… this… it’s everything to me. You’re everything to me, and I wanted to show you, really show you just what you mean to me. Not in grand gestures, but… just like this… I want it to always be like this, or better. I want us to keep working towards better, as long as it’s… together.” He stated, setting down the spoon and pressing your foreheads together.

Tears fell as the floodgates burst, your head bowed and elbows resting on the table. It had been too much before, your work life, family life, even health feeling like it was all working against you- and in a moment of anger, you’d convinced yourself you were alone.

But how could that have been true when you had the literal sun before you? You understood now, Icarus and Apollo, Achilles and Patroclus, Odysseus and Penelope. The all encompassing love that drove people to war and compassion.

“I love you.” You wept, the words more freeing than you had ever known them to be.

Dishes were forgotten on the table as he swept you into his arms, an increasingly common action as of late and led you back to your bedroom, laying you down upon soft and silken sheets. “I love you, M’eudail… every piece of you that you had long since abandoned, the parts you didn’t think were capable or worthy of being loved, I love all of it, and if you’ll give it to me, I’ll show you… I promise, and promises are meant to be kept.” He whispered, caging your body in with his own as he acted like a weighted blanket pinning you to the bed.

Your chest screamed for air, as laughter bubbled out between your tears, one hand threading into the back of his mohawk, the other rubbing small circles into his back. “How did I get so lucky?” you whispered, the words a betrayal of your mind.

“You didn’t do anything, Mo ghràdh, just by existing you are worthy of love. Worthy of living a life lighter of stress. Just by existing you have earned and deserved kindness… I am sorry that I am the first one to show you that, especially now.” He whispered, the words soft upon your skin.

“I’ll call into work next week…” You whispered, hiccuping softly as his hands slipped beneath your shirt.

“I didn’t plan to leave you for a moment anyways.” He mused in return. “I love you, M’eudail… my perfect, bonnie love…”

“I love you too, Sunshine. If there’s a place for me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#cod mw2 #fanfiction #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader

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