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yandere-sins · 2 months ago

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Solitude

a/n: Just a little something I wrote after playing the update and seeing Mydei be all alone. Hope you guys enjoy it ♥ Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Depression & Desperation, Depiction of loneliness, Possessiveness, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Forced Marriage by Parents, Soft Yandere (at some parts), Long Post

Cruelty came in many forms.

Kicking someone who was already down was cruel, as was forcing another person to commit crimes. But it all paled in comparison to kidnapping you in your sleep, taking you too far from your home—or any civilization, really—to return to it by yourself, and keeping you in constant danger and maddening loneliness just so he could have you all to himself.

On that day, when you first heard of Mydei's departure, you were filled with relief. Relief which you hadn't felt in so long. Usually, it was discomfort, stress, and fear. There were days you didn't leave your home just to avoid him. But you couldn't on that day, so your fate ran its course.

Even though you tried, you couldn't outrun it this time.

Standing at the edge of the once glorious city, you watched the rubble perish into an endless abyss beneath your feet. One step further and you would have lost your footing, plummeting together with the earth. He wouldn't have let you, realistically, but you liked to imagine it occasionally. It soothed your anguished mind to think about possible escapes, even if there was no way out from his clutches.

Castrum Kremnos—or at least what remained of it—was mostly quiet that day. No moaning, groaning, or growling from the beasts that haunted it, and yet, the ground shook ever so often, reminding you of the monster fighting on the other side of the city. The vibrations beneath your feet were a reminder and a promise at the same time.

Don't do anything stupid. I am right here.

As if the colossal walls and buildings didn't constantly remind you of that. Even when they were empty, it felt like watchful eyes leered down at you from above, the wind howling through the broken parts as if they were whispering to Mydei about you, telling him all he wanted to know. It was never truly silent in this prison that was your life.

In a way, they reminded you of your parents, the original perpetrators of your misery. They hadn't been happy when Mydei declared himself the last king, laying down his title that they had always hoped would make their child a consort one day. For some reason, they had followed this poor man for so long on his journey, shoving you into his face until, eventually, he'd take you for a spouse, and they'd get to benefit from this union. That was their hope, their whole purpose in life.

Your purpose.

It failed the day Mydei left Okhema and all Kremnoians behind. But only partly, in a way they wouldn't have expected. Because they didn't know or didn't want to know what and who he really was. Your parents wouldn't listen to you and would put you in your place if you even dared to express disapproval of the union they wished for you and the former prince. Mydei never even knew why you were forced to approach him in the first place.

But by the time you told him, it was already too late.

Because he was in love, he said. With you, he whispered in the corner of the Garden of Life a long time ago, holding your hand loosely clasped in his, with the tips of his golden claws digging into your palm. I want you, said in a voice that didn't befit him, too soft, without the edge of a nagging or scolding undertone. It created a knot in your stomach and almost made you throw up into his lap then and there. Ironic, wasn't it? That the thing you were forced to want, was what unsettled you the most.

And yet, your parents made you go to his farewell ceremony. Even if you were not going to be his consort, they hadn't lost hope of being rewarded for their efforts by being patriotic to their king. You thought they were stupid to still play this game, even if Kremnos had fallen. Even when Mydei had decided to become a god and fulfill the only duty he felt bound to.

You had almost admired him as he parted the crowd with every one of his steps, head held high. His gaze dropped to you, despite the countless heads between the two of you, and you had bowed, smiling as you were filled with a feeling of freedom that you thought went through him, too, at that moment. Mydei looked so at peace. You thought it meant the same for you.

"Careful."

Sharp, golden claws wrapped around your arm as you were pulled back. Still catching his breath, his chest rose and fell against your body, Mydei's other arm reaching for your hip, caging you against him. You were far enough away from the edge, yet you still looked out at it longingly. It was a way out. One of many, you assumed. And one of many he disapproved of.

"You don't want to fall in there."

"I wouldn't know," you whispered before taking a deep breath, brushing off his hands, and turning around to look him in the eyes, hoping that some of the distaste and hatred you felt for him would convey through your gaze. "I wasn't even born when my parents left the city."

"I know what it's like to fall in there, that's enough," Mydei insisted, the swirling red in his eyes both unnerving and challenging to look at, reminding you he wasn't like you. It made you feel... helpless. Trapped. Punished for some reason. So you shook your head and looked away.

Once more, the city fell silent with only the wind whispering as it rustled through hair and clothes, making them sway in the wind. Almost like the day that Mydei took you, the same day he left the city. By the time you laid your head to rest, everyone thought he was long gone, and you enjoyed leaving your window open for the first time in years. It felt so good to feel the wind on your face without worrying over nightly visitors and you slept with a smile.

Only to be harshly awoken by wetness splattering on your face. Cruelty knew no bounds as the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was the life leaving a Titankin, blood splaying everywhere while you were clutched tightly against Mydei's chest, his skin and clothes just as bloody, and you were, too. Mydei was cruelty incarnate, yet you were surprised that he left with the only thing that meant enough to him to take with as he returned home.

You.

"I saw this. Made me think about you."

The sound you made as Mydei held out the little violet towards you was more sneer than you wanted it to be. Ironic. Everything about this was so ironic. You took it from his claws, the poor thing being squeezed to death between his fingers. Much like you were, you thought, in a strange feeling of camaraderie.

"It was the only flower I could find beneath all the rubble. Thought you might like it since you keep complaining about the dirt."

Opening your mouth, you were about to tell him that he just had to take you back to Okhema so you could be rid of it all. However, the constant arguing with him had worn you down enough to not start it again. Pointing out the similarity between his statement and your situation wouldn't help either; Mydei effortlessly ignored any mention of wrongdoing. But he had made it clear, even before kidnapping you, that you were a flower amongst the ruins of his life. A rare ray of sunshine in a world dipped in blood and cruelty.

You agreed with a man's opinion once, telling him that his ideas weren't absurd, and now he worshipped you in his own twisted way.

Twirling the stem between your fingers, you watched the petals dance. One single flower in all of Castrum Kremnos. And Mydei had to ruin it, another similarity you shared with the flower. One god, one human, one flower. A whole lot of fighting, rubble, and monsters. It was all so ironic and all so... lonely.

Taking a few steps away from him and the enticing abyss, you came to a halt again fairly quickly. There was no one you had to hurry for, nothing to go to. This place was the kingdom of isolation, and you needed to almost fall off a cliff for Mydei to appear, why not use the chance?

"Do you ever regret leaving Okhema?", you asked, still watching the flower in your hand. However, when you had to wait for a reply, your eyes darted up, seeing Mydei stare at the flower, too, deep in thought.

"No," he finally said, looking up to meet your gaze, and your lips twisted into a knowing pitiful smile.

"Liar," you called him out. "It's so lonely here. The solitude is killing me; I don't believe it doesn't affect you."

"It doesn't," he immediately replied, firmly this time. He closed the distance in a meager two steps, grabbing your hand that was still holding the flower and squeezing it tightly. The tips of his claws poked your skin, burning as they tore through the layers until you released the fragile bloom with a gasp. But it never hit the floor.

"I never lie. I don't need to lie," Mydei hissed, resentful of your mischaracterization of him. He had caught the flower between his claws, and your heart ached for it, seeing how it most likely was going to be destroyed in his clutches, the god having very little sentiment for the fragility of life.

But to your surprise, he raised it high, all the way up to your temple. The cold metal brushed your skin, hair strands tangling between the claws, some of them getting cut off as he brushed them back. When Mydei withdrew his hand, there was no flower left in his grasp, instead, he rested his palm alongside your face, cupping your cheek that was wet with tears that you hadn't realized had fallen.

"I'm not lonely, I have you. What more do I need, when all I want is right here? And what more do you want when I am here with you?"

"My freedom," you croaked. "My life, my peace."

Mydei let out a loud, humorless laugh as he listened with furrowed brows. His hand fell from your face, tears making the gold shimmer in the lights as his gaze softened ever so slightly. "That's what I gave you."

"No," you whispered, shaking your head with increasing ferocity. "That's not it, this is--"

"Solitude. The freedom to do what you want, live the life you want and find peace with everything and yourself. It's exactly what you wanted."

"But..."

Unable to find the words to argue against him, your body slowly stilled, shoulders sacking as you realized you couldn't debate it. He was right. Mydei was actually right.

All your life you had done what others wanted, never what you did. You hadn't even played in dirt as child before coming to Castrum Kremnos. You didn't get to live you life or be at peace with your decisions... there never were any decisions, not even whether you'd come here. But now that you were... Mydei was right.

So why weren't you happy?

"But I'm lonely," you whispered, barely loud enough to even hear yourself. Even without living by your own definition before, you had always been surrounded by people. Friends, neighbors, good people. Even Mydei had been by your side long before he loved you. But now that it was only you two, it was no longer enough, even if he had given you everything you always wanted in life. He couldn't return the happy times you hung out with, talked to everyone else, learned new things, and worked hard towards a common goal with those around you.

Despite it all, it still wasn't what you wanted.

Mydei thought for a long time, his back turned towards you, before he suddenly placed his arms akimbo, looking at the sky. "I wanted to wait, you know," he sighed heavily, as if burdened by his words. "Give you the time. Have you come to me."

In a split second, he had turned around and closed the distance between you two. He was so close, you felt his breath on your skin, your eyes having fallen on his lips that hovered just above you. "I gave you freedom," he murmured, goosebumps running down your spine as your pulse quickened. "Returned your life to you, gave you a chance to acquire peace."

Next thing you knew, Mydei's lips crashed on yours, hot and tight, both passionate and awkward, as if it was his first time. And yet, he took the lead, confidently, unwavering, as he pried your lips open, sliding his tongue inside to meet yours, unite them as he sucked in the remainder of your breath. Taking it all from you as if possessed with prying your very soul from you. Cruel, demanding, and so, so devoted to making your head blur, mind race, and heart leap.

Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, which he took as a sign to draw closer, to bare himself even more to you as the lovesick fool he was. You felt his weight leaning on you as he tipped you backward, as if to throw both of you off the cliff he had warned you about. Almost as if his knees were giving out beneath him as he wanted to kneel before you. As if this kiss was a sign of worship, rather than whatever Mydei thought he was doing. You could have torn him open, and you doubted he would have minded at that moment as he sunk you both deeper into the kiss, like an ocean, deep and neverending.

And you could only hold on to him, as the only lifeline keeping you from drowning.

Abruptly, your feet left the ground, legs spread open as he forced your hips against his, securing you with one arm beneath your thighs and one clawed hand clasping the nape of your neck. Suddenly, you were the one looking down at him from above, his neck stretching to look up at you, following the lure of your lips even though it was interrupted not shortly after.

"Ask me," he demanded breathlessly. "Ask me to take it away."

"Take what?" you answered, your brain still too frazzled to understand.

Mydei's face contorted in something akin to pain as if it hurt him to tell you what he wanted, and you couldn't understand it. He always had a snide retort. He never hesitated to throw back a comment and to argue with anyone. Yet it hurt him to ask you something? Or was it not hurt you had seen at all?

What if it was the desperation of need?

A need for what?

"Please," he begged. Mydei begged. The Mydei softened his voice to beg you. "Please ask me."

"Ask you to what?" you replied more firmly, assured by the shivers you felt beneath your nails as you dug them deeper into his body that he understood that he needed to speak clearly. Suddenly, you were in a completely different situation than before, a surge of power going through you as his eyes darted back and forth between the two of yours, his jaw ticking as he fought his inner demons not to sink so low. If he asked you, and you said no, it would surely tear him apart, you realized that, but you didn't even know what he wanted to say in the first place.

"... away."

"Louder," you whispered as you missed the first part, Mydei's teeth so delightfully clenched as you made him repeat himself.

"Let me take the loneliness away."

Abruptly, the strange tension Mydei had created between you two fell off, your shoulders slacking as you breathed out curtly. You felt the risen spirits fall back into a deep depression as you shook your head slowly, Mydei's body tensing even more than it had before.

"You can't," you whispered. "It won't last."

"Then I'll prove it to you."

Tightening his hold on you, Mydei squatted slightly before taking a big leap. The sudden loss of gravity and the disappearing ground tore a scream out of you, and you clung to him unintentionally.

"You can't!"

"I do!" Mydei replied, sounding optimistic as he clutched you tightly against him, freeing his arms to wrap them around you as you were holding on to him mostly on your own now. "I did it all for you, I can take the loneliness away as well! Watch me!"

"You're crazy!"

"Stop talking like Phainon, it pisses me off!"

The heavy thud that followed should have broken some bones if not for the fact that Mydei absorbed the landing completely. And further, he continued walking as if he hadn't just taken a massive leap across the city, completely unbothered, his goal still unknown.

"You can't," you mumbled, feeling unwell after the experience. But you forced your eyes open, recognizing the hallway leading to the room he had claimed and reinforced for you to live in.

"You don't known that."

"No one can take loneliness away, Mydei!"

His shoulder suddenly rammed into the enforced door, opening it up enough to squeeze you two through the gap before he turned his back, forcing it to shut again. "I'll show you I can. All you need is me. You should have asked me for it, why don't you understand that?"

Somehow, his words gave you a bad feeling. When you met his eyes, your stomach churned with the fear of the unknown, his gaze tearing you apart, baring you down to the bone to him. You two were back in the safest place in all of Kremnos, and yet, you felt in grave danger, especially when the heavy door finally closed to perfection. It was as if you were locked in with a predator, and you were the meal he was starving after for years.

You gulped.

"I didn't say yes."

Mydei's lips curled into a grin as you were slowly released from his hold, sliding off onto wobbly feet. Every step you took back, he matched one of his. However, he moved towards you, the space to escape him running out quicker than you wanted. There was no running, yet you still didn't believe him. It was impossible to take away the loneliness. Even for a short moment, it wouldn't change the situation or your relationship for the better. It wouldn't make a change big enough to stop you from longing for more.

"But you didn't say no," was his final reply to this matter, and once again, frustratingly, he was right.

One day, if it wasn't the solitude that killed you, it would be Mydei; you were sure of it as you had to watch him close the distance—pounce like the monster he was.

Gods, you prayed silently. Let it be solitude.

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wild-jackalope · 2 months ago

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summary :: virgin sex with your sinister boyfriend, Mark!

warning :: rough, virgin sex, p in v woo, fem reader, relationship is def fucked up, 'I can fix him', sex hurting, missionary, not my usual smut so lmk if its any good, smut w/ no plot, fucking u will make me stronger!! - sinister Mark, dub-con (?)

note :: inspired by stuff written by @slutla love that b, go read her stuff

He hadn't knocked—he never really did. You just looked up and saw him. Floating in the centre of your room like it was his.

"Mark?" His name slipped out soft and gasped, a flicker of fear in your throat. The feeling settled in your stomach when the black and yellow registered.

That look on his face—you knew it. The specific knot in his brow, the strained frown. It wasn't tender sincerity, it never was.

I'm about to feel you up like you're my personal doll. The look said.

It had become your role, unspoken but absolute: be there.

Take him in. Soothe the ache in his skull with your soft body. Let him bury everything he didn’t know how to say beneath your bruising skin.

He moved without a word, kneeled at the edge of your bed, and pushed your legs apart. His mouth met yours with intent and a surprising reverence.

You tried to soak it up as much as possible, tasting the crumbs of love through his lips. Kisses like that made it all worth it—to you at least.

It was a needed reminder that Mark loved you.

His tongue swiped across the cavern between your lips, a claim.

Affection had crept in over time. Mark had never known kind love, Nolan was a cruel father who only offered praise when shown incredible power and his Mum had passed at such a young age he likely didn't hold any memories of her cuddles. You knew that well, it being a piercing reminder that kept you tethered to him.

Mark didn't care for casual touches, curt kisses or cuddles at night.

The feeling of you opening your lips to let him in and letting loose a moan which you couldn't hold back was what he preferred.

"Fuckin' missed you," he murmured, his guttural words vibrating onto your lips.

Mark shed the tight fabric of his mask, tossing it across your floor.

He stared down at you with dark eyes shaded by frantic hair, jaw tight and face littered with a light flush alongside red cuts.

"Mark..." you frowned, taking his face in your hands.

He took your wrists, holding them with a pressure that made it hard to move your fingers. "I'm fine."

He hated words. He preferred to hear you sob.

He returned to the feverish exploration of your mouth, releasing you only after guiding your hands to his hair. Clear in what he wanted: your touch.

Your fingers dipped through his messy hair, nails running along his scalp in long, gentle rakes. They trailed down his neck and across his shoulders. A tremble passed.

"God," he grunted, closing the minuscule space between you to have you compressed to the place where he longed for you the most.

Hungry fingers devoured you, sliding under your shirt and chasing the desire to feel your flushed flesh.

Then one had dipped lower, between your legs.

His palm cupped your heat, holding you there and feeding off your startled reaction. This was new territory. You were familiar with the feeling of his hand palming the fat of your breasts, or the squeeze of his hand against your thighs until he left bruises in his wake.

But his middle finger pressing into the indent of your clothed sex was entirely new, and it made you shrink beneath him.

"This your first time?" He asked, no hints of affection lacing his question only something territorial and dog-like.

"Yeah," you nodded once and swallowed thickly.

Your eyes peered down without thinking, catching on the obvious bump over the base of his suit, demanding to be freed of the trapping fabric.

A grin grew across his face, both satisfied and threatening. "Cool."

He let the pressure of his palm sink in further into your heat, his other hand pressed into your ribs and keeping you still against the plush bed.

"You gonna let me?" He asked, too casually.

"Do—do you want to?" the way you considered him was so sickeningly sweet. He puffed an amused exhale.

"I wanna hear you say it."

He didn't care for consent, he wanted devotion.

You nodded, slow and dizzy. "Yes, I want to have sex with you."

His lips fell to yours with a crashing passion again, his tongue already fighting to explore yours.

"Marhk—" his name muffled in your mouth, enunciation taken by his hasty exploration of your spit-soaked cavern. You weren't sure if he was too taken up in the lust of it all, or if he did hear and just didn't care.

You attempted to recline your head back, but Mark only followed you until you were wedged between him and the bed. Then, you took his burly shoulders in your hands and pushed against him.

He stilled, annoyed.

"What."

"I love you." You said, offering a weak but certain smile.

He kissed you harder, like a punishment for your empty words. "I know," he muttered, "that's why you'll take it."

His fingers slid under your pants and underwear, finally dragging along your bare slit. The first direct touch made you jerk, a helpless cry punched out of your throat.

"That's right," he exhaled, a breathy chuckle in his chest, "I wanna feel how much you love me."

He teased you for a moment longer—circling, dripping, spreading—until he decided it wasn't torturous enough. His fingers hooked around your bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in one strong pull.

You barely had time to breathe before he was stripping himself too, dragging his tight suit down to his waist, the shade of his cape no longer shielding your body. You closed your legs, unwilling to bear the naked humiliation.

But it didn't matter, because Mark pried your legs open with casual strength, like your legs were made up of nothing but thin bone.

Between the open space of your legs, you caught a glimpse of him—already hard, already glossy with pre.

He coated his tip in your slick and your body jolted in reaction. Which only had Mark forcing you further into the bed in an attempt to keep you still.

Then—without a breath of warning—he pushed inside.

He'd only glided against your insides halfway before you constricted at the sudden, alien pressure.

"Mark!"

But he continued, slowly, surely, concealing his thickness inside you. “Shit, that’s too much for you?” He asked, pressing his thumb to your clit.

It was. He could feel it in the violent tremble of your insides, and the way blood soared through your veins with how quickly your heart pumped. Your body was fighting him, but you weren't going to stop him.

You forced down the ball building up your throat with a swallow. "No, I'm okay," you assured.

His thumb began moving against your clit, drawing slow, deliberate circles. The only sign of softness.

"Don't lie to me," he muttered, "does it hurt?"

"Y-Yes."

The admission, the way you look up at him with something fragile in your eyes jolted his dick, and it throbbed against your constrictive insides.

It caressed something broken in him, something that made him press deeper into you. He leaned over you like a shadow and kissed you again, muffling your gasp as he started to move.

The first thrust felt like agony, his length forcing itself inside you and slowly sliding out before stuffing you again. Each rut of his hips jolted your body, but his hand kept you firm against the mattress.

You cried out, every blow to your insides shooting a stinging pain across your abdomen that followed with a quick aftertaste of pleasure.

His lips crushed yours, devouring every gasp and whimper. He kissed with teeth, with tongue, with the kind of force that sent your head spinning. His tongue grazed against your lower lip, before he sucked on the tender skin, leaving a bite sharp enough to leak hot blood, which he smoothed over with a slow, filthy lick.

You couldn't even try to keep up with him.

No one else could take him, not Cecil, not the guardians, not even his father, but you could—like this. Flushed and abused below him.

You could take the bruises, the nasty words, because you loved him. You loved him. It satisfied something deep and cruel inside him.

"Fuuuck." His head dipped to your shoulder, his lips still sweet with your metallic blood. "Let me go faster," he groaned, the words quavering against your shoulder.

"Okay," you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation.

"Yeah? Can I?" He asked—but it wasn't really a question, just a sweetly dressed demand to hear you say you wanted him to wreck you.

Each thrust that drilled into you after was a broken reminder that you were his, a reassurance that your body would remember him long after he'd pulled out and disappeared into the sky.

The previous pace had teetered near too much and now, with the quick smacks of skin and the way Mark's tip surged against your nerves had reached an overstimulating point, the pain and pleasure forced you too quickly over the waves of your climax.

Mark felt it—the full body shake and the throbbing tightness of your insides. The way you clenched around him in rhythmic waves.

Your nails clawed his shoulders, leaving desperate, white lines. Your eyes welled with shining tears and they escaped you in burning streams.

Mark skipped a thrust, only for a heartbeat to let you overwhelm his senses. Though he'd never say it aloud, Mark thought you looked beautiful.

When he threw his hips into you again, your next orgasm followed quick and hot behind your first.

This time, the sucking of your inside threw him over the edge, too.

You felt a new warmth pool inside you, sucked in by the twitching of Mark's dick. He groaned through clenched teeth, milked of his climax far too soon.

He pushed into you as deep as he could go, one final time, forcing his cum to dribble out of your stuffed sex. It had been tinted a light pink, mixed with specks of your blood.

You could hardly feel the tension that first strained your insides, just a numbing buzz left in the wake of Mark's quick thrusts.

He didn't speak, but his hand, rough and warm lifted you from its bruising entrapment of your body. You gasped, a space in your lungs that you hadn't known was stolen by the pressure filled again.

"Breathe," he muttered.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing.

He only stared at you, eyes dark and feral. As if daring you to say you loved him.

You took his cheek with a shaky breath and pressed a weak kiss to his lips, raw and filled with sincerity. It was confession enough.

#invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x oc #invincible x reader #invincible x y/n #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #sinister mark #sinister mark x reader #sinister mark x you #sinister mark x reader smut

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bartxnhood · 11 months ago

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cowboy casanova | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”

warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3

requests open

not proofread

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you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.

now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.

“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.

as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.

tyler owens.

“y/n?”

his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.

“you’re the journalist?”

you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.

but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.

and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.

but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.

“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.

tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”

the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.

“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.

"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.

glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.

"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.

“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.

“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms

“i think you have yourself a ef5.”

uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.

tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.

“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”

tyler owens would be the death of you.

“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”

you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.

“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.

“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.

“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.

suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.

this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.

you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.

as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.

tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.

he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.

“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.

as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.

your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.

sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.

"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.

he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”

“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.

tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.

tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.

it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.

without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.

"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”

you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.

tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.

“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.

he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.

“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”

your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.

inhale, exhale.

you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.

your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”

tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.

it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.

he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.

“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.

“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.

you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.

if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.

“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”

tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”

you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.

“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.

#bartxnhood writes #bartxnhood asks #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens twisters #kate carter #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens fluff #tyler owens angst #tyler owens smut #storm wrangler

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burrowdarling · 4 months ago

Text

Baby Burrow

Summary: After your long day at Disney celebrating baby #2, you reminisce on telling Joe about becoming a dad. Requested by this anon.

Pairings: Husband! Joe Burrow x Wife!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: pregnancy announcement, minor dirty talk alluding to smut

Note: HI! I'm so sorry that this is so late. I got some writer's block towards the end so I hope I still did your idea justice anon! Hoping to be back to posting more regularly with some requests and other works in progress. Enjoy for now!

Word Count: 2.6k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux @lilfreakjez @jburrgf Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

After a long day of running around Disney and basking in the joy of baby number 2, you were all back at your hotel. You couldn't have asked for a better day, catching Joe’s gaze from time to time as he had a hard time taking his eyes off of your son’s hat embroidered with the words ‘big brother’. You found it hard to keep your own composure all day, feeling a massive weight lifted from your shoulders now that the secret was out. The day went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were walking out the gates, your son falling asleep in your arms as you made your way to the car.

You were all showered, finally laying in bed when Joe came back into your room from getting your son settled for the night in the connected suite. You were grateful he took the job on tonight, your legs feeling like jello from all of the walking you had done. You were no athlete and running after a toddler was no joke. He crept in, closing the door quietly behind him to not disturb you. He shot you a small smile before slipping his t-shirt over his head. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, feeling so full of joy and the small family you were creating together. He came over to you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Out like a light,” Joe said, emphasizing his words with a gesture of his hands.

You giggled, his hand stroking lightly against your head. You let your eyes close softly, enjoying the moment. You sighed softly when Joe slipped his hand from your hair.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and I’ll hop into bed with you,” Joe said, his voice low and tired.

“Okay, I could use some more of those when you get back here though,” you replied with a similar tone.

He kissed your lips gently before leaning further to place a kiss to your stomach. As if your heart couldn’t get any fuller, the sight before made it explode with love. Joe was such an amazing dad, like you knew he would be.

“I can’t believe we're gonna have another one, it feels like just yesterday you told me the first time.”

“I had a bit of prep time for that one, I had to get really creative this time since someone would get suspicious otherwise,” you joked, knowing how nosey Joe could be.

Joe laughed lightly as he walked towards the bathroom, “always keeping me on my toes huh?”

“Just doing my job” you said with a laugh, shaking your head.

While Joe was showering, your mind drifted back to that day that you told Joe he was going to be a dad.

Flashback

It was yours and Joe’s first Valentines together as a married couple and you planned to make it a memorable one. You’d spent a lazy morning together, basking in each other's touch with all of the time in the world. Some remained innocent, others not so much. The craziness that came along with Joe’s job as well as the holiday led you both opting for a romantic night in rather than fighting against the public eye. Joe wanted to cook for you, provide you with the “restaurant experience at home, but make it with love”. He always did like to go above and beyond.

It took some convincing, but Joe agreed to go out and get the ingredients for dinner tonight. He was reluctant to leave you, but you assured him things could continue when he got home. You wanted a little time to get ready and surprise him even if you were staying in. With him out of the house to run some errands before tonight, you had a small window to get everything done that you wanted to. Little did he know you had your own surprise up your sleeve, though it wasn’t really up your sleeve literally.

You’d been feeling sick the past few days, having a gut feeling you knew why. You and Joe weren’t necessarily trying for a kid, but you also weren’t not. You wanted it to happen when it happened. The timeline seemed to fit, your next period being late which was a rarity for you at any other given time. Joe was always aware of your cycle, being able to track things better than you ever have. If your gut instincts were correct, you’d have to find a way to tell him ASAP or he’d know something was off.

You took a few tests you had on hand and sure as shit, you were pregnant. Tears of joy immediately filled your eyes, an indescribable feeling settling deep within you as you placed your hand against your stomach. You had always wanted to be a mom and now you got to have a child with the man of your dreams. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the thought of Joe being a dad. You couldn’t wait to tell him, not that you were ever good at keeping a secret regardless. You wanted to do something special though and what better day than the cliche day all about love.

You racked your brain with how you would tell him, wanting to plan the perfect surprise. You had picked up a few possible ideas for gifts to have on hand before you made a final choice. You knew you wanted it to be after dinner, no matter how much the wait would pain you. You grabbed a small gift bag from downstairs and got to planning.

You put the test in first, knowing he would want to see it for himself if he didn’t get to be there in the moment. You had also ordered a custom onesie with “newest Bengals fan” embroidered on it when you first found out as a possible option. You figured he would find the idea cute as well, having expressed his excitement in the past. You finished it off with a card, a usual for each important day you guys shared, the difference being you had written in it the day you found out you were pregnant.

Feeling satisfied with your gift, you tucked it away where he wouldn’t be able to find it and peek. Your next step was setting up and decorating downstairs. You cleared the table and set it with two place settings, placing a few candles in the middle of the table for some mood lighting. You laid out a few things you knew Joe would need and wanted to make thighs a bit easier for him. When you felt that everything was to your satisfaction, you headed upstairs to get ready.

You had gotten a special lingerie set for tonight, slipping the red lacy number underneath your dress. It was a dainty two piece made of satin and lace, two of Joe’s favorites. The element of surprise with these types of things always drove Joe wild, being able to tell a set was new based on feeling alone. It wouldn’t be long after that he would take your clothes off to get a look at what you had picked out just for him this time.

You curled your hair into loose waves, applying a light bit of makeup before deeming yourself happy with how you looked. You heard the door close downstairs, signally Joe was home. You felt a pit of excitement and nerves settle in your stomach. You had to take a few deep breaths, needing to manage your composure for a little while longer, wanting to wait for after dinner.

You padded down the stairs, taking in the few decorations Joe had added to your ensemble. There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table that he had placed in your favorite vase, the candles lit that provided a warm glow to the room. The kitchen smelled amazing as he cooked dinner. You walked to meet Joe in the kitchen, his eyes flicking up from the ingredients in front of him to meet your eyes.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” Joe spoke while pulling your body into his embrace. Your arms fell naturally around his neck as you took him in.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Joey,” you said as you took in his appearance.

He must’ve gotten ready down here while you were upstairs. He had on a white collared shirt with some black slacks. It was simple, but he could make anything look amazing. He had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows and your thoughts turned to any, but innocent.

“Go have a seat at the table and I’ll have dinner ready soon,” Joe said sweetly with a hint of lust in his voice.

It was as if he could read your mind, his own thoughts wandering just as much as his gaze raked up and down your body. He brought you in for a kiss, placing a soft tap on your ass before turning back to the task at hand. You obliged with no questions asked, needing to keep a bit of distance if you wanted things to go according to your plan. Joe came to join you shortly after, bringing over a delicious smelling meal. Your stomach rumbled at the sight, excited to dive in together.

Conversation at dinner remained light, catching up on each other's days and reminiscing over memories together. Soft and suggestive touches were exchanged, your hand on his forearm or his grazes to your thigh. It was nice to spend such intimate time like this together, enjoying the slowness of the offseason for once. Dinner was delicious, devouring your plates singing Joe’s praises about his cooking. You worked together to clean up, blowing out the candles on the table and bringing the dishes to the kitchen.

After clearing the table, you settled on the couch to exchange your gifts with one another. Joe tucked you into his side, his need to have you touching him in some way evident in this moment. Your heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, hoping the flush you felt creeping up your cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

Joe insisted that you open his gift first, grateful to not have to push for that option. It would give you a second to calm down. You took the small wrapped box from his hands, a red bow tied delicately on the top. You pulled at the end, the bow slipping undone and revealing the top of the box.

He had gotten you a gorgeous necklace, gesturing for you to spin around to clasp the delicate chain around your neck. You took the moment to take a deep breath, knowing this would be the moment your lives would change forever. You quickly fiddled with your phone while turned, setting it up to face Joe in hopes to get his reaction.

You unwrapped yourself from Joe’s body and stood to get your bag from its hiding spot. You handed it over to him, sitting back a bit to be sure that Joe was in the frame. You had to hold your emotions back until he opened everything.

“Read the card last this time,” you said as evenly as you could manage.

Luckily Joe obliged, even though he gave you a look of confusion. He pulled the tissue paper from the top of the bag, removing the card as well. He looked down at the clothing in the bag and took it out as if you had gotten him a new shirt. He began to unfold it, even more confused when there was barely any fabric. You watched at the look of realization set into his features as he read what it said.

He looked at you in disbelief, the small onesie clutched in his hands. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes. He looked down into the bag and saw the test, the words ‘pregnant’ standing out against the bottom of the bag. When he looked back at you, there were streaks of tears that made their way down his cheeks, his body fighting back sobs.

“Are you serious? Because this would be a horrible prank to play on me right now,” Joe said as his voice wavered.

All you could do was nod in that moment, not trusting your voice as your own tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. He moved quickly, tracking you onto the sofa in a bear hug. You both let out cries of joy at your newfound titles. The reality of it all setting in for you now that you didn’t have to keep it a secret any longer.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna be a dad,” Joe whispered out as you locked eyes together while wiped the streaks of tears from your cheeks.

“You’re also gonna be amazing Joey,” you whispered back, stroking the tears from his face.

You both laid there for a while, basking in the moment wrapped up in each other.

“I really can’t believe it. I didn’t know my love for you could get any deeper, but I feel like my heart just grew in size. You’re an incredible woman and I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my child. You’ve already made my life so much better and I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. I love you so much sweetheart, just how the grass is green and the sky is blue.”

You felt a new wave of tears fall from your eyes at his confession. You felt the exact same way, unable to form a coherent sentence through the sobs that had overtaken your body once again. You gripped Joe even tighter than before if that way possible and held him close, scared this moment would be too good to be true and slip away.

He moved down your body slightly to place a kiss to your stomach as his large hands gently rubbed where your bump would soon be forming, feeling your heart clench at his tender touch. He began to whisper something into your stomach, unable to make out everything he was saying except the words ‘baby burrow’, needing to taper your emotions or you’d be crying the rest of the night. With a final kiss to your stomach, he moved his way back up to meet your gaze, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’re gonna be quite the parent huh? Cute onesie idea by the way,” Joe complimented.

“Baby’s first Bengals gear, I had to. The amount of Bengals stuff I’m gonna have to wash now will be insane. You bet your ass this baby is gonna be spoiled by all of his ‘aunts and uncles’,” you laughed, referring to Joe’s teammates and your friends.

Your laughter caught in your throat as Joe’s hands moved from your face down to your collarbone. He brushed the strap of your dress off your shoulder, taking the opportunity to peer at your new set. You felt him harden above you at the sight, a deep groan vibrating from his chest. His hand skimmed it way further down your body and slipped up the front of your dress, feeling how wet you were through the fabric of your panties.

“I’ll read the card later, right now I need you underneath me so I can show you just how happy I am,” Joe spoke in a husky tone.

He scooped you up and carried you towards the stairs, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter. Joe planned to show you how much he loved you the best way that he knew how words not doing his feelings justice. Your usual intimate celebration got a lot more meaningful tonight. You’d also have to cut that video later.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #dad joe burrow #wife reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joe shiesty #bengals #burrowdarling requests

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kissohee · 11 months ago

Note

making out with taesan on his lap or in bed and he gets turned on really fast he starts grabbing u firmly and grinding against u bc he’s desperate asf… NNNGHHNHN PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT MAKING OUT WITH HIM IM CRAZYYY

taesan x fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 681 ☆ one-shot mdni! warnings; making out, taesans very needy, premature ejaculation, hickeys, minimal talking, no plot, its short sorry! a/n; sorry this is sooo late but,,,, i got u babe ❣️

You've missed the feeling of your boyfriend's lips on yours, and it's clear he did the same. He was acting upon his eagerness more than you were, making it obvious how much he wanted you. "Wait, Dongmin, Slow down."

He shakes his head, and you feel his hair against your forehead. It's been a while since you and Dongmin had the time to do anything, the both of you being incredibly busy. He wraps his hands around you before bringing them to his lap, your knees on either side of his body. The feeling of his tongue around yours, and his hands on your body reminded you just how desperate you were feeling too. You didn't want to interrupt the moment by removing his shirt, so you just settled on playing with the hem of it. Dongmin left your lips and traveled down your neck, searching for the sensitive spot he knew you had. When he found it, he let his lips linger there, receiving a light moan from you. He smiled against your neck, his kisses traveling down with an occasional suck, leaving bright hickeys all over your skin. He gets to the center of your chest, and moves up to the middle of your neck, before making his way back to your lips. When he bites your lip, it causes you to let out another noise. Except this time you feel him raise his hips, grazing them against yours. The quick feeling almost making your eyes roll back. You settle your hands on his neck, and you feel his own snake under your shirt and up to your breasts. "I've missed you.." "Me.? or my boobs.?" You attempt to tease, getting no reaction out of him. He looks into your eyes, his lips covered in your and his saliva, "You." The way his gaze stayed on you, made your body heat up. You could see the desperation in his eyes, and just how much he missed doing this with you. It's almost like time stayed still, the two of you staring into each other's eyes, admiring one another. Until he moved his hips again, holding your waist down with his hands. His brows furrowed together as he looks at where your laps touch. You were sure you had the same expression on your face as well, the look of pleasure, but also a look of want. It wasn't enough, but you couldn't speed things up after asking him to slow things down. He must've taken note of your face, because he continues to grind up against you, his hands starting to shake a bit from how rough he was holding onto you. He'd have to apologize later for the red marks it'd make on your skin. But for now, that didn't matter. What mattered was the tight feeling in his pants, and the warmth from yours. And the slight relief he was feeling from the simple action of him rubbing himself against you, was slowly making him lose his mind. Dongmin wanted to stop, he wanted to go further, but he couldn't find it in himself to. Your moans, and the feeling in his stomach, were all contributing to his drive to continue. You hadn't expected such a simple action to make so many noises come out of you, and there wasn't any way for you to stop them from exiting you either. Eventually your moans matched with his grinding, your bodies syncing up. You did your best to hold all the pleasure you were feeling, not wanting to release from his grinding. You wanted more, you wanted him. His hips sped up, and you held onto his shoulders, allowing him to do all the work. His hair sticking to his forehead, and you were sure yours was so too based on the humidity in the room. But it didn't seem to bother him, or affect his pace. "Fu-fuck..." You feel his hips twitch under you, the expression on his face telling you everything you need to know. Looking down at where your crotches met,, was a big wet spot.

#𐙚 anonies #lace divider © from chilumitos #boynextdoor #boynextdoor smut #taesan smut #taesan #han taesan #bonedo #bonedo smut

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mariasont · 1 year ago

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Training Day - A.H

a/n: you all wanted more bimbo!assistant!reader and i'm a woman of the people so here we are

on a real note i love her and she is my queen

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you don't understand why hotch is giving you training lessons, but apparently he thinks you need it

warnings: talking about men following her in public YUCK, hotch trying to train reader, reader not knowing what's going on, cuties being cute

wc: 0.8k

"I still don't really know why we're doing this."

You were grumbling more than was characteristic for you, with every part of your body, your arms, your legs, and even your ass, suffering from a dull ache--sadly, not the result of any enjoyable pastime. After being knocked over more times than you cared to count, Hotch extended his hand toward you. You gladly took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Your fingers deftly pulled at your pink tracksuit top over the sliver of abdomen that that had been revealed in your less-than-graceful take down. Hotch had pointed out the impracticality of your outfit when you showed up, but you stood firm on the principle that if early training sessions were expected of you, then your attire would be non-negotiable.

"Because I want to be confident in your abilities to defend yourself." His arms folded over his chest as his gaze bore into you, challenging you to contradict him.

"I'm just here to look pretty and answer your phones, crime-fighting isn't in my job description. That's your thing, Mr."

You shuffled back to your original position anyway, hands coming up to shield your face as you mentally sorted through the steps, or at least tried to, struggling to recall the correct foot placement.

"Shoulder width apart."

It's like he could read your mind. You were not entirely convinced that he couldn't.

"Crime-fighting doesn't have to be your thing," Hotch stated, narrowing the gap between you, his hands firmly correcting your stance. You sometimes found an excuse to stand just so, hoping he would step in to manhandle you into place. "But being part of the BAU, even peripherally, means you're not immune to risks. I need to know you can handle yourself... for my piece of mind."

"Sir, is this like, your super-secret way of showing you care?"

Your lips twisted into a half-smile as his hands clasped your waist a little tighter than necessary: a warning that said you were playing with fire. His fingers then moved to direct yours, positioning them closer to your face, his knuckles lightly grazing across your cheek in the process.

"Eyes on me, stay focused."

"My eyes are always on you, sir," you say, your head canting to one side.

He released a controlled breath, giving you a level look that signaling you were pushing it. Nevertheless, you flashed him a beaming smile and initiated the move he had been drilling into you. The tip of your elbow made contact with the soft of his stomach.

He issued a muted groan as he intercepted your arm, preventing it from digging further, and in a fluid motion he spun you around, pinning your backside to his front.

"That was perfect, right?" you squealed, your fist shooting up in victory.

The sudden jump caused his hands to shift from your arm, finding a new perch on your hips to steady your... enthusiastic bounce.

You whirled in his grasp, the proximity sending a faint hum through his chest. Clearing his throat, he managed. "Yes, uh, that was it."

Clutching his shirt, the fabric crumpled beneath your purple-tipped fingers, you giggled. "Just imagine someone trying to follow me to my car now. They wouldn't know what hit 'em!"

"Is that a common occurrence?" The lines of his face gathered into that customary look of concern, that characteristic frown of his making an appearance.

He gently disentangled your hands from his shirt, not letting go, but rather laying his atop of yours.

"Well, sometimes, but I usually just call Morgan, put him on speaker, and he starts talking about the FBI stuff," you explained, giving a light shrug that nudged the zipper of your jacket down just a smidge. "They take off after that."

He clenched his eyes shut, pausing momentarily before reopening it. One hand let go of yours to adjust the zipper back to its proper position.

"That makes my stomach hurt." And it did. "Don't hesitate to call me when that happens. I'll come get you."

Your smile stretched ear to ear, potent enough to make him feel lightheaded. "You know, with all these trainings, who needs to call for help?"

"How about we compromise, and you still call me, regardless?"

You pout your lips, shiny with clear gloss rather than your usual pink. "That sounds less like a compromise and more like a you thing, ya know?"

Hotch's laughter rumbled from his chest, a warm, breathy sound, as he let go of your hands, which he realized he had been holding far longer than appropriate, and guided you to the door.

"You don't appreciate the added precautions I'm willing to take for your safety?"

Dragging your sneaker on the floor, you plucked your bag from the wall as Hotch closed the door behind you. "Gee, when you say it like that..."

When you walked down the hall you seemed to be perfectly in step.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @sarcasm-and-stiles

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#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo assistant reader #criminal minds fluff #hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner

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giannaln4 · 1 year ago

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Make You Feel Better

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando wasn't feeling the best after a long day of media duties, but he could always count on you to make him feel better. (915 words)

warnings: mdni, + 18, smut, unprotected sex, needy!lando

a/n: heyy everyone! sorry for disappearing after posting literally just one fic, but with uni and then summer i didn't really find the time to write but i'm working on a few fics right now! anyway please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

Some days were better than others, and Lando always tried to be positive around you, but today just wasn’t his day. He had a long day; media day wasn’t his favourite, too many people to talk to, cameras all around at all times, and on top of that, he was feeling a little under the weather.

It’s not like he always felt that way, it was a part of his duties and he liked to meet fans. He loved seeing the people that supported him unconditionally so happy just by seeing him. He knew he had to do it anyway, but the triple header was getting to him, and it was only the second weekend.

He dragged himself back into his hotel, dragging his feet out of the elevator and through the hallways. He wasn’t expecting to see you awake, still waiting for him, but he was almost relieved when he spotted you sitting in his bed.

“Hi” You happily greeted him when he entered the room, putting your phone down to pay attention to him.

“Hi” He replied, not as happy as you. You could easily see that he was having a bad day.

He dropped his bag next to the door and made his way to the bed, collapsing in your arms as soon as he got there. “Bad day” was all he said and you didn’t push it any further. You let him settle in your arms, rubbing his back as you both sink into the mattress.

“It’s okay, baby. You should get some rest, I know you haven’t been sleeping as much as you are supposed to”

He shook his head into your chest “I had something else in mind”

“Go on” You knew where this was going, and honestly you couldn’t complain.

“I was thinking, uh- you could help me feel better” His voice was a little hesitant, but his hands were confident when they found your hips, squeezing them as if he was trying to give you a hint of what he wanted.

“Yeah? How?”

“I need you, please”

You smile down at him, suddenly needy for him “Is that what you want?”

He nodded desperately, and he immediately lifted his head and reached for your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. It started rough and passionate, you could barely catch your breath. You climbed into his lap, placing your knees to his sides.

“How do you want me?” You managed to ask in between kisses.

“Ride me”

As soon as he said that you got up, taking a step back and slowly undressing in front of him. “Are you gonna keep your clothes?”

“Uh- no” He quickly got rid of them, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

You were both naked, and you returned to your previous position on his lap. After a moment of making out, you softly pushed him into the mattress and leaned down to meet his lips again.

“Want me to help you feel better? You had a bad day so you need me to ride you?” Lando’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly, bucking his hips up.

You shook your head, pulling away “Words, Lando”

“Yes. Baby, please” He begged, his hands on your hips again.

You smirk, satisfied with his answer. He was still holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable on top of him, he then placed his hands on your tits, massaging them softly as you started to stroke his needy cock. He let out a loud moan at your touch.

Your pussy was soaking wet, brushing up against his thigh. The contact made you moan softly and you couldn't help but put more pressure, relieving your need a little bit. You kept rubbing your core against him as he let out soft whimpers, your hand still stroking him, but the relief you were giving him wasn’t nearly enough. “Please, baby” Lando moaned as you placed your hands on his stomach.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me”

That was all you needed to hear, so you situated yourself and slowly sank down on his cock. He moaned loudly, and your hands moved up to his chest, as you began to roll your hips. His hands moved to your hips again as his own bucked up into you, making you whimper as loud as he was.

“You always make me feel so good” He cried out.

Your mind was too focused on your own pleasure you didn’t even answer him. You continued moving, a string of moans of his name leaving your lips. He was deep, deep inside of you and he just hit that place where you both feel incredibly good.

“Fuck” Lando said with furrowed brows, his cheeks red and forehead full of sweat. His curls were stuck to his forehead, making him incredibly sexy. “I’m gonna cum,” he said when he started to get that feeling in his lower abdomen.

You didn’t say anything but you picked up your pace, bringing Lando even closer to his orgasm. It didn’t take long for him to shoot his release inside you, making you come closer to your own release.

He moaned your name repeatedly, and you collapsed on his chest when your mindblowing orgasm finally hit you. You were barely moving your hips now, dusting off your high.

You finally stopped moving and you stayed like that for a while, catching your breath as your cheek was pressed on his chest.

“Feel better, baby?”

“Yeah”

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 #formula 1 #mclaren #giannaln4 writes #giannaln4 #f1 x reader

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rhyrhy · 5 months ago

Text

Head of this house

After one too many bickering sessions with Abby about her long hours, you fell asleep while doing laundry. Uh oh

Cw: Smut! Strap on (r! Receiving), soft dom Abby!, traditional housewife views, slight rough sex, (no major petnames! Just a few sprinkled in) added visuals, blah blah blah. Slut activities.

4k words | MDNI- mlist

You lay there, sore and beyond satisfied on your duvet. Your panting had finally slowed. The room only filled with the distant hiss of the master bedroom shower being run by your wife. As your thoughts came back to you, you couldn't help but blush at the flashbacks from just moments ago…

Abby had just walked through the door after a long day at work. Sweat clung to her skin from the hot, grueling job on the site. However, as soon as she got home you didn’t come greet her like usual. oh lord that meant either you were sleeping or still upset by the argument of her work hours.

Heading into the bedroom and seeing you sprawled out on the bed and the bonnet covering half your face just furthered her thoughts. she sighed and leaned over and gently removed the covering off your head. she took a moment to just stare at your peaceful face a small smile forming on her own as her eyes roamed all over you.

her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked around the room and noticed the mess of clothes scattered everywhere. Her smile dropped.

she knew you’d been working on laundry a while ago, but for some reason got distracted. now she had to clean up after you, something that usually didn’t happen and she didn’t like it one bit.

she couldn’t help the small flare of irritation in her chest at the sight of it. she shook her head but quickly tried to push the thought aside and instead focus on her wife front of her after missing her... but the messy clothes were just a small reminder that you weren’t the perfect housewife she thought you were. she began tidying it all up, trying to keep the grumble of annoyance from her mouth low as she continued.

A line of colorful language woke you.

“You’re home?” You sleepily sat up realizing you’d lost track of time.

“Mhm, I just got home.” As you sat up, the shirt rode up and she couldn’t help but rake her eyes down your body. her own pants suddenly feeling like too many clothes, as she leaned against the dresser.

“I came in to see you all laid out on the bed, and yet you didn’t come greet me.” she said, her voice a little gruff from the long day.

You felt your stomach twist with guilt. She’d worked all day, and you’d lazily fallen asleep… But this was also just an off day. She’d understand that, right?

“I wasn’t aware you’d be working so late tonight.” half-truth; you couldn't remember if she told you or not.

“I told you that last night. I’ve had to work late these past few days to finish up a project on time. I don’t understand why you get all bent out of shape about it.” She huffed in response, still leaning against the dresser, her toned, arms crossed tightly in front of her.

Oh, here we go. You two never fought really, but when you did? It was over; you never saw her unless the sun was down and the streetlights were on. You tried to move topics but somehow kept ending up in the same spot.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“You just do more overtime than needed. Is all I was saying” this was true; she was a workaholic. Yes, she took care of you, but what’s the point of you never getting to hold her, kiss her, or be near her?

She groaned in annoyance, pushing off the dresser and stalking over to the bed. She stood over you, an eyebrow raised and irritation in her voice.

“You know how important my job is to me. Do you have any idea how much pressure is on me to get this job done on time? And then I come home to find things not done the way they’re supposed to be. Maybe you should be focusing more on keeping yourself busy while I’m out working my ass off.” She hated when you brought that up; true or not, you hit low. She was going to hit lower.

“What are you talking about—Oh lord, I fell asleep! Don’t act like that.” You huffed; no way she was this pissed. You always kept the house together, but today it was being hung over your head. And you didn’t like it one bit. She had dinner on the stove waiting for her for god's sake.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips, fingers brushing her belt. You could feel the room grow hotter as both of you glared daggers. It felt like a standoff.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! I came home to find clothes all over the floor like a damn tornado went through here. I had to pick it all up for you”.

“I was between cleaning and dinner, The house is never a mess. So you have no right to throw this in my face!” You sighed. This truly felt ridiculous. Had she forgotten everything leading up to today?

“You’re damn right I’m going to throw it in your face when I come home and find it a mess. I work my ass off all day to pay the bills; the least you can do is keep the house clean for me when I get home.”

She stepped even closer, standing only a few feet away from you now. She towered over you in a way that said, ‘I dare you to keep talking back.’. You know you should stop; just explain you were having an off day, but her tone was making that hard to do.

She huffed again, her eyes narrowing. She could see the challenge in your expression as you sat there on the bed, shirt bunched up and revealing the smooth planes of your body. She could see it clear as day, and it made the irritation in her chest grow. You were on thin ice, and you willingly kept skating.

“Do you even realize what you’re wearing right now?”

What the fuck was she talking about? It’s a sleep shirt and shorts. Did she not hear that part where you said you were doing laundry? Ugh

But your reply was unknowingly the first strike.

“What? Oh, now you are going to be upset by what I’m wearing’ to bed too?”

It felt like hell itself in the master bedroom. You hated fighting with her; you really did. With her late hours and you spending more time with your family, it felt like a wedge was being pushed between you two. Not to mention the obvious baby fever she’d been having, and yes, she’d be a good coparent but how can she promise that if you don’t see her now?

It was too much, too fast, too heated.

She clenched her jaw, her patience nearing its breaking point. Her eyes were flashing with borderline anger now, her jaw set in a hard line. Her towering a few steps away, you had moved to lean on the doorframe. Honestly, maybe it was better to walk away and take a breather. You two were usually good about that; you just hoped it would reach today.

“Do you even listen to a damn thing I say? You’ve been getting more and more mouthy lately, and I don’t like it. at. all.” Mouthy? You were being a little defensive, yes, but you weren’t trying to push her buttons on purpose. Even if it did get you a little hot to see her like this on occasion.

her hands were balled into fists at her side, itching to reach out and do something about your behavior. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, but the sight of you staring back at her, challenging her, was making it hard to do.

“You need to keep that smart mouth of yours in check, understand?” She raised a hand, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at her. Other hand gripped her hip, a clear sign of bubbling over irritation.

Her grip on your chin got a little tighter, a warning to stay compliant. She looked down at you, her eyes flickering all over your face, and the way your breath was coming out in shallow pants. her own chest was heaving as she stood there, trying to keep a steady hold on the anger and nagging pang of lust that was running through her.

A few moments of silence passed, allowing you both to take a much-needed breath. She began to speak again, but the sound of your own breathing and foot tapping on the floor was all you could hear. She went on and on, Jesus.

“Are you listening to me?

She leaned down, her face now only a few inches away from yours. Her voice was low. her hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck instead. She tugged your hair, pulling your head back a little bit, forcing you to look up at her. Waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I’m listening—will you knock that off?” you spat out, interrupted by the hair tug.

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting so damn bratty lately. It’s really starting to get on my nerves—” You felt her hand tense, then ball up a bit more on your scalp.

One thing Abby hated more than you being mouthy was an eye roll following it, and you had just done it while she was talking. She tugged your hair again, just a little bit rougher this time.

“Excuse—Did you just roll your eyes at me?” she said, pure disbelief in her voice. You were really starting to push it. The irritation and anger were only growing, and she was getting more and more tempted to put you in your place right then and there.

That was strike two.

She took another deep breath, her balled grip on your scalp still too tight. Her words were gritted out through her teeth. She wanted you to just apologize and not let it happen again.

“You better remember your place, honey. I’m the head of this house, and I won’t tolerate this kind of attitude.

Attitude. A word she repeated like a prayer, she swore you had the stinkiest attitude she’d ever seen when you fought. It irritated you highly; it felt like she was talking down to you. You weren’t a child; you were her wife, her equal. housewife roll aside.

“I’m only giving you attitude because you’re being ridiculous, Abbigail!” You threw your arms up. No honey, sweetheart, or any other cute name she was used to. Her full name,

A-b-b-i-g-a-l. Her full name.

That’s it. That did it. She went from mildly annoyed to furious in two seconds. The sound of her full first name falling from your lips combined with that stubborn, whiny tone in your voice pushed her over the edge she was hanging over.

She let go of your hair and grabbed your upper arm, standing you up from leaning on the doorway in one swift movement. She stood in front of you, towering over you, her voice low and full of irritation.

“Excuse me? …What did you just call me?”

Ah shit. It slipped out before you could stop yourself; she hated when you used her government. A line you had just crossed, regret starting to pool along with an uncomfortable arousal from how close she was standing. This woman can bench 205 pounds; she wasn’t afraid to do some manhandling if needed. You only ever got the soft side of her, and this was definitely not that. It was best to stand down…but your mouth had other plans.

She grabbed your other arm, her grip tight on your wrists as she stared you down. She was struggling to keep herself in control; the urge to shut you up was starting to become hard to ignore.

“You wanna repeat that?” she asked, her voice louder and more authoritative this time. You were going to answer, and now. She just didn’t know how much she was going to dislike your tone when you did.

“I said. You are being ridiculous, Abigail, because you are.” She was; this was deeper than today. An unspoken conversation about the growing distance between you two. Your own frustrations began to flow out as you continued on.

That was definitely strike three. You were asking for it, and she was going to give it to you.

That did it. The continual rise of your voice and finger pointing. She pushed you backwards, slamming you against the wall with brute force. her body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall.

“Don’t you ever use that tone with me” “have you lost your mind?”

She spit out through clenched teeth, her eyes staring down at you intensely as she held you there. her breathing was labored, her body tense. the way you were pressed against her, your body soft and chest to chest, it was only making things worse. it was taking all her restraint not to throw you over her lap. Rough wasn’t really what she favored most days, but it was seeming like a beautiful idea right about now.

“You need to learn to respect me. You are my wife, and I am yours. I work hard to provide for us, and what do you do? Sit at home all day and then get sassy when I come in tired?”

She cut you off mid-sentence with some half-hearted apology, half whine.

“Unt uh! Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been acting like this for too damn long, and I’m tired of it.”

Her eyes triangled down to your mouth, her breathing labored as she fought to keep her cool. Your lips were parted, your eyes wide, and the sight of you like that was making her feel dizzy. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her lips were on yours in an instant, her body pressing against you even harder. There was no sweetness or tenderness in this kiss—it was pure, raw need.

You felt your stomach twist. Oh, she was pissed, and you...kind of liked it? No- really. Liked it

She was kissing you with a ferocity that you hadn’t experienced before. Her tongue was in your mouth, exploring every inch, claiming your mouth. Her hands let go of your wrists, snaking down to grip your hips firmly. A soft sigh fell between you two; god, it’s been so long since you two got to hold each other longer than a few minutes before bed.

She broke the kiss, only to take a moment to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with an almost feral need. She leaned in, her mouth close to the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been pushing me for so damn long. I think it’s about time I knock you down a few notches.”

And honestly, you needed it. Wanted it, her.

“Now, you’re going to go over to the bed and get in that exact same position you were in when I walked in here, understood?”

Oh, you understood alright; all you wanted to do was leap onto the bed and let her get it all out. You were still irritated by the previous conversation, yes, but you wouldn’t have married her if you didn’t like this side of her.

Her eyes were still fixed on you as she began to strip out of her work clothes, unbuttoning her flannel shirt and discarding it on the floor. her undershirt followed suit, revealing her physique that you loved. She then worked on taking off her jeans, shimmying out of them and kicking them aside.

“You’re going to lay there while I show you who’s in charge, yeah?”

As mad as she was, she was still checking in; railing your brains out was only ever done if wanted and only then. You nodded, returning to your position from before the argument. On your stomach, head propped on your arm.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to follow suit and undress, but you didn’t have time to wonder long when, without another word, she climbed onto the bed, looming over you.

Her hands were on your body in an instant, exploring every inch. They roamed over your skin, touching and squeezing and gripping. She was being rougher than usual, her touch almost possessive.

Her breath was hot against your neck as she spoke, her body pressed against your back.

“You remember who’s in charge around here, don’t you, hm?” She loved hearing you say it. A small smile when you confirmed that you did.

“Damn straight you do.” She pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor. Her eyes roamed over your now-exposed body, taking in every inch.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Her hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tightly again, her fingers digging into your skin. Grinding herself on the fat of your ass. Her weight on top of yours was as comfortable as a weighted blanket, a small hum of approval falling out when she began to kiss your bare shoulder.

The feeling of her strong thighs and bare cunt on the thin fabric of your shorts had your breath hitching. You know it’s been too long when small friction like this had her mewing moans into your warmed skin already.

Her hand found its way pulling your hair out of the way, causing you to tilt your head to meet your shoulder. Her chest now completely pressed against the skin of your back, messily kissing her way up to your lips.

She rubs herself against your clothed ass a bit more desperately. “Mm— God... I need this.” She was mostly saying that to herself, but it was nice to hear.

Her mouth leaves wet trails over your soft skin as her hands travel down from your face to the base of your neck. Calloused fingers guiding your head further over as she crashed her lips back into yours. She swiftly bit your lip to gain entrance of your mouth with her tongue, bullying yours, followed by another shared moan.

Eventually, once she pulled back for air, she lifted off your hips just enough to pull your shorts and underwear down, tossing them next to her forgotten work clothes.

Wasting no time, she leaned forward, burying her face between your thighs, her tongue immediately going to work on your pussy. Zigzagging through your folds, her grip tight, harder on your hips and legs spread you open and still as possible.

“Shit, abs,” you choked out, your cheek heavily rested on the plush pillow. Holding on for dear life. Eyes squeezing shut when her middle finger followed along. The pad curling and she pumped it tirelessly.

Her tongue was relentless, working against you in all the ways that had your eyes rolling back, arching and writhing in her grip that was bruising your skin. She was going to show you just what happens when you get too smart with her, too mouthy.

“Thaaattt’s it, baby, let it out for me. Wanna hear you get loud.”

She could hear your breathing getting heavy, your words coming out in soft pants. Babbling out apologies when she would smack an occasional love tap to the fat of your ass. She wasn’t stopping, not until she got you to scream for her.

She didn’t let up on the constant sucking and pressure on your clit. She wanted you to moan and shout her name so loudly she’d have to put a hand over your mouth. She wanted to hear you say you were hers and only hers.

Her tongue against your skin felt nearly sinful; the things she was doing were nearly too much. and she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. not when you were moaning and arching into her. not when you were biting back loud whimpers. She was going to keep going until she’d made her point, made sure you would behave. Her pink muscle filling the room with smacking sounds and your whines for her to not stop.

It sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Her movements were urgent now, her intent clear. She wanted to push you over the edge. your hands bunched at your shared blankets, in a struggled attempt to steady yourself. You didn’t realize how much you missed moments like these until now, back arched and head heavy as your brain fogged. The only thing on it was wanting more, more, god please more.

With a loud cry you bounced your ass backwards as you chased your high. Forcing her finger deeper, god you just wanted more but knew you weren’t in a position to ask so you made due.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, that coil in your lower belly beginning to snap.

A small hiss left her throat feeling you bury her deeper into your cunt. Feeling drunk off your sounds and need. She could feel your body moving against as you tried to keep it under control. "That's right, baby," she murmured into your skin. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.

You could barely hear her over yourself but it was enough to have you coating her fingers in your release sooner than you expected, your orgasm washing over you.

Your hips fell flat against the mattress, the tension in your body unraveling all at once. The rustle of her releasing your legs barely registered in your haze, the world around you distant and blurred. Your limbs felt weightless, boneless, a warm numbness spreading from your core outward. Your breath came in slow, uneven waves against the soft white pillow, your cheek molding into the fabric, damp with heat.

Your heartbeat still thundered in your chest, pulsing in your fingertips, your skin alive with the aftershocks that rolled through you in lazy ripples. You heard her silky voice whisper something along with your bedside table's soft click, but you weren’t sure what it was until you were a little spooked by the sudden weight dipping into the mattress next to you.

You went to curl next to her only to be pulled over. You let out a weak chuckle and scooted to straddle her hips. Only to have your eyes snap open at the sudden push of silicone into your still pulsating heat. Causing your hips to buck into the feeling.

“F-Fuck! Abby—Jesus” Followed by a SMACK on your hip, as you shuddered and sunk down onto the toy as far as you could.

“Uh unt, you don’t get to whine right now” “still got a lot of apologizing to do”

One hand gripped your hip to keep you in place, the other slowly rubbing your clit in messy circles. Your skin felt like fire as her hands roamed your body. Abby jerks up, letting the rest of her inches sink inside you. A small groan falling from her lips when the base of her strap adds pressure from your weight striking her clit. The dim light from the bedside lamp glowing softly on her features, the sight alone had you biting your lip.

Her Hairsprayed out on the pillow underneath her, eyes half-lidded as she feels out the lines and dips of your body. You had only been on a top a few times; she wanted you to work for it. Usually she’d fuck you until you were one with the mattress, but the conversation from earlier still lingered in the air. In the hottest way possible.

You didn’t need her to tell you what to do, thighs brushing the skin of her waist as you guided yourself along the veiny length. It felt so deep inside of you that you were practically melting together.

“That’s it, honey, k-keep god—Fuckin' me like you mean it.” she brings her firm grip up to your waist to help you add to the sweet rocking, causing her to tilt her head further back. Your rhythm steadies, the bounce of your hips sending Abby into soft grunts.

Her fingertips left your back, moving back down to your hips to steady herself and guide your rocking faster.

“Yes, juuust like that,” she whispered, shifting underneath so she was a deep as possible. The repetitive sound of the skin of her pelvis meeting yours over and over filled the room to the brim. Her praises mingling with her low moans and your breathy pants.

Hearing you respond, seeing how you looked, feeling your body against hers was sending her brain into overdrive. You looked good, sounded good, and felt even better. She continued moving, her breath coming out in sharp pants.

She let out a little groan at the feeling, her head falling back a bit. She pulled your hair slightly, exposing your neck and back arching further into her view. one hand moving from your hip to your back, nails raking against your skin. She could feel you trembling, and she knew you wouldn’t last much longer, though, she wasn’t far behind either. Feeling heat pool in your lower belly, you lifted your hips higher with each bounce. A slight tingling in your toes as the strap kissed all the right spots of your gushing walls.

She let out a low gasp when you pressed your hands against her chest, the desperation clear as day in the way you sunk down. It only caused her to move a little faster, the sound of the headboard creaking against the wall filling her ears and egging her on. Her hand in your hair pulled a little bit harder this time, the other moving to your hip again to steady herself.

She groaned at the feeling, watching as you tried to move as well, trying to keep the pace. She gripped your hips a bit tighter, her nails digging into your skin a little.

“You look so pretty.” She managed between pants, “You sound even better too, mm—gonna remember this every time you get mouthy with me, yeah?”

All you could do was a head nod, feeling the tight coil in your lower belly snap along with a choked out whimper

Yes you definitely would

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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fumiscripts · 5 months ago

Text

✦ DEDICATED TO YOU

✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader

content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.

for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words

additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc

Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.

Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.

So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.

But, of course, not everything goes to plan.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.

This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.

Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?

“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.

Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.

You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”

His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.

“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”

Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.

You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”

He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.

That guess was right.

The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.

They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.

After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.

Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.

Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.

An album dedicated to him.

Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.

Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.

Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.

(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 6 months ago

Text

I'm not over Price's Widow, so I'm subjecting you all to it as well. Continuation to this right here

"Was he alone?" She asked quietly.

"No, we were with him till the end, ma'am." Kyle says softly as he sits next to her. He's turned fully facing her. He wants to cry himself but knows that won't do her any good.

She closes her eyes, her hand clutching onto his hat. Her tears kept falling silently, and she stopped her gut-wrenching, pain filled screams and cries only twenty minutes ago. Kyle can still hear them echoing in his thoughts. Such a mournful sound, it's going to stay with him more than the echoes of gun fire and bombs. Her hand, the one trying to self soothe by rubbing her stomach, is trembling.

Simon is still as statue. He won't come further into the cozy living room. He blames himself for Captain not coming home, and he doesn't feel like he has a right to be here trying to comfort his friend's widow. It doesn't matter if he's told it's not his fault and it doesn't matter that Mrs. Price insisted he could sit down in the living room with them.

JoJo has taken a liking to Soap, and the kid is completely oblivious to the life changing news that was just dropped. Little baby keeps pulling on his mohawk and babbling nonsensical words. It then dawns on all of them, really, that Mrs. Price is going to be raising Jojo and the new baby by herself. She's going to be alone during her pregnancy and suffering through grief and post-partum, a time when she's most vulnerable by herself.

None of them can have that.

Her voice cracks, "I'm glad you were all with him. I know you three were his boys. He talked about you so much, he loved you all so much. If there's anything you need, please let me know."

And the lump in Kyle's throat feels like it's closing up because of course Mrs. Price is a good woman, a doting wife, and cares for the three men who couldn't get their Captain - her husband - help in time. She's offering to look after his team during their time of grief, too, despite being thrown head first into a reality that was talked about but never thought to be a true possibility. He briefly wonders if John told her he'd be back before she could miss him. He knows the cup cakes on the kitchen counter with the pink and blue sprinkles were supposed to be his welcome home present. Captain John Price was supposed to be surprised with news of another baby. The man was robbed of this reality, and his wife left with just his hat and dog tags and the date that his body would be at the morgue.

"Thank you for stopping by." She moves to get up, but her hand is gently grabbed by Kyle's. "Yes?"

"Would you like us to stay for a while?" He asks. He's hoping she lets them stay, even if she only wants them on the front porch the second she becomes angry that they couldn't bring her husband back safely. He doesn't want to leave her alone with Jojo, alone to grieve by herself. They promised they'd take care of her, that promise is the only thing keeping all three of them steady.

So when Mrs. Price nods her head she looks at all of them. "Stay for as long as you need."

#black!reader #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #widow!reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod fic #call of duty angst

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karlachismylife · 9 months ago

Text

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

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