#I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high
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Hii could we pls get a smut w player 120 x f!reader where were basically a very open n kinda cocky talkative person who tried to be all confident around the games but once stuff gets spicy w Hyun-ju we become quiet n get knocked down a few pegs by her? Pls n thank u!!
Oh yesss absolutely anon!!! I chose to do her before she fully transitioned soo...
Also this turned out more rougher than i thought it would
Title = The Games We Play
Warnings = smut🔞 (MDNI), pegging, semi-hate sex(?), degradation, cum eating, rough sex
Summary = You, all confident and cocky, messes up during a team challenge with Hyun-ju (Player 120), frustrating her. Despite attempting to apologize, Hyun-ju stays angry, leading to a shift in their dynamic that turns intense.
Word count = 2.8k
You had always prided yourself on being the life of the room. Even in a place like this, full of death and violence, you stood out. Everyone else was quiet, brooding, or sizing each other up, but you? You were a force. A smile always on your lips, a quip always at the ready. The players here seemed to appreciate the distraction, and you loved that you could be the one to make them forget, even if only for a moment, that they were all fighting for their lives.
Don’t get it wrong though, you weren’t anything like that… ‘Thanos’ guy. You didn’t have sick thoughts, try to hurt anyone or get high. The only reason you had ended up here was the generational debt. Your grandpa was a great man, but he was the reason your whole family’s financial situation went up in flames. He wasn’t thinking straight one day, and he gambled loads of money away, even money he didn’t have. And that debt slowly passed down to you.
Even then, you had quite the bright nature. People didn’t always resonate with you but you, the ever so sweet person, didn’t treat them any different. Your grandpa managed to decrease the debt into only 73 million won and your parents shortened it into 44 million won. The debt was still a hefty amount, it would probably take you your entire life or even more to earn that from your present job.
Well, that was what you thought until some guy invited you to work at his company and earn loads doing minimum work. The work, the offer in general, felt very creepy to you but you were so desperate to find any sort of reprieve, so you accepted. And now you’re here.
“Aaaa… C’mon, Hyun-ju, you really think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” You teased, leaning back against the wall with a wink, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your arms. “You’ve got to do better than that if you want to win this.”
Hyun-ju, ever the stoic person, only shot you a sharp look in response, but you didn’t mind. You were used to people underestimating you. The confidence you carried was all the armor you needed, and so far, it had worked. But even you couldn’t help but feel the slight shift in the air whenever she was near. There was something... magnetic about her, something that kept you on your toes. Still, you weren't one to let that show. You grinned again, keeping your tone light.
“You know, I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing for me, huh?” You nudged her playfully, voice dripping with confidence as you gave her a look. “Is that why you’re always so intense around me?”
Her eyes flickered briefly, the faintest hint of something in her gaze that you couldn’t place. But before you could tease her further, the moment shifted. You saw her hand reach out, just barely grazing your arm, but it felt different, heavier. More intentional. You glanced at her, a small smirk tugging at your lips.
“Careful, Hyun-ju,” you warned with a teasing chuckle, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “Don’t go falling for me now. I don’t think I’m your type.”
You and Player 120 had decided to go together for the six-legged foot race, and to say you were excited would be an understatement. You were in your element. Cocky, confident, and ready to win. Hyun-ju, however, was a different story. The whole race was supposed to be a breeze, or so you thought. But apparently, your enthusiasm wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that you kept tripping over your own feet and other’s feet.
"Watch where you’re going!" Player 120 snapped as you stumbled for the third time in a single minute. You shot her an apologetic grin, but the frustration in her eyes was hard to ignore. She was always calm, collected, and precise, but today... today, she was starting to unravel.
"Hey, I’m doing my best!" you laughed, brushing it off, but it was getting more difficult to maintain that confident facade. Hyun-ju’s grip on the rope was tight, and her steps were firm. She was dragging you along, keeping you upright as you tried to match her pace, but you were definitely slowing her down.
The more you messed up, the more you could see her temper rising. She kept pulling you back into place with sharp, quick movements, her body rigid with irritation. Each time you missed a step or stumbled, you could feel the tension in her hands grow.
You finally reached a point where you almost collapsed into her after tripping yet again, your legs tangling in the rope. Player 120 hissed under her breath, frustration evident in the way she jerked you back upright. "Come on!" she growled, not bothering to hide the anger creeping into her tone. "Stop messing around. We’re losing!"
You could feel the heat of her annoyance radiating through the rope connecting you two. She was trying her best to stay patient, but the way her brows furrowed and her sharp movements made it clear, this was not what she signed up for.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop smiling, despite your constant failures. It was a little funny to you, the way Hyun-ju was getting more and more upset. You could feel her body growing tenser, her pace quickening as she pushed harder, but it only made you feel more careless.
"Hyun-ju, relax, we’ve still got this!" you chirped, but she wasn’t having it.
"Not when you keep messing up every other step!" Her voice was low and tense, the frustration bubbling up to the surface. "Stop trying to make it look easy and focus!"
The mood shifted dramatically, and you could tell Player 120 was barely holding it together. Her teeth gritted in frustration, she tugged on the rope with one firm motion, forcing you to focus. You could see her pushing herself past the point of patience, and that made you swallow your usual cocky remarks. Maybe you’d pushed her too far.
You both hit the final stretch of the race, and with one final, forceful push, Player 120 sprinted ahead. You tried to catch up, but your clumsy movements were no match for her efficiency. You stumbled to the finish line, barely keeping your balance. Player 120 crossed it first, without even looking back. You were sure she didn’t even notice the way her breath came out in sharp gasps, her temper barely in check.
She turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she exhaled sharply. "Maybe next time you’ll actually try to keep up," she muttered under her breath, her gaze cold and irritated. The playful tone you’d expected from her wasn’t there anymore. She was mad, and it showed.
You could feel the shift in the air between you two, and for the first time, you weren’t sure what to say. Your usual facade faltered as you stood there, caught in the aftermath of your own carelessness.
“Sorry…” You muttered, but it barely seemed to cut through the thick tension. You were silent as you tried to gather yourself. Hyun-ju didn’t seem to hear you, her attention already elsewhere, her gaze focused on the others around the room.
It was clear… you’d pushed her too far, and she wasn’t in the mood for any more of your usual antics. For once, the cocky confidence you usually wore like armor was nowhere to be found.
You stood there, watching as Player 120 walked away, her back rigid and her posture sharp with anger. She was still fuming, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the silence between you. The confident, cocky attitude you usually had started to slip away, replaced by the realization that you’d pushed her too far this time. You had messed up, and now, you needed to fix it.
"Hey, Hyun-ju..." you started, taking a hesitant step toward her. "I’m really sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to mess everything up back there. I’ll try harder next time, I swear."
You watched her shoulders stiffen even more at your words, and when she finally turned to face you, there was nothing but coldness in her eyes. The warmth that usually radiated from her was gone, replaced by a distant, almost irritated expression.
She didn’t respond right away, her lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms over her chest. The silence hung between you two, heavier than any of the games you’d played so far.
"I told you to focus," she said, her voice flat, lacking any of the warmth it usually held when she spoke to you. There was no sign of the playful teasing she’d shown before, only a hint of bitterness in her tone. "You didn’t listen. You kept messing up, and it’s frustrating. I don’t want to keep carrying you through this."
Her words stung more than you expected. You could feel the weight of her disappointment, and it settled deep in your chest. This wasn’t just about the game anymore. She was angry, and it wasn’t something that could be fixed with a quick apology.
"Hyun-ju, I—I get it. I really do," you said, taking another step closer, your tone softer. "I’m sorry for letting you down. But you know I didn’t mean to mess things up on purpose, right?"
She looked at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable, and for a brief second, you thought she might soften. But the longer you stood there, the more it became clear that she wasn’t ready to forgive you.
She shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "I don’t want your apologies," she muttered, her eyes avoiding yours now, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her gaze. "I’m not asking you to be perfect, but at least try to take things seriously. We’re in this together, but it’s hard to feel like we’re on the same team when you keep acting like this."
The silence stretched between you as you stood there, unsure of what to say next. Hyun-ju was clearly still upset, but you couldn't just let her walk away like that. You stepped forward, your breath catching in your throat as you noticed the way her back tensed even more with each step she took. You felt an urge to close the gap, to do something—anything—that would get her to soften.
"Hyun-ju..." you called out once more, your voice low, though there was a definite tremor to it. This time, you didn’t wait for her to turn. You caught up with her and grabbed her arm gently, not enough to stop her, but enough to pull her attention back to you. "I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to hate me."
She didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve pushed her too far, but then, she turned her head slightly, her eyes flashing with a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t pull away; you knew she was still mad, but you also knew you couldn’t let this go unresolved.
Her gaze softened, just a little, and when she spoke, her voice was quieter, more intense than it had been before. “You want to make it up to me?”
You nodded quickly, almost desperate. "I’ll do anything. Just… tell me what you need from me."
There was a heavy pause before she spoke again, her tone thick with something you hadn’t heard from her before. "You keep messing up in all the wrong ways, but maybe... I can show you how to make it up. If you’re willing to listen." Her voice dropped lower, and her eyes darkened as she stepped closer, invading your personal space. “But this time… no more mistakes. Understood?”
Your breath hitched in your throat, and the intensity in her gaze was almost overwhelming. You could feel your pulse racing as you tried to keep your composure, but the air between you had shifted again. The playful teasing was gone, this was something else, something heavier, charged with frustration, desire, and maybe even a hint of something darker that you hadn’t anticipated.
You swallowed, your body reacting despite your thoughts. “Understood.”\
Her lips curled into a smirk, and before you could react, her hand was on your chest, pushing you backward gently, but forcefully, toward the wall behind you. The playful, calculated control she usually had was gone, replaced by something far more intense. And this time, it was clear. She was the one in control, no more funny business.
You hadn’t even had time to comprehend what had happened until you found yourself completely undressed in front of her. Your clothes were torn off by her strong hands and tossed to the side.
You let out whimpers as your skin got more and more revealed to the cold air, making goosebumps appear on your skin.
“Not as loud as before huh…” she mutters under her breath, still loud enough for you to hear though.
Without warning, she pulled out her cock from her pants, letting you admire it. She wasn’t the biggest, but it was pretty big. You had no idea how it was going to fit but you were too far gone to go back.
“W-wait! I-I need uh… to prepare…” you say, causing her to halt.
She let out a sharp sigh, before turning to you. “Go do that then. Quickly.” she ordered.
Not knowing what to do, you hesitantly trailed your hands down… to your folds and started rubbing it. You were so unbelievably wet from the situation, it was visible to both you and her. Quickly, you rubbed your hand up and down your folds, letting your fingers get covered in your wetness.
“Mm–mmh…” you moan.
Your breath became erratic, each inhale trembling as you desperately tried to steady yourself. The rapid rise and fall of your chest felt out of control, and no matter how hard you tried, the rush of the pleasure kept pushing the air in and out faster. You could feel your heart racing, thumping in your chest, matching the frantic pace of your breath.
“Keep going… you’re doing great…” she says, hand lightly pumping her cock.
Her words echoed in your mind, stirring something deep within you that you tried to ignore. The intensity in her voice, the way she spoke so calmly, as if she had already won… it affected you more than you were willing to admit. The annoyance bubbling in your chest only made the situation worse. But deep down, you knew. She had you. Every word she said was a step closer to making you forget your own thoughts, your own will.
Not long after, you surrendered to the pleasure, releasing fluids all over your fingers.
“Good… Now clean yourself up,” she says, holding your wrist and bringing your hand in front of your face. Without hesitation, you licked your own fingers, cleaning it. “Good… you’re so obedient now y’know…”
“U-ugh… whatever,” you spat, hitting her with sass.
“Still got some energy in you? I’m gonna fuck that out of you.” she says, her words hitting you like a truck.
—
You couldn't even remember how long it had been. Time had blurred in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. Each wave of sensation crashed over you, the moments stretching and distorting into something that felt almost unreal. Her hands, relentless, drawing out orgasms you never imagined you could feel so deeply.
The number of times you'd reached that peak was impossible to count. Every time you thought you might finally break, she pushed you further. Your body trembled, weak from the constant overstimulation, but she showed no signs of stopping. The intensity of it all was overwhelming, and despite your fatigue, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but crave more.
It was a strange kind of torment. Your body aching, yet your mind racing with the need for more, for her to continue. It was a mix of pleasure, exhaustion, and surrender. Every touch, every movement, drew you deeper into the overwhelming abyss, until you weren’t sure where you ended and she began.
“A-ahh! Ng-ngghh!” you whimper, not being able to mutter a single normal word.
“Tell me you love this.” she demands.
“I- Ahh! I- I- “ you mutter, quickly being interrupted by her thrusts. Your mind could barely even think, you didn’t know how you were able to respond to her at all.
“Hmm? What was it?” she asks.
“I- I-... I love this!!” you squeal, letting out yet another orgasm before you knew it.
Then she followed, cumming inside you before collapsing beside you.
#hyun ju#squid game#squid game fanfic#player 120#hyun ju x reader#player 120 x reader#squid game x reader#i'm sorry if it wasn't to ur expectation.. 😔
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testing out tags part 2
#(High high hopes)Had to have high#high hopes for a living#Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision Always had high#high hopes (High#high hopes) Had to have high#Didn't know how but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high#high hopes Mama said Fulfill the prophecy Be something greater Go make a legacy Manifest destiny Back in the days We wanted everything Want#high hopes) Mama said Burn your biographies#Rewrite your history#Light up your wildest dreams#Museum victories#every day#We wanted everything#wanted everything Mama said#don't give up#it's a little complicated All tied up#no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting Had to have high#high hopes Had to have high#high hopes for a living Didn't know how but I always had a feeling#I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high#high hopes) Mama said It's uphill for oddities Stranger crusaders Ain't ever wannabes The weird and the novelties Don't ever change We want#wanted everything (High#high hopes) Stay up on that rise Stay up on that rise and never come down#oh Stay up on that rise Stay up on that rise and never come down Mama said#no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting They say it's all been done but they haven't seen the best of me-e-e-e So I got one more run a#high hopes)
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I totally believe that pornstar!reader's video with fan pathetic!Simon blows the hell up.
It gets millions of views in days, from a degenerate male audience who loved the expression he put on your face— discomfort from his monstrous cock bullying into you and cockdrunk after forcibly wrenching 4 orgasms out of you in 30 minutes.
And an astounding amount of support from the female audience who loved everything about him— his size, tattoos, and especially his mask (since masked men are a huge thing right now).
But the most striking aspect of the entire video was the sheer desperation he had taken you with.
He'd painfully stretched you open and reached a depth inside of you that not even the most well-endowed in the industry could hit.
He'd shown no mercy, even when you quietly pleaded for him to slow down, or ease up just a bit— that he would break you if he kept that rhythm up.
Needless to say, it was a fucking of a lifetime, if not two. You woke up extremely sore. From a fan.
A fan!
And the worst part was that your manager was making you fuck him again. Again.
You asked if he was so popular, why not another porn star? The blonde one with the big tits and tiny waist was always in high demand.
"Because Ghost— that's his alias now— said he only fucks you, or no one."
He cannot be serious.
"This is your chance to get an exclusive contract with a studio instead of this freelancing shit."
Wow. "You're really just gonna use my own spells against me, Potter?"
Your manager knows how badly you've been trying to secure a spot with a big-name studio.
Asshole.
"Fine. When?" you utter resignedly.
You're so fucked. Literally and figuratively.
(bonus hc that Simon uses govt resources inappropriately and long before being in the video he found out what your real name is, where you live, and your phone number. he also lurks in your favorite bookstore without a mask, so you don't recognize him.)
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley smut#cod mw2#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod mwii
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Someone Like You - J.Seresin
Summary: Being best friends with a naval aviator was hard, being best friends and in love with the Jake "Hangman" Seresin was even harder.
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Medic!Reader
Warnings: 18+, fluff, there is a small bit of angst, jake kind of bein douche, best friends to lovers troupe because top tier, oblivous by both parties.(if i missed any lemme know)
The request: If you're open to requests, I have one for you! It could be about Tyler, Jake, or Glen—whichever you prefer. The story would revolve around them being very close friends, but he’s always surrounded by girls. The reader begins to pull away, feeling inadequate or thinking she's not pretty enough, believing he could never see her as more than just a friend. I’d love for it to have a sweet, fluffy ending!
authors note: to the anon who requested this, thank you! I hope i have done justice to what you envisioned! - I really love getting requests because ya'll got some great ideas! If you have requested something, I promise i will get to it!! love, em. <333
The sun was sat snugly high in the blue sky. Sitting under the rays, you watched the group of aviators run through the sand covered in sweat. Sitting perched on the towel and sunglasses on your nose.
You never expected this to be your life after moving from your hometown to be a field medic with a group of aviators.
“You done sunbathing?” you look up behind the aviators to the man above you, blocking the sun from your eyes.
Jake Seresin in all his glory, hands on his hips.
“Can I help you?” pulling the sunglasses down your nose, you look at him over the rims with a raised brow. He chuckles, pushing the hair that was sticking to his forehead back.
He has been on leave for the last two weeks, letting his hair grow out of regs. "Are you done crisping like a chicken and gonna come play a game?” He holds his hand to you, which you take happily and he pulls you from the sand with a grunt.
“I don’t know if I should” you push the bridge of the sunglasses back up your nose. “What?! You are playing c’mon” he encourages you over, jogging ahead of you in the sand.
You watch as the rest of the the dagger squad who has been nothing but kind to you, encourage you. Then there's the group of aviators who were glued to the squad, more so Jake than others.
They giggle between themselves. You never knew joining the Navy was gonna have the same effects of highschool.
“(y/n)!” Jake’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, a grin on his face. “C’mon! One game!?” he pouts, hands on his hips. You sigh and make your way down the sand, pulling the shorts on your body to cover your bikini bottoms.
The dagger squad was your adopted family. You met them all in your time on the ships as a field medic but as well as at base when Jake made his way into your office quite often to get ‘looked at’.
“Dude! I had no idea you were this good at this” Phoenix wraps her arm around your shoulders as you walk back to your things with a giggle. “I blame Hangman for hiding you from us” you smile, grabbing your towel and bag of items and standing back to your full height.
Turning to say something, your thoughts run short as the girls again circle around Jake, hands on his arms as they all giggle.
He did have the million dollar smile.
“You coming to the hard deck with us?” Bradley asks, standing beside phoenix. You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him as you shake your head. “I return back to work tomorrow unlike some people” you chuckle, nudging him gently.
He nods, hands held up in defense as you smile. “See you soon though?” he asks as you are walking up the sand, you grin. “Of course! Someones bound to get hurt” you wink, making your way back to your own vehicle.
“Sweetheart!” you sigh, the southern drawl was almost like a vice around your brain. Setting your items in the back of your Jeep, you turn to face him. “You aren’t coming?” he asks, stopping in front of you,panting to catch his breath. You shake your head, “I have to work tomorrow captain”. He smirks, pushing a hair out of your face gently.
“Not even for one drink?” he asks as you shake your head. “No but I will be up to pick you up if you need me” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he jogs over to his truck.
Ally, another pilot in Top gun standing at the passenger side was waiting for him. “See you later sweetheart!” he waves.
Sighing heavily you climb into your jeep, immediately turning the radio up loudly and driving away.
You knew you were not the only woman in Jake’s life. He was charming with his green eyes and winning smile but everytime you would do anything with him, the woman gravitated to him like he was the opposite end of their magnets.
Driving through the city, your heart hurt a bit. You knew how childish it seemed.
How childish it was to be upset that he had the female gaze, he was tall, tan and kind under his hundred layers of ego. As you made your way into your home, the phone in your hand vibrated.
Jake: Let’s get together this week for dinner? Drinks?
you smile sadly at the text. You knew he enjoyed your company. You replied.
you: Sure Jake, sounds good
The text bubble appeared but you chose for your own mental state it was best to mute the conversation for the time being.
3am on the dot your phone rang.
You knew who was on the other line. Reaching over, you grab the phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes. “(y/n)” you sigh at the sound of Bradleys voice.
“Hey roo” you mumble, eyes closed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I think you should come get Jake… maybe me too?” he questions as you chuckle softly. “Be there shortly” you hang up and climb out of bed.
Grabbing the closest sweatshirt to you and make your way outside and down to the hard deck. Dressed in your pajamas, you make your way inside the bar, still roaring with life even on a Sunday night.
Jake and Bradley sat at the bar with Penny who grins at your arrival. “Cute” she mumbles as you shake your head, making your way to them.
“Let’s go boys” you pat both of their shoulders, encouraging them out the door. “Is that my sweatshirt?” Jake questions as you look down at the hoodie on your body.
“Yes it is, let's go” you motion to the door. “Jakey!” Ally gasps, running to Jake at the door. You can’t help the way you cringe, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “How much do the two of them owe?” you ask Penny who shakes her head.
“They’ll both come and pay tomorrow, I trust it” you sigh, smiling at her. “I gotta go” you can hear the faint slur in Jake’s voice. “But i thought we were gonna have some fun” she bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, in her drunken state attempting to look as sexy and sultry as possible.
Jake shakes his head and makes his way out the door. You follow both men out to your parked Jeep as Lindsey stares daggers into your back.
The car ride is silent except for the wind. You pulled into Bradleys apartment first, parking right by the steps, he climbs out.
“Thanks love, you’re the best” he reaches in to kiss your cheek as he makes his way up the steps. “Hey!” Jake scolds him as Bradley smirks and makes his way to his apartment. “Can I move to the front now?” Jake asks childishly. “Yes Jakob” you sigh with a smile.
He climbs out and makes his way into the front seat beside you as you pull out of the parking lot and make your way down the road to Jake’s apartment. “Thanks for coming to get me honey” he whispers, his slur is almost gone at this point. “You’re welcome” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with a yawn.
“I’m sorry I did this to you” he mumbles as you shake your head. “I’d rather you be safe” you mumble.
“Why don’t you like to come get drinks with me anymore?” his drunk words flow out of him like vomit.
“I just don’t enjoy it much anymore, J” he nods slowly.
He knew you were lying but chose not to pry anymore while you were tired. “Can I come home with you?” he asks. Jake was quite needy in his semi-drunken state.
He did live down the road from you and did frequent your guest room often, hence his hoodie laying around your home. “I guess” you smirk, making the turn to your own home over Jakes.
He stumbles inside once the vehicle is parked. He was mostly sobered up as he made his way to the guest room. “See you in a few hours” he mumbles as you shake your head and make your way to your own bedroom.
The guest bedroom door opens, Jake makes his way out in a pair of black sweatpants he had left in the dresser drawer. "Sweetheart?" he questions as he yawns, making his way down the steps. He stops at the end of the stairs, looking around.
He notices the fresh smell of coffee and the few dishes in the sink. He jogs back up the stairs to see your bedroom door open, looking around its then he notices the pink note stuck to his door. Pulling it off the door, he sighs.
off to work, lock up on your way out.
+
The hard deck jukebox could be heard from streets away, it left you grinning. You pull into the parking lot, The Eagles “Life in the fastlane” playing through the speakers.
You don’t know how Rooster and Phoenix talked you into this but you climbed out and made your way inside. Dressed in a tank top and pair of denim shorts you look through the crowd for your favorite aviators.
“Sweetheart!” Jake’s voice yells for you, you look up at the sound of his voice. He pushes through the crowd of people to get to you.
He's singing to you as he approaches, "and she was terminally pretty" he grins, looking you up and down, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he smiles.
You looked so beautiful.
“Uh-yeah rooster and nat invited me” you smile up at him and move past him to your friends. Phoenix was aware of your feelings for Jake.
How hard it was to be out with him as he was always surround by woman, not once looking your way with them around. “Roo” you smile, patting his shoulder as he pulls you into his side for a hug.
“There's my favorite medic!” he grins as you chuckle. Jake makes his way back over to the group, sitting down as Ally makes her way to him, climbing in his lap.
He doesn’t hesitate to let her, adjusting in the seat to accommodate her. You sigh, turning to face Phoenix and Rooster.
“I don’t get it” you raise a brow, looking up from the table at the sound of Phoenix's voice. “What’s that?” you ask, crossing your leg over the other and arms over your chest.
“He acts like he wants to be around you so badly and then acts like that” she motions over to Jake, sitting back in his chair arm around Ally's waist, her group of friends around the two of them. You shrug, “not my problem anymore” you mumble, fishing out a few bills from your back pocket.
“I'm sorry to be a buzzkill but, thanks for inviting me guys but I think I’m gonna head home” you hand them the money to cover your drink and stand from the booth. Rooster stands, hands on your shoulders. “You don’t deserve him” he mumbles, giving your shoulder a squeeze and pulling you into a hug.
You hug him back and sigh heavily. “I guess I just have to get under a guy, they say that's the best way to get over one” you mumble against his chest as he laughs.
“See, that's the spirit” he grins, smiling at you. “Let us know if you need anything” he encourages as you smile.
It had been a week since your night at the hard deck with rooster and phoenix
a week before you decided it was best to put your distance between you and Jake.
The phone beside you began ringing. You knew exactly who it was. Reaching over you ignore the call for the second time and
Within seconds the phone rings again. You reach over and turn the phone off completely.
You did not have the energy to go and pick him up once again.
Maybe you would get over the man that is Jake Seresin.
rolling over and burying yourself deeper in the sheets of your bed, tears in your lash line as you sniffle to avoid them from falling.
You felt silly being this upset about a man who was not yours to be upset about.
You knew that he was a charming man when the two of you became friends, you also knew he looked at you as just that, a friend.
You shake your head and close your eyes.
The next morning as you turned your phone back on, the text messages piled in.
24 missed calls and 45 text messages.
You sigh and choose to delete the text messages and mute the conversation you have with him once again.
The drive to base was peaceful as you pulled into your designated parking lot. You were not gonna let this affect your work. “(y/n)!” you look over at Coyote waving to you,smiling, you wave back and mock salute to him.
He smiles, saluting back to you as he makes his way inside. Making your way to your office, you ignore the urge to turn and go down the hall to where you knew the dagger squad was meeting.
Jake sits down beside Rooster and Phoenix.
If looks could kill the two of them would be long gone.
“Can I help you?” Phoenix speaks first, arms crossed. “Spill” he adjusts in the seat, elbows resting on his knees as he looks between the two of them. “Spill what Hangman?” Rooster asks,looking over at him from his phone.
“Why won’t (y/n) talk to me” he mumbles, looking between them again. “Isn’t that a question for her?” Phoenix asks with a raised brow.
“I tried, I called her over a hundred times last night with no response” he defends as Phoenix shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you Hangman” Rooster nods in agreement with his girlfriend and Jake sighs heavily and stands from the chair.
“(y/l/n)” turning at the sound of your name,clipboard in hand you raise your brow. “Yes ma’am” you set the clipboard down and approach your commanding officer. “We are going to need you to go out and assist in the atlantic” you nod quickly, “of course ma’am” she grins, reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“I know you don’t love being tied down to one place too long” she smirks, heading to the door, “you will be heading out in the morning” you nod eagerly, ”and a car will be picking you up” she smiles with a nod and walks out the door.
You take a deep breath and wipe your once sweaty palms on your pants. You knew you needed to tell the dagger squad.
With a deep breath you head down the hall to the common room.
“Hangman, where are you?!” you can hear Fanboys voice over the comms. You knock gently on the door, Coyote,Phoenix,Rooster and Bob all turn to you.
“Hi” you wave as you make your way into them, sitting down beside Phoenix. Her face is full of concern, “what is it?” she asks as you turn to your closest friends.
“I’m being sent out tomorrow morning, they need additional medics out in the atlantic, of course I don’t know the full extent” you look at them, not seeing Jake standing in the doorway, panting.
“You’re leaving?” your eyes snap to Jake.
He’s still in his flight suit, the top half around his waist with his black tank top sticking to his skin. You turn from his eye back to Phoenix and Bob.
The two of them smile, nodding slowly. “We should go to the hard deck and have a send off party!” Coyote tries to lighten the mood, immediately noticing the tension in the room.
“I agree” Rooster chimes in, looking over at you. You smile sadly, “if you guys want I suppose” they cheer as you stand.
Jake hasn’t moved from the doorway, watching you. He watched the way you avoided his eye.
Walking out of the room, you brush Jake’s shoulder as you begin to walk down the hall to your office. You bit your lip as you heard his boots follow, you knew you couldn’t escape him anymore.
“(y/n)!” he reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to stop your movements. “What Jake?” you ask, turning to face him tilting your head. “What do you mean what?!” he defends, looking at you.
“You haven’t talked to me in days!” He throws his hands up, “not even days, weeks! You won’t answer my calls, you won't answer my text messages, you ignore me when you see me at work or even out in public!” he defends as his hands fall at his sides.
“Explain it to me!” he adds, hands on his hips as he looks over your face. “I’ve not been ignoring you” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes, “bullshit” he sits.
You sigh, hands on your own hips as you see conference room doors open and close. You knew his voice was traveling through the base.
“Not here Jake” you sigh softly, walking down the hall towards your office. “Explain it to me here (y/n)!” he yells.
You close your eyes, feeling the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.
You knew you shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your place of employment. You can hear his boots approaching, you snap.
“Because I love you!” you yell back to face him, face red with tears. “I love you and I know you wouldn’t love someone like me!” you point to your chest looking at him as the tears begin to roll down your cheeks.
“I am not them!” you point out the window to Ally and the rest of the new top gun recruits on the tarmac. “I am not tall and sexy and-” Jake stands there, shocked at your reaction.
“You wouldn’t love someone like me! You-You- I am not Jake Seresin material and I can’t take you staying in my house anymore and I can’t take you being around me anymore because I knew” you sob, looking away from him.
“Distancing myself was going to help my heart get over you” you whisper turning around from him.
“This time away may be best for me” Jake's boots squeak along the concrete floors. “(y/n)” he whispers, he’s directly behind you now. Your shoulders shake, months of tension falling off your shoulders.
He reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to gently turn you back to face him, cupping your cheek to gently bring your eyes back to him. He’s also got tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Someone like you?” he whispers, looking over your face. “Someone who I have seen devote her life to others? Someone who I absolutely adore, who would spring to help anyone even at 3am after a drunk night at the bar. Someone like you” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not them Jake” you whisper as he shakes head, “and that’s what makes you so special” he reaches over and wipes your cheeks with his thumb.
“I love you (y/n)” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see it” he chuckles as you look at him.
“Me!?” you defend as he grins. “I adore you, I fell in love with you years ago sweetheart” he watches the look in your eye, watching as you look at him, looking into the green eyes that brought you so much comfort.
“Y-You love me?” you look over his face for any signs of a joke, he chuckles. “I love you, not them other girls, not anyone but you” he smiles, leaning down to connect your lips.
It takes you a moment to register what is happening by the time you are reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to you.
He pulls away slowly after a few minutes, nose nudging yours as his eyes close. “I can’t believe you” he whispers, “thinking I couldn’t love someone like you” your eyes close, a small smile on your lips.
“I am not someone you’d go for J” you whisper with a smile as he shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist you sniffle against his black tank top.
“This is horrible timing” you mumble.
“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart” he whispers against your hairline.
+
The helicopter ride was quiet. The voices in your mind were louder.
You smile as the base comes into view, “we’re almost home” the pilot, Maria grins at you through her aviators.
You were off base for three months, sharing letters and as many zoom phone calls as possible with Jake and the rest of the dagger squad.
The tarmac is laid out as the helicopter begins its descent. You pull the headset off and stand, leaning out the side of the helicopter, hands holding the handles. The smell of the ocean brought you a sense of comfort.
You knew the minute you laid eyes on Jake and your family, you would be home. You can hear cheering from the ground as the chopper finally lands. Climbing down, you stand on the pavement and take a deep breath.
You were home.
The doors opened and the dagger squad all rushed out. “She’s home!” Rooster yells with a smile on his face. You grin, standing on the big x. This was your family.
Ally and her group of friends follow Jake out of the doors.
Your eyes fall to each other as she continues to attempt to grab onto his arm. “Scuse me” he moves from her and begins his jog to you.
You meet him halfway and he grabs you by the waist and spins your around, holding you close to his body. You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “My girl is home!” he grins, setting you to your feet.
“Welcome home sweet girl he grins, leaning down to connect your lips.
Maybe someone like you deserves someone like him.
--
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)
MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.7k
Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)
Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.
Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”
Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”
“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”
Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”
The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”
“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”
“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”
“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.
“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.
“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”
The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.
When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.
Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.
“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.
“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.
“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.
“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”
Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”
You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.
By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.
“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.
“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.
“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”
You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.
The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.
“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”
Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”
Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.
Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.
Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.
By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.
Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.
Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”
A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.
You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”
His response came almost immediately.
Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”
You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”
Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”
Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”
The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.
You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”
Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.
You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”
Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”
You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.
You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”
Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”
You: “I’m going to kill you.”
Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”
You: “No.”
You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”
Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”
You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”
Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”
You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.
You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”
Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”
You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”
Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”
You: “Absolutely.”
Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”
You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”
Rafe: “Angel.”
Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani.
Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.
You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.
When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help.
“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”
You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”
He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.
The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.
You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.
The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”
“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.
You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”
“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”
You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”
“Oh. South Asian…”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”
“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”
Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”
You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”
“You’re not going to eat?”
“I already ate,” you lied.
“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”
You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.
For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.
You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.
“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”
“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.
“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.
A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”
“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”
“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.
“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”
Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.
“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.
You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”
He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”
His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.
“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”
Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”
“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”
You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.
“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”
“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”
That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.
“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.
Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”
Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.
“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”
“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.
“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”
“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”
You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.
“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.
You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”
He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”
You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.
Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.
“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”
You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”
His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”
“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”
He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”
You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”
Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.
“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”
You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”
“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.
The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.
“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”
His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”
“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.
“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”
“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.
Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”
You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.
“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.
Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”
The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.
“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.
“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”
Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”
He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”
He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.
As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.
“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.
You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”
Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”
The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”
He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”
Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”
Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”
There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”
“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”
His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”
“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”
You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”
He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”
You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”
He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”
You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”
Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”
The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”
He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”
“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”
“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”
“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”
He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”
“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.
“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.
“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.
“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.
But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”
He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.
chapter ten
#tch#rafe fic#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe cameron prompt#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron fluff#rafe obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron obx#outer banks rafe#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x female reader#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#x reader#obx x reader
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>>> 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒
< yandere zhongli x reader ( MAFIA AU ) >
You and two of your friends decided to go to a club to party and the start of your semester in the nation, teyvat. You got drunk and woke up naked in a grand mansion and a man holding your waist and nuzzling against your chest. You thought this would be a normal one night stand and will not be in contact with you but turns out the man has other plans
Warning : implied sexual intimacy, age gap, drinking
Imagine waking up in a hotel suite bigger than your apartment with someone nuzzling close to you, your clothes are scattered around the bedroom, an aching sting in your body lowest parts, a box of empty condoms And the worst hung over in your life.
When you were about to gather your clothes and leave before the person woke up, a hand grabbed your wrist preventing you.
The man has beautiful long locks of brown hair, ember eyes, handsome face features, and a well built body with tattoos of a dragon in his back and arms. Dang you struck gold.
He introduced himself as zhongli, he asked for you to stay a little longer and he will order room service
It was awkward to be honest, you did ask some questions about him but he always gives out a vague answer. As if he's trying not to reveal too much, you didn't pry about it though since he is just a one night stand plus you're in a foreign country there's a high chance you're not gonna see him anymore in the future.
He told his chauffeur to pick you up and drive you home. He seems very well known in the hotel staff every time they pass him they would greet him, it felt awkward of course.
His driver arrives and introduces himself as xiao and he opens the door to the car for you, before getting in he grab your wrist and put a note of his number saying that he had fun and wish to experience it more than one time and then he said he gotta go due to work and you get in the car.
The car ride was quiet and xiao seems to have no intention of making conversation it was just dead silent
And when you arrive at your dorm, your best friend lumine rush towards you and tackle you asking where you were, she said that when she was in the bathroom you disappeared and was entering a limo with a fine gentleman.
You didn't think much of it, since it's college and you have to focus on it. Recently many gifts and flowers were sent from mr zhongli. He even gave you an ember necklace that cost more than tuition. It was 4 million mora meanwhile your tuition cost 1 million mora.
You ask mr zhongli to please stop sending since it causes so much and you don't want to trouble but he just shrugged it off the amount saying it was a little amount and just accepted it.
I mean you do text him often talking about you guys days and meet from time to time but it's Always in fancy restaurants that always cause a fortune to have a table and reservation.
During one of these meetings he pulled out a beautiful ring with a large jade in the front with diamond encrusted around the metal, with two dragons engraving inside the metal.
He proposed saying after you graduated from college, you and him should get married. He will offer everything to you, you don't need to live in that small cramped dorm room you can live in one of his penthouses in the city, you will have xiao drive you and your friends anywhere, instead of eating cup noodles everyday and worried about money, he will have private chefs cook your favorite food as well giving you an allowance every week for you to spend, you don't need to worry about anything just said yes and he will take care of your needs.
It all moves too fast it's been only 6 months and he already wants to get married. You rejected saying that it moves too fast and say you don't see yourself being with him in the future. You said you need space and leave not before paying for your food and tipping the waitress and Mr zhongli just sit their stunt.
For the past few days after the accident you and him haven't talk in a week thinking, you're giving him space after the rejection.
Until when you were alone in the campus garden some one hugged you from behind and whispered in your ear
"if you don't follow me or obey my orders, I will kill everyone on this campus, this is your last chance to stop a massacre of your peers, this is an order "Marry me"
#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere#yandere zhongli#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin imagines#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin#geshin impact#genshin headcanons#not canon#zhongli x reader#genshin Mafia AU#mafia au
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Your series is on toppp, i was always waiting for your new post especially that gojo series lmao. Anyways, can we get a gojo x innocent!reader?? Make them likee childhood friend and gojo takes her virginity lolll.
Thank you sm love, I hope you enjoy it <3 You know I've never given Gojo a virgin in anything, it's his first time for me lmaooo! 🩷🩷🩷
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x virgin reader
Contents/warnings: cute fluff, friends to lovers, first time/loss of virginity, oral sex (M and F receiving), explicit sex, pet names, not much plot lol, just smut fr
Word Count:: 3.7k
🩷 First Time 🩷
You are sitting next to Satoru on his couch as you all watch one of his silly movies. He has laid out a million snacks and treats for the night, including bowls full of Halloween candy from yesterday. Yes, Satoru was twenty two and yes, he still went trick or treating, you’d been dragged along with him all night last night, running from house to house.
Your feet still hurt, you’re wincing and rubbing them, and Satoru looks over at you with his stupidly pretty eyes, eyes you should be used to after being friends for ten years, but sometimes they… well they did things. Satoru seems to be clueless at his effects on you, how when he tickles you, you gasp, how when he pulls you against him, you sigh and inhale his scent.
You’re pretty bad at hiding it.
Suguru and Shoko make fun of you endlessly, but you are just too afraid to ruin your friendship. But then, you’ve also non stop turned down men, left and right, pining away for him. It certainly was not the best way to go about things, but you’re holding out for him to be your first. Even though it’s foolish to think it will happen, you can’t help but wait for him.
Satoru was not dating anyone, he really had not dated much since high school, he would have a fling here and there, but mostly he spent time working and then with his friends. With you.
“Feet hurting? Bring ‘em to Daddy.” He teases with a smirk, and you giggle, rolling your eyes.
“Oh gosh, Satoru. You really gonna rub ‘em?”
“Sure am, it’s my fault they hurt. C’mere.” You lean back on the couch and prop your feet up on his lap, as his long fingers press into the soles of your feet, you moan a bit, and he pauses, looking at you.
“Sorry.” You say, flustered and overheated, and Satoru looks back at the movie, his tall, lithe body leaning back against the cushions.
“No need to say sorry, it feels good hmm?” He teases, as you try to focus on the movie, but he’s pressing his fingers deeper, and massaging your feet so good your eyes flutter shut.
“Very good, oof thank you.” You say softly, going to pull them back a bit, but Satoru now has raised his massage to your ankles. You gasp. “That tickles!”
“Does it? You’re so ticklish.” He’s running little circles on your ankles then, and your thighs shift as his hands slip even higher, to your calves.
“That feels… really good, mmm.” You whisper, wishing it meant less to you, wishing you did not treasure and drink in every bit of your best friend. His shiny white hair, his perfect straight nose, model cheekbones and pouty lips. Satoru Gojo was the prettiest man you’ve ever seen, but it’s more than that.
His little smirk and how his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, his laugh when he’s being silly, how his body looks in that black skin tight gym shirt, his biceps curling as he’s gently brushing your legs. You bite your lower lip then, as he’s still watching the movie, his touches lighter, little caresses down your legs.
“You have nice legs.” You sputter then, mouth wide, and he peeks at you, a little blush on his cheeks. “What you do.”
“Um… what? I do?” He looks down at your thighs now, and when his huge hands cover them, you can’t stop the little whimper, drawing his attention to you.
“You doing alright over there?” He asks then, raising a brow, and you cover your face now.
“I have to say something.” You shift your legs down, and Satoru pouts.
“I was having fun playing with them, meanie.”
“Satoru…” You lean forward on the couch, touching his shoulders gently. “I really have to tell you something.”
“Go on then, silly girl.” He taps your nose with a little smile. You take a deep breath, looking into his swirling blue eyes then.
“I want you to be my first.”
“What!?” He’s sputtering now, and jumps up, and then you jump up, turning away and covering your face.
“I’m so stupid, of course you wouldn’t. You’re Satoru Gojo, you can have anyone. And you’re experienced. And-”
“Hey, hey.” Satoru’s hands are on your shoulders behind you now, and you tense a bit at the touch, heart racing. “You’re prettier than anyone I’ve been with, it’s not anything like that.”
“Shit, really? You think I’m pretty?” You whisper, looking back at him, and he exhales, hands squeezing a bit, nodding.
“Of course you are, silly. I tell you that you look cute all the time, do I not?”
“Cute. Not pretty.”
“Well, you’re cute and pretty. And… you’re a virgin?” He turns you to him then, and you nod shyly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Why me the first time, why not a boyfriend?”
You sigh then, fiddling with your hands in front of yourself. “You’re who I want it with. We can stay friends, it doesn’t have to like ruin it, you don’t have to date me.”
He blinks his white lashes then, tilting his head. “Why wouldn’t I wanna date you?”
“Because we’re friends!”
“And I like you, a lot. I always have. I thought… Well, I thought you didn’t like me like that.”
“What!?” It’s your turn now, and he smirks a bit.
“Well, I’m half naked in front of you constantly, and I barely see you check me out.”
“I do! But I look away when you look at me. You don’t check me out!”
“Oh, I do.” His eyes dart down your body now, and it’s as if he’s touching you, as he looms over you, so tall, so sexy. “I look away when you look at me. Now, you really want a first time, you have to be my girlfriend, I’m no hussy.” He states, putting his hand to his chest, and you laugh then.
“I can absolutely do that. How do we seal this boyfriend/girlfriend status then? A selfie? A pinky swear?” You step closer, trailing a hand up his chest now.
“Mmm, all of the above. But first, this.” Satoru leans down now, kissing you for the first time, his soft, plump lips pressing on yours, and you gasp at it, before kissing him back, putting pressure on his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, on your tip toes. Satoru moans softly, pulling back, his hands on your waist, then his eyes lock onto yours.
“Toru… that’s perfect.” You murmur softly, as you still feel the tingles of your lips, then you realize you have a tear sliding down your cheek. Satoru swipes it away gently, tilting up your chin and bending down, lips against your ear.
“I wanna have you cumming so hard you scream my name, pretty tears falling out of those pretty eyes.” Your body reacts viscerally, your nipples pressed against the little tank top you’re wearing, as he nips your ear then, sending shivers down your spine at the sensation.
“Please.” Satoru’s kissing down your neck now, hands on your hips, feeling your every curve, your hands enwrap in his silky hair, gasping when he picks you up in his arms like it’s nothing.
“Anything you want, pretty girl.” You melt at his words, as he carries you to his bedroom, laying you down and sliding up your tank then, revealing your breasts, he exhales as he sees them, nostrils flaring. “Holy… they’re so fucking pretty.”
“You like them?” You ask shyly, and he nods eagerly.
“Take it off, please, be a good girl for me.” You’re dripping wet already, as you lean up and pull the top over your head, your tits bouncing gently. He’s gripping them in his big hands then, squishing them and running his thumbs over your nipples, your back arches. “Tell me what you like, don’t hold back, I want to learn all of you.”
“That feels good, it feels so good.” You say softly, and he then kisses down to each peak, sucking them into his hot mouth. “S’good, mmm!”
He hums a bit, his big hand sliding down your tummy, making it tremble, as he finds your shorts, pulling them down. “So, do you masturbate Miss Virgin?”
“Jerk, ugh. Of course I do, ah!” He’s kissing and nipping on your rib cage now, looking at you with his eyes dilated, pupils so big there’s just a ring of that brilliant blue now.
“Show me what you do, then I’ll know where you like to be touched most.” He’s taking your hand now, grinning with those white teeth. “Aw, ya blushing?”
“Well, y-yes. Um… I don’t finger myself, I just rub my clit.”
“Of course, those small little fingers, they can’t hit good.” He holds his fingers out, double your length, so long you clench around nothing imagining them, getting wetter when he presses your finger to your clit. “That’s it, pretty, show me.”
You rub your clit in circles, aching for him, as he stands up, taking off his shirt then, and you drink in his body hungrily, as he drinks in yours. “Fuck you’re gorgeous Satoru.”
“And you’re gorgeous, best friend. Girlfriend. Shnookums.”
“Shnookums!”
“Tossing cute names around.” He’s sliding his jeans off now, just in his dark blue boxers, then you see that outline, making you heat up even more with such strong desire. “Go ahead, keep going, you’re doing good.”
“Want you to touch me.” You whisper, as he sits back on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight, watching as your finger is playing between your lips, taking your hand gently and sucking on your finger then. “Oh!”
“Yummy. Need to taste you.” He says then, his voice husky, you are crying out when he rubs his fingers along your folds, down your slit, where wetness is pooling down to your entrance.
“Toru!” Your hips buck up when he runs circles on your clit, eyeing you carefully now.
“Have you had anything inside this pretty pussy at all?” He asks, sliding down to lay between your thighs now, his hands pressing into the plush of them as he spreads them wide. “So perfect.”
“No, I haven’t.” You admit, then gasp out when he slides one of his thick, long fingers inside you. “Ah… ah!”
“Fuck you’re so tight.” He pecks little kisses on your thighs, nipping as he studies you, pressing on a spot now that makes you see stars. “There it is.”
You’re falling apart as he pumps that long finger in, before stretching it to two, which is so hard to take, you can barely get to his first knuckles. “Toru, it’s too much… too much…”
“Aww you can take it, can’t you? Gotta stretch this tight little pussy for me, I’m a lot bigger than those fingers.” You can hear the squishing of your wetness as he kisses closer and closer, and you’re entangling your fingers in his hair, pressing against his scalp. “You’re so needy for me, aren’t you?”
You can’t speak then, when he kisses the hood of your clit, pulling the fingers out to part your folds gently. Your legs shake on either side of his head as he studies your pussy even more, moaning as he does. “Toru, um what are you doing?”
“Gonna eat you out, pretty girl. I can’t just have a treat like this and not eat it, don’t you know I have a sweet tooth?”
“Are you sure, I didn’t expect-”
“Oh this is my favorite. You’ll love it.” Satoru swipes his tongue up your slit then, and you’re moaning so loud it’s embarrassing, and he exhales, tickling you so good, his cool breath blowing on your overheated cunt. “Yummy.”
“Toru, fuck…”
“What a bad mouth, young lady.” He glares, and you laugh, breathless. “And you’re laughing, ah-ah.” He smacks your pussy, shocking you, but you like it, as you’re gushing more arousal out of your little hole. “Freaky little virgin.”
“Toru!”
“Stop talking back missy.” He smacks it again, and grins at your reaction. “Let me enjoy my treat, hmm?” You just nod, and he dives down now, sliding his tongue in and out of you in the most delicious tongue fuck. You’re already pulsing around him as he drinks you up, exploring you with his tongue, lips, teeth.
Your back arches, as he’s fucking you with it over and over, his teeth hitting your clit when he swipes up, finally swirling your clit in circles with the tip of his stupidly talented tongue. You can’t stand how good it feels, the pressure in your tummy, then you realize you’re going to cum, and cum so hard, you feel everything on fire, every nerve ending lit up.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You pant out the words, and Satoru’s moaning against you, leaning up, half his face covered with you.
“Cum all over my face, let me drink you pretty.” He’s not goofy, silly Satoru, he’s some damn sex demon now, as he flicks his tongue once more, and you’re shattering for him, pulling him against you as you cum.
Satoru rides it out with you, continuing to flick his tongue so fast, sipping up the wetness out of your soppy cunt. You feel so good you’re blinded, eyes blinking rapidly to try to focus, to try to cling to this earth. He’s more serious now as he exhales, fingering you again, sliding two in with ease at how wet you are, hovering over you.
“Such a good girl, came that much for me? Wanna taste it?” He asks, and you nod nervously, then he’s kissing you, letting you taste your sweet arousal. Your hands slide down his hard abdomen, over the ripples of muscles and sinew, until you find his boxers, tugging. “Oh fuck, wanna touch me?”
“Yes, please.”
“I wasn’t sure your first time.” His care melts you, melts any worries you have away, but when he takes off his boxers and you see him, you panic.
“Oh that will never fit!” You watch him chuckle then, his soft hair falling over a brow as you touch it, your tiny hand not covering hardly any of it.
“It will fit, I promise.”
“Will it hurt?” You ask, brows together, stroking him, watching his eyes flutter shut, biting his lip.
“I haven’t been with a virgin. Um, I hear it hurts a bit, but you’re so wet and warmed up, I hope it won’t for long. I’ll go easy on you, the first time.”
“The first time!?”
“Then we’ll get freaky.” You giggle again, stroking him up and down.
“Can I suck you too?”
“You want to?” You nod and he exhales, getting on his knees then, gently positioning you on all fours. “Fuck it’s like my four pm nap.”
“Huh?”
“I nap after work, and you are always in some position. Some new one. Legs spread, ass in the air.” He wraps your hair up, pulling it gently into a ponytail, his pretty cock so thick and intimidating, twitching as you flick your tongue on the pink tip. “Oh fuck, that feels good.”
“What do you like?” You lap at the pearly liquid weeping from his tip, tonguing it and tasting it, sweet and a little salty, before sucking a couple inches in your mouth, earning his little whimper, so sexy it makes you impossibly wetter.
“Anything you wanna do, fuck. At your mercy here, the tip is the most sensitive. Can you take more?” Satoru’s voice is soft as he presses in further, and you’re moaning around him, nodding. “Good girl.”
“Mmm.” You’re sucking more of him then, as you look up, seeing his perfect form, that happy trail of white hair under that flat belly button, his hard body tensing as you stroke him where your mouth can’t reach.
“Okay, too much, I want to last for you. Mmm.” He pulls you off gently now, pushing you back to lay down, settling between your thighs, fingering you with his two fingers again. “Are you sure about this? We can wait.”
“I want this, I really do. I have for so- ah- long. Toru! Close!” He’s sliding his fingers out then, leaving you whining, as he now presses his thick tip in your entrance, and your eyes lock as you gasp.
“Want to feel you cumming around me, love.” Love that little pet name is destroying you. “Relax, please, don’t tense, just trust me. I got you.”
“I trust you, Satoru.” He exhales then, head resting on yours, then presses in, and you whine out at the pain of the first stretch, and he pauses, groaning.
“Oh fuck you’re so tight. Are you okay, pretty?” You nod a bit, as he eases back, and you’re gripping his back so tightly your nails are leaving crescent marks. “Oh fuck…”
Satoru moans as he presses further in, and you’re full, too full, it’s like nothing you’ve known. He sinks in so deep you feel him in your stomach, feel him everywhere, burning the skin as it stretches to accommodate. Satoru studies you carefully, his brow scrunched up, cupping your face with one hand.
“Baby, you all right? Gotta tell me.”
“I’m so full. It’s just… a lot.” He nods, kissing you again, rocking his hips, and then his tip drags on that spot he’d just fingered, and it feels so good, you’re clinging to him. “There, there!”
“Here?” He does it again, and your eyes roll back, feeling him roll those hips, you’re wetter and wetter with every shallow thrust, and he’s whimpering again, his cheeks flushed pink, his lips parted. “Cum on me, please?”
You need no further urging, you’re soaking Satoru’s cock as you cum, and his lips drink your moans, his hands now holding your thighs, sliding them up further, starting to fuck into you now. You’re falling apart under him, moans ridiculously loud, pleasure is coursing through your body while he fucks you into another orgasm.
“Toru, Toru! Mmm!” Satoru’s pretty eyes look into your own.
“Can I go harder, love?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughs just a bit. “You can take it, huh?”
“I can, fuck I can.” He fucks you harder then, pressing your thighs up, and you’re struggling to take more and more of him, as he’s so deep he’s hitting your cervix.
“Feel me here?” He takes your hand, pressing it on your tummy, and he has a wicked grin as he slides in slow, and you feel him there, making you squeak. “You’re so cute.”
“Cute, still, while mmm… fucking?”
“Cute anytime. Cutie.” He smacks little kisses on your cheeks, somehow he’s dirty and sexy one moment, then sweet and adorable the next. “Mwah!”
“Satoru!” You giggle when he leaves a loud kiss on your lips, but then he presses in so deep and grinds, and you lose all sense. Everything is fading, floating.
“Call me Toru when you cum.”
“Toru!” You cum all over his cock, arousal dripping down his length, down his balls that are smacking your ass, and he sucks in a breath when he feels your walls fluttering around him.
“Trying to milk me, she’s greedy already.” You have no clue what he means, all you know is it feels even better, as he’s thickening inside you. “Question.” He huffs out then, panting over you, his chiseled body dripping in sweat.
“G-go ahead.”
“On birth control or I gotta get plan B?” You nervously bury your face into his throat, and he’s laughing softly, stroking your hair as his strokes slow. “Baby gotta let me know, I’m not gonna pull out, wanna fill you up.”
“I’m on the pill. And t-take it on time.” He sighs, tilting your chin up then, smirking deviously, eyes bright fucking blue and insane.
“I’d cum in you anyway, you’d be cute pregnant.”
“What now!?” He’s slammed his lips on yours again, pressing your thighs up, and then he’s fucking harder, sounds of your skin smacking mixing with your wetness, as he fucks you so hard your tits are bouncing, the headboard is smacking. “Taking it easy, huh!?”
“This is easy, love. Oh fuck… gonna cum…” He moans then, his hands cupping your face, and you feel him throbbing inside you, thickening, you are filled with hot ropes of cum, coating your walls, and you cum just from that, earning his groan. “Oh you’re such a good girl.”
He’s gently pumping, gasping as he pumps even more cum, and your muscles are already pushing it out. He sighs then, smacking kisses on you over and over, every inch of your face, making you so blissful, as he’s fucked any thoughts out of your head, you feel like you’re floating, clinging to him, nails digging in.
“This better not be just once.” He says with a glare, and you grin, shaking your head and brushing his hair back.
“Absolutely not just once. Oh! Ouch.” You hiss a bit as he eases out, and you go to look down, but he tilts your chin up, shaking his head.
“Don’t look, you’re always scared of blood. Gonna faint.”
“It’s that much!?”
“No, but you’re sensitive about that. I’ll be right back.” Satoru hops up and you look at the ceiling, you hear a shower running, see the steam rolling into his room, and then he’s back and cleaning you up, before picking you up in his arms. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”
“Yeah, I would love that, Toru. Sounds so good.” He has you under the scalding hot water then, sudsing you up with bubbles everywhere, forming little puffy clouds on your breasts then rinsing them, laughing like he’s having a blast. You shake your head as you watch him.
“I used to jerk off when you’d take showers here.”
“You what now!?”
He just grins, pushing the shower head even lower. “Picturing you, did you ever… you know…”
“Satoru!”
“Did you!?” You look at his shower head nervously, then him, and he’s grinning even wider now. “Oh, you’re a bad girl.”
“Oh stop it, silly. Maybe once or twice. You have great water pressure. Ah, Toru!” Satoru is now on his knees in the shower, looking up at you and rushing that hot shower water against your clit. You gasp at it, as he wraps an arm around your hip to steady you.
“I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”
Gojo Drabbles/ one shots - Masterlist
#gojo x reader#jjk smut#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo smut#jujustu kaisen#story requests#gojo x female reader#gojo x f!reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru smut#jjk satoru#jjk oneshot#inbox#inbox requests
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰YES ON THEM
Manon Bannerman x fem!reader
summary: a compilation of bannern/n moments eyekons have turned into a video, katseye’s two visuals as a power couple? who can keep their eyes off them?
warnings: none, just fluffy moments
pt.2, pt.3
HYBE PLEASE NEVER PR TRAIN MANON (KATZ CRACK)
*Loud technical difficulty transition* On Manon and Daniela’s Weverse livestream in their bedroom, Daniela was doing dance moves in the background of the video while Manon read the comments and chatted with fans in the front
Manon was the worst at PR training. The woman had lips looser than an unbuckled belt. She was much more tame when they were surrounded by crew members, but when it’s just her and her phone on Weverse, you can expect a lot of slips.
Especially when she’s paired alone with Daniela.
“‘Where are the others?’” Manon read aloud, looking back at Daniela, who was finally settling to sit behind her roommate. “What, you sick of us already?”
Daniela swatted her arm at the tone she used, as if a silent warning as to be careful what people could take out of context. She toyed with her hood, listing what the girls were occupied with. “Well, Sophia’s on a zoom call downstairs with her family. I think Yoonchae went to bed… Lara and Megan went out to get something at the convenience store and Y/N is probably online shopping or something in her room.”
“Yeah, she better be getting me my Christmas gift.”
“Didn’t she already give you like three ‘pre-game’ gifts?” Daniela turned to the camera, “Oh my God, Y/N does this thing where she gets Manon a million things for the week leading up to Christmas. She only does it for Manon and I always feel like choking her out ‘cuz she’s spoiling her rotten.”
Manon rolled her eyes, “They’re gonna know we’re—!”
Daniela widened her eyes, shooting Manon a knowing glare before the older pursed her lips together. The both of them went silent for a moment, scared to look at the influx of questions and comments they were getting for the sudden cutoff, curious to know what the end of Manon’s sentence was.
user01 WE WHAT MANON WE WHAT
user02 Manon almost exposed their relationship
user03 is this what getting edged feels like
user04 WE BEEN KNEW GIRL COME ON OUT
user05 Y/N knows how to spoil her girl
“Anyway,” Daniela said, ignoring the nosh comments. “Yeah, we have the weekend off, so everybody’s just chilling, y’know.”
Manon, with a cheeky smile on her face, tried retieing her hair in attempts to distract the fans from what she had just nearly revealed. But for the next couple minutes, despite Daniela’s efforts to pull everybody’s attention away from that topic, the audience always seemed to circle back to it.
“No, I have to say my favourite hoodie has to be the black Ferrari one.” Manon argued, staring at a suspicious Daniela. “It used to be the one you just said but it’s not anymore.”
“You’re just making stuff up, I swear. You still wear the other one so much more than the Ferrari one.” Daniela scoffed, “You wore the blue one like five times this week, like you literally wore it to dinner yesterday.”
user06 the blue hoodie Y/N just posted on insta in??
user07 They wear each other’s clothes I’m dead
user08 Dani have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet???
Daniela squinted to read the comment when she saw her name was mentioned, “‘Dani, have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet?’ No, I can’t say I have. What is it?”
“Oh, is it this one?” Manon flashed her wrist to the camera, where a couple cuffs and bracelets hung. Her other hand picked out a thin silver chain with a “K” strung at the end of it. “This is the one Megan got us for Katseye’s first birthday.”
She flaunted her hand, fingers waving around as she showed off her accessories.
user09 Y/N’s new necklace looks nice Manon!
user10 oh yeah that would look really good around her neck
Daniela skimmed the comments, suddenly bursting into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Manon, her arm still up, in the middle of her accessory tour, leant back. Surprised by the Latina’s sudden change in attitude, she glanced between the camera and her roommate as if she was an insane person.
“Oh my God, they’re saying your hands would make a really good necklace for Y/N.” Daniela explained, still laughing.
Manon’s eyes widened, heat immediately flushing to her cheeks. She thanked all the Gods her smooth skin tone hid any hint of fluster, or she would have been beer red at the comment. She placed a hand over her eyes, her lips quirking into a small smile as she groaned.
“That’s good, that’s a good one. I like that.” Daniela sighed.
Next door, you could hear the two of them screaming and squabbling on live. You opened a new tab, sick of scrolling through the same catalogues on different websites. You were feeling lazy, didn’t really feel like getting up to join the two nextdoor, so you pulled up Weverse, clicking onto Manon’s live. Right off the bat, you were met with the Ghanaian woman showing off her bracelets and such, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the comments that followed.
Sometimes, this was your favourite part about having fans.
When Daniela’s laugh on the live had synced with the one next door, you couldn’t help but also giggle at Manon’s reaction when she was told what eyekons thought of her tour.
It was enough of a motivator to go nextdoor; to tease her.
“—Anyway! Can we please talk about anything else.”
A knock sounded through the room, both their heads turned to the door, watching Y/N’s head pop through the doorway. Daniela pounced to her feet, jogging over to jump into the older’s arms as Y/N carried her back in front of the camera.
Manon rolled her eyes, her tongue sticking against her inner cheek as she stared at the two goofing around in the back.
user11 Oh someone’s jealous…
used12 if looks could kill they’d be dead by now
“Dani’s so light, I can probably squat heavier than you.” Y/N teased, her arms still wrapped around the Latina’s waist as Daniela clung onto her with her legs. “Anyways, you guys were being so loud, I wanted to see what was up.”
Y/N finally sets Daniela down, who found her spot behind Manon again.
Y/N slung an arm over Manon, poking her head between the roommates. “Heard you have a new necklace for me, Meret. You feeling like letting me try it out?”
user13 the way i’d just moan in response
user14 NOBODY TALK TO ME
user15 Manon I’ll take Y/N if you don’t want her
user16 SHE CALLS HER MERET???
The Ghanaian woman didn’t turn to greet the younger member, instead, with her lips pursed in envy, she deliberately made sure her efforts to ignore Y/N were evident.
Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “Manon, are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” Manon huffed, her eyes still trained on the phone. “I’m just tryna talk to eyekons.”
Daniela hissed, making an “Oh, shit” expression and backing away so the other member could slide into where she sat. She eyed the phone from over Y/N’s shoulder, as if telling them she was unaware of what was about to unfold as well.
Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at the eldest’s sulking.
She slid an arm under Manon’s legs, the other securely held over her back. Kneeling, Y/N sprung to her feet, lifting Manon from the ground. The Ghanaian woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, hands clutching onto Y/N’s hoodie for dear life.
“Did you feel left out, Manon? I was just joking around.”
Daniela watched in terror at the younger member flung Manon around the room in her arms. She slid forward to mouth “help me” into the camera, scared Manon’s feet might hit her head by accident.
“Oh my God, you ass—you bully, put me down.”
*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to being interviewed as promotion for the release of Touch, Y/N seemed to be the interviewer’s main foci.
“—Yes, thank you. My next question is for Y/N, uh, so we heard you like a tall, dark and handsome type.” The interviewer read off his card, a mic held up to his lips. The question immediately raised some red flags for the group, Sophia and Manon—as the eldest and the leader—shared a knowing look. They were ready for whatever the man had to throw at them. “You’ve posted a couple of instagram photos and been seen out with a certain singer that’s been on Euphoria, is this a new potential partner, or what’s going on there?”
Y/N was slightly taken aback by how blunt the question came out. Usually management did a good job keeping questions about their personal lives out of interviews when they approve them for the video, but this one must’ve snuck past them.
The woman raised her mic, flashing the cameras her signature smile. The other members could only sit and admire how well her composure was, despite being asked such an intrusive query. She chuckled, eyeing Manon, who didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked to be ready to pounce out of her chair whenever. Y/N gave her a subtle nod, as if telling her to stand down.
“Well, he and I met through mutual friends in the industry and we all get together to hang out on my day offs.” Y/N explained, “We’re just good buddies, nothing more.”
The interviewer chuckled, naive to the searing glares he was receiving from all the girls.
“Shame, a lot of people think you’d look like a power couple, the both of you being very talented singers and all,” he scanned his card, the only one laughing in the room full of dozens of people. “Is there anybody special in your life then? Or is this a chance for me to shoot my shot.”
Oh, six pairs of eyes glared daggers at him.
[ Love that they all stand up for their girl ]
None of them were smiling anymore, not even out of courtesy. Daniela and Lara in the front had their arms crossed, their legs spread as they sneered at the man. Megan and Yoonchae were the better ones at concealing just how aghast they were at the unprofessionalism, their expressions stoic, but the aura around them growing cold. Sophia sat upright, ready to jump in when the man stopped talking, but Manon—Manon was sitting beside Y/N, and it took one look at the woman’s uncomfortable expression for her to want to break the man’s neck.
“—Actually, we’re all really focused on our journey as Katseye right now, so we don’t really have time for other kinds of commitment just yet. Even then, we try and keep our personal and professional lives separated because a healthy work-life balance is very important.” Manon answered passively, her smile immediately fading when she finished talking.
But by the way the man gulped and stopped chuckling, it was obvious he finally noticed the elephant in the room.
“I understand how people are very intrigued by that aspect of our lives though, it can be hard to know where to draw the line sometimes.” Y/N added in a smoother tone, hoping to soften the blow of loathing this man was hit with. “But, respectfully, we love talking about and sharing our experience with making music more than we do discussing our lives.”
The interviewer nodded, “Of course. We can move on.”
Throughout the rest of the interview, Manon had a hand on the younger member’s thighs. Their fingers laced together as they answered the rest of the questions. Later, Y/N would tease the Ghanaian woman with edits people have made of the moment Manon stood up for her.
A screenshot of a very popular one of those edits would be the wallpaper for the girls’ group chat the next few weeks,
*Loud technical difficulty transition* In Y/N’s Weverse live with Megan for a dance session, the older between the two was obviously distracted by constant chimes coming from her phone. Fans get a nice surprise all on live.
Megan and Y/N swayed their hips to the beat, thrusting in and pulling away as the song played. The comments would flood with praises for their undeniably talented skills, and by the end of their choreography, they were both panting and sweating.
user01 omg omg omg omg my dinner menu
user02 The difference in outfits is taking me out
user03 BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD
Y/N ran a hand through her hair, dapping Megan up before the two of them approached Megan’s phone. It was resting on a chair against the wall, so it would stream everything they did.
In a sports bra and baggy jeans, Y/N had her hair down. She was sporting thick glasses, ones fans pointed out Daniela liked wearing in the series of tiktok’s they filmed last month. Megan on the other hand, had a more Adam Sandler type fit going on. The two of them devoured their individual styles.
[ Oh my god, it’s all over the screen ]
“That’s the choreo Megan and I have done so far.”
Y/N’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Manon asking if she was in her room.
Megan’s infectious cackle interrupted before she could reply.
“Someone said we’re not pregnant but we always deliver,” she managed to read out in between gasping for air amidst her fit of amusement. “Oh my God, that’s so iconic.”
Opening her mouth to retaliate, another buzz sounds.
Y/N pulled her phone back out from her pocket, seeing another text from Manon, urging for an answer. She chuckled, shaking her head at the woman’s impatience.
Megan skimmed the comments, before turning back.
“Somebody said, ‘Only one thing could have Y/N smiling at her phone like that’.” The Chinese dancer read out, “Another person added, ‘Manon’s probably missing her boo thang’.”
Y/N shook her head, deciding keeping up appearances with their fans was more important than replying right away.
“It was just our manager, guys. A reminder for what we need to do tomorrow.” Y/N lied, “Anyway, if anybody was wondering, we are working really hard for MAMA. Especially Meggers here.” She grabbed the redhead, yanking her close to knock their heads together. “She’s carrying the dancing with Dani right now.”
peanutbutterlover02 Bad girl
peanutbutterlover02 Y/N’s ignoring my texts :(
peanutbutterlover02 Guysss stop hogging Y/N
Y/N and Megan both silenced at the sudden pop of a verified user commenting, but after reading the handle, both of them shared a moment of faux annoyance.
“Manon, get out of our comment section!” Megan yelled, “Go do something, man!”
The meme reference squeezed a laugh from Y/N, who shook her head. But, still, it’s Katseye. Of course she couldn’t resist joining in on the teasing herself. Her voice dropped low, “News flash, Dwayne’s forehead isn’t real. It’s a prosthetic.”
Both of them giggle at their own joke.
user04 Oop- Manon’s coming to collect fr
user05 can’t even defend them anymore
user06 so we were right Y/N was giggling cuz of manon
user07 BAD GIRL IS CRAZY
“Sorry, Meret, we’re just about to wrap this session up and I’ll text you back immediately after, okay?”
Manon could only suck it up, leaving a couple more disappointed comments on their livestream as Megan and Y/N show eyekons another part of choreography.
peanutbutterlover02 I’m so boreddddddd
peanutbutterlover02 I’m still waiting >:(
peanutbutterlover02 Guys I need my best friend back
[ BEST FRIEND—sure ]
*Loud technical difficulty transition* A KATSEYE HOLIDAY STORY | KATSEYE; Secret Santa Portion
Y/N’s wrapping a gift set, a Fenty beauty make-up kit she specially assembled for Manon. She knew the woman had been complaining about her makeup supply running low, so what better chance than to get her what she needed?
“I know, I know, I went a little over budget,” Y/N chuckled, taping the edges of the wrapping paper together. “But Manon’s been really needing new stuff, and I wanted it.”
[ Ofc Y/N would go above and beyond for Manon ]
“Also, let me tell you guys a secret.” Y/N walked offscreen, coming back with a tiny box.
She motioned for the camera to zoom into the box, before popping it open. Inside, there was a gold necklace, a crown charm at the end of it. Y/N tucked it back into the box, holding a finger up to her lips.
“I got Manon an extra gift, but that’s for after work.”
[ That’s so cute I need me a Y/N ]
“Anyway, I’m glad I got Manon. I think either Daniela or Yoonchae might be my secret santa, ‘cuz I’m sure Megan got Lara and Lara got Sophia.” Y/N shrugged, standing in her cream coloured silky pj set. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
Sat around a table on a very festive set, Y/N was instructed to slot in between Megan and Manon.
One by one, the girls presented their gifts to their designated person. When Yoonchae presented Daniela her gift, a neatly wrapped book, it was the Latina’s turn to pull out her gift bag.
“And my secret santa is…” Drumrolls against the table followed, “Y/N!”
Cheers erupted amongst the girls as Daniela slid the bag across the table to Y/N.
“Hope you like it, babe.”
The wrapping paper was still being pulled off as Y/N let out a surprised gasp. Underneath the vibrant wrapping was a vinyl—Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac. Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly. It was one of their favorite albums, something she had been looking for on vinyl forever.
“No way…! Dani, how’d you find this?” Y/N exclaimed, holding it up to the group, her voice practically sparkling.
Dan smiled proudly, her hands still resting on her own wrapped gift. “Well, I know you’re all about that rock life,” she said with a wink, knowing how much this record meant to Y/N. “I had my ways. As long as you’re happy, it was worth it.”
As everyone cheered and clapped, Manon side-eyed the gift.
She had noticed the way Y/N's eyes practically glowed when Daniela handed her the vinyl. It wasn’t just about the gift itself—it was the way Y/N was so genuinely excited. She loved seeing her happy, but Manon herself would have been happier if she had been the reason for such a smile. The way Y/N laughed and praised Daniela, even going as to get out of her chair to tackle the Latina in a hug. The little things that made Manon feel... well, a little left out. She quickly shifted her attention to the other girls, pretending to focus on the conversation, but her mind lingered on the discomfort.
Y/N notices Manon's mood; she smirked.
“Okay, so, it’s my turn.” Y/N turned, grabbing her bag from the floor. The bag had been topped with a cute silver ribbon, the gift itself wrapped with the same paper as the others’ gifts. “And, there’s two people left who hasn’t gotten their secret santa gift yet, so, drumroll, please!”
The table once again rocked as they drummed their hands.
“I have… my favourite drama queen, Manon.”
The Ghanaian woman widened her eyes, hands taking in the present Y/N shimmied over to her. The younger slung her arm over Manon’s shoulders, rubbing it as she watched her open and unwrap the present. A loud yelp rung through the studio, startling the others before Manon fully unwrapped it.
Her face softened when she saw what was inside: a Fenty beauty set—lip glosses, a highlighter, and a few items she had been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on herself.
“Okay, now I know for a fact this is out of budget.” Lara crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised in question.
“Bro, can we do secret santa without Y/N next year?” Sophia chimed, earning a couple teasing agreements. “You’re making all of us look bad now, N/N.”
“Y/N...” Manon whispered, her heart fluttering. “You really did this for me? This was probably so expensive.”
Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Best way to spend my money. The holidays are all about love, right? This is how I show you guys I love you.” She pulled Megan and Manon into her arms, squeezing them both as the others joined in for a big hug. “I got you all things you want, don’t worry.”
Manon’s smile returned, brighter than before. She leaned in to hug Y/N individually after, her voice quiet but sincere. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”
Their hug lasted a little long, even their editing team seemed to tease them a bit with the excessive exaggeration of how long it was with a time ticking effect over the other girls’ reactions.
The rest of the group watched, their smiles growing as they witnessed the little moment between the two. It was clear, despite the playful teasing and occasional misunderstandings, that Y/N and Manon were closer than anyone could imagine.
Manon held the box up to her chest, beaming.
“Okay, so, Manon, you’re doing yours—!”
[ Y/N really loves spoiling her bandmates, especially Manon… ]
*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to Lara and Yoonchae’s live. The two were sat on the floor of their hotel room, singing and joking around as Sophia occasionally shushed them to be a bit quieter.
“No, Yoonchae, if we were in the Hunger Games, the order we’d go from dying to surviving would be Manon, Sophia, Me, You, Megan, Dani and then Y/N. I feel like Dani’s like so wild and freaky she’d be able to survive better than you.” Lara argued, earning a loud whine of protest from Sophia across the room. “And Megan would be the type to like survive off the stupidest reason, like she’ll accidentally kill someone.”
Yoonchae pouted, “No, no! It’s you, Dani, me, then Y/N.”
“Yoonchae, I swear to God, I’m telling you.” Lara held a hand up, “It’s me, you, Megan, Dani and then Y/N.”
The youngest huffed, unwilling to argue.
user01 Lara any advice on how to flirt w a girl
Yoonchae pointed at the phone. Lara leant forward to read the comment she was pointing out, her lips curving into a smile immediately. “Oh, wow. That’s a question you should ask Y/N. Or Manon… Only ‘cuz the two of them are such flirty people.”
Lara looked offscreen, a guilty smile on her face as she glanced at Sophia for help.
[ Nice save Lara, definitely super slick ]
“Yes, Manon is very…” Yoonchae does a winky face into the camera, “And Y/N gets flirted with a lot when we go to dinner.”
Lara hummed, drawing attention away from what she almost exposed. “Yes. Y/N has a very fluid appearance, she gets a lot of guys and girls coming up to her in public.”
Sophia, voice faint, chimed, “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”
“So, I feel like that’s a good question to ask Y/N. She has the most aura, most unspoken rizz among all of us.”
user02 does manon get jealous when Y/N’s hit on?
[ Took me a while to find this comment! ]
Lara laughed aloud at a comment, momentarily confusing Yoonchae before the younger caught the statement as well. They shared a knowing look, and when their laughter died down, they just remained silent and moved on.
user03 Who’s the most jealous/possessive as a gf?
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this.” Lara rubbed her hands together, “Yoonchae and I actually talked about this at some point. Okay, it goes, from least to most, Yoonchae, Y/N, Megan, Sophia, Me, Dani and then Manon.”
user04 match made in heaven
user05 They’re so jealous x comforting duo my heart
“Because Yoonchae, Y/N and Megan are much more relaxed and I feel like Sophia’s jealous, but she can hide it well. Me, Dani and Manon are definitely more fighters, because ain’t nobody coming near my bae if we dating.” Lara squared up to the camera, eyeing it up and down. “Manon is just lowkey a psycho, so she was at the top of the list.”
Yoonchae nodded, “I’m scared of Manon when she’s angry.”
“I’ve seen Manon mad over something, guys. It’s not pretty and I do not recommend.” Sophia yelled.
[ Since Y/N gets flirted with a lot and Sophia’s seen Manon angry… it’s so obvious ya’ll ]
#katseye x reader#katseye#manon bannerman x reader#manon bannerman#daniela avanzini#daniela avanzini x reader#lara raj#lara raj x reader#megan skiendiel#megan skiendiel x reader#sophia laforteza x reader#sophia laforteza#yoonchae
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Woof woof… whimper
(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)
Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting
It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.
“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.
But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.
“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.
“G-get off of me, get out, get—”
His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.
“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”
You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….
How did he know where you live?
How did he know where the spare key was?
How did he know where your bedroom was?
How did he find you at the bar?
Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.
Then where’s your dog?
“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”
He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.
“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”
You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.
All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.
“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”
You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.
“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.
“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”
Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…
“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”
Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.
He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.
And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.
Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.
“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.
Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.
“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”
Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.
It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.
You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.
You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.
“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.
“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”
You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.
“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”
“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”
You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.
“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”
Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.
“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”
“Alright, hen. C’mere.”
He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.
“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.
He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”
And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.
How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.
“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”
How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.
“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”
That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.
You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…
And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.
Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).
He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.
“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.
“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”
It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.
“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”
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#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut#anyway hope yall like it#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#thoughts™️#dark fic#woof woof johnny#woof woof au#wolf john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish
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Soldier Boy x Male Reader frotting h/c’s
wc: 1.3k
warnings: (1) slur lol, not proofread
a/n: i havent written in MONTHS bc of my uni exams and english isnt my first language but i really wanna promote my homosexual soldier boy propaganda so, sorry if its not good lol, my request ''rules" are on my pinned
*
He has been with men before, well, it was at the first Herogasm so, to him; it doesn’t count. He was high on drugs, alcohol and sex, he isn’t a homo, he really isn’t.
So why in the fucking hell you just looking at him makes him feel some type of way? He won’t say how he feels, not in a million fucking years, he isn’t a fucking faggot it’s just- you look good for a man, that’s all there’s to it.
He’s most likely just pent up after being revived, his dick is just looking for anything to cum into. So he seeks out women, not like its ever been hard for him. It does relax him somewhat physically but his dick always stays so fucking hard, he bites his lower lip in frustration as he fists cock to completion; with how you would look on your knees, your mouth full of his cock…and that actually helps hell of a lot more than actually fucking a woman. He is so fucked.
It doesn’t really help how much you fucking look at him, normally he would just call out your bullshit but just looking at you makes his chest feel heavy, his cock stiffen and his face distorts into a scowl. Anyone looking from outside thinks that he fucking hates you so much, Butcher says to not concern yourself with it, the fucker’s old and you being queer is probably what’s got him like this. You’d wanted to stand up for yourself but you really don’t want to be torn apart by a supe who hates your fucking guts according to everyone.
It happens so fucking randomly, you’re left to babysit his old ass as the rest of the boys go out to do something– you couldn’t care less. Right now, you had more pressing matters. Like how his gaze doesn’t feel so… cold anymore. He’s been eyefucking you all day! You let out a big sigh as your clammy hands reacher for your glass, “Hey kid,” soldier boy starts and you’re so startled that he adressed you directly for the first time since you’ve met; you spill the water over yourself.
You expect a chuckle, some snarky remark or even a slur, you don’t expect his eyes drawn to your sweatpants then back to your face again, “How do you…” he clicks his tongue in annoyance with himself and the way you’re looking at him- seriously stop- “How do you… people have sex?” you let out a snort despite yourself, what the fuck is this moment you’re having?
“Like, gay sex?” He huffs in annoyance as he leans more onto the table, his relaxed demeanor gone, “obviously you fucking idiot, what else?” you roll your eyes, getting up to grab some napkins to at least dry yourself off a little, you don’t miss the way his eyes drift to your ass, you don’t point it out, “depends, some couples have strict top and bottom roles, who gets dicked down and who does it,” You don’t hear how he gets up from his chair, “some couples like to switch it up, some don’t care and do what they want to, penetration isn’t the only way t…” you’re cut off by the feel of hands caressing the sides of your thighs, your head snaps to look behind you, too look at him.
He raises his eyesbrows as if you’re the one that’s groping his thighs and ass, “dude, what the fuck are you doi…” you’re cut off as he groans (in annoyance, obviously) and turns you around, caging you between him and the kitchen counter. “What the fuck does it look like i’m doing? You’re gonna get us off, so shut the fuck up and–” his hand slides down your damp sweatpants, “stroke and touch it while you can.”
You want to say something, do something, you really do, but look, he’s a supe and he can break you in half with one hand and he’s hot. Plus you have not gotten any action since you joined the boys, also, being soldier boy’s first proper gay awakening? That is fucking hilarious. So you do as he says and stay still and let your sweatpants drop down, of course he pulls this shit when you’re going commando.
You hear the way his breath hitches at the sight of your cock and fuck it gives you such an ego boost, yeah you’ve got a pretty dick that’s also getting harder by the minute just because he’s giving it an ounce of attention. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the infamous soldier boy’s dick, standing up in attention just because of a “fruit bowl” (his words) of a man, which in this case, is you.
He looks at you, irritation clear in his eyes as you gawk at his cock, yes it’s big and yes your reaction gets him even harder but fuck he just wants to get off at this point, “you gonna help both of us out or stand there with your mouth agape, tinkerbell?” that snaps you out of your surprise and you swallow thickly as you take his and your cock in your hand (it’s hard to- but you make do) and start to slowly strone the tips, which earns you a hiss from soldier boy. You focus your eyes on his face, hands on both of your cock’s.
You bite your lip at how much he’s reacting to just…frotting, he must’ve been waiting for this, his hips are thrusting upwards, his hips rolling as he moans with relief everytime you stroke.
He’s never been this horny in his damn life, the way your cock feels against his is indescribable, feels so fucking delicious is all his mush brain can muster. He groans out a fuck as your thumb ghosts over the tip, gathering the precum to get both of you slick. You would say something but you’re honestly too horny to, there’s silence besides moans and groans as you work your cock’s to finish. You feel his dick twitch against your own, his hands grip the sides of your thighs and he pulls you closer; earning a high pitches whine from you. He looks at you once, his pupils dilated with lust and want as he smashes your lips together; your cocks grinding against each other as he rolls his hips non-stop, your hands now steadying you on the counter as soldier boy grinds and rolls his hips.
The kiss is all tongue and teeth, there’s nothing affectionate about it, just pure animalistic want. Makes you moan like a bitch into it as he overpowers you easily, his hands gripping your ass now, his tongue inside your mouth as he gives one final roll of his hips and cums with a loud ‘fuck, yes’, his voice is the thing that tips you over the edge as you cum with a low pitched whine, both of your hips spasming and stuttering as you grind onto each other and the kiss gets even deeper; refusing to part with you even when both of your t-shirts are now stained with each other’s cum.
You sigh shakily as he finally lets you go, rudely might i add, as he pushes his hair back and gives you a look you don’t really understand, shoves you off, making you curse under your breath as the counter digs into your lower back. You watch as he just… pulls his sweats back on and takes off his t-shirt, finds cigarettes on one of the cupboards and goes outside to smoke…
“What… the fuck was that?” is all that leaves you, your dick still out and your heart beating so rapidly you think it’s gonna burst through your chest. What a mess of a man, huh.
#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x reader#the boys soldier boy#soldier boy#the boys x male reader#the boys x you#the boys x reader#the boys#male reader#x male reader#bottom male reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles x male reader#jensen ackles x reader
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Academic Change
Summary : Everything's changing and the only way you know how to deal with it is by crying. Ollie's there to help though
Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Reader
Word Count : 0.8k
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A/N : Oh, how I needed an Ollie last night when this exact situation hit me.
It had reached a new academic year, but this year was different. You've finished high school and are now on your way to university. Ollie was signing with Haas, which meant his life was about to get more difficult. However, the worst part about it all was your best friend was moving away to go to university.
You’d heard the horror stories about best friends that move away and slowly just lose connection until it was like there was never a friendship there in the first place. With all the change that was happening over the next six months, you could feel the anxiety kicking in.
Ollie was back home for the break between Monza and Baku and you couldn’t be more grateful because during that break you had to say bye to your best friend and it was worse than Ollie leaving almost every week.
She understood you in a way that no one else could, there were millions of inside jokes that would be shared between you, inappropriate jokes that would have strangers or other people complaining about but that was your friendship.
It wasn’t until you were lying in bed blocking out the neighbours party that it really hit you. Noah Kahan’s ‘You’re Gonna Go Far’ playing into your ears as the words suddenly hit more than they ever had before.
Before you knew it, the tears had started falling down your face as the panic set in that actually she was packing up her car and being wherever she was. You’d tried not to cry for months about her leaving, but suddenly, everything was just far too much.
Ollie who was lying next to you in bed also blocking out the neighbours party with his own earphones in except this time scrolling on tiktok glanced over at you instantly spotting the tear tracks that had been on your face as you swapped from your normal playlist to your sad playlist needing to just let all your feelings out.
His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him as he ran a comforting hand over your back in an attempt to help calm you down however you were too deep into your crying session by now.
Soon Ollie figured you’d been crying enough and took your phone swapping over to some ‘relaxing sounds’ that in reality just made you want to use the bathroom but you didn’t have the energy to fight him.
His hand gently pulled your wrist closer to him as he messed about with your smartwatch to start the breathing exercises that were programmed in by whatever company you’d previously bought it from. As you followed the instructions from the watch, you could feel the anxiety of losing your best friend leaving your body and your heart rate dropping back down to normal.
Ollie sighed, letting you remove your earphones and place your phone on the bedside table before pulling you back into his body
“I know it’s hard, darling. Trust me, I know, except I was the one leaving everyone behind. I know it from both points of view, and you just need to remember that what you have won’t disappear overnight. You’ll meet new people on your course even if it’s a small course and you’ll never forget about your memories with her. I know your anxiety is through the roof right now, and you don’t deal well with change, but remember I’ll always be here. Even if I’m in Italy or Australia. She’ll always be there whether she’s ten minutes away by bus or half an hour by train” Ollie took a breath, pushing some hair out your face and wiping stray tears from your face
“Change is hard, and it’ll always be hard for you because that’s just who you are, but I love you for it and remember you’re the first from your family ever to go to university. That’s an achievement. You’re also doing a medical degree technically. I love you” He smiled, and you nodded
“I love you too. Thank you” Ollie nodded, pressing his lips against yours.
Everything was changing, and as hard as that was to admit, unfortunately, change was always going to happen in life, and although your facetimes were starting to become irregular, they were still happening.
No matter what happened in the next few months, at least you always had the memories that you’d created over the past three years at high school. Because you’d left all those friend groups that turned out not to be right, and now you had your best friend.
It was going to work out, and Ollie knew that after a couple of weeks you’d understand that.
“Come on time for some ice cream” Ollie hummed, getting out of bed and throwing you over his shoulder, causing you to giggle and cling on for dear life.
Sitting you down on the counter in the kitchen, Ollie raided the freezer, handing you the carton of ice cream with a spoon as he told Alex to play songs from both your childhoods. After all, much like your best friend, he knew how to make you happy.
And to quote Lauv “The story never ends”
Coming Soon
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#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f2 x y/n#f2 x you#f2 x reader#f2#formula two x reader#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula two#formula 1#ollie bearman x you#oliver bearman x reader#ollie bearman#oliver bearman#ollie bearman x reader#oliver bearman x y/n#oliver bearman x you#ollie bearman x y/n#ob38 x you#ob38 x reader#ob87#ob3#ob38#ob38 x y/n#ob87 x you#ob87 x reader
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Light (Sung Jinwoo)
TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)
‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.
Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor.
So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!
It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.
Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother.
It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…
“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”
Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.
“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.
“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.
This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.
No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.
While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well.
You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child?
Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.
But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’
They are already what’s best for you.
Why can’t they see that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”
“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”
Beep.
You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.
“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.
Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red.
How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish!
The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.
“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will.
Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.
Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.
At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.
Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.
#lexsssu writes#solo leveling#solo leveling smut#sung jin woo x reader#sung jinwoo smut#sung jinwoo x you#solo leveling x reader#sung jinwoo x y/n#crossposted on ao3#sung jinwoo x reader
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I must test how long these tags can go
#(High#high hopes)#Had to have high#high hopes for a living#Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing#Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision#Always had high#high hopes#Didn't know how but I always had a feeling#I was gonna be that one in a million#Mama said#Fulfill the prophecy#Be something greater#Go make a legacy#Manifest destiny#Back in the days#We wanted everything#Wanted everything#Burn your biographies#Rewrite your history#Light up your wildest dreams#Museum victories#every day#wanted everything#don't give up#it's a little complicated#All tied up#no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting#It's uphill for oddities#Stranger crusaders
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Choke On The Sun
PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: You'd known John ever since the Academy, and even after losing touch, the love you had for one another was never gone. Like a snake, it had stayed hidden in unseen places. But it was always there.
WORDCOUNT: 13.8k
WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, torture, detailed descriptions of torture i.e. electrocution, loss of a finger, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, discussion of torture, canon-typical violence, death, near-death experiences, guns, weapons, abductions, betrayals, intended for mature audiences, happy ending, etc.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You remember a story you’d been told when you were a rookie—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed with far fewer scars. A more of a glass-half-full type of outlook on life, unknowing of what you’d experience during your years with the SAS: what choices you would have to make.
It went something like this.
There was a herd of deer that had jumped over the side of a bridge. On either end of that bridge, there were two trucks with their high beams on—not moving but sitting there; the deer got pressured. Spooked. One by one they just…hopped over and died on the rocks below—no noise above the breaking of bone and the clatter of antlers shattering to pieces.
You have to wonder if it was the fault of the first one who had jumped over for leading the rest to a quick end, or the drivers of the cars just trying to get where they needed to go; ignorant of the way they’d been ogling to see the panic in wide, black eyes. Either way, a whole herd of ten met their fate and left their bodies to feed the larvae and the birds.
The story had been told over drinks at a pub, at the time you’d taken an interest in it with no more than a slow comment of ‘poor things’ before you’d brought your glass to your lips. You don't know why you’re thinking about it now.
The timing could have been more opportune.
You send a bullet into the man’s kneecap, hearing the bone disintegrate and the flesh open like a flower. His scream follows, loud and hoarse—sobbing trapped behind a bitten tongue that drips blood down his chin.
Hand snapping up, you grasp the lower half of his face with a grunt, head shoving itself forward until you lock onto fluttering eyes and get consumed by a whining sob.
“I asked you a question,” you lick your lips, tasting sweat as it slithers down your skin. Your voice is slow and even, grip tight. With a shove, you push back the man’s face, wrist limp with the Basilisk as you wipe at your nose with it, unblinking, when you get to your full height.
The room wasn’t anything different from a million other black sites you’d been to. A single chair where your mark sits tied up, a desk that had been pushed to the wall, and a single door placed into the cracking foundations of a concrete wall. No windows. No vents.
Hotter than hell, too, and that place was something you were acutely in tune with.
“Anthony,” you say, waving your free hand as the scent of blood gets stronger, pools of it already on the hard floor. “I’m gonna call you Tony, alright?”
Tony yells, wrenching his arms against the zip-ties and screaming until his voice is hoarse.
“Damn you! I told you I don’t know anything!” He sobs. “My leg—I can’t feel my leg, oh, God it hurts.”
You frown, glancing at the door.
“Stop lying to me,” you look back, eyes unblinking in the low light. “You still have one left—tell me where your buyer is and I let you keep the ability to walk upright with a cane.”
“I don’t know his name—!”
“I don’t need a name, Tony,” you growl, irritated. “I need a location.”
“Copenhagen!” He wails, body spasming and hair dancing atop his head. “The warehouse is in Copenhagen, please, that’s all I know!”
You blink.
“Denmark?” You mutter, brows furrowing.
“Fuck!” Tony screams long, his skull tilting forward as he releases his guts to the floor through quick gasps. Backing up a step to stay out of the spray, you watch him silently; thinking. The flood of the man’s crimson fluids ripples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Denmark,” grumbling to yourself once more, you shake your head and sigh aggressively. “Of course.”
Without another glance, you turn and exit the room, pushing your Basilisk into its holster as the gear on your chest clinks lightly like the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. The door closes behind you, voice calling to one of the guards as he looks up quickly. His face is pale. Tony’s wails still echo out; water filling a bucket.
“Get a medic,” is what you settle with—slipping past on a fleet foot and new intel to pass on to Laswell. She’ll be intrigued, no doubt.
One step closer, your mind hisses to you. Just a little bit longer.
It’s too late to gain a conscious now.
Emmett Kinsman had been dodging you for years—dodging the Task Force—but with one of his suppliers giving away a location you’d been unable to pin, there was hope for a swift resolution to this mess.
The radio on your chest sizzles to life.
“Hart, sit-rep. How’s it lookin’ on the black site.” Kate’s American accent leaks into the earpiece attached to you, the cord looping the back of your neck and inserted into the shell; a device of black metal and plastic.
“I have a location for Kinsman. Copenhagen,” you ease out, moving a finger to the earpiece and pressing. Glancing at the rows and rows of doors in this endless hallway of dark smoke and obsidian mirrors—you’re eager to get your boots to the ground. Your other hand snatches at the rag swinging from your belt, taking it out and rubbing at your face with it until the stain of oil and flecks of blood smear like frosting on a cake. “Where are the boys? I need to be wheels-up to meet them ASAP.”
“Coming to you.”
“They’re here?” Your face twists as the words settle in, confused. “Why? Thought they were tracking another lead in Romania.”
Kate’s voice is smooth in your ear, moving like water as you turn a corner, stuffing your rag back into your belt.
“Are you surprised?” The woman jokes in a monotone; you’d only taken it as such because you knew her dry state of humor. “Really, Hart, you know he can’t stop until you’re back at his side. I was going to tell you sooner, but you were…occupied.”
Your feet pause for a moment at the beginning of her sentence, instinctual heat moving the length of your neck until you clench your jaw and continue onward at a slightly slower pace—eyes narrowed on the floor ahead of you.
“It isn’t like that, Kate,” you mutter. A low hum echoes the line and you fight a scowl as a group of soldiers walk past. Itching at your forearm, you shake your head. “John just likes having everyone together on missions like these. If it had been different, I’m sure he would have told me to fly back to them regardless of the intel. We’re tight on time.”
“I’ve known you both for more years than I can remember,” Laswell sighs. “Don’t try that with me, Captain.” You frown, clicking your tongue. “They’ll be arriving on the tarmac—get ready for a quick exit. We need Kinsman by month’s end.”
“Copy,” you utter, removing your hand from the earpiece and glaring ahead of you. A still-air silence envelopes the hallway, the only sound of your boots to the concrete and the reverberation that booms after.
It was so quiet here.
John Price—Captain Price—and yourself had a… complicated history. You’d joined up together; gotten through SAS selection neck-and-neck until time and its grubby fingers had forced your lives in different directions. Like two vines of reaching ivy, it had only been three years ago that you’d seen the other again, though you’d heard stories as you’re sure he had about you.
Hart: not the kind that beats but the kind that bleats, you had to explain to most—you weren’t unknown to the darker side of the job and the people that specialized in it. Your file was stretched with so much black ink that when you’d gotten the call on your phone, an unknown number, you’d recognized the gruff voice behind it and the first question you’d asked was how the hell he’d gotten clearance to track you down.
“No hello, then, Hart?”
“Not one for pleasantries, John. Explain. Quickly.”
“Business as always.” He’s wasted no time, voice going to a low grumble over the line that day. “Laswell took in a favor. You’ve been busy, Love…Room for one more joint-Op?”
It hadn’t panned out to only ‘one more joint-Op’.
After the mission was over, it had been raining on base. The sky had shed tears from clouds deeper than the gray shades of your gear, splattering packed dirt and concrete. Above your head, the thin overhang off of the armory door had spared you some of it, but when the wind had shifted your clothes absorbed specks of water like spots on a fawn. Your eyes had been looking out—expression open.
When the man exited the building and came up beside you, you both didn’t speak for a long time. You had been aware of his form, devoid of vest and gear, while yours was still layered with it to the utmost degree. You’d expected to leave that night—a good old-fashioned Irish Goodbye with a C-17 already waiting for you to board. To carry you off to another hellish deed done with ravaging cruelty for the sake of people who would never even know you existed.
The storm had stopped you…or, maybe something else had.
“Good to see you again, Hart,” John had stated, still not looking over at you as his arms had crossed, feet situating themselves. “Been too long.”
You had stayed silent—watching. The drain across the street was flooded. Sticks and leaves stuck at the drain as a whirlpool formed; only dangerous to bugs and the bits of garbage blown in by the wind.
Only after the wind shifts again did you speak.
“And what has John Price been up to in that time?” Your eyes had slid to stare, piercing in the low illumination of the armory’s outside light.
A huff of a chuckle, the one you’d remembered in the days of selection—coated in mud from crawling through man-made trenches and a sharp smirk of a snap when the barbed wire had grazed his back.
There were too many stories here. Too many. So many it became impossible to wonder what could have been and what couldn’t—all that existed were the little moments of fondness.
The two of you were nothing else but souls long past redemption; stuck on that knife’s edge and waiting for the hand to shake and send you through it.
You are made of memories.
“That’s a story told over bourbon,” John’s lips had flickered, and you’d blinked slowly, head tilting. “Not anything worth reliving, yeah?”
“Everything is relivable, Captain. You just need to find a reason as to why.”
The man had nodded his head your way, conceding with his blank eyes ahead to the rain. A rumble of distant thunder had flown out, making your ears twitch. You couldn’t stop watching him now that you had the chance—the brunette strands; the fatigues, and that accent. The muscle you don’t remember him having in that specific place all those years ago. The wrinkles on his forehead from age and stress are shown in yours as a mirror.
Tall; formidable.
There was a tension in the air that you chose not to dwell on—the same that had been brewing for as long as you’d known him.
“I want you to join up with me,” the sudden comment had made your body tense, eyes snapping away. In your pockets, your fingers twitch with surprise.
“Join?”
“Thought I’d catch you before you disappeared again, yeah?” A sheen of slight embarrassment is over your skin. John chuckles again. “Extend a formal offer—Laswell was the one who suggested it.”
“Well,” you’d huffed, licking your lips. “Now I’m surely not accepting.”
“Let me fuckin’ finish, Love,” John’s lips were pulled in a slight smirk—beard shifting. A pause as the wind whips again, shaking the trees before he grunts. “One-Four-One. My Task Force. Been thinking I’d need someone like you, but I knew you’d never agree to it.”
“Oh?” Your brow raises.
“Not bloody stupid.” He sighs. “Thought I’d ask anyway. Give you a proper goodbye if you weren’t so keen on handing it out.”
“I don’t like goodbyes,” you mutter, hearing John’s feet shift—his boots scraping.
“I know.” It’s low and even—not a prod or a dig. An observation.
A hand is moved out to you, hovering.
There isn’t any need for words when you glance down at it, and then up at him; staring into those blue eyes that so perfectly illustrate the hues of a roaring river, hidden away in the confines of a verdant forest.
A slow smile pulls at your lips, and you see the corner of the man’s eyes soften.
“Knew I’d get one out of you again,” he mutters as you slip your hand into his, a firm and all-encompassing heat of flesh and care.
“Don’t get used to it, John.” Shaking his hand, you smirk, legs shifting.
“Never,” he chuffs, squeezing your limb.
You don’t know why you stayed under that overhang with him that night. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to explain it as you had looked up and seen the C-17 fly off without you in its cargo hold, hands resting on your vest collar and blue eyes watching you, slightly narrowed.
You never even verbally told him you were sticking around…it had happened like a stray cat under the porch of your childhood home; taken in and cared for. Just the same, John never mentioned it beyond paperwork.
Shaking your head, you blink back to the black site, turning that last corner and making it to one of the exits. Pushing the metal-reinforced door open, you shift outside and move a hand to cover the glare of the setting sun from your eyes, grunting.
Laswell’s voice peaks back in as you jog toward the far-off body of a whirling plane, three figures just managing to walk down the ramp.
“Hart? It’s Laswell.”
“Copy,” you say, knees taking the brunt of the heavy items you carry in pouches and have strapped to your form. “What is it?”
“The Task Force is a go for Denmark—when you get there, I need everyone searching; we can’t lose him again.”
“Affirm. I’m on it, Kate.” You breathe. “John and I’ll get him. It’s personal for us, you know that.”
“That I do. Make sure to keep your heads on with this, Hart. Out.”
You lick your lips, nodding even if she can’t see you.
Slowing as you near the plane, friendly smiles spark up from the two Sergeants. Gaz comes over, grasping at your shoulder and speaking above the engine behind him.
“Ma’am! Good to have you back.” Soap chuckles, tilting his head your way as you grasp Kyle’s forearm—squeezing in greeting with a twinkle in your eye.
“Surprised to see us?” The Scot calls.
You scoff. “Laswell gave you up.”
“Damn,” Kyle moves back, fixing the cap atop his head and glancing back at his fellow Sergeant. Simon nods from behind the two to which you respond in like. “She bloody betrayed us.”
“Not as much as Kinsman,” the mood sours; lips thinning as you speak firmly. “Where’s John?”
“Right here,” the man in question comes down the ramp, blue eyes meet yours. A second of inspection passes, eyes from both parties flickering up and down forms for any mistreatment—any ailments. “Kate already told me. We’re leaving now that we have you.”
Bumping Simon’s fist with yours as you pass him, you ascend the ramp, Soap muttering under his breath about the flight time from behind.
Standing beside John, you pause like a bird, eyes half narrowed. “You didn’t have to pick me up, you know? I could have gotten another plane.”
The man the same rank as you hums, making sure the men are all inside and taking one last look out to the black site, eyes missing nothing down to the concrete structure to the lights that will soon illuminate the pure nothingness of the fields of this area.
“Wait time would have put us back.” Tiny eyes blink, a hand coming up to rest on his collar as his face shifts to you. “You good?”
“Always,” you mutter without hesitation. “Nothing from Romania, then?”
He grumbles, clenching his jaw and taking in your words. “Negative.”
A silence settles in which you quirk your brow—a small flicker of a smirk makes him turn away and stalk back into the hull, grunting in annoyance. You follow on silent feet.
“That’s it? It must have been horrible, then. Care to explain?”
“Get in your seat, Captain.”
You hold back a low chuckle, walking beside him until you both come to the back of the plane—easing back into the hard plastic, you huff as you clip in your seatbelt.
It’s all relative silence until the large metal beast is in the air; everyone's bodies shifting as the floor evens out. John and you take long breaths and, feeling the occasional jostle of the plane, you occupy yourself by picking at the dried blood all over your hands as the flight begins—Tony’s blood.
Blue eyes blink down at you, watching from the side.
“He know anything important?” You stifle a yawn on your lips, one hand coming up to cover the open-jawed expression of tiredness.
Glancing, you shrug with a slow response of, “Only a location. Even then I don’t know if it’ll pan out like we want it to, John.”
Everyone had been hoping for more, but they also knew that you were the best at interrogations and information retrieval. If you had called it that the man only knew a city and nothing else, John wasn’t one to question you. He knew better.
A large hand shifts to grasp your right bloody one, picking it up and bringing it to his lap. You let him do it without protest, shoulders loosening at the roughness of his calluses moving across yours until the familiar ritual begins to take part like a black mass.
Fingers twitching, you hear a hum as John takes out a rag from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his wrist. Moments later, the water bottle on the seat next to him is taken and the droplets that are left are scattered like rain over the fabric until they absorb.
“All dirty, Love,” he grumbles as your eyes soften, watching him trace the lines of your palm with the wet rag—dabbing away the beads of red. Watching, you listen as he continues. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”
Blue locks with you, holding your gaze until the permanent set of his brows slowly loosens. “We will,” he reaffirms firmly.
“...I should have shot him when I had the chance,” you whisper to John, words low and tone nothing more than a mouse’s murmur; a small pebble hitting the ground. “Don’t lie and say it wasn’t my fault.”
“You’re going to fucking ruin yourself with that, Hart.” He advises, his cleaning of blood coming to a slow halt. “You did what you thought was best,” John leans in closer, not blinking as you try to move your head away with a half-hidden scoff. A damp hand grabs lightly at your chin, shifting it back as you blink in mild shock into John’s face. He doesn’t falter. “It’s all any of us can do, yeah?”
As if it were nothing, he lets you go and shifts his focus back to cleaning your hand. You watch for a long moment, oblivious to the elbows hitting sides from farther down the hull, quick glances tossed between Sergeants and a Lieutenant who quirks a brow under his mask, huffing a sound in his throat.
“If I had,” you force back the stutter in your voice. “More people would still be alive.”
“Maybe,” John tilts his head, the rag brushing the length of your fingers. “Maybe not. We don’t know that, do we? No use wasting our breath talking about it then. What matters, Hart, is how we fix this.”
You sigh, repressing a shiver as his thumb brushes scars and blemishes, moving like moss over stone.
“And we don’t leave our bloody problems for the next poor bastard, do we?” You puff air from your nose, shaking your head at the smirked comment. You watch John’s beard move with it—taking in the crinkling of his eyes and the way his knee hits yours.
“Wonderful pep-talk, Captain.” You lean your head back against the netted sides of the aircraft, letting your eyes flutter shut; oblivious to the way he watches you. “The service is lost on you—therapist is right up your alley.”
“Fuck’s sake,” John scoffs. “I’d sooner go back to the academy than that.”
“The food was utter shite, wasn’t it?” You agree.
“No need to bring it up,” John comments lowly, amusement thick in his words.
You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you do know that the pressure around your limb stayed there for a long while—the rag moving over every sliver of skin until only the base was left behind; like a painter creating an ocean scene, shrouded in mist, every bit of red was gone.
Your dreams are plagued by Emmett Kinsman. His sharp face; his sly eyes and his knack for being undetected.
He’d been a part of your and John’s class in the Royal Military Academy—when all was done, he’d graduated and begun to serve in the 22nd SAS Regiment just as the both of you had. There was never much interaction there, beyond shared drinks and a few good words, a single operation, but the bonds of brotherhood run deep. If given the chance over any deployment or service, John or yourself would have given your lives for him—for the boy you’d bled and persevered with to a point of utter loyalty akin to beasts; unrestrained by any threat of violence, sharp attitude, or past faults.
And in the end, he’d thrown that all away to get into bed with terrorists.
Location: London, England
Time: 1718
Operation: ‘Purple Cloth’
Your eyes rest behind the glass of the bookstore, gazing out over the street from the second floor with a level of new-found skill and a surety in yourself. Fresh off the cut, you aren’t overly eager for this, but you’re assured in your abilities.
There can be no failure.
Emmett is down below, sitting at a café and sipping tea as John is stationed at a building farther down the street; waiting. Another man, directly relaying information to Emmett, is at the café as well, sitting in the corner reading a newspaper and facing the individual you’re supposed to follow. Only the four of you for this, and you’re not overly familiar with half of them. John was your only shining grace.
“Target’s getting the bill,” you shift your head into the collar of your shirt, muttering. “He’ll move soon.”
“He carrying?” John’s voice slithers in, a soft murmur.
You stare, expression lax at the large body that shifts and stands with a tight shirt on, waving off the barista when she tells him to have a good day. “If I had to guess? Negative. Nothing big—no bulge at his spine. At the very opposite end, I’d say an X13 could be concealed and accessed via a slit in the pant’s pocket and in a holster at his thigh. They’re baggy enough for it, but the draw time’ll be longer. Drug runners are sloppy.”
John grunts, and you address Emmett. “How are we doing, Mate?”
A smooth, suave, tone moves into your ear. “Not too bad, Sweet Thing. Else, I'd be better if you were sharing a drink with me before I disappear.”
“Only in your imagination, Kinsman,” John interrupts, unimpressed drawl taking your attention. “Keep on it.”
“I swear I rank the same as you, Price. Where do you get off ordering me around like your dog?” The comment is so easily dismissed as a joke between comrades that there’s no hostility there.
“Since I was given oversight,” the amusement is easily taken in John’s voice. “I’m the one keeping your arse alive, eh?”
The other addition to your team speaks up, a voice that in the future you’ve already long forgotten. He says to cut the chatter, and you have to agree.
Emmett and the target are nearing an alley.
“I’m heading down,” you utter, already turning and heading to the stairs, swiftly moving down them and exiting the building.
“Copy,” John’s voice fizzles the line. “I’ll head them off.”
“Emmett,” you move to link up with the fourth member of the team as he joins at your side, both of you sharking a glance and a jerk of your heads. “Keep him away from civilians. We can’t deal with casualties in this populated of an area.”
“He won’t have a chance to shoot them,” the comment makes your brows furrow, the tone not a cocky gloat but rather...quiet. A moment of silence wafts out. “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Kinsman?” You frown tightly, your gut swirling with something unidentifiable. The X12 in the back of your baggy sweatshirt is heavy—suddenly ten times more so.
In the corner of your eye, you see John far across the way shift, leaning before on a trash can, now standing upright. You swear you lock eyes with him, both gifted in all sense when it comes to war. Perhaps it was ingrained into both of your DNA—a knowledge of all things deadly; of threats unseen. Some primal and horrible understanding spanning back to when man had first raised a fist to another.
“Oi,” your voice pushes. “What does that mean?” Feet pivoting, you move closer to the alley where the light shade of hair disappears.
The line is silent.
Silent before a loud gunshot rings.
Birds scatter, and you instinctively duck down, hand snapping to your service weapon as your eyes go wide. Head snapping about, you dash to the alley opening above the screaming; pushing past fleeing people.
“Hart!”
“He’s in the alley!”
“Do not engage until I get there, do you hear me?!” You’re already at the entrance, X12 ahead of you, and the safety flicked off with a heavy finger. “Hart!”
The body of your mark is on the ground—a bullet in the back of his skull.
“Fuck!” You shout, feet slapping the concrete as you zoom past. “Price—target’s down, Emmett shot him in the damn head, on his tail now.”
“Fucking hell.” The man is growling out at you, voice heated.
Your eyes snap this way and that, weapon at the ready as you take a sharp turn. At the very end of the opening, you see him.
Kinsman slips his service weapon back into the base of his spine, pulling at his shirt to cover the grip as a mass of the crowd is just behind him. He rushes quickly on long legs.
“Emmett!” Your voice makes him freeze. There’s a long pause before anything is spoken; you have your sights trained—a perfect line-up to the roundness of his skull.
“I had hoped to be fast enough,” the man tells you, head tilting to the side, “but I should have known you’d move head-long into danger without backup.”
“Hart,” John’s voice nearly startles you from the line. “Sitrep, now!”
“Why would you do that, Emmett?”
“There’s more to this than being pawns, Hart,” Kinsman growls at you. “I play my game right, I always come on top. I needed to earn their trust; our target had a price on his head and no one else could get as close as me. Well,” he pauses, “us.”
“I’m taking you in,” you grit your teeth, hands tight on the gun. You don’t even want to think about what he means by ‘their’ or his ‘game’. It was always word puzzles with this man—one second you had the right piece, and the next the entire picture had changed like sand in the waves of a tide.
“Are you really that torn up about a drug runner?” A scoff makes you hold back a snarl, but your resolve is shaking. This was a man you had trusted—now fast can something that was forged with steel break?
“He was just some filthy nobody, Hart.” Emmett starts walking into the crowd ahead of him, and in your mind you know if you take that shot you run the risk of shooting an innocent civilian. “I’ll be more than a nobody. Or a grunt soldier. People are going to know me.”
Bodies flee quickly—screams. Mothers, children, husbands.
Kinsman smirks, and as your finger tightens on the trigger, he’s already swallowed by the hoard.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
John and you sit in the safehouse, for a moment, surrounded by quiet and the smell of hot tea. One week in Denmark, and you have no leads. The other three are away, sleeping in the rooms down the hallway.
“You’re still thinking about him,” John speaks up, eyes on you. It’s blunt, but that was just how he was.
You peek your eyes open slowly, your body slouching in the chair and feet outstretched under the table. Your boot lightly touches John’s own. A long sigh exits your nose, grumbling on your tired lips.
“John,” you level, drawing the name out like the years of your life. A thin warning.
The man clenches his jaw slightly, bringing up his cup and taking a slow slip. You see the flesh of his throat bob with the liquid as it goes down, the overhead light of the kitchen only a single bulb of warm glow.
“Been chasing him for years, Hart,” he says when the item is back to the woodgrain. Voice a deep murmur—a scrape of vocal chords. “We both have.”
“He knows too much,” you reply. “I can’t let him get away again. Strategies, operators, everything.” Your eyes shift as your head raises, blinking away the sleep in your glinting orbs. “For years he’s been under our nose, getting away with who knows what—”
“Hart,” your rant is interrupted, and you stop with a snap of your teeth. Blue eyes lock a concerned sheen to them. “Breathe.”
Your face moves away, arms loosely crossed over your chest tensing.
John’s body shifts to you, leaning forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. He stares, brows a line on his flesh. You send a swift glance, lips pulling.
“...Stop that,” your voice murmurs, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. John blinks, not speaking as you move in your seat. The man tilts his head, a slow something making his lips go back slightly. Gradually, your face goes hotter, blinking at him a few times; sucked in like a fox to a trap. “John, quit it.”
“M’not doing anything, Love.”
“Bullshit,” you try and glare at the looseness of his expression, his smirk that makes your gut tighten. Goosebumps move up your arms. “You’re a horror.”
A low chuckle wafts out, John shrugging casually before he leans back.
He takes up his cup again and takes down the last of the remnants. “Go to sleep,” hits your ears as your pounding heart takes a breather. It’s a grumble on the air—not as much an order as it is a suggestion. “It’s late.”
You decide to sip at your own drink as well, eyes drooping at the steam that wafts around your face, nose twitching to the scents.
“You?” John hums, looking you up and down; seeing the fatigue you carry. You’d been relentless for the week you’d all been here, holding the few strings of the lead you had to your chest—five-fingered grasping with a desperate prayer to all things unholy.
“I’ll be here.” You tilt your head his way, eyes still half-closed in your seat. Your answer is easy, pushed out in a slow sentence.
“Then so will I.”
John sighs under his breath. It’s a moment before an exasperated chuckle moves through your earbuds. You smile, eyes slipping closed fully.
Yet, they startle back open as the cup is taken from your hands, your chair moved back firmly.
“Up you get, then,” John grunts, and his arms snake around you. Blinking quickly, your jaw is slack as you get taken up into a tight carry; John’s chest firm and your nose brushing the side of his chin.
Air getting sucked into your lungs, you stifle a hitch in your breath.
It’s only after he starts walking forward, hiking you farther up into him, and his fingers gliding over your clothes, that you start to relax. His heat seeps like a warm fire.
Head sagging to the side, you grumble into his neck as you miss his eyes looking down at you, eyes soft in a way only you would have been able to see. “Can walk, y’know.”
He hums, head shifting back to the hallway as he carries you to the last door on the right, bumping into the wood with his shoulder and shifting to walk in sideways so you don’t let your legs on the frame.
“Remember Preu? 05’?” John asks you, moving over to the bed and setting you down slowly, a tiny huff exiting his mouth. Your body sinks into the mattress, head to the pillow as your hand comes up to rub at your eyes. The man moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed—knowing your trained habit of sleeping atop the comforter on operations; not tangled up in sheets just in case. He slips off your boots. “Carried you two miles.”
“I recall it,” you grunt, a tired flicker coming to your lips. “Bleeding out and all.”
“Well,” John hums, quirking a brow. “Wasn’t about to let my Hart die on me. Blood was the least of my worries.”
Your pulse flutters at the title, even if it’s just your codename and not the beating muscular organ inside of your breast.
My Heart.
But it’s never that simple.
A hand moves up your cheek, a kiss pressed to your forehead.
The both of you already know you love each other. It wasn’t a secret. You were smart; eyes sharper than a blade—you caught the way he watched you, saw the softness of his expression, and felt the drag of his hand. Just as he caught the way you stayed beside him, an ever-present pair of eyes watching his six. The content nature that only you showed him.
With feet so eager to leave at any moment, it said much that you chose to exist near him simply because you wanted to.
You loved each other.
Boil it down, and you’d both known even back in the Academy that it would be the two of you at the end of all things. The rivers said your name. The valleys rustled with the breeze of your breath. You saw John in the bits of water that sloshed the rocks and in the earth beneath your palms.
Over the years you’d been apart, the yearning hadn’t been any less sharp—any less potent. In every birdsong, the echoes of the other's voice flew and disappeared on wingbeats. In everything that existed, there was a fraction of what should be.
What should be.
“John,” your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a rustle of a cloth. He keeps his lips to your forehead, resting there for a moment against all sense and responsibility. John’s eyes droop down, lashes resting on the swell of his cheeks. “You know I love you.”
He takes a breath. Rain is in the air—the movement of a storm’s wind. A leaving C-17.
It’s a low mutter into your flesh.
“I know.”
You grasp at his wrist, pulling lightly. Without a noise, John slips in beside you, kicking off his boots with a single clop of the soles to the wood and the movement of your blanket. He grunts, pushing his nose into your scalp, arms going around your middle. Your head slots under his chin, lips to his Adam’s apple.
The house is silent beyond the murmur of the pipes—the buzz of awaiting electricity.
So many memories. So many lost dreams. It was akin to two skeletons lying in a grave of their own making, forever holding the bones of the other. Duty and honor are etched into the fractures.
But he still holds you, he still murmurs into your ear, “Sleep, Love.”
“And you?” You ask, mirroring the conversation in the kitchen.
John’s lips move along your flesh, moving into a soft smile as he glances down at you. His beard scrapes you delicately.
“I’ll be here.”
Then it is here you’ll stay, dreaming of deer and the way nothing could compare to how he held you in his arms.
—
“I have eyes on,” your head snaps up, blankly staring ahead as your fingers hover over the hanging beads of a wind chime. You stand outside of a restaurant in the heart of Copenhagen.
Laswell had sent in more eyes for the Task Force to use—local soldiers that knew the layout of the city better and where would be a good place to look. For days you’d been moving through the streets; far-off storage units and hidden buildings providing fruitless harvests. Anthony had said a warehouse, but that was panning out as nothing as well.
False information? Possibly, but unlikely. The man had been genuine in his pain and pleading, and it only served to confuse you more.
You had Gaz with you and five others, taking over as the leader of this fireteam while John headed the other with Johnny and Ghost. They were on the opposite side of the city, and you can’t help but compare this to the moment Emmett had become an enemy.
But divide and conquer was the only option in times like these.
Emmett had become someone, just as he said he would. The man was in charge of supplying arms to terrorist organizations all over the world, and with his knowledge of how the SAS operates as well as any number of special forces, he’d utterly disappeared off the radar.
A wraith of lies and murder.
He had locations all over the globe with his goods, shipped out for money and power.
And now you have a positive ID.
“Where are you,” your voice is hard and stiff, the body already moving back from the chime and leaving its little bits and bobs swinging.
“Café down the street,” feet nearly locking together, you continue down the street to where you know Gaz’s last position was. “He’s just…sitting there.” A pause. “You want to know what it’s called in English, Ma’am?”
“The café?” your brows furrow, jogging across the street.
“‘The Warehouse.’” Growling under your breath, you shake your head and send a curse into the air after a pause.
“I think the man thought he was clever,” Kyle’s voice is smooth and teasing.
“Should have shot his other leg,” you grunt. “You told Laswell? John?”
“Negative, I’ll get on it—”
“I’ll do it,” you interrupt. “Tell the others to group up at your position and spread out to create a choke point; we can’t let him get away.”
“Rog. Will do.”
You patch into John’s frequency.
“We have him,” you instantly breathe out. “Down Holbergsgade—café called ‘The Warehouse’.”
It’s swiftly that an answer hits you. “Get him surrounded, we’re coming.”
Your heart is moving rapidly, fast in your chest as you pass people and business quickly. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the similarities, the…nostalgic dread that builds. A café of all places? Sitting down? Waiting?
It was so ironic it made alarm bells go off.
“John,” you lick your lips, glancing at faces as they pass. “I think he knows we’re here.”
“Explain.”
“A café?” John’s low grunt lets you know he understands. “Just sitting there? He knows—he’s not dumb enough to throw away all of his secrecy just as we so happen to get here and begin looking for him.”
“How sure are you?” The man takes your words into account, and you hear his breath puffing as he runs to your location.
“Ninety,” you breathe.
“Then I’m callin’ it off.” Your eyes widen, feet skidding as you come to a stop.
You have no clue as to how far John will go to keep you safe—even if it means potentially letting one of the SAS’s highest HVTs go. There wasn’t anything that could compare to the thought of you getting in harm's way. Not you.
John had spent his whole life watching soldiers die in the worst ways possible; they haunted his dreams and he knew they’d follow him to his grave—men he’d led down paths that they never should have been on.
Not you.
Losing you would break what little was left of him, the remnants held on by tape and sheer stubbornness. One of the last old faces he could still look at anymore; could draw comfort from in the thin hours. To hold and to love.
You both knew you wouldn’t stand for it.
“No,” your voice cuts across, monotone. “I’m not allowing that.”
“Bloody hell, Hart, listen to me—do not,” John growls, making your spine tingle, “go after him. If he knows we’re fuckin’ here, we need to pull back and close off the area.”
You’re walking forward, that same pressure of a gun at the back of your spine. It was almost poetic.
A thought sparks. Years of knowledge and understanding lighting up.
Emmett was a snake.
A snake that liked to play games and prove points; greed stuck into his brain for reasons you can’t quite say for certain. Even if you did catch him, he would never tell the locations of his goods or the buyers.
But there was one way to find out. One way this might turn.
“There’s a tracker in my arm,” you speak, growing more sure of your actions with every fast movement of your body. The café is just up the street, and a head of blonde hair is a knife to your vision. “I asked Laswell to insert and monitor it years back when I had to infiltrate a cell before I joined up with you again. Cautionary procedure since I had to forgo my rig and gear.”
A sharp bark. He knew what you were insinuating. “Hart!” You were going to get yourself taken hostage.
“Get Kate to watch it, John.” You move off his frequency before he can comment again, half of a roaring refusal cut off. Speaking to Gaz with a restricted throat, you say, “Kyle?”
“Right here, Ma’am.”
“Good. Don’t engage—I’m moving in.”
A stiff breath is taken in. “W…what was that?”
You don’t reply, only saying, “Whatever happens, I order you and the others to stay back, yeah?”
Your hand pulls the earpiece out and shoves it into your pocket right as you slip into the chair directly across from Emmett Kinsman.
“Emmett,” you say in greeting, moving up a few fingers to a barista with a low call of your order. The individual nods and moves off before you lock on green eyes; they nearly make you flinch.
You can only imagine what Gaz is telling John right now.
Kinsman blinks at you, but he isn’t surprised. You were right.
“Hart,” the man smiles. His voice is still the same, though he looks older. “Pleasure seeing you again. Enjoying the sights of the city?”
“Not particularly,” you stare at him.
He chuckles, tilting his head before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows and continues.
“You always were serious. No fun.” You take the insult without any emotion, blinking at him slowly. What was his play?
“Why?”
“You already know why,” he shrugs, dressed in a nice suit. “I’ve made a name for myself—my name will be remembered for ages.” A twinkle in his eye. “SAS soldier turned weapon supplier; isn’t it exciting.”
“It’s a disgrace,” you lean forward, only stopping your voice from rising as a cup is placed down in front of you by the barista.
Your face plasters a fake smile and you nod, moving it in front of you. Emmett watches with a smirk.
“I call it a change of heart.” He sighs, smirk simmering to a casual smile. “But I am glad to see you, you’ve been creating a big mess of things and I took it upon myself to have a meeting between us as old friends.”
“I’m not your friend,” you growl. “You’ve killed innocent people for no more than a fucking paycheck.”
“Well,” he snorts. “I don’t kill anyone. I’m the middle man—there’s a difference.”
Rage makes your eyes go to slits.
“And innocents, Sweet Thing?” Emmett leans in closer, face so smug and open you want to pull your weapon on him and worry about the consequences later. “What do I call what you do then?”
“A necessary evil,” you huff. “One I carry on my shoulders just like every other soldier does. One that was far better than supplying terrorists.”
Kinsman shrugs, moving back and picking up his drink, swirling it. “If you say so.” He hums. “You have to try the pastries here, you know. They’re very good.”
“I know you’re here because you expected us to find you, what I can’t figure out is why you broke your cover in the open instead of turning yourself in.” You look around at the faces in the outdoor seating, studying them trying to pinpoint if they’re civilians or in league with Kinsman. “Tell me before I decide to shoot you right here and now and end this regardless of hidden goods.”
“You already tried that, Hart,” Emmett laughs. “Pointing a gun at me didn’t work last time.”
“I’m not going to use a gun,” you ease out. “I’m going to take the butter knife on the table and slit your throat.”
“Uncivilized,” Emmet grumbles, frowning at the silver object near your hands. “It isn’t even sharp.”
“Good.” Green eyes narrow, unimpressed. He sighs, fingers moving in an outward gesture of exasperation.
“If you must know before the main finale, I wanted to bring you here to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with your drive.” You try to stave off the shock in your stomach at the words coming out like a charmer’s flute. Raising a slow brow, you’re caught off guard. Emmett chuckles. “You nearly caught me at several instances throughout our game of cat and mouse. Many times I forget who the assigned roles were even given to; I’m telling you that I had fun.”
You stare, face tight.
Emmett hums and his eyes go to slits.
“But every game has to come to an end. I’m growing tired of it.”
The building across the street erupts into a great ball of fire.
—
John hears the explosion in the air, the shockwave that leaves his body halting to look into the sky in time to see black smoke.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck!”
He rushes into the panicked crowd, memories stuck in his head and a bone-deep fear he’d been feeling since you cut the connection in your earpiece. Gaz had been relaying to him what was going on action for action—a football game, only the difference was that your life was on the line.
“Kate,” John shouts. “Get the authorities down here now! We have an explosion on Holbergsgade.”
“Explosion?” The woman’s voice is sharp and disbelieving. “What’s going on—”
“Hart’s in the bloody crossfire, there’s no time!” John’s face is tight, wind whipping past his ears as screams fly on the wind; crying. “The fool is trying to get herself taken fucking hostage for intel!”
Whatever else was said was lost to the wind—Gaz comes over the line, calling to him in a panic as Johnny and Simon join in.
“The entire building just went up in—”
“Fucking Christ—”
“Price, what is this?”
“All of you get down here!” John sprints past people on the ground, ripping his gun out of the back of his waistband. There’s no arguing.
When the Captain turns the last corner, carnage greets him.
The building across from the café was reduced to nothing but rubble and a still-burning flame. Eyes wide, John only looks at it for a few moments, too preoccupied with you.
Where were you?
His jaw clenches, eyes burning with rage. Such a perfect soldier yet such a flawed sense of teamwork, he had a feeling you’d try something like this—had left Gaz with you for that very reason. Fuck he should have been at your side. He should have known.
A low grumble moves through his lips, head snapping all around. There are bodies on the ground. Blood pooling under thick building material—fabric in the breeze.
“Hart!” John yells, running to the café and seeing the remnants of a fast fight.
The Captain’s heart drops to his feet, face burning with hellfire so much that a sheen comes to his cheek. His hand moves out to touch the handle of a butter knife that had been slammed into the table now half-fallen over, eyes stuck on only one thing on the ground under it.
Through the wails and the call of sirens, the man stares at the two long fingers sitting in the dust.
Never in his life had he felt a fear like this.
—
“I wanted to be kind about this,” Emmett fiddles with the wrappings of his bandaged left hand, only three fingers remaining. “I was going to make it quick.”
You’re locked in a cell-like room, head to the side and blood leaking out of a cut face. Burns travel up your arm, the sticky puss leaking out only serving to make you shiver. You don’t know where you are—don’t know what happened after you severed Kinsman’s fingers with that knife.
But you know the pain isn’t something that you haven’t already gone through before.
Your voice is hoarse but firm as it leaks out of you, vision spotty. You’d been thrown in here after a ride in the trunk of a car. The ground is concrete.
“...Don’t make me laugh.”
Emmett growls, eyes wide with hatred.
“Pathetic!” He barks eyes looking you over with disgust. “Look at what you did to my hand!”
His other hand connects with the bars of the cage, producing a metal ringing sound as you push yourself up with one arm, eyelids flinching in pain. Sitting up, your body falls back to the wall behind it, and you grunt when the air in your lungs is expelled. You lick at your dust-coated lips, your head ringing and your focus failing. Concussion.
“Least of your worries,” you roll your jaw, a wave of pain making your body seize up and your hands tense with quivering shakes. Your mouth opens with sharp pants. Bile pools in the base of your throat.
It’s nothing.
John will come soon. The tracker. If Laswell can get it working again, you’d be out of here and you would have whatever this location turns out to be and the intel that it can offer you—computer databases would be a one-and-done game. You would get names, coordinates, and buyers. It could all be over.
Your clothes are melted into your skin, and when you move, they peel away with the remnant of your epidermis. The flesh of your left thigh and arm had taken the worst of it—and the cut from flying debris over your left cheek hasn’t stopped bleeding.
Blood drips from it, and a loud ache makes your head pound all the worse.
You’ve gone through worse.
“I don’t know why I bother,” Emmett snarls, the crimson bandages thick over his hand. “But it isn’t a problem,” he says, moving his other hand to slick back his hair. “It isn’t a problem,” the man utters again. “You’re going to help me. Yes…I’ve made up my mind. I need you to understand why I do the things I do.”
Your brows furrow, but above this burning in your head, it’s hard to understand what’s being said to you. Shadows move and Emmett orders one of his men to open the cell door.
You fight the black dots at the sides of your vision, leaking until you’ve accepted the reality of yourself going unconscious. As your body slouches to the side, hands ruthlessly grasp under your arms and drag you to your feet.
“Everyone has a breaking point.”
—
“What do you mean,” John glares at Laswell, his arms crossed over his chest; hands tightly grasping at his biceps. “You can’t find her?”
“The tracker was old, John,” the woman tries to explain, furiously typing at her computer that rests on the table in front of her—her spine bent over as the rest of the One-Four-One stay in a limbo of anxious looks. “To get it working again, it would need something to restart it. I don’t know if you can see,” Kate’s eyes are hard as they lock with his, “but I can’t do anything if she’s not here first.”
“Well of course she’d not bloody here Laswell, fucking Kinsman has her!” He shouts, hands moving out in a display of aggression.
“Captain,” Kate rises to the challenge, hand moving flat to the table and glaring with the heat of a thousand missiles. “Do not take that tone with me.”
John snarls and jerks his head away, feet on the ground trading weight.
The man was borderline feral—all snapping teeth and sharp glances. Gaz had seen him like this only a handful of times, MacTavish even fewer. Ghost, of course, knew, but even his brown eyes wouldn’t leave his Captain, absorbed in the way he was unable to stay still for even a moment. He was in full gear, too. Had put it on directly after returning to a local base.
John was ready to go to war, down to the rifle that swung from a strap at his side, the ammunition stuffed to his chest—sidearm at his thigh. A rabid dog with intelligence and the knowledge of where teeth needed to be applied to a neck for a clean kill. Simon doubted he wanted it to be clean.
John was ready to rip people to pieces.
“Give me something,” the Captain says in a low growl, beard shifting. “Give me what I need.”
Kate splays her hands. “All we have is surveillance of a car leaving the area—the smoke covers all chances of the drone we had flying picking up a clear picture. John,” Laswell eases, standing up, “there’s only so much we can do. We need to wait—”
“We can’t bloody wait,” Gaz speaks up, “What’ll he do to her in the meantime?”
“Garrick’s right, we need to be on the ground with this.” Johnny nods, mohawk bobbing. “That’s one of our own—we’re not sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, Laswell. Not with Hart.”
Simon blinks, humming. Laswell’s eyes shift to him, near pleading for one to be on her side with this and see sense. Ghost shrugs. “I’m with them. Hart’s one of our own; we’ll do what needs to be done.”
John’s chest swells with pride while his eyes get stuck on your file on the table, your printed picture, and your black ink—he’d never loved an image more, but nothing could beat the real thing. He needed you back. He’d gone through hell with you for his entire life; you’d suffered with him and only locked your hands together and held on tighter.
That was love—that was duty.
John Price wasn’t against skewing his morals for the sake of your safety. You would always be his most important mission. The man didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found you too late.
“Give me the video of the vehicle,” he grunts, jaw tight and his eyes beady. His body slightly leans forward to Kate, love going lower. “Or I’m going out there myself.”
Laswell frowns tightly at him.
“I just sent it into forensics—they’re trying to get a match. Go out if you want, but I won’t be able to stop the firestorm that comes out of it.”
She closes her laptop and moves past him, sending one last comment into the stone man as he towers ever taller.
“She’s strong, John. If you’re smart, you’ll keep yourself out of the crossfire until we have a definitive hit.”
Her voice echoes from behind him as his hands slowly move to clench into knuckle-whitening fists.
“If Kinsman gets a tip we’re still onto him—you’ll never see Hart again.”
—
Day Three:
Your days start blending. One moment you hear the snapping of your bones, and then the next you’re wasting away in this cell—ears ringing and eyes buggy. So much blood. Blood on the walls—blood on the chair they strap you into in the other room; even stuck in the groves of your flesh.
You don’t think you can stop closing your eyes and seeing a deer at the bottom of a bridge drop-off. It’s stuck in your head like a virus; those car lights in the back of your mind just waiting for you.
There’s no sense as to what they do to you—all its purpose is, is to prove a point to Emmett. A sort of broken retribution for your interference and his fingers.
Vain man, really. You’d told him as much when he was watching you get your own finger torn off my pliers; spit it at him as the blood from your bitten tongue stayed his suit. You remember the feeling of the knuckle popping first, and then the burning heat of the flesh being twisted to the side. Two firm yanks and the flesh had sprung like elastic, fissuring, the tendon snapping.
You think you blacked out after that, but you can’t be sure. All you remember doing is screaming.
You woke up with your left pinkie finger completely gone, resting outside in the hallway to mock you from past the bars. Your eyes could see the bone sticking out of it, and all that was left on you was a badly cauterized stump.
When Emmett had come to gloat, you started slurring out laughter.
“I’m going to rip you apart.” Your broken body had jerked back and forth like a marionette doll, only succeeding in spreading more red over the floors as green eyes widened and went dumbfounded.
It sounded like a choking fish.
All he’d done was left, quickly passing the pinkie left limp on the ground.
Day five:
You can’t move your body as they dump you back into the chair—the drain below you flooded over with crimson and bits of hair; vomit and torn-off fingernails. You’re unable to open your eyelids fully.
A hand grasps at your face, yanking it up into the overhead light until a bucket of water is dumped directly over your head. Your body jerks, coughing and darting forward until you’re shoved to the back of the chair and the rope is tied around the front of your shoulders, the second at your wrists.
Trying to suck down air, you shiver with the strength of an earthquake. Whoever said that they would never be afraid while being tortured was a liar; whoever thinks that they would be able to push through it—a fraud. Emmett was right, everyone had a breaking point.
But you admitted yours would only come after your death.
Your legs are seized, bent up as you hiss as well as you’re able, teeth snapping.
They’re dumped back down into a bucket of ice-cold water as droplets drip from your nose—wet skin for the moment only holding streaks of gore. Even with your scattered mind, you know what this means.
Heart tight and eyes widening, you try to push back in the chair; try to fight the rope and the way your body won’t respond.
A battery is rolled up beside you on a metal cart. Jumper cables.
There’s a low chuckle at the way your face goes fearful.
—
John shoves open the door to Laswell’s temporary office, already talking before it hits the far wall.
“Do we have her?” His hands move beside him, brushing the grip of his sidearm. He hadn’t been out of his full gear for more than five minutes in days. Waiting day and night for any word; sleeping in it, eating in it. The forensics team had been stumped, unable to get more than a model out of the picture.
But this might finally give him something to act on.
Kate is moving, grabbing documents and her laptop, speeding past him and out of the door.
“Kate!” John shouts, following after. “Hey,” he calls, grabbing at her arm to stop her.
The woman only halts to say, quickly, “We have a hit. Follow me.”
John’s heart is rampaging, pulse wild under his skin as his gloved hands twitch. Finally. He can only smoke so many cigars—only think of so many scenarios until he feels he needs to vomit. You’d been gone for too long. Every moment had been like trying to walk with a cloth over his head; lost.
He’d grown stiff. Stiffer than normal. Everyone had seen it.
“Where is it, then?” John asks as Laswell pushes open the door to the meeting room, the other three already inside.
“A property outside of Copenhagen—bought through a proxy on a fund that was linked to blood money in South America; it all went directly back to Kinsman. It was found only ten minutes ago.” A pause. Electricity in the air. “But that’s not how we found it.”
“How,” Simon asks, moving closer.
John gives the woman his full undivided attention, hands moving to rest at his collar in a soothing gesture.
“Her tracker came back on.” Eyes go wide, all sharing rapid glances as Kate opens her laptop and opens a man, turning the device for them to see. “Same location.”
Johnny blinks, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean?”
“That can’t have just done that by itself,” Gaz mutters, brown eyes sliding over to John who’s stiller than a wolf. The Sergeant pauses.
His eyes are dead set on that screen. His thighs were so tense it was nearly like the Captain was about to sprint out of the room. Kyle’s face goes blank at that, never quite seeing the extent that your disappearance had on the man. His superior had bags under his eyes; far more pale than usual. His apparel was ruffled, too. Even in the more serious of situations, the Sergeant had never seen John so…out of it. He was always the one with the even head, even if he had a short fuse with certain things. Nothing was ever done without thought, he should say.
But this is something else.
“Torture,” Simon gives his two cents and John’s cheek twitches at the word. “Electrocution. They jump-started it and didn’t even know.”
“Bloody Jesus,” John breathes. Everyone had already had a hunch, but no one had wanted to name it.
It’s a low rumble that makes the rest of them freeze, though. It was so dead in tone that it even made Kyle’s spine lock up; Johnny’s eyes went a smidgen upward. Simon, although his face was covered, felt his lips twitch.
John looks at nothing but that dot on the computer screen.
“Am I green, Laswell?”
Kate looks at John. It’s like setting a hellhound loose.
“You’re green, Captain.”
—
You’re tossed into the cell and your body rolls along the floor, bouncing and flinching until your back slams into the wall. Air is forced from your lungs, coming out in a loud grunt before you land on your stomach in a heap. Staying there, your nerves are fried.
Every moment you think the twitching of your fingers will stop—the dance of your muscles responding to the aftereffects of electrocution, it only starts back up again. Your eyes blink rapidly; your clothes have the scent of smoke to them.
Gasping for breath, you feel like you’re drowning and being set on fire all at once.
Yet the question in your head was a simple one, one you’d been asking for days.
Where was John?
Emmett enters the cell, clicking his tongue as the metal hinges squeak.
“I’m not surprised it’s taking this long,” he explains. “But I am surprised you’re still alive, admittingly.”
A boot comes out and places itself atop your shoulder, pressing down slowly until its full weight is on top of you. Your mouth opens in a shuddering sound of a dying animal, blood dripping from your ears and nose.
“I know you’ve taken torture before—even taken a part of it,” Kinsman sighs. “But, shit Hart, you really do scare me when I know you’re strong enough to get through th—”
Your body jolts up, grappling Emmet’s leg and twisting it to the side. Regardless of pain—of agony—there’s such primal rage inside of you that what little adrenaline you can bring forth is all that more addictive.
The man collapses in a heap, gasping, but you’re already on top of him, wrestling your hand to his neck, missing finger and all. Blood moves, staining his precious suit and dripping from your mouth into his hairline. You bare down your weight on him, teeth clenched and eyes wild—one orb holding nothing but red from burst veins and the other full of a vicious gleam of ferality.
Hands snap up to your wrists, mouth opening in flapping panic.
But Emmett has grown weak; he’s out of practice. All of those years out of the SAS, giving up on the training of the body to match the mind. The idiot wasn’t even carrying a gun when he walked into the cell of a charging stag, its antlers dripping gore, sharper than any knife.
When the flaps of his eyes fall there’s no gloating speech—there’s no snort of a tall and proper victor. All you do is take the front of his face, grasp it, and start sending his skull back into the concrete floors.
Crack.
…Crack.
….Crack.
Only when the sound of his head breaking open meets your ringing ears, do you force your wheezing lungs to take a large breath.
Emmet Kinsman died as he lived.
A fucking piece of shit.
“Fuck you,” you spit on his corpse, saliva bloody; his jaw is loose as you release the man’s face, eyes bulging. Falling to the side, you groan in pain, your body curling into itself until you resemble a sleeping fawn. You’re shaking more and more with every second, coughing with the force of an earthquake until your shredded vocal chores force you to stop.
But the brain is a funny thing.
In times of danger, survival is the only thing that takes priority. It was why, in a long shove of your hand to the floor, with your bones creaking and your vomit meeting the ground, you’re able to stand. It isn’t enough to help you heal the snapped bone of your right leg, however, and in a steadily failing stupor, you drag it behind you. In this state, nothing else matters to you besides a simple command: get out.
Your shoulder slaps the metal of the cell as you stumble out of it, careening into the far wall and letting out a loud shout.
Eyes fluttering, you connect your temple to the cool concrete, trying to breathe.
It hurts too much, your mind says. God, I can’t feel my limbs.
A long trail of blood follows you down the hallway as you slide along the wall, using it as a brace.
You want to see John, you whisper inside of your head. You want to be held by him—be taken into his chest; cared for away from all of this fighting.
A trip back to Herefordshire with him, to go deep into the country together; rest in the green grass where no one can find you for just a few good hours. It didn’t have to be forever, you would say. Just a few hours. A few hours of sky and earth wrapped in a time loop of just your own.
You want to kiss him there. In the open, out in the wild. You want to stay by his side, your mind thinks as you stumble over the three dead bodies in the left corridor, bullet wounds in their heads. You want to be by his side forever, no more gaps in years, not more longing. It’s so close you can nearly reach out and grasp it—
Your name is yelled on a heavy breath, and hands capture your shoulders as you fall straight into them with no more strength.
Blue eyes lock with yours as you’re hurriedly settled to the ground, body limp and eyes trying to stay open.
Blue eyes on a grassy hill.
“Hart, fucking hell.” Hands move your body, pressing and sliding—finding every opening and spreading blood like water. “Fucking hell! Hey!”
You’re yelled at, and the ripping of pouches and the familiar sound of bandages being wrapped come to the back of your brain. A hand shakes your head, locked under your chin as you take slow, broken, breaths.
“Please, fuck sake, please,” it’s a desperate growl, so familiar and yet a world away. Your body is moved and manipulated as every leaking wound is packed with so much gauze it hangs out of you like you’re a mummy. The burns along your flesh are crust and infected, open skin peeling back.
But the pain is lesser now. Easier to manage.
There’s such a ruckus that it’s hard to focus on John—the man on the hill. In the grass and the wind. Brown hair moves in the breeze as white clouds roll past. On the air, there’s the scent of rain, and in the far distance, you can see a group of ten deer grazing, ears twitching.
Maybe you’ll ask them if they blame their leader, or the two trucks on the end of a bridge.
“Keep your eyes on me!” You blink into John’s tiny blues, that mist rolling back. You stare for a moment as he frantically screams into his radio; night vision rig on his head and all-black gear covering him from you. His face is pale, his eyes glossy. “Look at me, hey,” he blinks as he notices you watching, surging forward. “Hey, keep 'em open, yeah? You keep them fucking open, Love.”
Your chest is heavy.
“John,” you push out a flicker coming to your lips as your vision slightly unblurs itself to the sight of a flood of blood on the man’s body—an unimaginable amount.
“I’m ‘ere,” his accent grows deeper with emotion, one hand holding your cheek and the other at your shoulder, keeping you still to stop any additional damage. “I’ve got you, you understand me? I’m not letting you go, so don’t you think that I will.”
It’s a double-edged sword.
A smile peels back your chapped lips, red running from the corner of your mouth. You glance at his stained gear again. The abyss swirls at the corners of your eyes.
“Is that your blood, or mine, John Price?”
You hear him scream for a medic, and then it all goes numb.
—
You dream of deer on a hill, but every time you search for John, he isn’t there. You go past rivers—
“She’s dropping!”
“Get me the defibrillator!”
—past copses. Your voice goes high and low, but all the while you look, there’s nothing but a nagging feeling in the back of your head that you shouldn’t be here.
“Again!”
It’s a strange nagging, truly. Like falling asleep in the middle of the day and waking up in the night without any remembrance of what had happened prior. A displacement of the mind.
“We’ve got a pulse, Doctor, do we stop and—”
“No, I need to finish off the internal bleeding or else she won’t make it another day. Get me the cauterizer, now.”
You blink and grip your chest, a sudden pain sharp in your heart as the grass moves about your ankles. Coughing, you bend over, your eyes fluttering rapidly. In the deepest part of your eardrum, you hear a murmur of a voice you can’t place.
“The man came back, again. He’s been out there for days. He just…sits there, waiting until someone tells him something. He can’t come in, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure hearing his voice would help more than mine, but you’re in too much of an unstable condition for that. If you get another infection, you won’t…hm, I shouldn’t talk about that. Everyone in school said only to talk positively to patients when they’re like this. I…I’m sure he’ll be able to come in soon. I think everyone calls him John if that rings a bell?”
“John?” Your eyes flutter open, sharp light above you making you snap them back closed. No one answers.
It’s a long moment before you find the strength to breathe in the oxygen from the mask over your face, taking a long and deep inhale before a slight cough makes your abdomen tight. You flinch at the pull of stitches, all coming from so many places, that it’s unwise to move too much.
Gradually, you open back up your eyes, pushing past the sting. Inside of your throat, the skin is so dried out you can feel it cracking at every articulation of your words.
“Where's…John?” When you shift your head to the side, no one’s there. No one’s even in the room, either.
Blinking through the haze, your lips twitch on your face, skin tight. With a slap of your weak hand, you grasp the oxygen mask and pull it down to your neck, grunting in mild annoyance at the medicated numbness of your form.
Your leg is in a cast—and your left side is tightly bound by wrappings to hide away the burns where skin grafts most likely live. With a glance, you see the missing pinky and the bandages that cover the strange remnants.
The facial wound will scar, you know, but right now it’s patched over and healing. That’s all you can ask for.
Sighing long, you blink slowly at the ceiling, licking your lips. You need water.
Outside, the murmurs are missed to you as your unmarred hand reaches for the nightstand table, where a half-drunk bottle of water sits next to a tray of food. Even if your stomach rumbles, water takes precedence. Your throat was like the Sahara desert.
“Forget something, John?”
“Bloody fork. The bastard gave me the slip. Dropped mine, needed to go back and grab another.”
“Oh, that’s alright—you could have asked one of us to get one for you. We’d hate for you to miss any time for visiting hours.”
“It’s fine; gets me moving, eh?”
“Just grab us if you need anything else!”
A low grunt is accented by the opening of the door; immediately you tense and pause, neck fighting itself to shift forward once more.
Wide blues lock with your own, and it’s like every pain fades away.
John’s jaw is slack hidden under the layers of his beard bristles, brows going atop his head in an instant. The sound of a dropping metal utensil echoes through the room.
You both stare at one another for a long time, and the murmur of nurses accumulates to some peaking through the crack; their expressions also going to shock. A few scurry off, probably to get a doctor.
“What?” Your hoarse voice asks, unnerved by this.
At the sound of your voice, John flinches forward on his boots. The nurses get shut out with beaming faces as the barrier closes with a small click of metal.
Walking to the side of your bed, John clears his throat, eyes looking you up and down in two glances. A million things are hidden in them. After an opening and closing of his mouth, which you watch closely while squinting, he speaks.
“How are we feeling, then?” You breathe slowly and in tiny puffs. John looks at the oxygen mask as if telling you to put it back on, but you refuse for a moment.
“Like shit,” you utter, voice cracking.
With a huff, John pushes away your reaching hand and gets the water himself, unscrewing it. Bringing it to your lips, you take it down as he speaks.
“Easy, Love.”
When you’d had your fill and the ache settled, you brought a hand to your head and rubbed at your injured cheek before John sighed and grabbed at it, intertwining his fingers with yours and lowering the limb back to your chest.
You stare at him, and he stares at you.
“I don’t know what to ask,” you confess.
“You don’t have to ask anything,” John mutters, and his face is tight with worry. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks, all you need to do is ease back into it.”
Your eyes snap back.
“Tell me if it hurts,” He speaks slowly, moving on one word at a time so the realization doesn’t dwell in your brain. “I can get someone to come in, yeah?”
Your hand in his burns, and John pulls at the chair by the nightstand until he’s able to sit down in it fully with a tiny grunt.
“No,” you say, “no, it’s…I’m fine.”
Better now that you’re here, but your body is tense. Three weeks?
“Just need to take it easy,” the man states, thumb running up and down your knuckles. “You’ll be better soon.”
A dry look is sent his way, and he hides a soft quirk on his lips. “You’ll be better, Love.”
You hum, head moving back more heavily into the pillow.
“When do I get to go back?”
“When you’re healed,” he grunts. “Not a fuckin’ moment sooner.”
“We get anything on the other locations of the—”
“Hart,” you’re interrupted. Blue eyes stare at you heavily, digging past every shield you’d put up and every fear. What happened was still heavy in your mind; it pained you to imagine it, even the way John had found you—even if it was all glimpses. “Slow down. That’s not an order coming from a soldier, it’s a caution from an old friend.” John says, squeezing your flesh. His other hand comes to your shoulder, sitting there heavily.
“Breathe,” he orders, face gruff. “We always figure it out.”
You close your eyes and sigh, frowning.
A low chuckle moves along the air a second later.
“Never sit down, do you?” A flicker dances over your lips like a butterfly. “Impossible, you are.”
“You’re one to talk,” you huff, eyes shifting back to him.
He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but mirror it right back at the sight. Your facial injury pulls and tightens, but you would welcome an ache like that for as long as it stayed. A scar born of the stretch of lips is one well-earned. Only John could ever make it a reality.
The man stares at your lips, his wide build eager to stay over you in this state. He can’t stop himself from caressing your skin; to feel you alive and breathing. Talking.
“Scared me,” John admits under his breath.
You blink, your smile fading slowly until it was like it was never there. Your body builds with guilt; also something only he could bring. “I’m sorry, John.”
A small thinning of his lips is what you get, accented by a hum.
“Hart,” he grunts. “I…”
John’s eyes closed for a moment before opening back up—spearing you with their gaze. Your tired eyes crinkle in confusion.
“What is it?” Over the tingle of your flesh from where he touches you, it isn’t hard to forget the world is around you when he’s here like this. You’re nearly trapped by his eyes, yet you welcome it eagerly. His voice moves out, accent and natural gravel, all.
“I love you.”
Your nose lets a chuff exit. Was that all?
“I love you, too, John—”
“No, Hart,” he pushes slightly harder, moving closer and licking his lips as he glances away. “No,” John looks you dead in the eye as you lay here battered and broken within an inch of your life—a risk that you took willingly as if it had meant nothing. The both of you weren’t new to this; you both knew that on any day you or he would do it over and over again until it resulted in death. That was the way of this game; this trial.
You had both always been content with that, but when had it changed?
Why was the thought of losing you more fear-invoking than anything else he’d ever encountered?
You watch him as his lips utter the words, lips close to yours and your eyes locked.
“I love you.”
Your voice is caught in your throat, stuck in the throws of a quick gasp. Not blinking, the man waits for you—waits for an answer to the earth-shattering confession. But it all came far easier than you would ever admit to anybody besides him. It was already known, after all.
All that remained was the pesky words.
“I love you, too.” You beam, words low with intimacy. “I think I always have.”
John chuckles, a large smile pushing at his reddening cheeks. “Good,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Good,” he says again. “Well, I—”
You softly connect your lips with his, and you feel him pause, breathing you down for a moment as hearts beat at the same tempo. He sighs, one hand coming up to capture your cheek, holding it there for you as you sag into it and live in this everlasting moment.
It’s there you had a revelation.
It was never Hart to him. John had never been calling you that.
He’d always just been saying Heart.
You breathe out a laugh, when you separate, beaming in a happiness you thought was long gone from you—stolen in the dark nights and sold through even darker deeds. Neither of you was worthy of this, of the love that breeds in broken things. Yet, here it is regardless. Here, among blood and the blue eyes of a man you’d known since knowing anything became important. You had always known it was John. And finally, finally, finally.
“I would marry you in an instant, John Price,” you breathe when you separate, not weak enough to stop the words from exiting from the deepest part of your soul.
His crinkled eyes watch, reverently gazing at every blemish and mark; everything he could learn new again. John’s eyes are as soft as you ever imagined them to be, and he gives them over freely to you.
He kisses you again and leaves the taste of his heavy, happy, chuckle tingling across your lips.
“Seems I’d better get on that, then.”
A/N: This fic is strangely nostalgic for me even if I just wrote it - I remember the first ever fic I posted on here was a rescue fic, as well as a John Price fic; it's amazing to see how far I've come in regards to overall content/story building and how my understanding of the character has evolved. This might not be the best work I've posted on my blog, but I'm glad to say I'm proud of myself and how far I've come. It's so wonderful that I can have this feeling for such a big moment and still feel so drawn back to the past at the same time. Totally not tearing up at the thought rn.
Thank you all very much for your support.
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#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#x female reader#cod mw22#call of duty x you#mw2#mw2 2022#cod john price#john price#captain john price#captain price#cod price#john price call of duty#john price cod#john price x reader#john price x you#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#cod mw#cod x female reader#john price x female reader#x fem!reader#captain price x female reader#female reader#cod mw x reader#mw x reader
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college girl
matt rempe x fem! reader
warnings?: cursing, kissing, mild allusions to smut and FLUFF galore
masterlist
-
“hey um, is it okay if matt comes this weekend?” you ask your roommate as you walk out into your common space as she’s doing her makeup.
“yeah of course. i’ll go stay with someone so you guys can have your space.” she replies, finishing her mascara.
“thank you so much, i love you.” you say hugging her. she knew this was the first time matt was coming to your dorm. you’d finally lifted your beds up high for more room space and you were adjusting well to dorm life.
“i love you too! just remember, use protec-“
“shut up.” you laugh rolling your eyes, a red blush tinting your cheeks. you finally texted him back, confirming he was able to come stay with you, a heart full response from your boyfriend following quickly after. your heart jumped with excitement. he’d be there in two short hours.
“he’ll be here in two-ish hours. please stay and meet him.” you ask your roommate as she walks in.
“yeah of course.” she replies, getting out a bag to pack, you assume to stay at her “boyfriends” dorm. they had no label you just didn’t know what else to call him.
“are you staying with him tonight?”
“yeah he offered.” she giggles.
“these are good strides.” you reply laughing together.
-
“oh my gosh, he’s here, i’ll be right back.” you tell your roommate as you climb down from your bed. quickly, you slip on your shoes and snatch your keys, scrambling like a puppy to get out of your dorm. you hurried down the stairs out to the parking lot, walking quicker once you saw him towering over his car, his bag slung over his shoulder.
“matt!” you shout running to him, running and jumping into his arms.
“hi sweet girl.” he giggles into your hair, holding you up with his free arm. carefully he sets you down, pressing a short kiss to the top of your head.
“i can carry your bag.” you offer and he denies.
“no, i would never make you do that.” he giggles shaking his head.
“but you’re my guest.” you pout as you start walking.
“and you’re my girlfriend. you’re never carrying a single bag of luggage in your life, not while you’re with me.” he says following closely beside you.
“oh whatever.” you joke, his hand intertwining with yours as you made your way back.
“i’m back.” you walk in, calling out to your roommate.
“matt this is y/f/n.” you say as they introduce themselves. it was starting to get a little later in the day by now and your roommate was quick to leave the two of you alone.
“so how long can i stay?” he asks, sitting down in your large bean bag.
“how long do you want to stay?”
“i’d stay forever if i could, but id take up too much space.” he giggles, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering once again.
“you can stay for a few days, i’m not gonna kick you out.” you reply standing in front of him. he reaches out to your hand, pulling you onto his lap.
“i’ll leave on tuesday morning, okay?” he smiles lightly.
“okay.” you reply, grabbing one of his cheeks with one hand and pressing a handful of kisses to the other cheek.
“i’m starving, can we go eat?” you ask sitting up.
“yeah, come on.” he says picking you up and putting you back on the ground, standing up from the bean bag towering over you as he reached for his wallet.
“i’ll drive.” you say cheerfully.
“um no.” he replies.
“matt you just drove your car all the way here.”
“i don’t care.”
“here, drive my car.” you reply handing him your keys.
“thank you my love.” he smirks, placing a light smack on your ass, a giggle leaving your mouth.
truth be told you had no idea how you landed matt. never in a million years did you think you had a shot at him. tall, very tell, muscular, a professional hockey player, gorgeous, sweet, you could go on forever. it truly mystified you how you landed him.
he drives the pair of you to a restaurant, where you order takeout and head quickly back to your dorm. he always loved ordering and paying for your dinners because cherishing you was important to him and he always made it a priority.
you sat together on your floor sharing your meals, catching up on all the drama that had nothing to do with him but he loved to hear anyway.
“so she’s “with” him or?”
“i don’t know! i keep asking her and she won’t tell me straight up.” you giggle on your last mouthful.
“i’m gonna have to start taking notes to keep up.” he laughs shaking his head, dropping his fork in the box and shutting it. it was dark outside at this point and you couldn’t wait to climb into bed with him. not because you were so desperate to get in his pants, but because you couldn't wait to have your sweet boy within arms length when you wake up in the morning.
"okay, movie time." you reply, quickly cleaning the floor of the boxes and flicking on your tv, tossing the remote up. you climb up into your bed and get in a comfortable position.
"okay come on up, be careful." you say to him, you feel his weight shift the bed as he makes his climb.
"ow fuck." matt groans as he hits his head on the ceiling, falling down resting his head on your chest.
"baby, i told you to be careful." you coo, running a soft hand over his hair as he presses a light hand to the spot he hit.
"yeah i just didnt calculate that right." he giggles, his chin resting on your sternum.
"you're not even all the way on the bed my love, come on." you say softly, scratching his back lightly. he shifts out of your arms and to your side, pushing himself slightly underneath you, tucking you comfortably under his arm.
“what’re we watching?” you ask.
“anything because i wasn’t planning on doing a whole lot of watching.” matt says lowly in your ear.
“matthew rempe.” you say smacking him on the chest.
“what?” he says, a panicked look stretching across his face.
“you just got here.” you scoff jokingly.
“i know, i just missed you so much. needed my baby back so bad.” he mumbles, his lips talking against the side of your head.
“i know missed you too matt.” you reply, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, him wanting to deepen it but you denying.
“y/n.” he whines.
“honey, you’re gonna be here for four days, we have plenty of time.” you say softly, brushing his hair out of his face.
“i’m sorry, i don’t know what just came over me. i just love, loving on my girl. but im sorry, i don’t wanna make it seem like that’s all im here for.”
“it’s okay baby you don’t have to apologize, and i know it’s not what you’re here for. we’re young so what can we expect to feel honestly and id be lying if i said i didn’t want to but im really tired and i just want to hold you.” you reply as you continue combing your fingers through his soft locks.
“i can definitely do that.” he smiles lightly, his arms wrapping around your torso as your cheeks burned pink, pressing your cheek to the side of his head.
the two of you laid awake watching tv for a while, small chats here and there, but after a while his breathing became slow and he became borderline silent.
“are you falling asleep on me right now?” you giggle.
“what huh?” he asks sitting up.
“you so are.”
“you’re so comfy.” he smiles, squeezing you a little bit tighter.
“goodnight pretty boy.”
“goodnight baby, i love you so much.” he says leaning up, pecking his lips against yours a few times.
“i love you too.” you reply, your hand finding its way back into his gorgeous head of hair.
you never figured you’d be into the cheesy shit, but you couldn’t help it, he made you more giddy than ever. but god it was so nice drifting off to sleep back in the arms of the boy you so desperately loved.
-
#matt rempe#matt rempe fluff#matt rempe x reader#matt rempe imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fluff#turcs’ talk
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osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.
___
“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”
you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”
you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.
it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.
in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.
only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.
“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”
“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”
“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”
you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”
____
“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”
hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.
having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.
“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”
sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.
“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.
“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“
“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.
“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.
atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?
his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.
okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!
“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”
atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.
“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.
“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.
“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“
movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.
“…why the hell is there a baby here?”
“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”
“you just- nevermind,” iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.
slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.
“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”
before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.
“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”
the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.
everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.
he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“
“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.
iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.
there was no way…
“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“
the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.
oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-
“since when did you have a kid?”
“tooru, this isn’t-“
“how could you keep this from me?”
“will you please just-“
“a whole child? when?”
“shittykawa just shut up-“
“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”
“-and listen to me for a second!”
oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.
the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”
“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”
“then who’s is she-“
“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”
“lesser setter?”
“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.
placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.
“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”
standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.
sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.
a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.
“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”
“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”
“or an owl!”
“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.
“but ki-“
“no.”
he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.
hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.
from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
okay, maybe babies were a little cute.
#osamu miya x reader#osamu x reader#osamu miya#atsumu miya#atsumu miya fluff#hinata shoyuo#bokuto koutarou#sakusa kiyoomi#msby#msby fluff#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa torū#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff
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