#also i'm going to miss john he's so so so sweet

[danykindaforgotaboutdre]

You'll never convince me that she doesn't completely adore this man.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Part 2 to Life Line

(I ain't) Sorry

Pairing: cheater!Price x wife!reader

CW: infidelity. angst. idk is price a cuck now? 18+

Middle fingers up, put them hands high. Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye (sorry). Tell him, boy bye (sorry) boy bye. Middle fingers up, I ain't thinking 'bout you.

It's been six months since the new rules of John Price's marriage had been established. In public, he is still Captain John Price, a fearless leader, highly decorated, and on track to be a major. John Price was thought to have it all. Two gorgeous children, a darling little girl named Iyana aged six and a charming baby boy named Jackie aged four (who everyone says looks like John made him in the same fashion as a sea sponge. That is to say, through asexual reproduction because they look so much alike).

To top it all off, he had a gorgeous and smart wife who worked with a notable contractor that dealt with information gathering, sorting, and code breaking. Said to be highly requested and sought after to work with military operations, both official and private military based.

Yes, Captain John Price to the public eye, had it all. Despite the blood on his hands, the blackness on his soul and actions, the Lord above gave him a loving family. He was always the man of the hour when he walked into a room.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a man of the hour that he was thought to be. Right now, he watches his daughter pedal her little pink bike around the front driveway. Her hair ribbons are lopsided, giggles echoing on the wind. It almost sounds and feels like a dream. She's got light up fairy wings, a fairy dress, and tiara, all high-quality custome made in an array of colors and gem stones. It's cute. He thinks it is cute, and it makes his little girl happy. What he can't stand, however, are the pink and white rhinestone cowboy boots. They cost a pretty penny, and she wears them everywhere. She wears them with every outfit.

John hates it. Or better yet, he hates where these items come from.

His son, while he has always been easily pleased, has particularly enjoyed his little hobby horse toy. The saddle has his name painted on the side in deep blue letters that stand out against the deep brown wood.

John hates the damn horse toy and also hates the suspected origins. Both of these things are reminders that his marriage is on the rocks and that it's a reflection of his mistakes. Another man buying his children toys. He has little doubt that it is the same man he is forced to work with.

He leans against the support beam of the front porch, cigar to his lips. He was watching his daughter and keeping also keeping an ear out for his son, who slept in the house. The three of them are waiting for the fourth member of the household. A sleek black car pulls up to the house and Iyana abandons her bike to greet the love of John's life.

You.

His darling, sweet, loving wife, who he wouldn't trade for the world. Even if you are being difficult. It doesn't matter though he's sure this tantrum can't go on forever.

Now you wanna say you're sorry. Now you wanna call me cryin'. Now you gotta see me wildin'. Now I'm the one that's lyin'. And I don't feel bad about it. It's exactly what you get. Stop interrupting my grinding. (You interrupt my grinding)

You shut off the car, and the door swings open. Your saccharine voice carries just about your daughter. "My love! I've missed you!" Nimble fingers push sunshades back onto your forehead as you lean down to sweep her up into a hug.

"Do you like my dress? It came in the mail today!" She shouts, "Daddy helped me into it when we got home from school!"

"It's lovely, my love. You look like a pretty fairy princess." Your eyes appraise her dress and accessories appreciatively. When you finally lay your eyes on John, you offer him a polite smile. "John, I'm glad you could get off early to pick the kids up today."

John isn't focused on your words. His eyes are clearly looking you over, desperatewith want. Since the new rules were put in place and boundaries made known, he has made it clear that he misses you. Each time, you reminded him of the rules and that he was allowed to see other people. You watch as his eyes finally land on the space above your cleavage. Right on the dainty gold chain with only one charm on it.

"You didn't wear that to work, did you?" John grumbles as you walk past him.

"John, am I not allowed to wear jewelry now?" You ask, already over this conversation and wear it is about to head to.

"Sweetheart." He still calls you that. The pet name bristles you, but you tolerate it for the sake of your children. "At least grant me the decency of not wearing his bloody branding in public."

"Iyana, go pack your bag for grand mum's and poppop's house." You usher her towards the steps. She dutifully says yeah and how she's packing all of her new little dresses. Finally, alone with him, you turn to face your husband. "Why does it matter, John?"

A deep sigh escapes him, and he's a bit flustered with frustration. You suppose you'd be frustrated, too, if work was hell. And to be clear, it was only hell because of the new long-term assignments he and several different teams were coordinating on. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"It matters because it bothers me." He finally gets out, "it causes me to feel upset."

You take note of the carefully chosen words. Efforts of his therapy sessions peaking through. While you still won't go with him, he goes once a week when he isn't deployed. The habit started a month into your new reality. Shortly after, he began to be a more present father to the kids. Family weekends that he plans (which you suspect he does as often as possible to keep you with him), attending parent teacher conferences and evenings, and just generally paying more attention when he is home. It's great for the kids, but it's too little too late for you.

"Okay, John." You dismiss him and make your way to the kitchen with his footsteps following close behind. The conversation is clearly not over for you both.

"Was work fine today? I didn't see you at the all hands meeting on base." He leans against the kitchen island.

"My schedule was packed, so I sent my junior to fill in for me. Another PMC is contacting the company they requested me specifically." You dig around the fridge searching for a snack. His eyes are on you again. They always are these days. Since you reentered the workforce and quickly rose in rank, you've changed. You're more confident, more stern, and have leaned into the feeling of being desirable again by other men and women. Opportunities flowed easier to you. Your former boss had welcomed you back with open arms. Her exact words were something along the lines of "Mrs. Price, it's good to have you back. Now, the numbers can make sense again, and I can prepare to retire!"

John huffs, "Yeah, I saw. Kate was annoyed the entire time with the poor girl. And she was too afraid to work with Simon."

You find a snack and smile. "How is Simon?"

"You should know." He bites back with a bit of force. His blue eyes shift away from you, "You aren't sleeping with my lieutenant, are you?" It's a soft question you almost miss. He almost sounds insecure at the idea of one of his boys looking at you that way. And with the rules that are now in place, there's nothing to stop you but their friendship to him.

"John... Now, why would I do such a thing?" You sneer and then laugh. "There isn't anything going on between me and Simon."

"Then why won't you speak with me on base?" He furrows his brow. "People are literally looking at you two funny." And the 'They're looking at me with concern' is left unsaid.

"Because he is the chosen liason I picked for your team?" The scoff you let out is near comical, "Don't be so vain, John Price. If I was going to sleep with anyone it would be Kyle as he is the only one that apologized for not saying anything sooner about you fucking around behind my back. Maybe Johnny because he's good-looking. Tragic that they both are loyal to you, a skill they picked up from somewhere. "

His face turns red with agitation. His eyes go back to the necklace and the charm around your neck. It's a small, dainty, gold little heart, and when the light catches it, an engraved series of numbers and letters can be seen faintly. "So if not them, then who?"

"You know who. Don't be daft." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm gonna be gone all weekend after we drop the kids off at your parents. So you have the house to yourself."

"I'd much rather prefer we spent time together." He tries and smiles sweetly at you.

"I can't. My friend is dying to spend time with me, and he insists upon it, or he will simply die."

It's a beat of silence for a moment. Before he looks away from you. "Is he the one who sent those gifts to the kids? Which I don't appreciate, by the way."

"No. I'm not seeing him tonigt." You say leaving the kitchen, "Phillip has to go back to the States tonight. Won't be back till three days before you all move out."

"Could you at least tell that fuck to not give my kids gifts. It's rather rude, don't you think?" He glares.

"Phillip didn't give the kids those gifts. He gave me money, and then I got them things they've been asking for."

"And the necklace?" He asks. He almost seems like he doesn't want to know. But he keeps digging the hole deeper.

"From my other boyfriend." You glance over your shoulder at him, "instead of worrying about me and who I'm seeing. You should worry about yourself."

The tension is only cut at the sound of your daughter calling for help. She wants help with closing her backpack up.

That night after you and John played happy family infrint of his parents, the drive back home was tense. A quiet that could be heard from miles away even as the radio played, trying its best to ease both of your nerves. It's subtle, but you notice how his eyes cut to you every so often.

"Sweetheart."

"The kids aren't with us John."

"Don't be difficult please."

Your eyes hurt with how they roll. "What is it John?"

"I want to know when we can give us another try." He asks quietly, "I miss you." He grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. "I don't want you running around that fuck Graves, or whoever else your tend to see. You're my wife and I'm your husband. We should at least try to fix our marriage."

You don't say anything and keep your eyes in the passing scenery. This conversation isn't new. It comes up often and when it does you fight like hell to hold your ground. Another deep sigh and you wait in silence for him to continue.

"I love you, always will and never stopped." He says, and the sentiment is there. The way he says it reminds you of days when you were ignorant to his infidelity.

But then your mind conjures up the rage and hurt you experienced when you first saw what was in that folder the private investigator gave you. The embarrassment you felt when you asked Simon, Kyle and Johnny if they knew. They way that none of them could look you in the eyes for weeks. Or the grief that resurface each time your mind wanders over the memory of how he found someone who was similar to you in appearance from before your first child together.

"John, can we not tonight?" You simply avoid his eyes, "We can still get a divorce or you can deal with the way things are. I'm not revisiting any conversations about us or therapy."

"Are you doing this to hurt me back?" He asks. It's the most direct he's ever been with admitting that his actions hurt you. Before it was always a deflection. He wasn't right in the head after missions, he was trying to cope with the miscarriage, anything but outright saying he was a cheater. The tone of his voice cracks a bit with sorrow, but you don't budge.

"No." You state and turn up the radio, ending the conversation.

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway and you hurry out of the car and into the house. You don't want anymore questions or comments from him about the marriage he ruined. You don't want to deal with any nasty emotions that can't be fixed with the wine and sex that is waiting for you. An hour later you're finishing up packing, the house is quiet. The shrill ring of the doorbell pierces the silence of the house. It takes a moment but you hear John walking around downstairs towards the door. There's a bit of a sick thrill that shivers through you at who you know he will find on the otherside of that door. It won't be Phillip, he had already sent his messages that he would call you when he's back in the states.

You zip up your suitcase, check your hair once more in the mirror. When you get down the steps you're mer with John's more than angry glare that seems more hurt than anything. It's ignored as you pass the living room where he is.

You swing open the door, "Hey sweety."

"Hallo Meine Liebe." You're greeted with a hug from a strong embrace, "I'm hoping the guys will leave us be this weekend. They have been irritating since seeing you today and calling your charm necklace a fancy set of dog tags."

In the living room John closes his eyes as he hears you leave. Your laugh trails on the end of your words. And his heart absolutely aches at the idea of you with another man, much less another one he doesn't really like.

"K��kö, your I.D number is on it. Of course they would say that."

a.n: one more part and then I'm done with this mini series. Thank you all for supporting me.

All Night (final)

[jetblack4realz]

swing dancing - kayce dutton

summary - you and kayce have grown up doing everything together, including swing dancing. sometimes kayce just can't seem to remember that.

word count - 3.1k

a/n - i'm currently watching yellowstone and i think i've fallen in love... boots, hat, accent, and can sing?? guys, LUKE GRIMES

also, this is short but sweet imo so if you have any ideas for kayce or rip or ryan or whoever i am so down

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when you were twelve, you asked john dutton to teach you to swing dance.

"my brother is no good," you told him with a shrug. "and my dad ain't here to show me. beth said you and miss evelyn were the best swing dancers in town. could you show me?"

he'd smiled softly, turning to you with a tilt of his head. "and why do you wanna know, little lady?"

"there's a church dance this weekend and now that i'm in youth group i can go," you admitted, swinging your hands as a slow smile grew on your lips. "kayce goes to all of 'em and, um, i want to know so i can dance with him."

"why don't you ask him to teach you?" john asked, his smile widening as he raised his brows at you. you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"you know why! that's embarrassing," you huffed as you crossed your arms. "just show me things that kayce would know. please?"

he laughed loudly, standing slowly as he nodded. "alright. you better get some music going, though."

"bob wills?" you asked, moving to where he kept the CDs.

"damn right," he said with a breathy laugh as you put the CD in.

you made him dance with you every night that week leading up to the summer swing dance, perfecting your lame twelve year old two step and learning how to lean into a dip properly. john did his best to teach you, and he had to admit that it warmed his heart doing so since beth would never ask him to teach her how to swing dance, but being almost a foot and a half taller than you made it a tad difficult.

the friday before, you were in the living room with bob wills' "stay a little longer" playing on the CD player as john spun you when kayce came in early from roping outside with rip.

"what are you doing?"

your heart nearly stopped, but john just laughed, continuing to two step with you as kayce stood in the entryway with a quirked brow.

"what do you think, son? we're dancing," he answered, spinning you again until you were stopped in front of where kayce was eying you.

"why didn't you ask me? i coulda showed you," kayce said, furrowing his brows.

"i, uh, i wanted to surprise you," you answered lamely, shrugging. you offered him a small smile. "i know how to do it now."

"alright, then," the thirteen year old said, holding his hands out in front of him as he smiled. "surprise me."

john was smiling as he stepped to the side, gesturing for you two to go along. "i think i'm gonna go check on how rip is doing. show him what you got, kid."

"ready?" kayce asked as his dad left, smiling widely.

the song changed as he took the first step forward, you copying the best you knew. he pulled you around the living room in a two step, spinning you around casually as you moved easily. you pulled away to spin backwards into his arms in a sweetheart before spinning out. kayce pulled you back in, holding you to his side as he leaned.

"dad shown you this one?" he asked, to which you shook your head. he leaned back up and spun you out again. he raised his brows as he spoke. "lean on me one more time and then on the last one you're gonna jump off me, alright?"

"jump off you?" you asked, knitting your brows. "what?"

"push off my foot that's close to yours and jump," he said simply. he spun you back in. "just lean now." spun you out and nodded. "now you jump."

so as soon as you were back at his side you jumped, yelping when kayce's foot pushed you up and to the side. he laughed loudly as he brought you back in front of him, beginning a two step again. "fun, huh? lee just showed me that one."

"that was cool," you laughed.

"right? okay, let's do the pretzel now. you done that one?"

when you went to the dance the next night, you were asked to swing at nearly every song. kayce watched with a frown each time another boy would make it to you before he could, and his frown only deepened when they showed you a new move you got excited about. halfway through he shoved his way to you and didn't let you dance with another boy the rest of the night - not that you minded.

from then on, you and kayce went to the dances together and almost exclusively danced together. you'd watch the other couples and copy their twists and dips. one night while you were out on the ranch you let him convince you to try a flip. when he didn't drop you, you let him do it again, and it quickly became one of your favorite things to randomly throw into your dances.

"if jamie can do it, i sure as hell can," he defended lamely as he followed you around the barn, closing up the horse stalls for the night.

"jamie did it with susan miller - she's literally like 4'2", it was so easy for him," you told him, rolling your eyes.

"we haven't even tried! will you please let me try?" he begged.

"no."

"why?!"

"because you could drop me on my head and kill me," you replied easily, locking up the final stall and making your way out the door, flicking off the lights.

"please darlin', i won't drop you i promise," he said. "do you know how cool we would look if we could do flips? seth wheaton can't do that, we'd blow him and kylie right out of the water."

that made you pause, just like kayce knew it would. you had history with kylie - history that revolved around kayce whether he knew it or not. she'd spent all of middle school and half of high school trying to steal him from you, but it always backfired, and now you just loved to see the look on her face every time you entered the dance hall with kayce at your side, spinning you around with a certain kind of partnership no one else in the school had.

"alright," you sighed, stopping your walk back to the house and turning to him. "let's just do it. how does it go?"

"well," he said with a wide grin, "i spin you out as usual. but when you spin back in i move my arm in front of you, grab the back of your thighs, and then at the same time you jump and i turn you. easy as that."

"mhm," you mumbled. "easy."

he pulled you into position, turning you out and then spinning you in. he did just as he said, catching you between his arms with his right at your torso and his left under your legs. you grabbed his bicep tightly and squeezed your eyes shut, jumping and tucking before suddenly you were on your feet again.

you opened your eyes, your brows shooting up. you looked at kayce, breathing out an incredulous laugh. "you did it! you didn't drop me!"

he laughed with you, shaking his head. "and you thought i would? i'm offended, really."

throughout your teenage years, whenever you two had a weekend together it was spent swing dancing. things got messy when he got monica long pregnant, and again when he left the ranch for the navy.

"kayce, tonight's just not a good night," you'd told him, moving around him to get to the stairs. he caught your arm.

"please," he said, a certain desperation in his tone that caught your attention. "i need to go out tonight. with you. please."

you looked him over with a furrow in your brow before nodding slowly, sighing slightly. "alright, just let me get changed and we can go. but you owe me an explanation for all of this." you gestured to him before running upstairs to your room.

when you got to his truck, he was already playing your music. you shot him a smile as you buckled up, your arm resting next to his on the middle console.

"so what's going on that you pulled me away at ten o'clock at night on a thursday to go swing dancing?" you asked.

he was silent for a while, glancing at you several times before he finally let out a deep sigh.

"i'm in love with you, did you know that?" he asked. your breath hitched. that was not what you were expecting him to say in the least. "and i have to say it now and take you dancing now because i'm leaving tomorrow. i joined the navy to, uh, get away from my father. i just need a break, i need something different, something fulfilling. and i also needed to tell you now so you don't think i'm gonna come home and marry monica because that sure as hell ain't my plan. i mean, i'll help her and all, it's my kid, i want my kid, but i don't like her like that. we were drunk when we slept together, scout's honor. if i'm coming home at all it's gonna be to you, alright? is that... is that alright?"

he glanced at you again, your eyes wide and your jaw dropped. "you're... you're leaving? kayce why didn't you tell me?"

"i didn't tell anyone. you're the only one who knows, darlin," he told you. silence washed over you both as he waited for your response. "please say something."

"you better come home," you murmured, finally turning to look at him. "and yes, you'll be coming home to me. i love you too, kayce. always have."

the breath he let out was so heavy and relieved you nearly laughed. he grabbed your hand as he shot you the brightest smile you'd seen from him in a long while. "i am so glad to hear you say that."

he pulled into the parking lot, still squeezing your hand tightly. when he put the car in park, he turned to you more fully. "so, uh, does this mean you'll wait for me?"

"i've waited this long, what's another few years?" you mumbled with a sad smile. "at least now i can call you my boyfriend and tell you i love you."

"i swear, if i had a ring you could call me your fiance too," he breathed out, chuckling lightly. "you've got me, baby. i promise."

he reached forward, cupping your chin in his hand and leaning in slowly. but, you stopped him, a slight smile on your lips as you leaned back.

"i don't want our first kiss to be in your truck, kayce," you told him.

"i can solve that real quick," he said, flinging his door open with a wide grin. "stay there, darlin'."

he slammed his door behind him and ran around the truck, pulling your door open, his smile even wider now. he offered you a hand and helped you out, shutting the door behind you. he didn't waste a second to take you in his arms and capture your lips in his, both of you moving perfectly in sync with the other - well, like you always had.

he smiled when he pulled away, leaning his forehead on yours as he held you close to him. "do you wanna go on a date with me? we could go dancing."

you laughed, kissing him shortly again. "absolutely."

when he got home for his first break after the extra long boot camp for hopeful navy seals, monica had wanted him to marry her and move to the reservation. he had to break it to her he wasn't in love with her. instead, he came home to you.

but, you hadn't danced much since he returned. the last time you had was at your wedding when lee had arranged the playlist with all your best dancing songs and you and kayce had taken the time to show off to your guests.

when "stay a little longer" started, john knew exactly what was about to happen. beth laughed in her seat next to rip, covering her mouth as she watched her little brother grab you by the hand and drag you back to the dance floor when you'd only just left it.

"what is with the two of them and this song?" rip asked, quirking a brow as he watched the dutton boy begin spinning you around.

"it's the first song the ever danced to," john said as he folded his arms, smiling softly at the sight of his youngest with his new wife.

"how do you know that, dad?" beth asked.

"i was there," he answered almost sentimentally. "she asked me to teach her so she could dance with him. and look at them now."

"i've known they were gonna get married since you two showed up at the ranch," beth said, looking at rip with a smile. "as much as you may not like it, our little siblings are perfect for each other."

rip sat back with a sigh, mimicking john's position by crossing his arms too. "yeah, well, she seems happy."

"she is," beth said with a nod, smiling as kayce flipped you, earning cheers from the friends and family surrounding you all, the loudest of them all being lee as he finished spinning one of their ten year old cousins in his arms, both smiling and cheering loudly.

you looked elegant as you danced with your now-husband. your western-style dress was flowy enough to be dramatic in cool turns, but didn't fall when you flipped and dipped - you'd picked it with swinging in mind.

kayce spinned you for one of the last times, twirling you once, twice, three times before turning you in his arms and letting you fall into a dip, your hands around his back as you both smiled widely at each other.

"i love you, kayce," you told him with a light laugh as you caught your breath.

"i love you too, baby," he said, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your lips, earning another whooping cheer from spectators - again, mostly lee.

now, everything was crazy. everyone was trying to steal the ranch, lee had been killed, kayce had killed a variety of people, and someone had poisoned the cows.

kayce was stressed.

"hey, cowboy," you called as you approached the barn, hands tucked into your pockets. "you missed dinner."

he sighed, locking the horse stall. "had to finish up here. are the kids-?"

"fed and bathed," you answered with a small smile. "tate asked for you to read him a story, but your dad took over. was nearly out when i left to find you."

"thank you," he told you with a relieved sigh.

"of course," you answered. he crossed the rest of the distance to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him, a thin frown on his lips. "long day?"

"long year," he sighed. he rested his forehead on yours, breathing out slowly. "you doing okay?"

"mm, yeah," you hummed in answer, sliding your hands up his arms to wrap around his neck. "could use a night out though. your dad said he'd stay with tate and evie tomorrow night if we wanted to go out dancing."

"dancing?" he mumbled, pulling back enough to meet your eyes. "i haven't danced in forever."

"i know, that's why i thought we needed to get out there again," you answered with a shrug, offering him a small smile. "let loose for a night. try to forget about all the chaos happening over here."

kayce sighed. "darlin', i don't know. there's a million things i gotta do-"

"a million things that can wait, or hell, that rip can do," you said, freely offering your brother for anything in order to get kayce off the ranch. "we need to have a little bit of fun. get into town, get out of here, and have some fun. please, kace."

"i can think of a lot of fun things we can do while still staying on the ranch," he said slowly, leaning into your neck to begin pressing soft kisses there. you laughed, pushing him away.

"kayce, i wanna dance," you told him.

he sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot. "i don't even know if i remember half the moves, baby."

"sure you do," you said. you reached for his hands. "come on."

"what?" he laughed.

"come here," you insisted, pulling him backwards away from the barn and closer to the light above the arena. you fished your phone from your pocket and quickly clicked through your saved songs, choosing that first bob wills song you'd danced to. you set it on the fence, leaning it up against the post upside down so it'd play the loudest it could.

as the song played, kayce seemed to get sentimental. he pulled you in by your hands, taking a slow two step as he stared down at you.

"show me what you got, cowboy," you told him with a wide smile. your words seemed to kick him back into gear, him quickly spinning you backwards into his arms.

"alright, darlin'," he relented with a light laugh. "let's do this."

he spun you around as muscle memory began to set in and you weaved in and out of each other's grasp. the music kept you hopping, laughing joyously as kayce spun you around and dipped you, swinging you around in the dirt like you were teenagers again. he nodded at you with a wide grin as he twirled you back in preparation for what you knew had to be a flip and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing and jumping into his arms as he flipped you backwards. you landed just as the song ended, kayce quickly spinning you into a low dip to end more grandiosely as a wide smile rested on his lips.

"see?" you breathed out. "you do remember how to dance."

"only with you, baby," he said, kissing you quickly with the smile still on his lips. he pulled you back up to keep your lips on his, one hand rising to cup your jaw gently. when he pulled away, he tilted his hat at you. "will you go on a date with me tomorrow night? we could go dancin'."

you laughed, kissing him again. "i'd love to go on a date with you, kayce dutton."

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thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[oceantornadoo]

you: an absolute teeth-aching bone deep want to be loved and to give love. that hollow feeling behind your chest is too familiar and you want it gone. you just want to be in love, to treat someone with gentleness and to be wanted.

your 141 bae who has been in love with you since the moment he met you: ...i'm right here

gn!reader headcanons below the cut:

childhood best friend simon: let's say you knew him before he lost his family. a scrawny-limbed blond, always willing to extend a trip to the park or a cigarette behind school - anything to not go home. you'd visit him when he started part-time as a butcher in high school, wrinkling your nose at the smell of bloody meat but staying anyways, doing your homework at the singular table in the shop. he was there when you moved away from town, for college or a new job or any life-altering decision that he was secondary to, something simon could only hope to grasp. once he leaves for the military, you mourn your relationship and move on. simon is a blur in your mind, a reminder of snow days and sweet tea summers and leaf piles and dandelion picking, on a nostalgic shelf in the untouched corners of your brain. ten years later, you've finally made a name for yourself and truly gotten out; grown roots. but you still have this soul-deep yearning, some unfamiliar-shaped hole in your chest that miraculously fills when you open your door to simon, a grown man who's tired of wanting you from afar. tired of stalking your social media and writing fantasies in his head. tired of picking people to fuck just because they look like you, then going soft halfway through because their voice isn't the right pitch. he's here, and he's ready to do whatever it takes.

best friend gaz: now this is different from a childhood best friend, so keep that in mind. gaz is always this guy-next-door type with a panty-dropping smile and impeccable manners. this notion does him some good, helps him avoid some deep-rooted british military prejudices, but it also turns you away. you check him off as nice and place him in the best friend box. you don't understand how he tracks your every move on a mission, almost always getting caught by johnny or price. you miss how he grips his pint ten times harder when he sees you on the pub floor, dancing with some stranger whose hands are a bit too low. he tells you he gets rejected for being "too nice", but really, he ignores his 27 unread DMs and flirty cafe eye contact in favor of movie nights, prank wars, your shitty reality shows. he's grasping onto straws, can't you see sweetheart? when you're drunk and turn into a cuddler, he can pretend just for a second that you truly mean it. gaz lets your hands wander under his shirt, lets you murmur your darkest fear of never being loved into the quietness of your room, leaving you to sleep on top of your covers with a kiss to the forehead. he doesn't know what's pushed him over: you almost dying on that last mission, you making out with a stranger in a bar, you you you in those pants and that shirt and that's it. he has to say something. has to put it all on the line because gaz can't live like this anymore.

best friend's brother price: it was some one-sided crush, your best friend's brother with his suave teenage ways as compared to your brutal tween phase, acne and braces on the way. it had dissipated quickly, john never the wiser, his presence substituted with trendy band obsessions and first kisses. instead, it happened at your best friend's wedding. you were both in the wedding party, some object of fate throwing you together as your best friend forced you two to dance. you were tipsy on champagne, on the happiness of marriage, that you giddily admitted your fleeting childhood crush and how much john had grown since then. and that was it. john was always going to settle down, always going to have a pretty thing waiting for him back home, he just didn't figure out until right now that it would be you. he tries to hide his affections under friendliness, not wanting to ruin your friendship with his sibling, but john has never been discrete. he's suddenly invading your life with offers of fixing your kitchen sink, painting that one spot you can't reach, moving your couch to fit your latest pinterest board. you're practically family, love - which kills all your hopes for something more, feeling like a familyzone. but john means it differently, means you're predestined to be his, already accepted and loved by his loved ones and how could he not see it before? you refuse to accept his kindness and it absolutely kills him, so he scares off potential dates and any chance of meet-cutes with an arm around your waist and why can't you see him the way he sees you?

friends with benefits johnny: it was just sex, right? you'd been the one to say it, the one to set that boundary with your fellow sergeant. you didn't think johnny was capable of more, mistaking his cheeky smirks and booming laugh for being unserious, when in reality, johnny is as serious as it gets. he tells himself he can fuck you because he'll marry you one day, that cross sitting heavy under his shirts. he doesn't wash his sheets for weeks after that first fuck, too busy inhaling the scent of you cumming around his mouth, his cock. that is, until, you tell him his sheets stink and refuse to fuck him and he pretends you're having an argument as a married couple, all intimate and bored. johnny sees a recruit getting too flirty and pulls you into a supply closet using his best distraction methods. he sways you from joining a month's long solo mission, some stupid excuse about missing your lips too much when really he knows it's a suicide mission. johnny forces you to stay over after a midnight fuck, some bullshit about simon being up at that time and seeing you in the hallway on base. in reality, he treasures cuddling you with his brawny arms, pretending you're his willingly. pretending he's made peace with you, this wild creature, never tamed but understood. he can't force himself to ask for more, too scared to lose the crumbs he's holding onto. johnny tries to hide it with a fiery personality and a thick accent, but inside? he's a complete goner.

[thewertsearch]

Gotta say, I'm impressed at how quickly Davesprite put this together. Even with sprite magic, he had mere seconds to conceptualize this bit before John threw the bucket.

this is john. actually, it is john, jade, and dave sprite. we all contributed to the contents of this bucket!

I know John well enough to be 100% sure that this was not an accident. He knows exactly what he's doing here.

i deeply regret that i will not be present for these highly touted "TROLL/HUMAN SLOPPY MAKEOUTS", ha ha. maybe in three years, assuming you all aren't totally smooched out by then!!!

Fucking get his ass, John!

This is the humans' final vengeance for Project Trolling, and it is glorious.

rose and dave, you both look totally sweet! i can't believe you're both god tiers now. did you know jade is too? also, she has dog ears. she looks fantastic. how cool is it that we're all god tiers? it's like we're a super hero team, or some kind of anime squad. like the sailor moons, i guess, but not as lame, or as sexy.

I love the implication here that John's low-key into magical girl shows, and has a huge crush on the Sailor Scouts in particular. Dude is not beating the transfem allegations.

i'm already looking forward to this new session so hard. it was a fun adventure we had today, wasn't it?

One single day - but for me, as well as the liveblog's readership, that single day lasted almost three years. It's pretty wild that time is actually moving now.

i'll even miss talking to the trolls too. say hi to them for me, even though i didn't get to know many. except karkat obviously, and oh yeah, vriska too. vriska, if you read this, thanks again for all your help.

I'd honestly give decent odds that Vriska will be back in the picture before John's even learned she's dead - and we love that for her.

but now jade says i have to finish quickly! she wants me to throw this bucket and its heartfelt payload through her mysterious portal. so here i go.

This kid really is merciless. He pretends to be oblivious to this stuff, but we all know the truth - that this message was a prankster's masterful gambit, expertly constructed to get Karkat' goat.

It's John's finally gift to his friends, before they start their respective three-year journeys - and I'm sure it's appreciated.

Oh, fuck yes.

Oh yeah, this is going down immediately.

I'm so sad that this is an animation, rather than a set of gifs, because I could get a lot of mileage out of Rose's little eyebrow waggle.

Looks like Terezi's finally made up her mind about whether she's in Dave's human grill - and it appears she's landed squarely in the affirmative.

Of course, with all these couples pairing off, Karkat's only got one option left...

And this, I believe, is a tl;dr of the next three years.

Godspeed, Team Meteor. I await your updates to my shipping diagram with bated breath. o7

[demon-at-peace]

DC + DP

There was a silence the circle spins, ruins flashing, Constintine holds his breath his eyes filled with worry. The bats sit to the side, waiting nervously. "I can't fix this," Constintine mutters, "The most we can do is pray."

The runes stops, and the circle glows the green dark, the circle bruning, and suddenly there is a someone else there, something else there, it's eyes a bright horrible green, as they wait as they watch.

"Your majesty, King of they infinite realms, ruler of the dead, protecter of the living, wish granter, curse breaker," Constantine bows at one in a way that's practiced, it turns it's gaze apon him.

"Hellblazer , I told you too use my name," It greets and Bruce’s blood tuns cold. See rerer “Hi mate, how you doing?” Constantine’s demeanor changes easily and the eldritch being sighs.

Their form changing to that of a young vaguely human man. His skin is blue his hair a bright white, he wears a cloak reminiscent of the galleries around them, a pitch black crown floats about his head. “good, how about you?@ they ask with a crooked grin.

“Fine, what are you doing here?” Constantine asks.

“I’m here for you my love!” He sighs dramatically.

“Fuck off Phantom this isn’t a hookup!” John scoffs.

“John I told you I was sorry!” They pout, “I promise I won’t-“

“you will,” John huffs, “your a protecter Phantom you physically can’t, and I refuse to have someone hurt themselves for me.

”John I said it’s fine! Just please? I miss you,” they sigh, staring at John with a wide eyes.

“Fuck you and your righteous!”john sighs. “You should be angry, I broke up with you!”

“oh i was pissed, but I’m the one who did something wrong so-“ Phantom stars.

“You did nothing,” John rolls his eyes, “I fucked up, not trusting you, I’m sorry, but we’re over. I refuse to hurt you again.”

“Then fucking date me John! I am not taking a no! You love me, I love you, and i'll be damned if I don't get my fiance back!" Phantom glares/

The justice league is silent, waiting for a response. "Fine," John grumbles, see you at the house.

"It had better not be filthy!" Phantom warns, "I know I drilled it in you to take care of yourself!" then with a sniff he turns and vanishes.

"I am so getting yelled at," John mutters.

The justice league stares and finally Batman speaks. "You're dating him?" he sounds relatively strangled, "Didn't you say he could destroy the planet?"

"Could, but Phantom would never, he's a real sweetheart," John rolls his eyes and starts going through the components of the ritual.

"But he's powerful is the relationship really-" Batman begans.

"Yes, it's real, Danny is an eldritch abomination, a real sweet one, besides he's great in bed," John drawls deadpan.

"That's besides the point are you safe?" Batman asks.

"Yes," John answers, "Not from his cooking though," he shudders and finishes packing up the artifacts. "Thank you bat but I think I'm gonna go?"

"Good night," Superman calls.

John doesn't answer simply disappearing into the night.

---

I love this ship tbh, i'm dying rn, I have a family reunion in 2 weeks and I don't want to go. Also happy pride month!

[faiszt]

. 𝆬 ⠀ ི᭨ᩧྀ⠀.⠀⠀ faiszt’s ε( ε ´O`)э。゜ BOT! dump⠀⠀❜❜

꒰ ︎ ♡ ︎ ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ ︎ ᐟ⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀NOTES.⠀⠀💬⠀⠀hi, sweets! i'm so so happy to be ( finally ) back, i had writer's block during last month and missed writing so much :( so, consider this bot dump as an apology. also, i'd like to thank you all for the 5K followers and more than a million chats on c.ai, this is very important to me and i'm incredibly grateful for all of this. 𖹭

▸⠀ARCANE⠀*⠀˖⠀⚔️

𝅭⠀piltover's sweetheart⠀.⠀vi⠀૮⠀don't get her wrong, she was incredibly happy that you were successful in your modeling career, that's for sure. but, gosh, couldn't you spend a little more time at home with your girlfriend? or she'll probably be very grumpy, needy and kinda angry.

▸⠀CHALLENGERS⠀*⠀˖⠀🎾

𝅭⠀the god of love⠀.⠀art donaldson⠀૮⠀living among the humans was normal for most gods, even with some limitations. eros, for example, ventured into the skin of a young stanford student and for the first time in his existence, he wanted to change the course of his arrow.

𝅭⠀yellowstone⠀.⠀art donaldson⠀૮⠀save a horse, ride a... oh, your older sister's advice. the new cowboy from ohio could even try to hit on you, but not without losing his eyes the second your father, the infamous john dutton, noticed it.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✶⠀⠀yellowstone!au

▸⠀DC COMICS⠀*⠀˖⠀💥

𝅭⠀renegade⠀.⠀jason todd⠀૮⠀obsessed with getting revenge for her death, jason was blind, living every day with the blinds closed and his thoughts clouded. it really be insensitive if you told him to get his shit together?

𝅭⠀acrobatics ’n ballet⠀.⠀richard grayson⠀૮⠀he didn't hate you, but he didn't know how to like you either. your past was similar, as traumatic as two children deserved, he had become a bitter former acrobat and you still loved being a ballerina, both irritating and fascinating.

▸⠀DUNE⠀*⠀˖⠀⏳

𝅭⠀good for you⠀.⠀paul atreides⠀૮⠀what could you expect from someone who has genuinely never been interested in anyone else before? an arranged marriage wouldn't make him like you, but maybe, it'd make him realize what desire means when you're proud to be his.

▸⠀FNAF⠀*⠀˖⠀🚔

𝅭⠀mrs. wife officer⠀.⠀vanessa shelly⠀૮⠀the days go by and each day, vanessa takes longer to get home. night shifts, traffic, suspicious behavior or, maybe, you just haven't understood yet that she's not the faithful wife she seems, even with her stupid lying words of love.

▸⠀GEN V / THE BOYS⠀*⠀˖⠀✨

𝅭⠀annie’s body⠀.⠀annie january⠀૮⠀when did america's sweetheart become a bloodthirsty monster? your best friend, killing boys... purely for fun and if you questioned her, well, boys are just placeholders, they come and go.

𝅭⠀high school enemies⠀.⠀jordan li⠀૮⠀they made your life hell all through high school, ruined your perfect years and even if you don't want to, you'll have to put up with them for a few more years, welcome to god-u, sweetie.

𝅭⠀overthinking⠀.⠀victoria neuman⠀૮⠀twenty years, the time it took victoria to realize that you were the only person she could trust, the only one who knew her real name and the only one she feared losing forever.

▸⠀GLADIATOR II⠀*⠀˖⠀🗡️

𝅭⠀disease⠀.⠀emperor geta⠀૮⠀how pathetic did an emperor have to be to lie at the feet of someone like you? begging for the relief that only you could give him, the cure for his disease, he needed you more than you needed him and honestly, you didn't need him at all.

𝅭⠀lady of ashes⠀.⠀lucius verus⠀૮⠀vengeful, ruthless, and resentful, there was nothing that could describe lucius—or rather, hanno—better than that. you weren't to blame for anything, but his hatred for you'd still be the same, even if you were as much of a victim as he was.

▸⠀HOUSE OF THE DRAGON⠀*⠀˖⠀🩸

𝅭⠀childhood times⠀.⠀aemond targaryen⠀૮⠀in times of war, there was no safe place aemond trusted, not even his own home. but, there was you, the closest thing to a safe haven he had in his life, and he'd always look for you, sooner or later, the only one who matters to him.

𝅭⠀dragon’s blood⠀.⠀daemon targaryen⠀૮⠀the rumors only grew louder, those whispers noting that your eldest son was more like daemon than he should be, what was the secret you were hiding and why didn't even the king know? silver hair and violet eyes couldn't hide the truth forever.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✶⠀⠀TW: targ!cest

▸⠀ONE TREE HILL⠀*⠀˖⠀🏀

𝅭⠀sports car⠀.⠀nathan scott⠀૮⠀a player, in basketball and in life. he may have had a son and his things to take care of, but that didn't stop him from meeting you. same time, same place, it'd all end up in his sports car anyway.

▸⠀OUTER BANKS⠀*⠀˖⠀🏴‍☠️

𝅭⠀meaningless kisses⠀.⠀jj maybank⠀૮⠀you could've done anything to him, maybe even hit him in the face, but you crossed the line the second you kissed rafe cameron right in front of him. he doesn't need your shitty explanations, he just wants to feel hate in peace.

𝅭⠀guilty mind⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀a young but renowned detective, involved in several successfully solved cases. the question was: in a small town where you were indirectly and directly involved with all the missings and murders, how would you prove your innocence to him?

𝅭⠀twin babies⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀not that rafe ever imagined he'd be a father, but six months ago, he began to understand a little about it. well, he was prepared for just one child, until two babies appear on the ultrasound.

▸⠀SUPERNATURAL⠀*⠀˖⠀🏁

𝅭⠀tapping the bomb⠀.⠀dean winchester⠀૮⠀there was no competition he couldn't win, even if he had to pass over every other driver, he would. so, don't try to calm him down after a dnf, he's a two-time world champion, he doesn't need your pity now.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✶⠀⠀formula1!au

▸⠀WIZARDING WORLD⠀*⠀˖⠀🪄

𝅭⠀losing his glasses⠀.⠀james potter⠀૮⠀first class of the day, what a beautiful sight. james crawling on the floor of the transfiguration classroom as if this were normal. oh, right, his glasses, where are his glasses?

𝅭⠀beauty and the beast⠀.⠀remus lupin⠀૮⠀knowing he was a werewolf was one thing, clearly caring about his well-being the next day was another, and for the first time, you were there for him—even though he was shit.

▸⠀X-MEN⠀*⠀˖⠀🧬

𝅭⠀too sweet⠀.⠀erik lehnsherr⠀૮⠀condemned to live with his own mind, erik didn't trust himself and thought it was a joke that people trusted him now. but, you did and that was the problem, you became way too sweet for him.

꒰⠀ small note: ⠀꒱⠀if the bot isn't available as soon as you click the link, it may just be a c.ai bug that only makes bots publicly available after a few hours, don't worry⠀!!⠀♡

⠀⠀

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

[sugardollcurse]

can you do something with like Paul eating reader out (like John's fic) I love that man so much and his face is soo❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 And the reader is usually a quiet person,but she becomes very vocal about the pleasure that Paul brings to her.

𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 | paul mccartney x fem!reader

𐙚 contains ; nsfw!! minors dni!

𐙚 summary ; you’re known for being reserved. but paul knows better. he’s always known. and tonight, he plans to hear everything.

𐙚 note ; yesss i love that energy.. also so real i'm so jealous of his beauty ♡ thank you for sending this in! ☁︎︎

It always started with his hands.

You should’ve known.

The way they lingered. The way they waited. Not grabbing. Not pawing. Just resting. Softly, solidly, on your hips, the backs of your thighs, the slope of your waist as if mapping the territory in secret. He was so good at that. Making his affection look casual. But nothing Paul did was ever unintentional.

Tonight, it started on the couch. Vinyl spinning lazily in the background. Your head on his shoulder, legs curled beneath you.

He’d been quiet for a while, content to let you drift in and out of focus. You were always quiet. He liked that about you. Said it was calming. But you didn’t miss the way his hand started moving beneath the throw blanket. The way his thumb stroked your inner thigh. The way his breathing changed.

“You always get like this when it rains?” he murmured.

You opened one eye. “Like what?”

He smiled, slow. “Warm. Soft. Like you’re waitin’ for someone to open you up.”

You blinked, blood already shifting in your belly.

“You say the most obscene things,” you muttered.

He chuckled, low and warm against your skin. “Only when they’re true.”

Then, he kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The side of your neck. Lazy, slow. His hand still between your legs, but not pushing. Just waiting.

“Can I hear you tonight?” he asked softly.

You froze. “Hear me?”

“You’re always so quiet,” he said, drawing back enough to see your face. “Except when I’m down there.”

Your throat went dry.

“I know you’ve got sounds tucked away,” he whispered. “Just need the right coaxin’, don’t you?”

You nodded, slow.

And that was all he needed.

Paul moved like he was composing something. Not just playing, writing. As if your body was the instrument and he hadn’t touched it in years, and now he had you all to himself in a quiet room, and he needed to hear what it could do.

He guided you back onto the bed, the duvet half-folded down from earlier, the sheets faintly warm where you’d curled together. His mouth brushed your cheek, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth. Not a kiss, an invocation.

You weren’t even undressed yet.

His fingers slipped beneath your waistband. “Let me?” he asked softly, even though he was already tugging.

You lifted your hips. He peeled your bottoms off slow, underwear with them, his knuckles grazing your thighs like he was trying to memorize the skin. He smiled when your legs tensed.

“Don’t go clammin' up on me now, pretty girl,” he murmured, eyes flicking up. “You’ve got nothin’ to hide. Not from me.”

Your hands twitched by your sides. He brushed them gently away, settled himself lower, between your legs. Still fully dressed. Like this wasn’t even sex to him yet, just a devotion.

He kissed your knee. Then the soft inside of your thigh.

“You always get like this.” he asked quietly, eyes fixed on the slick glistening between your legs. “All sweet and sticky and shy when you want it?”

You swallowed, hard. He was trying to rile you up. He wanted to hear you again, just like last time. “Paul…”

“‘Cause I’ve seen it,” he continued, kissing higher. “The way you squirm when I talk dirty. Or touch you under the table. That look you get, like you’re scared of how much you feel.”

He exhaled softly. You felt it, right there.

“Let me help, yeah?” he said. “Let me have it.”

And then he lowered his head.

The first lick was slow, tongue wide, dragging up the length of your cunt like he was licking an ice cream cone, and not the dripping heat of your need. It wrung a gasp out of you, sharp and instinctive. Your thighs twitched.

He hummed, pleased, like he’d just found the right chord.

Then he did it again, this time sloppier, wet and indulgent. Flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit once, twice, then dragged the flat of it back down to your entrance. You shivered. Your hips twitched without permission, seeking more.

Your hand flew to your mouth.

He paused, gaze flicking up from between your legs, lips shiny. “No, no, don’t do that,” he said, voice husky and amused, muffled slightly by your thigh. “I want to hear you. Been dreamin’ about makin’ you noisy again.”

And then he dove back in.

With purpose this time. No more teasing. He locked his lips around your clit and sucked, slow and deep, then used his tongue in broad strokes like he was playing you, like your cunt was an instrument only he knew how to handle. Your moan cracked out of you, embarrassingly loud.

“There we go,” he mumbled, grinning against you. “There’s my girl.”

Your hands flew down before you even thought about it. Fingers twisted into his hair. You tugged, a little rough, and he groaned, deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through your cunt like it thrilled him to be pulled, to be needed like that.

He shifted, hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder, then slid two fingers into you, achingly slow.

You whined. Loud. No control anymore.

He kept them moving, curling upward, pressing that sweet spot again and again while his tongue kept working your clit with maddening rhythm. Wet and perfect. Messy. God, it was messy, his chin glistening, your arousal dripping down onto his knuckles.

“Yeah?” he gasped, lips wet, forehead slick with sweat. “You like that, sweetheart? Like me fuckin’ you with my fingers while I taste you?”

You nodded frantically, then shook your head because words were beyond you now.

He groaned again. “Yeah, love it when you can’t even talk. Too good, innit?”

You bucked. Moaned loud, unapologetically now, no filter left, just need. Raw, keening noises spilling out of you, one after another, each one louder than the last. You were begging him to keep going.

His tongue obeyed. His fingers didn’t even slow. He adjusted pace like he was conducting an orchestra, swapping rhythm, teasing out new notes from your body with each shift. Gentle licks paired with deep, slow thrusts. Then fast, shallow fingerfuck with slow, lazy swirls of his tongue. Then he’d change it again, always one step ahead of you, knowing exactly when you were about to tip.

“God, listen to you,” he laughed low against your cunt. “Was so quiet just now. Now you’re cryin’ for it. Loud little thing, aren’t you?”

You clawed at his hair, almost angry with how close you were, how good he was. “I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you are,” he growled, tongue relentless now. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you did.

Hard.

You moaned, sharp and unrestrained, as the orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body arched, heels digging into the bed, thighs clamping around his head so tight he moaned like he loved it, like it only made him harder. He didn’t stop, not even when you shook, not when you sobbed out his name, not when your vision blurred from the sheer force of it. His tongue kept flicking through the aftermath, slow now, reverent almost, like he was worshiping every last wave of your pleasure.

When you finally collapsed back into the mattress, spent and boneless, chest heaving, he pulled away slowly. Face soaked. Eyes dark. Hair wild.

He kissed your inner thigh, your hipbone, your belly. Tender, grounding.

Then looked up at you. Smirked. Drenched in sin and pride.

You stared at each other.

You were the first to speak.

“...I’ve never been that loud in my life.”

Paul grinned, all teeth. Voice rough.

“Yeah,” he said. “You were.”

He crawled up over you, kissed your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

“Let’s do it again.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @alanangels

[shelbgrey]

✨Pookie😏✨Mother Pinecone🥳✨Fellow Simp🤩✨ can I request some lovely shrexy headcanons for the one and only Sammy Winchester😳 I just need some fluff and steamy steamy spicy headcanons please🥹 I’ll pay😉🫴💰💳💵

Dating Sam Winchester Headcanons:

Paring: Sam Winchester X Singer!Reader

Summary: headcanons about Sam dating Bobby Singer's kid. -SMUT warning!

💚MasterList ML2 💚MoodBoard

Between Sam being John's kid and you being Bobby's, you spent a lot of time together as kids.

You were always closer to Sam, you and him bonded over books and you were both the quiet ones.

It was obvious there was something between you two even when you were kids, but you were both completely clueless.

“the only two people who don't know Sam and y/n like each other are Sam and y/n” - Dean

But then he went off to college, you guys talked through letters and Emails for the first few months. Then he met Jes and you guys talked less and less.

Deep down Sam knew he dated Jess just to get over you, but then he felt awful to think that way after she died.

He never would have expected that you'd show up with Dean, telling him John was missing. Sam honestly hated to see the skilled hunter you have become, he always thought you deserved better.

Deep down he knew he stayed for you. College didn't matter much to him anymore and neither did finding his dad. He rekindled his friendship with you and wanted to protect you.

Hell, he would take you away from the hunting life if he could.

Before you knew it the three of you were a trio again. Saving people and hunting things together.

Then before you knew it you and Sam both fell back in to your original, clueless act you had with each other. It pissed Dean off, because he knew you guys liked each other.

Dean also knew neither one of you had the balls to admit your feelings. So he took matters into his own hands.

“Hey, y/n, you busy Saturday night?” Dean asked one night. “no?”

“Sammy, you sure as hell ain't busy” Dean joked, Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “yeah... I'm not”

“good, because I am... You two go out and have a good time” Dean told you both.

Yeah Dean asked you out on a date for Sam. Both of you had mixed reactions, you didn't know how to proses what what just happened and Sam was just annoyed Dean was getting up in his business. Dean didn't stop you guys from going out.

he is sweet and gentle when he kisses you. The kisses you and him share are always sweet and full of passion. He pours everything into his kisses when his lips are on yours.

He definitely said 'I love you.' he said it after he had to save you from a vampires nest he told you he couldn't lose you and he loves you.

Sam would be the one to encourage you to go on rants or nerd out about things your passionate about. He'll listen beginning to end. If your like: “sorry if I'm talking too much” Sam will say: “no, no, keep going. I'm listening”

Not being stuck in his Tuesday time loop, but helping the best you can.

Sam's Hugs are warm and tight. Since he's so much taller than you he usually picks you up and holds you to his chest as your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck holding him tight.

he promised to himself and you that if you were to get hurt by anything and he did mean anything at all, he would kill it. Even the smallest cut or bruse on you, he would freak out and with a gun in his hand, he would go after the very thing that dared to put a wound on you.

Sex with him has always been on the Adventurous side, but he learns your limits quickly and wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But when soulless Sam shows up there's no slowing down.

Even though Soulless Sam is hot one of the things he cares about most is sex and it might seem that's all he wants at the time, but the moment you get hurt the person or thing that hurt you is in a heaping pile of blood and broken bones.

Research dates all the time, you think it's boring as hell but your happy just to he able to spend time with him.

He's a health nut so he's always getting on to you and dean about your eating habits. “you know those things could kill you, right?” Sam asks as he watches you drink a monster energy drink, you'll just shrug him off.

You appreciate his concerns and you do back off on some stuff and let him cook you a healthy meal.

“what is that?” you asked staring at the blender in Discussed. “it's a smoothy, its good for you” he said pouring you a cup. “it's green goop”

✨Forehead kisses✨ he's a giant after all, so it's easier and convenient to just give you a little kiss on the forehead. He also loves it when your setting in his lap and giving him the same treatment.

Matching bracelets. Jack went through a friendship bracelet making phase and you made a couple with him. You and Sam both have one, he refuses to take it off. “you don't have to wear it”

“no, I'm gonna wear it forever. Back off”

You and Sam are literally Jack's parents, you probably end up adopting him at some point.

Never giving up on getting him out of hell, you hated the fact Dean when to live with Lisa. So while he got a girlfriend you were threatening crossroad demons for awnsers.

Making dirty jokes with Dean all the time to annoy Sam.

If Dean pranks Sam, you'll help get back at Dean. One time you convinced Sam to have sex in the impala just to piss Dean off.

Lucifer has the undying love for you and hits on you all the time, it pisses Sam off to no end.

Getting to see Sully first hand because he knew how much Sam ment to you and Sully just really wanted to meet the person that made Sam so happy.

Jody being a mother to you.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a rough hunt.

If your a smut book you get really secretive about and he'll notice quickly. “What you reading?” you blush and hold the book away from him. “nothing”

If he gets a hold of the book and reads a steamy part if the book, he'll probably want to try what he read too.

This man need physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

He wants to hold your hand all the time too, if your walking around the bunker or a town your hands will be locked together, or sometimes hell just hold your had while doing research.

Communication won't be a problem in your relationship. You both just find it so easy to talk to each other.

But if you get into a fight, your fight loud and mean. There will be the silent treatment.

He's a bed hog so get used to sleeping right on top of him or right up against him because there's no room for personal space when you share a bed, especially if it's a motel bed.

He also hogs blankets.

You have bad sex in the bunker library, do with that information as you will.

You steal his flannels all the time, they're just so big and comfy.

He's good at turning you on😏

NSFW headcanons:

Sammy has a size kink, he loves the fact you are shorter than him. It makes it easier for him to manhandle you and throw you around without even trying.

likes to pretty much fuck you stupid. like to the point your shaking, you only can think of his dick and babbling his name. you probably won't be walking the next morning.

he's ✨skilled✨ with his hands, those big massive hands. it doesn't matter what he's doing with them, in between your legs, your face, around your neck, in your hair, I don't matter he knows what he's doing.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it untill you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Damn... Do that again... Please”

Biting, he's loves marking you up. There has been many times you had to cover your neck with makeup, but most of the bite marks are on your thighs.

But he also lives for the moments where it's just sensual and gentle. He secretly loves just holding you and kissing you slowly.

He wants to see if he can he make you scream louder than he did the last time. He loves the noises you make.

He well bend you over the table in the bunker library and take you from behind.

The desk will creak from the force he uses and his large body will presse you hard against the desk.

He loves hearing the moans and gasps coming out of your mouth.

Part of him will want you to be louder, even though he knew you aren't supposed to be sometimes.

He'll mark your thighs with his teeth and biting hard enough to leave a light bruise.

Sam loves being dominate towards you. Choking you and edging you. “come on, Baby. Cum for me again”

He has big chocking kink, he won't be too rough about but he loves wrapping his fingers around your neck and feeling your pulse when he's ramming into you.

He has a tendency to grip the headboard when he's close to cumming.

“that’s it baby, there you go. takining me so well, honey.”

Sam loves the way his hands look on your body. Even better if you’re smaller than him, he just wants to be touching you all the fucking time.

He love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

If you’re struggling to take him in or taking long to adjust, he’ll whisper reassurances that you’re doing a good job while rubbing his hands on your back and thighs.

Sam first thought after sex he's always checking on you, making sure it felt good and your not sore. He is very gentle, cleaning you up and giving you anything you need before even thinking of himself.

[forsaken-headcanons]

silly favorite song or musician hcs!! :3

(totally not just songs I like,, ehe,,)

Builderman: Weird Al's biggest fan, favorite song is probably Virus Alert

Telamon: Definitely listens to KMFDM, no further questions (I heart you not!!)

But Shed?: Gives Will Wood (and sometimes the tapeworms) vibes, so maybe Dr. sunshine is dead or main character

Elliot: Miss wanna die (JubyPhonic) or November Waltz (work at a Pizza Place) he gives nostalgia needy tbh, and Waltz music is likely a comfort genre

Toe time: Obvious Maretu fan, but also religious music, because of Spawn. Their favorite Maretu song would be Ashiteitanoni, and only because they relate to it. (+The song Two time for sillies :3)

Noob: 6arelyhuman and Asteria. Fav songs would be Pretty Scene girl and what you want, just fit the theme!!! (We <3 party noob :>)

007n7: Hard choice, but MSI, from when he was younger, during his hacking days. He probably also listens to Weezer because he's weird. Prescription and Island in the sun.

Guest1337: Anything classical, or reminding of Daisy. Favorite song is likely В последний раз (For the Last Time)

Chance: Roll or die and Unhealthy Obsession, gotta go gambling!!!!! 777

Dusekkar: That Handsome Devil, and some forms of Classical. Favorite may be 'The heart that goes to heaven, and the head that goes to hell.'

Taph: Mr. Kitty and some forms relating to heavy metal. Secret hc that while in hiding made covers of rock and other genres like that (Mb if wrong, I'm not big on names of genre stuffs)

Jane Doe: Not in game, but I don't care. She would relate to the song Bernadette, and also like Mr. Kitty. Her and John would have likely sang songs like Impacto and 'O sol e a Lua' with eachother pre-corruption.

Jason: Momma's boy. He probably doesn't remember much of pre-forsaken, or does a lot, I'm going with the version that Jason's drowning, then spree, then forsaken. Still, he probably reminisces about his mother if he did.

C00lkidd: Obviously 100% Jojo Siwa- He probably enjoys Vocaloid, so I'd say his favorite is Poppipo/Vegetable Juice, because :)

1x1x1x1: They seem like the type to enjoy 'Abnormality Dancin' girl' and songs like that, but also Will Wood and KMFDM, Telamon probably introduced them to that when they first attacked Robloxia (going with hunt 1x here) but also would probs like Odetari by themself.

John Doe: Mili, Kihow and Ghost & Pals if forsaken v. Pre corruption is same as Jane, and his favorites would obviously include Compass, Through Patches of Violet, Hero, Candle Queen, and probably Housewife radio.

Noli: Ohy gos im in pain but Noli would def like Odetari, 6arelyhuman and Maretu. Also gives Kikuo vibes. His favorite is definitely Angel Breaking. (Needy girl overdose)

Itrapped: Berdanette and Unhealthy Obsession. Likely also a fan of types of Classical and Waltzes. Probably has the whole Bridgerton and Sweeny Todd soundtrack saved if he had Spotify/youtube.

Azure: Pre-sacrafice would be a fan of religious music, like two time, but also Jack Stauber. His old favorite would be 'for the love of God/sweet religion.' (MSI) Forsaken Azure would like MSI still, but take on Kikuo and grunge music.

Ts all :3 (I think I got everyone lols)

° - Freezing Winters Anon

WEIRD AL MENTIONED!! WEIRD AL! Telamon listening to KMFDM is perfect. Amazing. And Shed listening to Will Wood? Real!! Absolutely.

holy lord that's a lot of tags.

[lilbardrhi]

Three Christmas Deer

Pairing: John Price x Reader/You CW: alcohol consumption (implied, some discussion of); CUTE, FLUFFY SWEETNESS Author's Notes: Happy holidays, @the-californicationist! If it weren't for you solidifying my simping for Price (by tying him up-), I would not be writing this. Thank you for the MEALS- <3

The first year it happened, you'd run out and truly forgot to grab another bottle for yourself before shopping got too hectic.

As soon as you went to grab the last bottle, a larger hand bumped into yours.

"Ah, sorry about that," you'd apologized immediately, giving the man a small smile. You're worried it's also the one he's after.

"Glenfiddich 12 year, hm?" He picks up the bottle and turns it around in his hand then hands it to you. "15 year is better," he told you with a smile. Then he reached out to grab a bottle of the 15 year.

"I've only been drinking whiskey for... a few years and don't drink often. I'm sure I'll get there. Eventually." With a shrug and a smile, you settled your bottle into the basket hanging from the crook of your arm. "Happy holidays."

"Happy holidays, miss," he said as you walked away.

The second year, you'd needed an extra bottle since you'd be hosting that year and most of the guest list would partake.

"I don't remember what year they drink," you mumbled as you start at the shelf lined in Scotch. "Could just go with my usual," you mused as your eyes drifted to the Glenfiddich 12 year.

A vaguely familiar hand picked up the bottle you were staring at and your eyes drifted up the arm attached to find the man from last year.

"Still drinking 12 year?" he smiled as he picked up the bottle to hand it to you.

"Oh, you recognized me." You returned his smile and nodded. "I really don't drink often."

"Such a beautiful face is not easily forgotten. Even if it's been a year." His smile didn't faulter, but your heart definitely skipped a beat. Not just because of what he said, but also from the way he said it - so confidently and sincere.

"Thank you," you'd responded as you accepted the bottle. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks and suddenly felt the need to hide. "Happy holidays."

"Happy holidays," he said warmly before grabbing a bottle of 15 year and leaving.

You reach for the last bottle of Glenfiddich 15 year and turn it in your hands a few times with a warm smile on your face. Sometime around July you were forced to finally try the 15 year - there were no more 12 year bottles any where you looked. With fond memories of a warm and sincere smile, you never went back to the 12 year.

"Looks like you got the last one this year. Of 15 year at that," that somewhat familiar voice says from in front of you.

Lifiting your head, you greet him with a bright smile.

"I was wondering if I'd see you this year," you admit.

"Name's John," he informs you and offers his hand. You accept and give him your name as well. "What would you say to sharing that bottle?"

You look down at the logo on the Glenfiddich logo - a sytlish outline of a buck - to consider for a moment. Then you give John your smile again.

"I would say... it's a good idea," you admit.

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Six Inch Heels

Pairing: toxic!J Price x Lawyer!Reader

CW: baby trapping. p in v sex. price has a breeding kink. price is misogynistic. dub-con. 18+ mdni.

"Price, this is your lawyer. I had to pull some heavy strings and call in favors to get her." Kate informed him with the world's most tired glare. "She specializes in international law, military law, her father was part of the team that got OJ acquitted and her mentor got some famous rapper free of a RICO charge. I'm sure she can get you and your boys out of this mess."

John was listening, but he wasn't comprehending. His eyes were focused on how the woman in front of him was stunning. Deep red lips, sharp eyeliner, and dressed in head to toe black. He isn't one for seeing pretty little things and immediately thinking 'Yeah this is the one.' But damn if he wasn't going to stake his claim. She seemed like such a sweet girl.

"This is the good man and his team I told you about." Kate turns to look at the very quiet and stoic lawyer.

She doesn't smile, her eyes examine each and every one of the 141. A perfectly arched eyebrow raises, and she tilts her chin up in subtle acknowledgment. "Can't be too good if you gotta hire me to clean up your mess. I'll see what I can do. But Kate." She turns and looks Kate square in the face. "Hire a stylist, I can't have these four looking the way they look in a court of law. Because a boonie hat, skull mask, and mohawk aren't going to sell the image of 'Good polished soldiers'. Maybe Union Jack hat can swing it, but he needs to put on a sweater and get a nicer haircut."

Price bristles at the insults, even if they were well meaning.

He takes back his previous thought. She's entitled, stuck up and a bitch. In desperate need of being humbled. He itches to say something just as scathing, even opens his mouth, but Kate shoots him a glare. He shuts up instead.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You had bent over backward for the past few months practically assembling the Avengers for Kate. While the burden of proof will lay with the government, the burden of building out the defense team and making these four men look approachable for the public was your cross to bear. Kate didn't know any stylists, which was to be expected, considering that she was such a unitarian woman. So you hired your friend on the back end to handle that aspect. The rest of the team ended up being five other high-profile lawyers, all of them big in their own right with you as the lead.

Your head throbbed with the lack of coffee. Your assistant, Marco, hadn't been able to get your regular brand imported into the country. More importantly, though, your headache only intensified when you stepped into the war room and saw Johnathan Price. Over the last six months since preparing for this landmark case, you grew to hate him. He was smug, arrogant in that old, timey way. The man fought you on shaving off his mutton chops and didn't care if it would look good for optics. He called you sweetheart and love and dove, and fucking little miss. His stupid blue eyes would bore into you as you took notes and practiced the cross examination with him as he was expected to take the stand at some point. He had this way of speaking, phrases filled with double meaning and turns of phrases, and his deep growling voice made you want to punch him in his throat. It also made you unbelievably turned on. Yeah he was handsome, but his outdated views on women was enough to make you glare at him. After this case, you were ignoring Kate's calls from now on, it didn't matter if she called you on behalf of a favor from someone who you owed a favor to.

Next to him was his lieutenant, Simon Riley, your own ‘second in command’ lawyer Trisha struggles with him daily. Poor woman is often at her wit's end when he opens his mouth and incriminates himself. He calls it telling the truth, your team calls him inmate-526 because that's what he's gonna be if he fucks it up. Next is Kyle Garrick, he understands fully what's at stake, often joking he was built for war torture, not state sanctioned torture, and lastly Johnathan MacTavish.

The fucking mohawk is finally gone and he absolutely hates having a full head of hair. Let's the team's stylist, Angel, know about it every chance he gets.

“Okay.” You look at Trisha as she types away on her laptop, and then you look at John, “Mr. Price, we will be in court 6 more weeks. The reason we are all here today is to make sure everyone's testimonies line up perfectly.”

“We've been working on this for months, the timeline of events doesn't change.” He leans back in his chair, and he has the audacity to look like this is his meeting he's called. Jackass.

“Mr. Riley still insists on saying things that are up for interpretation.” Trisha doesn't look up from her screen, “We went over all of the recorded comms conversations and right now we need to make sure that the four unaccounted hours where your transmission went out is the same for all of you.”

Johnny looks confused, “So we are lying-”

Both you and Trisha shush him immediately, “No.” You sit down and rub your temples, “We are not lying to the government, we are telling your truth.”

The conference room door opens and in walks Marco. He's carrying two drink holders of coffee and tea. Bogged down completely with extra bags that contain more documents and such. “Sorry I was late.” He tells you, “Angel needed me to pick up their wardrobes so we can do a dry run and fitting, and I scheduled the uhm hired press”

“Paparazzi.” Trisha corrects.

“Yes Ma'am. Paparazzi so that we get good optics going in and out the courthouse.” He sits down your coffee, “Two sugars, oat milk, seven shots of espresso, caramel drizzle, light ice.”

It's perfect as always.

“Optics?” John says, he eyes you as you sip your coffee, “Sweetheart seven espresso shots? That can't be healthy.” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“You wouldn't even stop smoking cigars when we asked.” You shoot back, “And yes. Public court of opinion, despite what people will have you say, influences court proceedings in this day and age. The jury can't keep up, but the judge pays attention and no judge wants to compromise and start a revolution or protest or whatever the fuck on his legacy by making the wrong ruling.” It's tense and you just wish he would let you do your damn job. “Besides, we still have to put on a show. Law is theater at the end of the day. There will be newscasters reporting and your case is being heavily followed.”

Trisha chooses this time to speak up, “It's why we have insisted that Johnny tones down his playboy personality and lean into being a reformed catholic.” She glances over the rim of her glasses. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she stared at the man in question. “It's also why we had Mr. Garrick marry his long-time girlfriend and announces a pregnancy. Still not sure how you're gonna pull that off if this case isn't speedy.” She looks at you.

“Miscarriage.” You state, “moving on. Let's start with the top.” Your eyes find John and he is already watching you. Unflinching and unmoving, burly arms crossed over his chest. “During the four unaccounted for hours, what happened with General Shepherd?”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

John and his boys are grilled in the conference room for hours by his darling little miss. He's already told her the full truth, all of the gory details about what really happened when they went rogue and captured Shepherd and several high ranking officials. To her credit she didn't flinch, unlike her assistant Marco, she didn't even seem bothered. At the end he asked her-

“Why aren't you distressed? Civilians don't normally hear these types of things?” He had been sitting in her office on day four week three. She had been running herself ragged with hiring the dream team, getting clearance for a press appearance budget, and fighting his boys on reforming their image. He had found her fire admirable at first but now it was aggravating.

Her cold calculated eyes looked him over. They were set behind false lashes that looked too natural, dark eyeliner that appeared too sharp, her deep red and glossy lips raised a bit in a scowl. She doesn't answer right away, true lawyer fashion and finally after seemingly gathering her thoughts, her tired eyes stare at him.

“Mr.Price. it is not my job to be disturbed by whatever you allegedly did or didn't do. It is my job to give you a fighting chance in the court of law. Right now the ‘more righteous than everyone, I do this for the good of the world so everyone stays clean and an air of arrogance’ attitude is difficult to work with.”

Back then in her office with just the two of them, he felt a hot stab of irritation. His pride couldn't take the way she looked at him as if she was better. He couldn't reconcile that such a woman, with full breasts, long legs, pretty face, and child bearing hips, walked about in six inch heels at all times and spoke the way she did. She speaks without a hint of stuttering, voice clear and strong, purposeful. He always heard her before he saw her. The click clack of her heels echoing, announcing her imminent presence, her energy commanded the same respect that he does when he enters a room.

Now though as they run through the possible questions for the examination and the cross examination, he views her in a different light. He still thinks that someone should serve her humble pie. Thinks that someone should knock her down a peg, for the sake of how she carries herself, too self important. He takes notice of her make-up, it's always done perfectly, but sometimes in the right light he can catch the puffiness of bags. His team's case is wearing on her and he really doesn't think seven fucking shots of espresso is good for her. He has seen her take her lunch and dinners, most of the time it's just a protein shake that Marco hunts down for her and a salad. His little miss is tired and she works like he did before he was put on administrative leave.

Always burning the candle on both ends.

An office isn't where she should be. A smart woman of her caliber should be homeschooling children and playing house wife politics, maybe even run a small business for fun. Most of her focus at this age should be on starting a family and carrying babies on her hip.

A smart woman but she is terrible with her life priorities.

“Okay, Jesus Christ.” She says after five hours straight of mock testifying. “Trisha, are you sure you've been working with Mr.Riley?”

Trisha is busy looking over transcripts of past recorded conversations. She doesn't bother looking up, “Yes. I did, but it's like pulling teeth. Perhaps we should break, it's like 12:30, we could all use a moment.”

John's little miss rises to her full height, lips pursed into a pout before she schools her face. “Fine two hours everyone. Marco, did that company call yet?” She walks out of the conference room with her assistant stumbling right behind her. Trisha looks them all over before following after her captain.

Marco on the way out after her says rather loudly, “He sent the roses under a different name Ma'am. He's really hoping you'll pick him for the contract.”

The door closes behind those three and it's Kyle who lets out a strained sigh and a laugh. “She's a tough bird. No-nonsense, reminds me of my mom.”

“She's a bloody tyrant.” Simon grumbles, “her and that damn woman.”

John can relate, Trisha has been making Simon go without his mask in public. In case people snap photos of him and he has an image to project. Covering half his face is not a part of that image apparently. “They are trying to get us off of war crimes. Be nice.”

“As if you're being nice.” Johnny laughs, “You call her everything but her last name. I think she actually tried to skin you alive in her thoughts when you called her ‘Little Miss.’”

He doesn't say anything as he gets up, the pop of his knees irk him. After this debacle he may just slow down and settle down. His thoughts go to his Little Miss, his sweetheart, his love dove, and he gets a sick sense of wanting. Who's to say he can't humble her, put her in her place, and make an honest woman out of her? He leaves the conference room and tells the boys to order whatever and he would pay for it.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You stare at the overly large bouquet of blood red roses on the break room table wrapped in black paper. You've been searching high and low for a sperm donor through a private agency. Hundreds of interviews that you've done, hundreds of men turned down. You're on a timeline and your last long term relationship was more than six years ago. It ended horribly, and the baby you would have was sent right on to glory. You weren't ready and you were at the height of your career and your less successful boyfriend couldn't stand it. Said some bullshit about your biological clock ticking and it was either him or your firm.

Your firm is top five, and Howard has been fighting with Harvard to see who could poach you to come take up teaching classes. He from what you remember he works in lobbying for insurances, the lowest of the low in your humble opinion.

“And he sent this?” You look at Marco.

“Yeah, he also sent over his latest test results from the fertility specialist he hired.” Marco seemed flustered.

“Chile, just pick a man, they are all the same.” Trisha says while heating up her food. “Maybe after this, you can talk to Simon, he seems virile.”

“Don't make me fire you.” you teased. “But in all honesty, I don't need a man to make a baby. I may not even carry the baby, I may just get a surrogate.” You pop open a protein shake and sigh deeply.

Marco sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes, “Well I would like for you to stop having me field your calls for sperm donors.”

You give a slight side eye, “I pay you thirty an hour to be my personal assistant. This is personal and after I won't even have you help me pick out daycares and nannies.” You all laugh at the prospect of making Marco do such a tedious task. He won't even be an assistant by then and will be a freshly minted lawyer.

Unknown to you, a little snake was listening in on your conversation.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

When the work day finally closes and ends, you are over stimulated and over Johnny and his accent and also over trying to get Simon to emote. You are at the finish line of the day when John opens up your office door. His company isn't expected, but if you speak with him now you can both come up with a game plan for how to make Simon appear more open and approachable while also getting him to do more than grunt yes or no to questions. If you speak with him now it is less time with him on Friday and you can make time for another round of interviews of potential sperm donors and look into a surrogate.

“Yes Mr.Price?” You glance up once when you hear the door click signaling the lock.

“You don't have to call me Mr.Price. Lord knows I don't address you so formally.” His smooth syrupy voice sends a shiver up your spine and alarm bells ring in your mind.

“Which you should do and get in the practice of. Seeing as how calling me Little Miss or the variety of names you have in your arsenal can hardly be appropriate.” you snip at him and close your laptop. “To what do I owe?”

“We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Love.” He sits in front of your desk and smiles at you.

Gosh you hate that handsome smile. You hate his stupid handsome face and you hate how well built he is. If you weren't sworn off men you would have denied the case and immediately started trying to pursue him. Sad that he opens his mouth often. Even sadder that he is quick on his feet and has a silver tongue. The notion of him never not getting what he wants lingers in your thoughts.

“Apologies accepted.” The quip you give him makes him breathe in deeply. His next words make you freeze.

“You're looking to have kids?”

“That's none of your business Mr.Price.”

“Please call me John, after this conversation we will be very familiar.”

You get to your feet, wobble a bit in your stilettos and slam your hands onto the desk. “Listen, you have been on my nerves since the second we met. I am a professional woman and you will treat me as such.” your voice and body is taut with agitation. It's infuriating when he slowly gets up and rounds the desk.

“You're running yourself ragged my love.” He whispers and leans into you, crowding you against the desk. “How you're living isn't becoming of a woman such as yourself.” His hand, rough with calluses but it's not unpleasant, grips your chin. His whole demeanor says that he's lived a vastly different life than you, everything he has he had to pull out of the mud and fight and kill for. The first thing you tried to ignore was the hunger and drive in his eyes. He doesn't mind taking the fall for their illegal war crimes and torture, let his boys walk free, say they were just doing orders that he gave. It was only Kate that told him no and to gear up for the legal battle of his life. You secretly find that admirable but when he opens his fucking mouth you see red.

You don't often stand next to him and you know for a fact your heels give you six inches off the ground. But John you notice for once is massive. He stands tall, his blue eyes looking you over silently. His cologne, rich deep and you know it by heart, he's worn it everyday he sees you. It's Hinoki and Cedarwood by Jo Malone, and just under that is the scent of his cigar. It makes your head swim and the celibacy oath you made six years ago seems like it was just a suggestion.

Yeah John Price has lived a totally different life compared to your upper upper class lifestyle.

He continued, “Overheard you speaking about sperm donors and surrogates…are you little miss too good for the old fashion way?”

You instantly yank away from him and try to shove him back, he doesn't budge. “Highly inappropriate!”

“No.” an arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you impossibly close to him. He grabs a manicured hand into his own and gazes at your deep red cat eye nails. “You would look better in more softer colors, pinks, pastel blues and yellows. Clean French nails instead of these red claws. You want a few brats and you don't even act like a woman a man would want to marry and settle down.”

“You're a bastard, let me go.” You hiss.

“We can start with that mouth of yours.” Without any fanfare, he presses his lips to yours. Your brain short circuits, mouth opens and he slips his tongue into your mouth. He sits you down on the desk, pushing everything to the side.

Eventually your mind catches up and the tension from the last six months comes pouring out of you. You scratch at him and tug at his shirt roughly. The gasps you let out only spur him on. When he pulls away some of your lip gloss is on his mouth and his eyes are wild with lust.

You don't want to look at him and yank him back into another kiss. If he wants to play these games it's by your rules. John gives in a bit, but he nips your bottom lip and then kisses your neck, right at your pulse point.

“A woman doesn't set the pace her man does.” He tells you, “You let me take care of everything.”

“Fuck you.”

You're in shock at this display. Words for once in your adult life fail you. He relishes in it openly as he grinds his bulge against your core. Even with the layers in the way, you can tell he's big.

His hand finds purchase on your necklace, wrapping the diamond stones into his grip before he presses his palm against your neck. It's a show of strength when he shoves you back on the desk. His free hand wraps a leg around his waist, and you feel him through his dress pants and your stockings. “Keep it up and I'll waste my cum on your mouth little miss.”

No wonder he acts the way he does. He has the dick and the swag, the presence to back up everything he says.

“Lay still, and look pretty.” He orders when he removes his hand from your neck.

The insult is on the tip of your tongue, but it dies at the sound of him ripping your stockings right down the middle.

“You brute, these are Gucci!” You chastise him.

But he doesn't listen, he stares at your panties, a lacy black pair peeps back at him. His hands push up your dress to your hips.

“I don't like my woman wearing such things. Silk and cotton are better.” Your breath catches as he traces the outline of your pussy through the lace. “Prefer my woman to wear wedges or heels under four inches at most, preferably flats. When we get along proper, we'll get you set right.” It's like he's talking to himself.

A finger wiggles itself under your panties and teases at your clit and slit. You feel your arousal start to form, and you're reminded that another man hasn't touched you in six years. “John, wait.”

He looks at you, such a predatory stare. “Yes sweetheart?”

“It's been a long while.”

“Hm. So you and her haven't had anyone else? I'll be careful.” He lies through his teeth. John has no intent on being gentle. He has every intention of showing you your place, and it is being respectful under him. The panties are ripped down the middle next, and you squeal at the sheer force he shows.

Cool air touches your sex for only a moment before he is sitting at your desk, in your chair, and shoving his face into your pussy. He laps at your slit and dips his tongue into you. It's warm and wet, and you gasp and breathe heavily. Your last boyfriend ate pussy like it was a chore. Something to do when you didn't get wet enough because foreplay wasn't his priority. It's part of the reason you left so eagerly a day then locked down the pussy factory.

John ate pussy like his life depended on it. Like he did it for the fun and sport of it all and that whatever came after you came was just a bonus. He grips your thighs and smacks them. A muffled order of ‘Over my shoulders’ is heard and felt. The vibrations of his voice sink into you. With your legs over his shoulders, he groans into you. His nose bumps against your clit and the pressure isn't enough. Heat builds up in your veins, and you can't really sit comfortably in your dress.

“John, oh fuck please-” you reach down and rake your fingers through his hair. His tongue flicks up and over your clit and that's when you pull him closer to you. Smothering his face into your warmth, and he grunts. Instead of giving you what you want he presses his tongue flat against your clit and holds your pleasure hostage.

There's no room to grind against him. He won't let you. Blue eyes peer up at you, and he's glaring. It's an unwanted stalemate.

“Fucking fine!” You flop onto the desk and go back to massaging his scalp. He then gives you what you want and proceeds to suck your soul out of you, right through your bud.

It's better than your rose toy. The pressure and warmth an experienced man brings is something you can't imitate. He knows this. He has too.

A finger slips into you, its movements slow at first, but your breathing hitches, and you let out your first real moan. It's soft, and you aren't sure if you even made a sound, but John heard it. Another gets pushed in, and he scissors you open.

“Oh sweetheart, my love dove.” He groans at the tightness and how your body relaxes slowly. “You haven't been treating her very well at all.” He's mocking you with how sweet and concerned he pretends to be. “I'm gonna enjoy this and probably get addicted.”

You don't answer him because his fingers brush against your softest, most sensitive spots. Your body tenses up with unreleased pleasure. There is a soft squelch that sounds off every now and then. He's a tease, slowly building your orgasm from the ground up. It's intense, and you struggle to wait for the crescendo, but it's there, at the base of your spine.

“John, don't tease.” You whimper.

“I told you.” He pulls his finger out, and you whine at the loss of contact. “Your man sets the pace. I gotta train you up, proper love.”

There's the sound of his zipper, and you shoot up to look at him. He's just as big as you thought, girthy, and the tip is red. He drips precum, and he smears it with his thumb as he gives himself a cursory pump with his hand.

“That's not going in me without a condom.” You frown and try to close your legs. He stops you.

“Why? We are just making our baby the old-fashioned way. The way God intended.” He presses the tip against you, and you watch in real time as your strong common sense goes out the window.

His dick is heavy and warm, solid through and through. While he pushes into you slowly, you feel every ridge and vein of him. The distant thought of ‘Why isn't he married?’ crosses your mind. But it's shortly answered when he once again open his fucking mouth.

“I'll fuck a baby into you and Prices are big and we tend to like big families. I'm thinking of Irish twins to start.” He grunts when he's all the way in, and he's so hot, and your dress is stuffy.

You're scrambling to undo the first few buttons, and instead of helping you, he rips it open. Shiny black buttons hit the floor with tiny clinks.

“Got damn it, Price!” You shout as he pulls back and slams into you. There's so much force in his hips and moves the heavy desk, rattles it.

“Good wives don't swear.” His arms find their way under your thighs, and he folds you in half. Your knees are by your shoulders, legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his body.

“Oh fuck.” Your voice is breathy and light as he hits deep into you. The stretch is hard to handle. His teasing did just enough to make sure he did hurt you. Your hands grip his shoulders and scratch down his sleeves and onto his forearms. “You're such an ass.” You manage to insult him.

He leans up off of you and goes to yank off his shirt. His hips don't stop or pause for a second in his rhythm. You swear your eyes bulge a bit at the sight of him. His chest is covered in hair but it's attractive. He grabs your cheeks and presses your mouth open with one hand. Your eyes widened from the pressure, unsure of what to focus on first, his tight grip or the pounding of your pulse as that distant orgasm creeps closer.

Actually you focus on the warm glob of spit he drops into your mouth.

“Good wives swallow.” He grunts, blue eyes watching your neck with rapt attention. You've got no choice and you do as you're told.

“Gross!” You squeal but he only chuckles and bears down onto you with more of his weight.

Your pussy is pulsing, in time with your heart beat. Warm walls sucking him in and it is so obscenely loud. The sound of your wetness is loud and it accompanies your moans and sighs and his groans.

John feels vindicated when he looks down at your pussy and sees it adjusting to him. The way your insides took him so well justifies your attitude. It also highlights the lack of attitude you have at the moment. “This is what you needed.” He says low. He switches to grind, and he watches as the fabric of his pants rub at your clit. It's so swollen and untouched.

You won't be coming with him touching that this time. It's something you gotta earn and you haven't earned that yet.

“You just needed a man to show you.” the next roll of his hips has you trying to arch up into him.

“Did I find your sweet spot, little miss? I must have, you've gone dumb and you can barely breathe.”

There's no words and your only response is your cunt clenching down on him. It's beautiful, just what he wants to see. The way your body shakes as the first orgasm of many washes over you. He switches back to thrusting and fucking you through it. The way you clench up makes him choke on his next inhale of breath.

“John, oh fuck, oh fuck!” You shout. It's the first orgasm in years that you've had without touching your clit and purely through penetration. There's a moment of clarity where you can almost imagine being able to ignore his personality and carry his baby if this is the dick he slings.

“I know little miss, I know.” He talks you through it. “Gotta fuck you nice and deep, put baby in you.” He goes on, “keep this pussy full of me, and maybe you won't be such a bitch. You'll be nice and sweet to me, listen to me.” He moves your legs around his waist. Yanks you down to where you're hanging off the desk, and he jackhammers you.

“JOHN!” You scream. It's too much.

“Fuck you gotta drain me dry, I'll give you a baby and it'll make you much nicer, two or three back to back close in age yeah?”

He has such a bastard mouth. You want him to shut up but his words as taboo as they are go right your pussy where they belong. The next orgasm isn't gentle, and it wrecks you. The tip of his dick kisses your cervix each time, and it drives you to insanity with pleasure and a little pinch of pain.

“Oh John, wait, wait!” You scramble to push him off. It feels weird.

“No, no more waiting.” He leans into you, presses himself close. “The sooner it catches, the sooner we can get married, and you can be right where you need to be.”

He won't shut up.

“We won't need a nanny, you'll be home like a good wife, yeah?”

The warmth at the base of your spine is spreading throughout your whole lower half. The way he fucks into you is dizzying. Aren't older men supposed to slow down? The audacity to have a big dick and a dirty mouth. Your orgasm hits you like you stole from it. You seize up like an electric current zips through your nervous system. “Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck! John!”

“Almost there baby, almost, you can take it. You can take a bit more.” The vice clutch of your cunt is doing him in. He feels how warm you feel, and then he feels it before he sees or hears it. You're shivering as you squint through your orgasm and that alone ends him.

He groans your name and one, two and three more thrusts and he's cumming. He's cumming hard and your squirt is pushing out his cum. He pressed his hips into you hard to keep it his cum in you. As close as possible, both of your skins are sweaty and warm. It's a mess, and he loves it, but he loves the way you breathe deeply instead.

“Oh God.” You whisper.

“No God, just me, little miss.” He kisses your cheek and temple. “Let's get you back to my place. We have to try many times to make sure it takes, and I have so much to teach you.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Friday morning comes, and it is the same as yesterday morning. Trisha is scolding Simon and showing him a chart of facial expressions. Johnny and Kyle are laughing. Marco isn't late, but he is worried. He stares out of the floor to ceiling windows at your car that's parked in the lot. He didn't see you in the office or in the break room. He would be the first to know if something happened, you and him are glued at the hip.

The conference room door opens, and John is holding it open for you. You aren't smiling, but you also aren't chewing out John like normal when you're together.

“I got your coffee.” Marco says, “Two sugars, oat milk, seven shots of espresso, caramel drizzle, light ice.” He sets your cup in front of you just as you sit down.

You glare at him and ignore the questioning look from Trisha and Marco. “Sit down Mr.Price or I'll do my best to get everyone off, but you.”

“She won't be having that. Got her a proper breakfast this morning.” John says, and he takes the coffee. There's a smug glint in his eyes that his boys know. Their captain just conquered something, and he's about to have something that wasn't easily obtained.

John only smiles that stupid, handsome smile. “Sure thing, little Missus Price.”

It's an aggravating and embarrassing experience to have your partner assistant stare at you. Their mouths wide open in shock.

Tag list: @wowitsafemale @uraeus56 @babydollcod @dragons-flare @cherishmoore @gloard @usoppsstar @pocketfulofposies @gazsluckyhat @curiouslittleprincess @ilostthewar @lostintransist @lay-z

a.n: Here's a cigarette 🚬 and a glass of wine 🍷. Hope everyone enjoys. It wasn't exactly what was requested, but it took on a life of it own. Was literally possessed when writing this.

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 3

Welcome to the permanent home of this fic! Every Tuesday until it's finished, this story will come out at 10am EDT.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm shadow banned or something because there has been a sharp decline in people seeing my stuff. Even if I tag them. So if I tag you and you get the notification, let me know, because when a story goes from 122 notes on chapter 1 to only 77 notes on chapter 2, I have to wonder if people who asked to be tagged are getting the notifications.

But hopefully with this story have a forever home, I can get the number back up.

Also I realized I spent an ungodly amount of time hunting for Billy. It won't always be that way and we'll get to the meat of the story soon. I promise.

In this we Eddie doing some legwork before meeting Susan and Max and the meeting itself.

Part 1 Part 2

~

Interviewer: That really doesn’t answer the question. What do you say to the rumors that you’re a serial killer?

Steve’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops: People are saying what now? That’s ridiculous! No one accused Agatha Christie or John Grissom of being serial killers. Should we make Dick Wolf go to jail because he takes real life crimes for his TV shows? This fascination with thought crimes is borderline insane and I’m not going to even deign to even entertain the idea.

Interviewer: It’s interesting you bring up Dick Wolf. Are you say that you take inspiration from true crime as well?

Steve: there is a long history of mystery writers using current events to help flesh out their works and to say that I’m continuing that long tradition I thought would have been a given at this point.

~

The first thing Eddie did after getting off the phone with Max was make his way to the high school to get Billy’s school records.

But he did not come empty handed.

“Linda!” he greeted the school secretary brightly. “I know you’ve missed me, because I missed our lovely chats.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “I miss those beers and chocolates more than I missed you. I still don’t know where you get them because no one else seems to carry them.”

Eddie batted his eyelashes sweetly. “But if I told you that, then what would I bribe you with?”

“You could always not do that,” Linda said wearily. “Like not bribe me at all. You can leave me alone with my chocolate and my beer.”

“I could...” Eddie said all syrupy, leaning on the counter on his fists. “Or you could get me Billy Hargrove’s school records.”

Linda paused in reaching out for her goodies and tilted her head. “Now what do you want that for? He graduated the year before you did.”

“That he did, light of my life,” Eddie said, oozing charm. “But his dear, sweet step-sister who is a sophomore here, is looking for him because he never came home. The police won’t look for him because he’s an adult.”

Linda sighed and then pushed herself to her feet. She went over to the row of filing cabinets and went straight to H for Hargrove. About a minute or so later she returned with the file to see the chocolates and beer on her desk.

She quietly handed over the file and tucked her treasures away in her drawers. “You’ll copy those and return it to me within fifteen minutes or I call the cops for theft.”

Eddie grinned and then saluted. “You’ve got it!”

Even with a minor paper jam, Eddie had the whole file copied and returned to Linda in under ten minutes.

“Until next time, sweetheart!” he crowed with a jaunty salute.

Linda just shook her head and pulled out the chocolates to snack on.

Eddie went to a nearby cafe and opened up the file. A lot of it he already knew. Like the fights and the underaged drinking. But some of it was. Like that he had beaten Steve for the captain position based on actual merit. Out in California he had led his team to two championships on the junior varsity team and should have done the same out here.

There were all sorts of behavioral problems. Like enough to make Eddie’s own school record look clean as a whistle in comparison. Accusations of doping and steroids. Stuff he certainly didn’t get from Eddie. He stayed clear of that stuff. Roided athletes were no fucking joke and the last thing he needed was his brains smashed out because he didn’t have the right amount or some shit. Near constant rage issues, which would track with the steroids.

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He wondered if he could see if he had a criminal record. Like anything before he was eighteen would be sealed. But the dude was almost nineteen when he went missing, so maybe he had run afoul of the law and had gone on the run.

The more he dug through the file though, the more concerned Eddie got. He had been talking to the school counselor about nightmares and Miss Kelly had written that she feared he was being abused by his father.

Eddie winced. He knew what that was like. If he hadn’t had Wayne to run to maybe he would have turned out like Billy instead of the geek he was today. Being forced to look and act a certain way, and being beaten for not being good enough.

When he reached the end of the file, he closed it and then his eyes, too. Shit. Nothing in that file was good in terms of an sense of morality or whatever, but it was good in giving him some leads on where Billy could have absconded to.

First stop was back to the office to talk to Murray about the criminal file and then on the phone to see if he could get into contact with any of his friends out in California.

Well, technically first stop was to Le Creme’s French bakery for their eclairs and raspberry cream horns. If he was going to get Murray to do his dirty work with the cops, he was going to need to come bearing gifts.

He strolled into the shop, prizes held high, “Hey, Murrrr, how’s it shaking?”

~

Eddie wasn’t sure what to expect when he went over to the Mayfields, but the two ladies were not it. Susan Mayfield was a petite blonde woman with a softness Eddie associated with being a mom. Max was everything hard and sharp and bitter. She had been dealt a shit hand and was angry at the world.

Conspicuously absent was Neil Hargrove. Eddie had assumed that the man would have wanted his son hunted down and brought back so that he could continue to have control over him. But he wasn’t there.

Eddie looked around the home and there was a distinct lack of male presence to be felt anywhere in the small house. He didn’t mean stuff ‘associated’ with men, like sports stuff and beer bottles everywhere either. He knew the kind of man Neil was, and there was none of the ironclad control of Susan and Max’s stuff hidden from view. It looked homey and lived in.

“Excuse me,” he said gently. “I was assuming Billy’s dad would be here, considering that it is his son who went missing.”

Max snorted and Susan shushed her. “Neil left after Billy vanished.”

“But not like immediately after,” Max clarified. “Like after a few days of not knowing where he was.”

Susan offered Eddie a seat and then sat down on the sofa. “You have to understand. Things weren’t good with Neil before Billy left for cigarettes and never came home.”

Eddie snorted and Max’s face twisted in a sardonic smile; she knew that stupid trope, same as him.

“So tell me everything you can remember about the day he left,” he said, pulling out a small leather bound notebook and pen.

They went through everything they could remember and Eddie wrote it all down. “Did he have any friends out in California that he might have gone to?”

Susan and Max shared a glance. But Susan shook her head. “We’ve already called his closest friends. They don’t know where he is.”

Eddie tapped his pen on the paper. “That’s fine. It won’t hurt to touch base with them again to see if he’s been in contact since, okay?”

They rattled off the names and phones numbers of Billy’s closest friends in San Diego and his favorite haunts.

“Are there any places in Hawkins or the surrounding area that he might have gone to if he got in trouble?” he asked, and then looked up at them expectantly.

Max shook her head. “He really hated Hawkins. He blamed everyone for us coming out here. Everyone but himself.”

“And why was that if you don’t mind me asking?” Eddie said tilting his head to the side as regarded them. Susan looked uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat, while Max was clearly upset about whatever went down.

“He broke of friend of mine’s arm,” Max admitted, looking between Susan and Eddie. “Because he put it around my shoulders jokingly.”

“Woof,” Eddie said with a grimace. “That’s some really nasty anger issues. He had been violent before that?”

“He was just trying to be a protective older brother,” Susan explained, gripping her knees tightly.

“Like hell he was,” Max scoffed, rolling her eyes at her mother. “I think he had started taking steroids around that time, because he hadn’t been like that before.”

“Max!” Susan protested. “You can’t just accusing people of doing drugs like that!” She turned to Eddie. “There was no proof that he was on drugs at all. He just had a temper like his dad, is all.”

Max bit her tongue but Eddie could see that she was holding back a scathing retort. It looked to him that he was going to have to get her away from her mom to get a real picture of the guy. Besides, he knew all too well that what Susan said was a blatant lie. Eddie had sold him those drugs himself. All but the ‘roids anyway.

Susan turned back to him. “Is there anything else you need?”

Eddie tapped his pen on the paper a couple of times as he regarded her. Her knees were pressed together and her hands had a white knuckle grip on them. Her jaw was firmly set and her lips her pursed. She did not want him here, that much was clear.

He got to his feet. “Nope. That’s enough to start with. If I need anything more, I’ll be in touch. These type of jobs can take time, but I promise weekly updates, whether or not I have anything, all right?”

Max was on her feet shaking his hand in an instant.

He smiled and winked at her. “Since you’re the one signing my checks, I assume I have to defer to you?”

“Damn straight,” she said grinning back.

He nodded once and then walked out the door. He really didn’t have much more information then he did before, but he did know one thing. And that was Billy Hargrove was the favorite and Max was that weird kid that parents struggled to understand and then ultimately gave up on around the time the hit puberty. He knew, because he was one.

Eddie walked out to his van and looked back up at the house bought with literal blood money and saw Max watching out the window. He gave her a salute and then got into his van.

He knew who Billy’s friends were in town, he just wondered how many of them stuck around after high school. Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and Heather Holloway.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he drove back to the office. Susan didn’t want to believe Billy was into drugs, but there were just far too many signs that pointed otherwise. Maybe it was time to call in his favor with Rick.

Because if Billy wasn’t getting his ‘roids from Eddie, he was getting them from somewhere else and he really doubted it was a Cali contact. So it must have been someone in town and the only person who would know would be good ole Reefer Rick, Rick Lipton. The man who controlled all the drugs in Hawkins.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Reposted so that everyone can see the correct post. The other will be deleted!

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10- @tartarusknight @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff

[krypticcafe]

i wanna know how u think 141 + König & Alejandro would react/feel about reader doing this trend with them, ofc reader doesn't upload it or anything they just record it for fun :]

if the link doesn't work the trend is basically a person is putting on lipstick and they "mess up" and their s/o wipes it off for them and the camera pans to their s/o covered in kissmarks

this has been on my mind for a while i think its so sweet 🥲 i lovelovelove ur writing!! its so good lik oml <33

Lipstick trend w/COD:MWII men

rating: teen

character(s): Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound König, Alejandro Vargas / GN!Reader

warning(s): language, suggestiveness

wordcount: ~1.6k

summary: Silly little lipstick trend with your silly little military boyfriend.

a/n: the money I'd pay to kiss these men dizzy.

Gaz

Knew about the trend for a while, was wondering if you'd do it, so it's not much of a surprise when you come to him asking about it.

Honestly, he thinks it's a little cheesy, but he's not so insecure that he doesn't want to do it, he's happy to make you happy.

Literally won't stop teasing you like "You sure you're doing this just for the trend?" when you're smooching him all over his face.

When you're done, you can't but stare for a bit.

"What, too pretty for words, love?"

"Shut up, Garrick."

"Make me."

Now his lips are a bright red to match yours<3

The recording goes pretty smoothly, but by the end of it, Gaz can be seen bursting into giggles which in turn makes you giggle a little until the recording cuts off.

You guys don't post it publicly, but I like to think Gaz posted a screenshot of when the two of you are in frame, looking at each other with goofy smiles.

Price

The last person you'd expect to be up with any trends, but it's alright, you're here to help him!

He's hesitant, only because he's a bit bashful! When it comes to these silly little recordings and any of your playful schemes, he gets a little shy about it.

But if you really bat your eyes, pout a little, maybe even tug on his sleeve...

"Please? Just this once, sweetheart?"

He sucks in a deep breath. He's a captain for Christ's sake, he's resisted things worse than this, and no amount of hellish torture has ever made him crack in the slightes-

"Pretty please? For me, Johnny?"

What was he thinking about again?

He sits there while you practically bounce in your spot while you lather on thick layers of lipstick, wondering if this will haunt him.

But all his bashfulness goes out the window when you cup his face oh-so-gently, smother him with kisses, giggling about how ticklish his facial hair is, how it nearly messes you up, how you smile proudly at your work and at him.

You swear you won't post it because you know he can't risk his reputation as a captain... but you also know nothing is stopping you from bringing it up every now and then to him.

Pulling up the pictures and videos, smugly grinning and ogling them while he groans at how smug you are.

Real proud of that one, aren't you?

Soap

"So basically for the trend I just need to put on some lipstick, kiss yo-"

"Say less."

Literally he doesn't care what he has to do, this man wants his kisses.

He'll be all "You missed a spot" when you're applying the marks on his face.

Your guys' version of the trend is a little different.

Instead, the video starts with you putting on lipstick, Soap takes it, commenting how the shade would look good on him, applying it on his lips before smothering you with kisses in the video, leaving the two of you all covered in lipstick stains.

After you wiped your face off, you notice Soap hasn't.

He's just staring smugly at the mirror, rubbing his chin, talking about how "Y'know, I think this actually looks good on me" and "Think I'll keep it on for today, yeah?"

"Honey, you can't go out like that."

"An' why not? I'm jus' wearin' makeup."

"Don't be a smartass- hey! Get back here MacTavish!"

Every day that man tests your patience, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Ghost

"You won't budge until I say yes?"

You're sitting on his lap on the bed, keeping him still, batting your eyes with faux innocence. He could lift you off if he wanted, but he doesn't, and that alone is enough of an answer for you.

"Nope."

He's trying to pretend so much that he doesn't care too much about it, that he's just letting you do whatever you want. Obviously, he's just playing along.

However, it isn't until you kiss that particular spot of his neck just right under his jaw where the stubble stops that it escalates.

"Oh? Is the lieutenant feeling ticklish?" You coo.

"'m not ticklish-" He's cut off by more kisses peppered around the area and a few extra on his face.

"Mhm, really, because," You're giggling in between your words, "When I kiss you here," He forces the fakest cough he's ever made when you kiss the same spot against, nipping it slightly. All he can do is lean back into the couch, leg bouncing impatiently, trying to bite back a chuckle or two until he finally cracks. The two of you are in a quiet fit of snickers and giggles until you finally let up.

After making the video, you silently gush over it, replaying it over and over. There's a hint of redness on his cheeks, and his eyes seem to flicker from you to the camera, it's the most flustered you've ever seen him be and you got it all on tape, lucky you.

Roach

"That's so dumb, of course I wanna do it."

Roach is all for goofy little couples trends, so it's nothing new if you ask him to do another.

"Babe, stay still would you?" You pout, "I'm gonna have to start over if you keep squirming!"

"Mmm, I think I'd like that."

"Of course you would." Rolling your eyes, you pinch his cheek and he yelps, apologizing and letting you continue. He really can't help it though, it's really ticklish for him.

It takes maybe three tries for you to get the video right, ending with one where Gary messed up your makeup for you by swooping in to give you a sloppy smooch and clumsily wiping it only to further smear it while in a fit of giggles. He claims you were taking too long so he put matters in his own hands.

"So when do I get to do you?"

"What are you talking about, that's all there is- Gary!"

"Nuh-uh, c'mere!"

Hound

He's confused as ever but agrees to it on a whim since he's often entertaining your needs and wants anyways.

As you settle on his lap, his hands rest on your sides and he looks up at you with affectionate eyes. He was looking at you like that when you were putting on your lipstick, too. You almost don't want to ruin his pretty little face, but at the same time, you think it'd look so much prettier with your kisses all over it<3

His eyes close and he stays still while you mark his face all over, even when your lips tickle sensitive spots like his scars. Patient as ever.

When you pull away, he looks like such a doll for you. Your hands cup his face and his lashes flutter open, showing those big brown eyes still giving you the same adoring look, and your chest is basically hammering. He can probably hear it, too. He reaches up to hold your hands and presses his lips against the knuckles. You swear your heart just stopped.

"Everything alright, sugar?"

Oh fuck, what were you supposed to be doing?

"Mhm." You nod frantically, face burning while his thumb brushes over a knuckle, "Y-You know, maybe we can just... tonight... haha... holdmeplease?"

Yeah... you never did quite get your video.

König

"What, with me?" He asks, bewildered.

"Of course?? Who else am I going to do it with? Oh sure, let me call up Horangi, I bet he'll be happy to-"

"Nonono! I want to do it!"

Moments later, he's sitting on the edge of your bed, hood off, fidgeting awkwardly, and watching you quietly. Now you know what he meant when they told him he couldn't stay still for the life of him.

"König, honey, you act like I'm going to hurt you or something." You chuckle, popping your lips as you apply your lipstick in the mirror. He wasn't even this skittish in bed so what had him all jittery?

Setting your hands on his shoulders, you reassure him with a kiss first on the forehead. "Relax, I just want to take a video, that's all."

"Sorry schatz, I'll behave." He hums, easing up at your touch and you smile, planting kisses all over. It seems he just didn't know what exactly he was in for.

You show him how he looks on your phone, "Thoughts?"

"Not bad..." He attempts to wipe off the marks, but you swat his hand away from him.

"You think we're done, mister?"

"Huh?" Practically pouncing on him, you cut him off with a hungry kiss, hovering your body over his. What, he didn't seriously think all you wanted was a video, did he?

Alejandro

He snickers, "If you just wanted my attention, you could've asked."

"I'm serious, Alejandro, it's a thing!" You beam, pointing to the videos on your phone.

He jokingly dismisses your claim and settles onto his office chair, looking at you expectantly. You're confused for a moment, what was he staring at you for?

"Are we going to do this or not? Don't tell me it was actually an excuse now, mi vida."

"No!" You blurt, though now you're debating if you should do this or just leave him waiting with how much he wants to tease you. Then again, you can't pass up this opportunity.

While applying your makeup, you can spot him quietly admiring you in the corner of his eye, and it nearly throws you off your game.

As you kiss him, he keeps his eyes on you, a grin on his lips. Not for a single moment does he tear his attention away from you, instead pointing at a few spots for you to mark.

"I got it, I got it," You huff, mumbling to yourself, "You're certainly enjoying this, colonel..."

Post-production, when you get up to wipe off your lips, he looks at you with offense, "What, that's it?"

"Yes..?"

"Nonono, I think we need to do it again, my way, this time." He snickers, pulling you in by the waist.

"Your way? Alejandro!" You whine without fighting back as he pulls you in for a longer kiss, all your protests forgotten.

a/n: homies i kinda regret writing this so close to valentine's day haha...

[bitchesuntitled]

Costco

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader wc: 2,421

Summary: Imagine if you will that you work at Costco, there's some weird stuff in the jalapeno poppers and some time travel happens. Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+ content(GO ON GIT), Sex pollen-ish(?), Unprotected PinV(be smarter than this), jalapeno poppers, costco, inappropriate use of a storage room, explicit language, time travel shenanigans, oral sex, think that's it if I missed anything let me know! A/N: I wrote this for a discord server fic exchange and it is for the wonderful @beefrobeefcal who I also tricked into helping me edit it because she is the sweetest! She's already seen it, I'm just now getting around to posting it. Thank you much to @jay-zzle for the amazing moodboard and helping me brainstorm on this story, without you this would not be a thing <3

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

“New! Bacon-wrapped stuffed jalapeños!” The front of the box states. What should be delicious looks more like if someone picked up a dog turd and wrapped bacon around it, trying to pass it off as something edible. John, your boss, was making you pass out the free samples of these supposed stuffed jalapeños.

Surely they aren’t that bad , you think, stomach rumbling, reminding yourself you had skipped lunch today. Glancing around to make sure no customers were about before grabbing one of the samples and popping it into your mouth.

“Oh god,” you mumble past a mouthful of cream cheese, bacon, and jalapeño in disgust. They look and taste like shit. You suppose you can’t expect much from prepackaged frozen food though. The bitter sour taste still on your tongue as you grab your water bottle off the table, chugging some of it to try and rid your mouth of the gross flavor. 

Reaching for the box to check the expiration date on these things, they’ve got to be expired with that sort of flavor. The ground begins to shake violently, toppling the box onto the floor. Your head snaps up to look around. What the fuck was that?

—

All Marcus could remember was running on the battlefield before slamming into this mysterious shelf housing weird colorful goods. A woman in strange clothing gasped, grasping the child next to her, also wearing strange clothes, before quickly scurrying away. Where are their tunics? The footwear they wore looked suffocating compared to his thin leather sandals. He looked around, trying to determine where he was.

Everything in this place was so damn bright and colorful. Not that Rome didn’t have its fair share of colorful beauty, but these appeared ten times brighter than Marcus has ever seen, such as the weird candles above his head that appear to possess the sun’s power with their bright intensity. He starts walking along the smooth stone passage, hoping to find someone he can speak with to figure out where he is and hopefully get some answers on how to get back to Rome.

He spots a beautiful woman in a blue apron standing behind a table. A kind smile graces her face as people walk past her. He thinks she must be selling goods at her table and decides to approach her for help. This must be a sign from the gods. This woman with her sweet smile and beauty beyond anything he could ever imagine, surely she’d be able to help him in his time of need.

—

After eating the supposed stuffed jalapeño, you weren’t feeling the best but you knew the last thing John would do is let you leave. Business as usual, doling out polite smiles as customers pass you by, glancing at the free samples and shaking their heads. No one wanted to try these monstrosities and you didn’t blame them.

“Oh, great,” you huff, rolling your eyes, spotting a man dressed in full Roman garb walking around aimlessly, “Must be some sort of convention in town again.” The man approaches you cautiously.

“Good afternoon,” you say with an upbeat, chipper tone, “Would you like to try some brand new stuffed jalapeño poppers that just came in?” you ask, gesturing to the stuffed peppers before you. “Despite how they look, they are indeed pretty tasty,” you say, giving the man a saccharine smile.

“What?” The man murmurs, glancing at the samples sitting on the table.

“They are a new product we just got in,” you explain, tilting your head to study him. The man continues to stare down at the table; he appears somewhat frazzled, like a small child who has lost his mother in the store. “Have you ever been to a Costco, sir?

“A Cos- what?” The man repeats, brown eyes narrowing as he stares at you. A fire in your veins lit up from his dark eyes peering at you, goosebumps rushing across your skin from his heavy glare.

“Costco,” you gulp, your tongue feeling like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth. You gesture your arms around. “The store we’re in? Listen, you okay, man?” you ask, grabbing your water bottle again.

“Never been here,” he murmurs, gripping the table between you, taking deep steadying breaths.

“It’s all good! I can understand the panic,” you chuckle nervously, taking a swig of your water bottle. The cool water gives your throat a short sense of relief as it travels down your esophagus. “This place is kind of overwhelming your first time. But we like to give customers samples of food so they can try it before they buy it?”

“Is this the local market for your region?” He asks, peering up at you. 

“Market? Region?” You ask, rolling your eyes, “Dude, I get you might be in character or whatever,” your eyes trailing up and down along his form, butterflies flitting about in your stomach as you really take notice of him. His skirt showing off his bare muscular legs, his strong torso filling out the chest plate of the armor he wore, his biceps straining against the fabric of his tunic, “But let’s keep it to today's times, please.” You grab one of the jalapeño poppers and shove it towards him. “Eat it.”

He takes it from you gingerly, fingers brushing against one another and a tingly sensation shoots straight through you to your core, thighs clenching together as you feel a rush of arousal seeping into your underwear. The man looks at you and then at the food.

“Just take a bite of it.” You laugh nervously, “Not like it’s poison or something.”

His eyes narrow at you with the mention of poison and he continues to stare at it.

“Look, I’ll even eat one too, so you know it’s not poisonous,” you murmur, picking up one of the jalapeños and taking a good-sized bite to prove your point. “Mmmm,” you let out an exaggerated hum around a mouthful of the disgusting appetizer. The man slowly brings the pepper to his lips before biting into it, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth, but continues to swallow before grabbing another to devour. “Hey man, you’re only supposed to take one.” you caution, watching him eat the second sample before he grabs your water bottle, attempting to open it. “Woah now, hold on just a minute there.”

“Water!” he gasps, shaking your water bottle, his big hand gripping the flesh of his throat. “I need water.”

Your eyes widen, nodding dumbly as you open the water bottle for him and hand it over. He snatches it from your hands, suckling down the liquid in heavy gulps, watching as his throat bobs up and down as he swallows. It feels like someone has turned up the heat, your breath coming faster as you watch him. This should not turn you on as much as it is. This man is simply drinking water to quench his thirst.

“W-what’s your name?” you ask, the ache between your thighs growing in intensity the longer you stare, watching as he places the water bottle back on the table with a loud – thunk – he stares at you, his pupils overshadowing the deep brown of his irises.

“Marcus,” he growls. Your cunt flutters around nothing, hearing the baritone of his voice. “And yours?” you let out a small squeak, giving him your name. You can feel the sweat dripping down the column of your spine as you stand there staring at one another. You watch a bead of sweat slide down from his temple, trailing to the side of his neck. It makes your insides scream, wanting to leap across the table and lick it off his skin. You can’t take it anymore.

“Follow me,” you whisper, a small whimper escaping your lips, reaching across the table, gripping his wrist firmly, and pulling him to follow you to the back of the food section. The storage room for the freezers should be a good spot. No one likes going in there because of how cold it is but the frigid temperature doesn’t even register with the way your body feels like it’s on fire.

You grip Marcus’ wrist harder, pulling him in and shutting the door behind you, turning to face him. A puff of air escapes your lips as you breathe out, approaching him slowly, watching his dark eyes drink you in. He grabs your waist, pulling you flush against him, his mouth descending onto your own with a grunt as his tongue flicks against your bottom lip. You gasp, creating enough space between your lips for Marcus to plunge his tongue into your mouth, tongues rolling against one another, fighting for dominance. He grunts, pushing you against the wall, trailing his lips across the column of your throat.

“Marcus,” you pant, breath hitching at the simple touch of his lips against your neck. He groans as your fingers tug his dark curls, “More, Marcus. Please,” you beg, shoving his hand below your apron, letting him feel the heat of your pussy through the jeans that cover your legs. His hand comes to the waistband of your jeans, trying to tug them off before you help him unbutton them and slide them down your legs, kicking off your shoes in the process. Goosebumps ripple down your legs as Marcus’ strong calloused hands caress your skin, inching their way back towards your thighs.

“Beautiful,” Marcus hums, grabbing one leg and placing it on his shoulder, “Such a sight to behold,” he murmurs, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Marcus,” you gasp, your hand reaching down to grasp his hair and pushing his face where you want it most. He lets out a deep chuckle, nosing the fabric that covers your mound.

“You smell delicious, sweet girl,” He grins, taking a deep breath in against your pussy. His fingers toy with the elastic of your underwear, hooking them in and pulling your underwear to the side as his tongue makes contact with your center. Already feeling the coil in your belly tightening at the first contact of his tongue. You let out a ragged moan as his tongue swirls against your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Marcus,” you whine, and he grunts against your pussy as you tug on his hair. The vibrations against your clit causing the coil to snap inside you. Your back bows as waves of pleasure wash over you. “ Fuckfuckfuckfuck ,” you cry out, smothering Marcus’ face with your juices.

Marcus stands, his lips and chin glistening from your arousal as he looks down at you, “My turn,” he grunts, gripping your waist quickly and pushing you to the nearest flat surface. His hand comes to the back of your neck, gently nudging you down against the pallet of fish sticks. You want to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but a moan comes out instead, feeling his thick fingers push inside you. The frills of his skirt hit the back of your thighs, and your pussy clenches around his fingers, turning your upper half to try and get a look at him. His fingers leave the warmth of your sex, one hand still gently on the back of your neck while the other reaches under his skirt and tunic, pushing the fabric aside for his length to bob freely, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh gods, I need to feel your warmth around me,” He growls, looking up at the wrecked expression on your face, “This is okay, yes?” he asks, rubbing his tip between your folds. “Please tell me it’s okay,” he grunts, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out, the fire in your veins burning brighter from his touch, “Please,” you whisper, your legs trembling with effort to stay upright. Marcus snaps his hips forward, plunging his length into your heat. Your walls create space for him as his thick cock kisses your womb. Your hands scramble, attempting to find something to hold onto. Marcus’ arms reach past your shoulders, caging you beneath him as he grips your hands and shushes you.

“It’s all right, sweet girl,” he coos. “You’ll be fine,” he continues, pulling back a few inches before snapping back into your warmth with hunger. “Remember, it's my turn now.” He taunts, feeling your walls already beginning to flutter around him.

“Oh god,” you whimper, writhing as his length saws in and out of you with fervor.

“Oh gods, look at you,” Marcus grunts, grinding his cock into you harder, “Taking me so well,” he groans, squeezing your hands tighter as his hips continue to move against you. His chest comes flush against your back, “Are you going to come for me, sweet girl?” he breathes against your neck. You let out a pitiful moan and nod. “I can feel how much you’re enjoying this,” he comments with a grin, moving one of his hands down to your center, feeling his length punch into you over and over again.

“Fuck !” You scream out when Marcus pinches your clit, your walls clenching tightly around his cock as your orgasm takes over. It feels like a ball of energy has erupted within your body and zips down all your limbs, ears ringing as you faintly hear Marcus grunting and growling behind you. 

“Oh gods,” he shouts behind you, thrusting into you half a dozen more times before painting your walls with his warm spend, collapsing on top of you. “I have never felt like that,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“Me neither,” you hum, feeling your body floating back to earth.

—

You pull your pants on clumsily as you hear your boss calling your name through the faint buzzing in your ears. 

“The hell are you woman?” Pushing through the freezer storage doors, John shouts, “Why are you back here?”

“I- we- I- well,” you start, smoothing your shirt down before slipping your apron back on.

“Save it,” John huffs, glaring between you and Marcus. “Get him outta this room,” he says, pointing at Marcus, “and start pulling those jalapeño poppers off the shelves. The FDA called every grocery store in the country and issued a mass recall. Apparently, they’re having some weird effect on people,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Sure thing, John,” you huff, walking with Marcus towards the door, giving John a pat on the shoulder, “But I gotta go to the health section first and see if we have any plan B in stock.”