#and i think its like. this sounds like its laid quite bare right. but its hard to word even. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteotlma · 2 months ago

Text

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

266 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 3 months ago

Note

I feel like Joe's the type of guy during a heatwave to complain about the heat but still insist on cuddles. And I just imagine both parties being grumpy from the heat but also from not being able to just cuddle.

lil short one! sticky sweaty cuddles with a lil side of grump! Wordcount: 1.5K

---

That Better?

"Where do you think you're going?" you can barely make out the words Joe's mouth tries to shape. He's pressed up against your chest, his whole cheek stuck to your skin in a way that makes his lips go funny.

It's uncomfortable. Way too hot and sticky. Outside you can see another flash, and hear the sky rumble in the distance. No rain yet, though. Just humidity.

"Joe," you warn when he tightens his grip on you as you try to move away a little. "Please, it's too hot." You use both hands to find his shoulders to create some space in between the two of you.

It's difficult, because you're fatigued with the heat, and Joe is stronger than you.

"The fan's on." Joe argues, though it's dry and flat, no energy to put any heat behind his words. It's already hot enough.

He holds on, quite tightly at that, and you huff a breath into his face as you relax again. You're too weak. The room already feels stifling and heavy without a person stuck to you, but Joe's lying right on top, and you desperately need the fan to hit the areas of your body that he's covering with all of his right now.

But Joe doesn't want to move.

He's grumpy for it too, but he needs the cuddles to get to sleep, no matter how warm and sweaty and gross it feels.

Which, it does.

Everything feels damp.

It's silent for a while, until you can feel a drop of sweat make its way down your scalp, sliding through your hair slowly and then picking up speed when it gets to your neck.

It's disgusting.

"I'm not even moving and I can feel myself sweat." you complain, but Joe just hums. Adds, "Yea, it's sweltering." in agreement. He can feel you sweat too, but knows that it just means that the fan feels nicer for it. He doesn't add that bit of information - fan feels like a sensitive subject now. You had just had a big fight over whether or not to sleep with the floor fan on.

It wasn't exactly a silent one - the fan or the fight.

Joe desperately wishes for the fan to be moved out of the bedroom; it's a big floor fan that sounds like an airplane taking off, he'd always say. But you need it on. You'll take the loud constant whir that will bring you an actual breeze over suffering in a dead silent humid room that feels more like a sauna than anything else.

"Baby, you know I can't sleep with it on. It's too loud."

"Can't sleep with a fan on, but can fall asleep in the middle of The Expendables." you'd sarcastically said, making a face at him. The Expendables was basically a whole film of big loud explosions. He'd insisted on watching it the other day, and then fell asleep about 15 minutes into it.

"You know that's not-" Joe sighed with frustration. "That's hardly the same."

You could feel the sweat sit between your toes, it was that hot.

"Joe, without the fan on, I don't even want to touch my own body! Let alone yours!"

You fought, back and forth until you'd cut it off by going for a cold shower. When you got out, you found Joe in bed with all the lights off and the fan on, and you silently accepted Joe's kind compromise.

When you'd laid down on the bed, Joe had immediately rolled half onto you, and you knew that in return for the fan being on, he wanted to at least be able to fall asleep the way he wanted to. Needed to.

Touching.

All snuggled up.

Breathing your breath, limbs crossing limbs, bare skin pressing into bare skin. Feeling heartbeats and hearing heartbeats, until one of you can't feel their arm anymore from lying on a shoulder weird. Joe needs the comfort of a whole person to make a psychical connection with to feel instantly at ease.

It not his fault that you calm him down so much. That he loves you.

And you love Joe too.

But it's definitely too fucking hot for any of it. You feel too grumpy, and you know Joe isn't in the best mood either.

Joe might feel at ease, but you don't feel at ease at all.

You're still holding out hope that the clouds that had threatened rain all day will actually give way. The heat needs to break already. So far, no luck though. Just some flashes and some rumbling thunder up high in the sky.

You're not a fan.

You don't like thunder storms. There's something so very threatening about them. Every loud crash makes you jump a little, surprising you every single time.

Joe knows.

He remembers the first time he'd been around you during bad weather, and he had watched you from up close for a little while until something inside of him took over.

I, big giant man. You, small little defenseless woman. Must protect.

Cave man behaviour.

Cute when you're after a little babying, but absolutely awful when the heat and the humidity had you in an awful mood. Like right now.

Another flash lights up your bedroom for a split second, and you can hear how the storm's getting a little closer.

"I'm not scared, you know," you comment softly, and Joe just hums again. Acknowledges what you're telling him, but keeps you close for his own comfort. Doesn't seem to care if you're scared or not - just pretends that you are, because he likes that a little better.

He ducks into his shoulders a little more, curls up to you a little more, and you can feel how the side of his face slides against your chest.

Slides.

You try to hold back an audible wince at how much you hate that, and you endure Joe's weight for a little while longer. But then, slowly, the itch under your skin becomes too much and it builds until you feel like you're about to burst.

"I can't," you suddenly sputter, pushing at Joe's shoulders again. "Sorry babe, but I cannot." you say definitively, groaning as you move to sit up. This time, Joe lets you go.

When you see Joe's sad little face, half of you wants to reach out to wrap your whole self around him. But the other half wants you to go sit in the freezer.

Unfortunately for Joe, the latter wins.

"M'sorry, just..." you turn in the bed and find a piece of cold mattress to lie down on, your head near the foot of the bed now, your feet near your pillow. You get the best bit of air from the fan from there too, right in your face, and it feels a little better.

It really does help that you're damp all over.

Makes the air actually cool you down.

You suppose that's what sweat's meant to do in the first place, so it makes sense.

Joe watches you from his spot.

Watches as you starfish on top of the bed in the dark, hair blowing in the breeze, and Joe wants to frown, because this isn't what he wants. But then he sees how the creases on your face slowly disappear, and just witnessing you be a little more comfortable makes his own frown smooth out a bit too.

"That better?" Joe asks, and you're not sure if it's a sarcastic question or not. If saying yes will hurt his feelings or not. You detect a little hidden bite in there though, so you don't answer.

Instead, you sigh a little contently and say, "Come over here."

Joe doesn't need telling twice.

In an instant, his legs have swung around on the bed and he finds a nice much cooler spot next to you.

"Here," you say, and you hold out your hand.

Joe gives it a glance before looking at your face. He knows you've only just showered, but your hair's mostly dry already. He notices it now as it drapes over the edge of the bed, swaying in the wind. You may be sweaty, grumpy, sticky, and uncomfortable, but you're still gorgeous. It's almost annoying how he likes the way the heat makes you look.

"Hold my hand." you say when it takes too long for Joe to grab hold of it.

It's your compromise.

Joe smiles.

Takes it.

It's not as nice, but Joe will take it, fingers intertwining as your palms glue together.

"That better?" he asks again, and this time there's no doubt about his intentions, voice much sweeter and softer, no hidden bite left in there at all.

"Hmm." It's your turn to hum now, agreeing as you add, "Better."

Joe gets to touch you.

You get the fan on.

It's not the best of both worlds - it's still fucking boiling - but it's definitely better than before.

And then, just when you think, maybe you actually could fall asleep like this, you can hear the soft patter of a few raindrops hitting the bedroom window.

Just a few at first, but it quickly picks up into a gentle, rhythmic pattern as the sound grows.

You squeeze Joe's hand, and there's still a slight slick to your palms and fingers, kind of clammy, definitely warm.

But it's kind of nice to be stuck together like this.

Joe squeezes back, and you let a happy sigh escape you.

You can actually fall asleep like this.

"Much better."

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #that better?

207 notes · View notes

mphoenix-7 · 5 months ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 7: The Cabin: Day 3

Summary: What starts out as a peaceful morning quickly turns steamy after an argument.

Word Count: 9,565

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, smut, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering

A/N: Yeah, you read the warnings right. It’s time. When I tell you this chapter took days to write 😭 different parts got rewritten like four times. The final product is nothing like the drafts. Even editing it there was stuff added, and I got to the point where I just needed to stop and post it. Please enjoy!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 7

The storm settled down about thirty minutes after you and Soap ate. It still continued to rain, but the thunder was moving off into the distance, and the wind had stopped completely. You were still forced to stay inside, but at least the worst of the storm had passed. You could look for the damages done tomorrow.

Soap laid down after he finished eating and just rested. You didn't say anything more to each other about his episode, and you didn't expect him to open up. It was a little different for everyone, but sometimes talking about it made it worse. With nothing better to do, you also laid down. The sound of the rain falling softly outside was eventually enough to lull you into sleep.

The next morning, you'd gotten up super earlier. Given the fact you probably went to sleep around 1900 (or 7 pm) that made sense. Soap was still asleep when you got up. He was sleeping on his back, an opened black journal balanced on his chest, and a pencil still in his hand. His arms were bare, meaning sometime last night he'd probably stripped down to his underwear again.

Leaving him be, you got up and decide to see what the damages were from last night's storm. You moved both rocks away from the doors then went out the back door, closer to the lake.

There were tiny sticks everywhere in the back. Once they dried out, they'd be great for the wood stove inside. A few larger branches were also scattered about. The one that caused the loud scrapping noise last night had just barely missed the outhouse, and its limbs were propped right up against the side of the cabin. If it'd fallen a few inches closer, it would have hit the roof. You hate to think about what would have happened if it had.

Hopefully this was the last of the rain for a while. You weren't sure if you could take another storm, and shockingly, not because of Soap. Honestly it hadn't been the absolute worst thing to be trapped inside with the Scot. It'd mostly just been boring. But then again Soap had been out of it most of the night because of the episode he had. You had feeling things would have ended in a shouting contest if he hadn't. Regardless, you didn't want that or for him to get triggered by another thunderstorm.

Luckily, the sun was out, birds were singing, and there wasn't a raincloud in sight. It was beautiful out, and you wanted to enjoy the morning. You hadn't had the chance to go on a walk or a run yet. It would be nice to start off your morning positive for once, unlike the last few days.

To be expected after a storm, it was fairly muddy, puddles of water everywhere. The lake had also risen quite a bit with the new water level came right up to the tree where Soap had been sitting yesterday. So a walk along the shore wasn't going to be possible, but you could handle a little mud in the woods. Heading back inside to the bedroom, you make the decision to go on a nice walk around the woods.

Soap is still asleep on his cot, his brows pinched together slightly, and his book still balanced on his chest. The pencil had slipped from his hand though and now just lay beside him. You move around the room as silently as you can, grabbing the things you need and trying not to wake him in the process. He'd make a sound every now and then, but he never woke up.

Once you were ready, you pause at the bedroom door and look over to his sleeping form. You were debating if you should wake him up to let him know you were going. He hadn't given you that courtesy before. Maybe it was time for a little payback. Time for him to wake up and not know where you are. Odds are though, you'd be back before he's even up. Or he simply wouldn't care.

With that in mind, you gently shut the bedroom door, and head off for your walk.

***

For the first time since arriving to the cabin with Soap, you finally feel some of the stress melting away as you walk through nature. It smells like dirt and rain, and it's absolutely perfect. Even the tension is your shoulders seems to be easing up a bit as well.

You're not sure how long you've been gone. There was no way to keep track of time. At some point though, you decide to turn around and start head back the way you came. You didn't want to go too far from the cabin in case you got lost.

As you're stepping over a fallen tree you used as a landmark to let you know you are heading in the right direction, you hear some rustling coming from some densely packed foliage behind you. You pause for a moment, watching the now still bush. Just as you're about to brush it off as nothing, you swear you hear a growl or a grunt. Adrenaline floods your system, triggering your fight or flight instincts. In this case, you go with the ladder reflex.

Jumping off the falling tree trunk, you start to walk with a quicker pace, trying to distance yourself from whatever you heard. The thought of it being a bear or a mountain lion crossing your mind, making a new fear run down your spine. Sure, you were highly trained in stuff like hand-to-hand, but your expertise was in protecting yourself against humans and maybe dogs, not wild animals. If you had a gun, then yes, you could absolutely take on a wild animal, but you didn't even so much as have a knife on your person to defend yourself with.

As you walk, you keep looking back over your shoulder, though you never see anything. While you are distracted and not looking where you're going, you suddenly step in something squishy. Stopping and looking down, you discover you've stepped in what is probably bear poop. A big fresh pile.

You gag a bit and remove your foot, trying to desperately kick and wipe it off on the foliage and nearby trees. The shit on your shoe distracts you momentarily from the thing you'd been trying to get away from. It's when you hear more of the rustling and sniffing sounds that your blood runs cold.

You look around again, still not seeing anything. The greenery around you is far too dense to get a good view. You know you have to get away, but not knowing what the threat was is really beginning to freak you out.

Forgetting about your soiled shoe, you start to walk again, trying to fight the urge to run. Rationally, you knew that could cause whatever it is that's following you to start chasing you. You just want to be back in the safety of the cabin with Soap. Why didn't you bring one of the flares or the knife? It was just a pocket knife, but it would have been better than nothing.

Once some distance has been made, you pause and listen to see if you're safe. You can still hear the soft low rumbles and the shuffling of leaves like something is tracking you. Soon enough, you can't help it anymore; you start to run. You've got to be almost back by now. Surely you can just outrun whatever it is.

It's hard to listen for anything chasing you while you're running, but every time you look behind you, you don't see anything. The bushes are moving, but you can't tell if it's cause you just slammed through them or if you're really being chased. Not wanting to know the answer, you don't dare to stop until you see the cabin.

Relief floods your system when you see the clearing that houses the cabin. The moment you cross the thresh hold, you expect to feel safe. However you don't. You look back towards where you just came from and watch for any signs that the mystery animal is still following you. There isn't any movement or sounds, only the labored sounds of your breath from running. Slowly, you start to back up towards the cabin, senses heightened.

When your back hits something solid, hands grabbing you, you don't process immediately that it's just Soap. Your mind is still in survival mode. You scream and start trying to fight, getting a few angry and surprised sounds out of the Scot.

"Oof-! Steaming fucking Jesus, States!"

Soap had gotten up shortly after you left. When he couldn't find you, he'd assumed you were out in the woods somewhere and just went about his morning. He also surveyed the damages and decided to pick up sticks until you came back.

When he heard a ton of rustling on one side of the cabin, he went to check it out, and there you were. Your back was to him and you were taking slow steps towards him. You'd been about to run into him, and all he did was put his hands up to stop you, and then you started attacking him.

"What the fuck has gotten into you!?" He grabs your wrists, and you're quick to stop trying to hit him once you come to your senses. You look into his eyes, then hear the sound of the leafs rustle again. Your gaze snaps back to the tree line.

"Something was following me. I-I think it was a bear. I ran all the way back." You find yourself pressing back into Soap. His hands move from your gripping your wrists to holding your sides by your ribs once you turn.

You don't notice it, but Soap stares down at you for a second as you huddle against him. His eyes are softened and filled with concern before turning hard as he scans the woods, looking for this bear. He keeps holding you, keeping your smaller frame close to him. You can feel his hold on you tighten a bit, almost protectively.

As he does, without even fully realizing it yourself, you're starting to relax into his hold. Your body is naturally pulling towards him. He's warm and feels like safety. It's when the fear in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies that you notice all these feelings. You try to tell yourself it's just remnants of adrenaline.

When there's a little more rustling, Soap starts to wordlessly move. His hands drift to your hips, and he moves around you. "Stay here." He mutters to you, walking to the tree line, picking up a big stick along the way for protection.

"Soap, wait! What are you doing?" You really don't want to see him get mauled by a wild animal, but there's not much you can do to stop him aside from pick up a stick for yourself and try to help.

Soap pauses to listen carefully for any movement or signs of danger before poking the stick into the green shrubs in an attempt to startle whatever is in there. You tense up as he does, hands gripping your stick tightly, prepared to fight whatever it is he startles.

A little squeak comes from the bush, and Soap watches as a two squirrels dart back into the woods and up a tree. It causes a laugh to bubble in his chest, one he tries to stop, but soon, his hands are on his knees, and he is laughing at you. All you can do is stand there and glare at him, dropping your stick. It makes a dull thump as it hits the ground.

"It was just a few wee fucking cons! You were running from a squirrel!" He laughs, making your cheeks turn a deep shade of red. You're were not too fond of being laughed at.

"I wasn't running from a squirrel!! I heard growling and-"

Soap is still laughing at you. Any "butterflies" you might have had when he held you were crushed immediately. You hadn't been running from a squirrel. Whatever it was had been big and had a deep growl.

"It was a bear! I swear. I even stepped in its shit!" You motion down to your boot, which just looked muddy, but you knew better. "There was at least one nearby!" This just makes Soap laugh even harder.

"You stepped in bear shite too? Oh, that's too fucking good. I bet that fucking sucks." You don't feel like he's sympathizing with you at all. "Have fun cleaning that mess up. Let me know if you need me to scare off anymore angry, growling squirrels, eh lass?"

Your face is getting red with anger and embarrassment more and more by the second. "Stop laughing at me, you fucking dick! I know what I heard!" You shout at him. It had to have been a bear.

Soap sighs as he finally calms down a little, wiping his eyes like he's wiping away tears. His amused express is at restarting to grow a little irritated with your continued claims about the bear. "Oh quit your fussing! There's no bear here, so just pull that stick from out of your ass and calm down."

"How about you stop acting like I'm stupid! Like I'm making it all up, or I'm some paranoid idiot! Even if it was nothing, it still felt like I was being chased."

Soap rolls his eyes, huffing a little. "States, seriously, you're fine so let it go. Stop acting like a wee little girl and start acting like you're a grown ass woman in the military. Go inside, calm down a bit, and come help me pick up sticks."

You roll your eyes at him. You know what you heard. You know how you felt. He could say you got scared by squirrels, but you knew better.

"Go fuck yourself, Soap. I'm not helping you with shit. I'm hungry. I'm going to make food." You grumble, leaving him and stomping towards the cabin.

"Make me some too, aye?!" He calls after you. He was insufferable. You still have four more days of this. The third wasn't even close to being over.

"No!" You shout back, getting a scoff from him.

"Brat." He mutters under his breath as he watches you disappear around the side of the cabin.

You retreat to the cabin, kicking your poop covered shoe off by the door outside before you went in. You'd had enough of being in the woods for today. Outside for that matter. You were certain there was a bear out there somewhere, and you weren't looking to run into it again. If possible, you were content to stay inside and read the rest of the day.

You search around a little bit for something good to eat, eventually settling on making some eggs. Putting a log and a few sticks in the stove, you get a fire going. You set the only frying pan you had on the stove top and wait for it to heat up. Once it does, you take out the eggs and flip the carton open.

Before you can grab one, a scratching sound near the front door makes you jump. You're tense for only a few seconds before huffing and relaxing. It had to just be Soap messing with you.

"Fuck off, MacTavish!" You shout, trying to go back to your cooking, but it keeps happening. Sighing in annoyance, you storm over to the front door. "Soap, I swear, I'm going to kill you if you keep it up!" You shout angrily, pushing the door open, but not seeing any sign on the Scot.

You venture outside a little more, but you don't see him anywhere. What if he wasn't the one messing with you? What if it was the animal from earlier? An uneasy feeling settles over you.

"Soap?" You call out softly, but you get no reply. You even try to peak around the cabin to see if he was hiding by the sides. When you don't spot him, you begin to feel more on edge. Groaning in frustration, telling yourself not to worry, you head back inside.

You pick up the egg carton and try to resume your cooking, though you're still tense and on edge. You'd just managed to pop the lid on the eggs open when Soap comes bolting out of the bedroom. He's making a big scene, growling and snarling, almost like he's pretending to be a bear.

The second he does, your heart is leaping into your throat and you scream. Adrenaline surges through you as you instinctively use the thing in your hand as a weapon. Soap is pretty much right behind you by then, and your muscles react faster than your mind can process. You smash the small paper carton into his chest with all your might, the impact causing most of eggs to burst out of their shells, yolks splattering across his shirt and dripping onto the floor.

Soap stumbles back a step, a mixture of surprise, shock, and anger prominent on his features as he looks down at his shirt. As he does, the box falls to the ground. Any eggs that hadn't broken certainly did as it hit the hard wooden floor.

Your body is buzzing, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you look down at the carton, equally shocked. All of your eggs are gone. Meanwhile, Soap is standing there mirroring your expression. His jaw is dropped, and his clean shirt is splattered with a generous dose of raw eggs. You both stand in stunned silence, until all hell breaks loose.

"Jesus, States!" Soap exclaims, wiping the yolky mess off his chest and onto the floor. "Why the fuck would you do that?! Why did you toss the whole damn carton at me!? That's literally the best fucking thing we have to eat!"

You're in shock. He's really going to get mad at you?

"You're joking right now?" You inquire, raising your eyebrows at him. "Tell me you are joking! You're gonna get mad at me when you're the one who fucking just scared the shit out of me!?"

"I didn't think you'd freak the fuck out and throw all our fucking eggs at me!"

"I didn't think you'd be acting like a child and trying to pull a pathetic prank on me! You scared me for no fucking reason!"

"Oh for the love of God, woman," he growls. "Get a sense of humor! It'd do you some good. Now we have no eggs and my shirt is fucking ruined! I only brought four pairs! I don't have a washing machine or an endless supply of shirts at my disposal!"

"You'd still have a clean shirt if you weren't such a jerk!" You shout back, hands clenching into fists at your sides.

"It was a bloody joke! What about you? Thought you were supposed to be a field specialist. Couldn't hear me coming? Didn't know something was up? Are you that fucking bad at your job?" Soap was pissed at this point to be taking jabs at your line of work.

You laugh, the sound lacking any amusement. All that was there was pure rage and spite. "The hell did you say? I'm not good at my job?" You ask lowly. "I reacted like anyone would when they're scared out of their mind! Forgive me for assuming I wouldn't have to be on guard around someone who is on the same team as me!"

"Ah, don't start with that shite again." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

"Don't you dare fucking walk away from me, MacTavish! I'm not done with you!" You follow after him, moving to block his path. He's trying to head into the bedroom.

Soap glares down at you as you stand in his way. His chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths. "I'd fucking like to get a clean shirt," he growls, gesturing to his chest, still smeared with the remnants of the eggs. "So move."

He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own. He pushes you back into the bedroom and off to the right side of the room where your cot is, simmering in anger.

God, he was so livid. He just wanted to get his shirt and get out of this cabin before he did something he'd regret. Tension had been building rapidly between you since day one. Ghost's words had been haunting him for the last three days, and it was all he'd been able to think about.

You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system.

"Don't push me!" You growl, shoving Soap's hands off you even as he's retracing them.

"Then get the fuck away from me! Leave!" Soap shouts, ripping his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the ground.

"Really? You're telling me to leave when you're the one who started this?!"

"Yeah, I am! So fuck off!" He seethes, storming over to your shared dresser and pulling out a clean shirt for himself.

He doesn't wait to put the shirt on, instead just making a break for the door. You're far too upset to just let him leave though. Moving fast, you block the doorway again, a hand on each side of the frame, trapping Soap inside. Though he could easily plow right through you if he wanted, he just glares down at you.

"Get out of the way, States."

"You know, maybe if you were a better teammate we wouldn't be in this mess! It's your fault we're in this damn cabin anyway!" You point a finger at him, poking him in the chest and adding to his annoyance.

The second you poke him, he snaps. He was so fucking done with this. His patience was hanging by a thin thread, and you just cut it with a knife. In a flash, he grabs your wrist, twisting it so that your finger is pulled away from his chest. His grip was firm, but not painful as he forces you to walk backwards into the kitchen. He glares at you, his blue eyes icy and filled with anger.

"You know what, States?!" He barks, his voice deep and filled with venom. "You think you're so bloody perfect, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you're not! You mess up all the fucking time! Just like how you messed up in Naryn!"

He moves closer, his face inches from yours. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, see the fury burning in his eyes. Your chest as heaving as you stare up at him.

"Why do hate me so damn much! Tell me, Soap. What did I ever do, that from day one, I became the one person you're ever an asshole to?!" You shout back at him, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"I'm not doing this right now." He growls, releasing your wrist and turning to retreat, but you want answers. You follow right after him and block his exit yet again, making his fists clench as his sides.

"No! You're going to answer me!"

"States."

"Why do you hate me?!"

"Move."

"Or what?" You challenge, not aware how close Soap is to snapping. Your eyes are locked on each other, each refusing to look away.

You're both breathing heavily, and the tension in the cabin is building to a very unstable level the longer you hold eye contact. The very thin string that's been keeping you apart is slowly breaking, snapping slowly until there's just the most fragile thread holding everything together.

Then Soap looks down at your lips, his eyes the knife that makes it all come shattering apart. Before he could think twice, before he can rationalize it, he grabs your face, leans down, and captures your lips with his in a rough, angry kiss. It was spontaneous, impulsive, and probably a terrible idea. But in that moment, he didn't give a damn.

You stand there in shock.

He's kissing you.... Soap MacTavish was kissing you....

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was rough. All teeth and tongue and force.

It was confusing. It made your head spin, making you feel instantly dizzy. But you didn't want to pull away.

You hesitate only for a moment before grabbing his head in both of your hands and pulling his lips harder against yours. Your body presses right up against his as you meet each of his kisses with a fury of your own.

Soap is taken aback by your response. He fully expected you to pull back, slap him, yell at him. But instead, your hands are tangling in his short hair, pulling him in closer.

Well, fuck.

He deepens the kiss, his hands slipping down to circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, your arms circling his neck, keeping his lips on yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, your chest pressed against his, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intoxicating, maddening, and thrilling.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and desire. You bite down on his lip and barely register the small, primal sound of satisfaction that rumbles in Soap's throat as you do. His hands move from pressing you against him to gripping your hips. With a grunt, Soap is pushing you back against the closest wall he can find. Your lips pop apart for just a second before he's smashing his back against yours.

He pins you against the wall with his body while your hands eagerly run down his chest and torso. Every time he moves, his muscle flex under his skin. You can’t take your hands off him.

His hands can’t seem to help exploring either. They restlessly roam every inch of you he can touch. Eventually, his hands find the hem of your shirt, and he wastes no time in getting the chance to feel the soft skin of your torso.

The thin fabric of your shirt offers little resistance as he slips his hands underneath it. You feel his roughened fingertips trace up your sides, moving until he reaches your breasts. He cups both of your breasts through your bra, giving them a firm squeeze before gently kneading them. You gasp against his lips, a soft, needy whine leaving you.

Oh hell...

Soap is in deep now. He doesn't care about the consequences, about what this might mean for you both. At this moment, all he wants is you.

"States," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you open your eyes as your lips part a little.

He's still so close to you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against your lips and mixing with your own. His eyes are locked onto yours, his gaze darkened and pupils blown. Like he’s a starved man staring down an animal he wants to devour. It’s almost too intense. Your eyes leave his, flicking down to his lips for a second. They’re red and glossy from your intense make out. You’re sure yours look the same to him.

You don’t get to admire his swollen lips for long. The moment you break eye contact, he strikes. His lips are back on yours, a deep groan leaving him when you instantly return his kiss.

His hands have left your breasts, quickly trailing down your body to grope your plump round ass. He gives both cheeks a firm squeeze, pulling you away from the wall just a bit. One hand moves up to the curve of your spine, the other staying on your butt cheek. He then grinds his hips against you, pulling you tight against him as he does.

You moan at the friction, able to feel him through his pants. He's getting hard right against your thigh as he shamelessly squishes you into his growing erection. His hips are gently humping into you, and you want to move too, but he’s holding you far too tightly.

You didn't think you'd ever be in this position. Kissing, let alone dry humping, on Soap MacTavish. Yet here you are, locking lips with him in some kind of sick, hate filled dance.

Not able to move much, you move a hand to the back of Soap’s neck and gently, but firmly, dragging your nails from the base of his skull to the side of his neck. It pulls a shuddery moan from him and makes his hips lose their rhythm.

Soap suddenly pulls away a little, slamming you back against the wall once more. You grunt as he does, pain radiating up your back. With how much he was slamming you around, you were gonna be so bruised tomorrow.

"You fucker." You growl, hands moving to grab his hips as he presses them back into you. He starts to grind once more, a deep chuckle emitting from him.

"You deserved that one." He says, voice almost shaky with lust.

"The hell did I do?" You ask breathily as he leans back in, kissing at the side of your throat. He trails the wet sloppy kisses right up to your ear, his breath hot and voice husky as he offers up an answer.

"You've been driving me fucking mad for six months." He growls lowly, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

You moan softly, his words making the throbbing between your legs so much worse. You press them together, but it doesn’t little to stop the ache.

Soap starts to trail his kisses urgently back down your knee, teeth dragging and lips making delicate popping sounds as he sucks a few marks here and there. You moan quietly into his ear, placing a hand on the back of his head as your eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, he bites down, rather hard, making you gasp and wince. It hurt like hell, but also ignited some hidden pleasure you hadn’t known existed.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You moan, legs buckling, nails digging into Soap’s shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Soap grabs your hips before you can fall, slotting one of his own thighs between yours. He begins to gently rock you against him, soothing that ache with each rub against his flexed muscle. It pulls a satisfied moan from your lips as he grins at you.

"Oh, there you go, lass." He mumbles, leaning in to kiss at the spot he’d bitten. "That feel better? You like that?"

"Ass." You sigh, gripping his arms as you shamelessly start grind on his thigh to get some relief.

He chuckles at your remark, his teeth nipping at your jawline. "Such a brat. You drive me fucking mad, States, you know that?" He growls, his voice low and lustful.

"Yeah, you don't exactly make me sane either." You growl right back at him, making him laugh deeply.

He removes his thigh completely then, making you whimper at the loss. Your legs instantly buckle again, hands holding onto Soap to keep yourself upright. His hands move to your hips almost instantly, steading you and pressing you back against the wall.

"I can't wait to fuck that sense back into you." His lips collide with yours once more in a bruising kiss. It's dizzying the way he kisses you. And when he bites your lip, making you hiss, and he grins about it. Oh you hated him. Cocky bastard.

His hands move from pinning your hips to the wall, to tracing alone the hemline of your pants. As he is kissing you, he starts to unbutton your pants and yank them down. They only make it to your mid thigh before getting stuck. He growls against your lips, muttering something about you, "always being so fucking difficult."

Your mind is too fuzzy to realize what Soap is doing until he's doing it. Your body jerks, and you gasp when you hear the sound of your pants ripping. Your eyes fly open, and you give him a rough shove to view the damage he's done. The seam right between your legs has been torn almost completely in half.

Your jaw drops as you stare down at your pants in shock. You don’t even realize that his arms are snaking around behind you to finish the job. When he gives it another forcible rip, you snap.

"Oh my God! Soap! Are you serious right now?!" You shout at him, the brain fog of sex clearing up quickly. You can't believe he's just destroyed your pants.

"You ruin my shirt, I ruin your pants. Maybe you can use these as rags when you clean up those eggs."

"Like hell I'm not! You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be the one cleaning that up. They wouldn't be there in the first place if you hadn't scared me!"

"Yeah, but you're still the one who threw them."

"I can't help it if my fucking reflexes are triggered! If I clean it up, I'm cleaning it with your clothes, you bast- ahh~" You try to threaten him, but your words are cut short when his fingers find your clit. His thumb has slipped under your panties and is rubbing quick little circled right onto the sensitive thing.

Soap laughs as your words trail off, slowly backing you against the wall as you turn to putty under his touch.

"Oh, steaming Jesus... you're already fucking soaked for me." He growls out, eyes training on where his thumb is moving in your underwear before turning his attention back to you. "You that desperate to get your hands on my clothes, sweetheart?"

You huff at his accusation. "That's not what I said, and you know it." You say through clenched teeth, mind melting. "Your clothes smell like shit anyway. Little egg wouldn't hurt."

His hand shifts slightly then, and his middle finger prodding around just slightly before finding your slick entrance. It takes nothing for his finger to push into your velvety walls. He doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the feeling of his finger inside you. He's thrusting it in and out of you, using his palm to keep a steady pressure on your clit.

"N... nah..." you try to talk but couldn't get the words out. The pleasure is so sudden, and when Soap hits that one spot, you don't even want to try to argue with him anymore.

"This all it take to get you to shut up?" Soap growls, his free hand gripping your hips tightly to keep you from moving. "Huh, States? Just needed someone to finger you real good? To fuck some manners into you?"

"Fuck. You..."

Your nails are digging into his forearms as his hand picks up speed, palm now slapping against your clit with each thrust of his fingers. You can feel the pleasure inside you, building and building. Like a faucet dripping into a bucket where the water is beading up at the rim, so close to breaking and pouring over the edge.

And you might have let yourself come if it weren't Soap who was the one trying to make you go over the edge. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of coming so soon, so easily on his just his fingers. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a long moan, trying desperately to hold on.

"Fuck, States," Soap growls, able to see just how close you are to giving in. He slows down enough to allow his thumb to find your clit once more, rubbing it in slow, hard circles to change up the pace. He wants to hear you moan, to see you lose control.

"Still think you won't clean it up?" He asked, smirking as your glare turns into your rolling your eyes back as he presses his finger right into the place he knew had been making you squeeze down on his finger. Your hips instantly buck against his hand when he does, telling him he had the right spot.

Shifting slightly so his hip is pinning your leg, he brings his now free hand to your throat, which makes you tense a bit. Your breath hitches, expecting him to squeeze and close your airway, but he's holding it gently, not squeezing. Leaning in, he starts to kiss at your lips again, slower this time, but still just as rough and mean.

His finger has stilled now, buried as deep as he can go. He starts to slowly stroke at the spongy tissue, curling his finger against the same spot over and over. He swallows every moan that leaves your lips, pressing himself harder against you when you fight for control by bucking your hips.

"If you promise to be a good girl," he speaks against your lips between harsh slow kisses. "And clean up the mess you made, then I'll let you come." He gives you a few more kisses, not letting you answer immediately. "You gonna be a good girl for me, States? You gonna shut the fuck up, listen, and do what I tell you to?"

He's looking right into your eyes, his hand still on your neck to keep your gaze on him. You were so tired of Soap having all the control. Tired of not being able to get a word in because he had his hands all over you. You growl at him, which just makes him grin.

In an attempt to level the playing field, you reach down to the now very prominent tent in his pants and grip him hard. Needless to say, you're very happy you'd been making eye contact with him when you do. It wipes the grin right off his face.

"Ahh, fuck!" Soap lips part as he lets out a strangled groan, eyes rolling back ever so slightly. His hips buck hard against your hand as you grip him, and he curses.

He feels a lot bigger than what you'd seen when you accidentally walked in on him naked. Then again, he also hadn't been fully erect then. His cock felt hot, heavy, and throbbing now.

His hand leaves your neck to grab at your wrist, gripping it, but not moving it, as you start to rub your palm against his bulge. He watches the action for a little bit, panting heavily, before turning his focus back on you. His hand starts to move again, thrusting into you in time with your rubbing.

Not one to let Soap of all people win, you start to unbutton his pants and reach down into his underwear to pull his rock hard cock free. Soap hisses as you do, and you can tell why the second he springs free. The tip of his cock is an angry red color. It shimmers slightly from the puddle of precum it's been sitting in while in his underwear, and another bead of it was already forming on the slit, getting ready to form into a little droplet and drip down.

Wasting no time, you get to work, stoking up and down his length, working the precum down his entire shaft. Once he's more slick, you start pumping him furiously, stopping every now and then to let your thumb focus on rubbing the sensitive skin under his tip.

And Soap is fucking loving it. He groans heavily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Oh fucking hell, lass. That's it..." He breathes, his hand now slamming back into your pussy in quick thrusts.

"I'm not cleaning up shit." You seethe, voice just above a whisper. Your disobedience earns yourself a stinging bit to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Soap's teeth dig into the soft flesh, and you moan out, a mix of pleasure and pain, right into Soap's ear.

The moans sets something off in Soap. He has to have you. Right here, right now. Nothing else mattered. He needed to feel you clamping down on him. He wanted to rid himself of all the tension from the past three days, clear his mind from the anger, burn it off by fucking you. He wants to make you feel good, feel pain, make you scream his name. And he will.

"You don't want to play nice?" He asks, pulling his hand free from your underwear and yanking your hand away from his cock. "Don't want to take responsibility still? Well that's fucking fine, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so stupid you won't be able to form a single thought let along clean."

You have a retort, but you yelp before you can get it out. You're not sure how he does it, but in a quick movement, Soap has grabbed your legs, wrapped them around his hips, and has you up off the floor. His cock is now resting right in the crease of your ass, your back is still pinned against the wall, and your arms quickly circle his neck for support. The last thing he does is adjust his grip on you, both hands moving to support your ass.

"Doubtful." You egg him on, making him pause to look at you. "You couldn't even make me come on your fingers. What makes you think your cock will be any better?"

Soap glares at you, a snarl forming on his face. "I could've made you come on my fingers, but I'd rather feel you come around my cock."

You rolls your eyes at him. "Bet you'll come before I do."

The glare on his face morphed into a grin that spread slowly onto his face. His member twitches against your ass, and you almost wish you hadn't said what you just said. It was a challenge now, and Soap loved proving you wrong.

"Really?" He snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He shifts you around in his arms, cock dragging along your ass as he pulls his hips back. His tip leaves a cool wet trail. "Let's see if you still think that when you're coming around my cock." You feel the push of his velvety, hot tip as it drags through your folds, lining himself up. "You better brace yourself." He warns, his tone dark and dangerous.

"You better not-”

He pushes into you then. A single, quick thrust of his hips, and his thick length is splitting you in half, filling you completely. You throw your head back against the wall, your breath getting caught in your lungs. Even as slick as you are, it's by no means painless. The sudden intrusion makes your entire body tense as it tries to accommodate him.

"Breathe, States." He instructs, thumbs rubbing circles onto your thighs. At least has the decency to pause for a moment and slowly work his cock the rest of the way into you instead of just ramming you again. By simply lifting your legs a little further up on his hips, you finish sliding down onto him.

His hips are flush with yours, your clit just kissing his hair covered pelvis. You sigh and gasp when your clit meets up with him, the bud still very sensitive. Soap takes a moment to rock you against him, giving your clit a little more stimulation.

"There bonnie. That's better isn't it?" He moans, the gentle rocking feeling good for him too. "Ohh fuck.." He sighs, pressing his forehead to the side of your neck. "You’re so tight."

"That fucking hurt, you fucking ass." You curse him when your breathing finally evens out a bit. That's Soap cue you're ready for more.

"Oh, you're fine. It'll feel good." He readjusts his grip, moving his hands to your thighs, preparing for the harsh fuck he's about to give you.

He wastes no time, dragging his hips back, only leaving his tip inside you, before snapping up into you, starting a brutal pace. You groan loudly, throwing your head back as he slams into you. Each thrust creates a smacking sound as his hips collide with yours. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shoulders and clenching your teeth as you wait for the drag of his cock to feel good.

Soap is already enjoying himself, moaning and panting against your neck. "I'm going to ruin you, States.." He breathes against your skin, his voice a low growl. "Feels so fucking good..."

Then it's like a switch has been flipped. The drag of his cock goes from a dull ache to feeling incredible. He's hitting something in you that's taking your breath away in the best possible way. Once the pleasure starts, there is no more holding back.

A moan tore through your vocal cords, head falling back against the wood behind you. Your walls burn as they stretch and flutter, seeming to form perfectly around his cock. The second Soap has you moaning, he goes harder. His hips piston up into you, making your back slam against the wall. It's probably going to make you so sore later, but fuck you don’t care right now.

Soap is starting to sweat already from his efforts. It's also hot in the cabin. Normally he props the doors open during the day for air flow, but he's not about to stop to do that now. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to look away from you. His eyes stay locked on your face the whole time. Your eyes are shut, your mouth hanging out as moan after moan pour from your lips.

He was out of his mind. Fuck Ghost for always being right. Fuck him for putting this idea in his head.

"Ahhh.. Soap!" You moaning his name is almost his undoing. His hips stutter, and he has to focus on not finishing right then and there. His needs to get you off. Now.

Moving his fingers back your clit, he starts to frantically rub your little nub, making you cry out. Fire is coursing through you, everything is wound too tight.

"Come on, States,” he pants, “That's it. I know you're close, lass. I can feel you fucking trying to milk me. Just let go for me. I know you want to." He coaxes, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck!" You curse, his dirty talk really starting to drive you towards the edge. Your legs are shaking as they lock around him, your clit is burning as he continues to rub it. Harsh slaps filled the cabin as Soap's hips continue to met yours, squishing sounds echoing as his cock penetrates you over and over and over again.

"Come for me lass." Soap commands, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “Come for me right now.”

"I... fucking.. hate you. So damn much." You growl, tears gathering in your eyes from the intense orgasm about your hit. And then you come, relief flooding your veins. All the tension eases up, all your stress is gone. Melting away as each pump of Soap's cock drags out the waves of pleasure.

"Yeah, scream it louder!” Soap pants, pushing harder, slamming you down on him. “There you fucking go. That's it! That's fucking.. Fuck, States!"

Soap feels your walls act like a vice around his member. One squeeze from you is all it takes to drag him towards his own finish. He needed to feel his own release, to feel himself come undone inside you.

As you start to come off your high, Soap is desperately chasing his own, ignoring how your body is starting to relax. He thrusts harder, faster, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you up.

All you can do is grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he buries his face into your shoulder, his stubble ticking you. Your walls are still fluttering in aftershocks, moans and heavy breaths still pouring your lips as Soap fucks you.

Soap is close, you can tell. His breath hitches, his body tensing as he nears his own climax. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate. He could feel it building, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, ready to explode. With one last hard thrust, he comes, shooting his load deep inside you.

He groans heavily into your ear, his cock twitching as the hot ropes of his come paint your insides. He’s finished after three more thrusts, his body shuddering as he pushes into overstimulation. He keeps his forehead against your shoulder, panting heavily while he recovers. He can still feel your walls fluttering around him, could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You cling to him, his hold on you just as tight as the waves of pleasure start to fade for you both. Now that your mind is no longer foggy with lust, something heavy settles in your gut.

What the hell you've just done…

"Fuck," Soap curses, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You feel him shift his hips, allowing his softening member to slip out of you, making you wince. He all but drops your legs, letting them fall from around his waist. You wobble as you try to find your footing, and he pushes you to lean against the wall before taking a step back himself.

You cling to the wall as your shared release begins to drip out of you, running down your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You're panting, as is Soap, as you both try to rationalize what's just happened. Dread and regret settle in the pit of your stomach.

Soap tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand over his face, looking anywhere but at you. You feel so fragile in this moment as you watch him, waiting for his next move.

"Soap?" You whisper, desperate for him to say something. To talk about what just happened, to tell you what this means. But as Soap looks at you, his eyes harden.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He points to the eggs and to the floor under you, his voice cold and distance. He turns to leave, shoving the cabin door open and going God knows where.

Your voice catches in your throat, hurt by his words. You want to stop him, run after him, but you can't. You're in shock, your legs are weak, and you're starting to realize just how much you fucked up.

One second you're in an intense argument with Soap, the next you're fucking each other raw. And now you’re all alone, wondering what hell you just did.

***

Soap needed air. Now. He just made the biggest mistake of his life, and you're looking at him with the most scared and confused eyes. Wondering so many things, things he doesn't have answers for.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He tells you. He knows there's no reason to treat you this way. Especially since he's the one who initiated sex with you, but he's so mad at himself right now. Mad for letting himself give in. And even worse, now you look hurt.

He needs air.

Soap rushes outside, shoving the door firmly like it purposely got in his way. He stands on the porch, running his hands over his face. Trying to calm down. He just needs to breathe for a minute.

Ghost was right about one thing. The orgasm you just pulled from him did release all his tension. Like it was as simple as cutting a single thread. The thing he neglected to tell him was that after all that tension and stress was released, a different kind of tense would creep in.

Actually Soap supposed he was 100% right. Ghost never did say a thing about what it would be like after.

Fuck Ghost…

Soap wants to run. To leave and never come back. But as much as he can't stand you, Soap can't bring himself to leave. Not after your first night together, not after seeing how scared you got. No, as much as he wants to, you are still his squadmate. No man left behind. He can't leave anyone else behind...

However, he is equally aware that he needs time to himself to process everything. Work through some stuff in his head before you talks to you. He should at least help you clean up though. What kind of a guy would he be if he just fucked a girl and left her to clean up the mess. He was already planning on leaving for a few hours to clear his head, he might as well make sure you're somewhat ok before he goes. So you won’t be so stressed.

Sighing, hoping this will just blow over, that somehow you'll never to talk about it, he turns to go back into the cabin.

***

After about a minute of clinging onto the wall, you find enough strength to move. The first thing you do is wiggle out of your destroyed pants and use them to wipe between your legs. Your underwear was still on, but you want to change into a fresh pair. A lot of your arousal had stained them and some of Soap's come had gotten on them when he pulled out.

Once you're clothed again, you make your way back into the kitchen and look down at the white and clear stains on the floor. You want to clean up that stain before anything else. Wipe away the evidence of your coupling. However, you know it's not going to do much. The soreness between your legs is a constant reminder of what happened.

You kneel down, and right as you're about to grab your pants and use them to mop up the mixture of your and Soap's release, the door opens again. You're frozen as Soap walks through, his eyes on you at first. An awkward tension fills the space, and you look away from him, picking at one of the loose strings on your destroyed pants.

Soap finally moves, stepping past you to get to the bedroom and coming out a second later with his egg covered shirt. He kneels down in front of you and uses the sleeve of his shirt to start wiping up the cum stain. Once it's mostly gone, aside from the dampness causing the wood to be two different shades, he moves on to pick the eggs box up and takes it outside.

You get up and start to clean up the eggs while he's gone, knowing you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later. You couldn't just fuck each other and act like nothing happened. Especially with the history you and Soap had.

When Soap comes back, you find yourself tensing up once more, the awkward air returning. He pauses in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to look up him. Eventually, he joins you on the floor, helping you mop up the eggs.

Once the area is clean, or mostly clean (the eggs left a residue), you finally look up at Soap. You open your mouth, wanting to talk to him about everything, but he speaks first.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit. Few hours." He says, moving to stand up.

You want to run after him, tell him to stay so you can talk things out, but a part of you is too ashamed to go after him. You felt like you'd already lost your dignity and running after him would just make you feel even more pathetic.

“Ok…”

You let him leave, the creak of the front door sealing the decision. The moment the door closes, a wave of anguish crashes over you. Now that he's gone, you can finally let the tears fall. The confusion, the anger at yourself, the regret, the shame—all of it eats at you until you're exhausted. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Soap is gone for hours again. It's getting dark, but you can't bring yourself to care as much as you did the first time. Having some time away from him to cry and work out the emotions was actually kind of nice. But the loneliness creeps in, wrapping around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. You curl up on your cot, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

By the time Soap does come back, you're already in your cot, eyes shut but not sleeping. You hear the front door open and close, hear his footsteps come to the bedroom door and wait outside, hear the door slowly push open, and you can image him peeking inside.

"States?" He asks in a really soft voice. You don't answer him.

He comes into the room, and you feel like he's looking at your sleeping form, but you don't dare open your eyes to check. You hear him sigh, and then he starts to quietly move about the room, getting himself ready for bed.

When he finally crawls into his cot, the silence settles heavily over the room. And once it's silent again, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying.

323 notes · View notes

seungfl0wer · 5 months ago

Text

*I remember my 1st kiss*

Paring: Jisung x Reader (GN)

Genre: Pure Smut

Warning: Mentions of biting, Edging, Unprotected sex, cream pie, Friends to Lovers

This may not be suitable for everyone, this is your last warning.

This is the kinda jisung I think about a lot, it’s (Imo) a soft one here. Idk it’s just cute to me. He’s just cute to me idk man. I hope you enjoy!

-🩵

Getting bored sitting at your place you think to yourself “today’s a good day to go bother your bestie.” You know he’s not doing anything by his snaps of him sprawled out on the couch watching tv. You were already pulling up to his shared space when you texted him “hey you busy?” You could see him typing but before he could send it you were already waltzing through the door.

Saying hi to him as you came in he almost threw his phone at you letting out a screech “y/n what the fuck you trying to give me a heart attack?” He says whinging loudly. You laughed walking over to plop yourself down beside him “sorry sorry but I brought some snacks” you say dangling the bag in front of him. He huffs but takes the bag happily finding his favorites “listen I was board and you’re never doing anything so here I am to brighten your day!” You said with a goofy smile. “Oh definitely brightened it” he replied sarcastically.

“Han Jisung are you saying I don’t make your day so much better? My existence should make you just explode with happiness” you teased being dramatic garnering you an eye roll from him. “Well since you’re here we can watch that show we’ve been talking about” he said flipping through Netflix. You nod watching him scroll through the app. You know he was quite beautiful. Those cute boba eyes of his, his cute marshmallow like cheeks and that gorgeous smile of his.

Jisung might have been your friend for awhile but if he ever gave you the chance you’d happily take it. I mean who in their right mind wouldn’t?

You grabbed your drink sipping on it while he found the show, you guys had a list that neither of you could watch without the other. You remember you did one time and it was like you kicked his dog or something. He started the show sitting back into the couch getting comfortable. A episode in you were still struggling to get comfy “stop moving so much” he said eyes still glued to the tv. You rolled your eyes “fine” you said as you grabbed his arm draping it over you so you could rest your head on him.

You could feel his body tense a bit especially when your hand found its place on his bare knee. His words got stuck in his all he could muster was a soft “comfy?” You smiled contentedly nodding yes. You could see the soft pink blush across his cheeks which almost made you melt. It was so cute. He was so cute. As the show went on there was a kissing scene you made a remark about “I remember my first Kiss” making a joke at how badly the kiss looked on screen.

Jisung tilted his head a bit “mine was awful” he stated “I don’t think I’ve had an actual kiss” he continued which shocked you honestly. He was such a handsome man how could he not have girls falling over him. You looked up at him not even thinking of it your hand found it way to his cheek before pulling him into a kiss. It was deep kiss, you could feel the sparks form in your stomach hoping he would feel the same.

You were about to pull away but jisung chased you lips not wanting it to end. You happily continued to kiss him. You both swiftly moved it was almost like autopilot, you laid down as he laid between your legs on top of you. You both just having to most sensual make out session. Jisung hands began to wonder going under your shirt to softly play with your nipples. As he did your hands also wondered slowly rubbing him through his sweats. He quickly broke away from the kiss pushing his head into the crook of your neck letting out the sweetest little moans.

God was it ever hot, the sounds of his whimpers right by your ear had you soaked. You wanted ton ruin him, wanted to make him a mess. You quickly pushed his pants down just enough that you could with play with him properly. His cock was hard so flushed with red and so ready to explode. When he felt your hand on his cock you thought he’d cum right there. He started to hump into your hand with every movement the most sinful sounds left his lips “y/n-“ he panted out “cl-ose”. You grinned before taking your hand away.

He let out the most desperate whine hips moving to find any contact. You were gonna edge him good, wanting to make him cum hard. Putting your hand back on stroking him slowly before pulling away again feeling him twitch. “Y/n please” he begged but you were enjoying this. You ruined his orgasm a good 4 times before you yourself couldn’t take it anymore. Between his moans, him sucking so hard on your neck everytime you’d stop, the feeling of his cock so close to your heat you needed him. He wasn’t gonna last long at all but neither were you.

You whispered into his ear “wanna fuck me?” With that This man wasted no time. His legs were so shaky as he moved, he struggled taking off your pants almost falling as he took his own off. But he quickly took his position at your entrance. As he slowly pushed into your dripping heat, both of you moaned and groaned.

His body was plastered to you, arms wrapped around you as he fucked deep and sloppy. The moans escaping him sounded so heavenly brining you closer to your climax. His cock filled you so perfectly, he was hitting all of your spots. “Jisung- god you feel so fucking good. Fuck I’m gonna cum.” You screamed out digging your nails into his back as he bit down on your neck he was close to, you could feel it he was barely hanging on. The sound of you saying his name though drew him over the edge his legs started to stutter which made him hit your g-spot.

Your back arched, your legs shaking around him as you came all around his cock. He seemed lost in everything as his thrusts become fast but lazy as he came deep inside you. He plopped his body down onto you both of you heaving. Jisung clung to you tightly his face buried into your neck still. As your breathing calmed down you stroked the his head leaving little kisses on it. “That felt so good” he said breathily. You nodded “you felt really good” bringing his face up to kiss his nose.

He smiled but it faded quickly “Shit! Y/n! I came inside you!” The poor boy was frantic he thought for sure you’d be mad at him but you just kissed his nose again. “It’s fine Sung, I liked it anyways.” You giggled a bit. He smiled kissing you softly “y/n, can this mean we are dating? I’m tired of acting like I don’t love you” he said pausing realizing what he just said. “Oh, you love me do you?” You teased “well good cause I feel the same” you both smiled jisung wrapping his arms round you tightly. You both just stayed like that going back to where you left watching the show.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

300 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 4 months ago

Text

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Three - Loki's Bachelor Party

Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, partying, Scott as a stripper – kind of? also fluff

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: I absolutely love the gif for this. Fight me. 😂

Once again goes the shoutout to @sagitternolunaspace for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! Thank you! And again a thank you goes out to everyone who helped me along with this chapter!

💍 Chapter Two °☆• Chapter Four 💍

You had been barely swept away from Loki by Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Wanda, when the god returned to the now empty apartment in the tower he shared with you. Once the door fell gently into its hinges behind him, he snapped his fingers; causing his Asgardian armour to melt away from his body - leaving him completely nude.

Loki ran a hand through his untamed raven curls, while he made his way to the bathroom. It was time for a shower. Time to get rid of all the stains which had left the mission on his skin.

The warm water massaged his muscles and helped him relax. It usually always did. The god loved a good, hot, relaxing shower after a mission - and if you'd join him, he loved it even more. If the girls wouldn't have stolen you away for your bachelorette party, Loki would've totally taken you with him, but well...

You had discussed this Midgardian pre-wedding tradition with him already a few weeks ago. It was something you were eager to have - and your friends didn't let this tell them twice, of course. They were more than happy to plan the party for you and surprise you.

As for Loki... The god wasn't sure about it. He understood the concept of this tradition. You had explained it, but he didn't know if he should like it or not. Alcohol, silly costumes - or well, T-Shirts and Strippers in the most cases? Tendencies to no. Hence, Loki didn't even know if his oaf of a brother would think so far to prepare something for him and he was convinced that the other male Avengers certainly wouldn't do it. Why should they?

Back when Thor married, he didn't have a bachelor party, but only because he did not know of such a tradition. When you gathered up Jane for her party, it was already too late - given the fact that you all were on Asgard at that moment in time. So, no Stark or Rogers who could saunter through the golden palace doors and pick up Thor for his turn.

Loki laughed to himself. As if Roger would ever do that... He would have to remove the stick up his ass first.

With a sigh, the god turned off the tab, reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower. Thick, hot steam had gathered inside the room; fogging up the mirror. Loki dried himself, went through his after shower routine and lastly put on fresh underwear. Then he cleaned everything up with his seidr and left the bathroom.

His next destination was the bedroom he shared with you, in order to get dressed - preferably casual. In the closet, the god found his favourite grey sweatpants (What a shame it was that you couldn't be here right now and admire the things this specific kind of trousers did to him.) and a loose black t-shirt - perfect for a lonely and lazy afternoon, evening and unfortunately night.

Loki then paid the little shelf in the living room a visit, which was stuffed to the brim with books. The chosen one was a old Norse romance - one of your favourites. Book in hand, the god made himself comfortable on the sofa; ready to get lost in a fictional world.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite get that far...

Barely ten minutes in, a loud knock sounded from the main door. Loki's eyes lifted. Another knock - followed by further knocks. "Oh for the Norns sake..." The god cursed; laid the novel aside and stood up. It knocked again. "I'm on my way!" He grumbled annoyed and at last opened the door for the impatient visitor - and once he did, his eyes almost popped out of his head; jaw slacking.

It was none other than his oaf of a brother, of course.

Thor had the brightest smile on his face which must be physical possible. Nothing very unusual. It was the dress up that shocked Loki... His brother wore black leather trousers and a emerald green t-shirt, on which stood in big golden letters: Loki's Bachelor Party. And the worst was the huge, very unfortunate taken picture of himself, which was printed on the t-shirt as well.

He couldn't be serious right now...

"Thor... What in Odin's name is that?" The blond god giggled and proudly displayed the t-shirt. "Do you like it, brother? I created it myself!" He boasted, but added seconds later in a whisper after Loki gave him a disbelieving glance: "Alright, alright... Jane helped me quite a bit, but... Shhhh. Don't tell the others." "Others?" The younger man asked; blinking.

Thor started to smirk again. "Of course, brother! We are not celebrating your bachelor party alone - if that is what you think." The black haired god looked once more incredulously at his older brother. "Bachelor party?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "For somebody so utterly witty and clever, you are really stupid sometimes." The blond gestured towards his green t-shirt again, "You did see what it reads, brother, didn't you? 'Loki's Bachelor Party'!" before he reached inside his seemingly endless leather pocket and pulled out another emerald green t-shirt. "Now let's go, brother! Get changed! It's time to celebrate!" Thor threw the t-shirt at Loki, who caught it effortlessly.

"T-Shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. It's the, uh, dress code - like the Midgardians say. Five minutes, then you shall meet us outside. You will be awaited." Loki wanted to say something - anything, in order to protest, display his discomfort and especially ask his brother if he had lost his last remaining braincells, but before he could, Thor had already walked away.

Loki sighed as he closed the door shut; pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly didn't want to do this. He refused to do this. After all, who knew who his brother had invited to this ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition party? Nobody of the male Avengers liked him that much to spend a great amount of time with him on a party for him.

At least that was what Loki thought.

The god wanted to call his brother; tell him that he would not attend this... bachelor party. He had already picked up his phone; thumb hovering over the green button beside his brother's name.

But then he remembered a conversation he had with you not such a long time ago...

"A what?" The raven haired man asked; eyebrows slanting. You giggled beside him. "A bachelorette party, babe. It's a Midgardian pre-wedding 'tradition'. The female friends of the bride organise a day - or a weekend, where they take her somewhere in order to celebrate the fact she is going to marry. Commonly - I'd say, it is an evening, where they party, have alcohol and mostly book a stripper." "A stripper?!" Loki shouted out; almost horrified. You nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, I don't know... It's somehow a thing for such partys. After all, they are celebrating the bride's last days or weeks as an unmarried woman..."

"Yes, darling, I think I understood the concept, but... A stripper?" Your fiancè shook his head. "I don't want this. I don't want another man stripping for you."

You kinda saw that coming. You knew Loki was very... territorial when it came to other men. He always had been and you couldn't deny that you loved this about him. You were the only one for him - the only woman he'd ever lay his eyes upon, and it should be the same for you.

"If the girls really do that, I will refuse, okay? I promise, I won't watch that man strip for me." Loki shot you a relieved, almost thankful smile. "I appreciate this a lot, my love."

There was silence for a few moments, as you walked side by side, until... "The same usually goes for the bachelor party as well..." Loki wasn't stupid, of course. He could connect the dots quickly. "Female stripper?" The god asked; swallowing. "Almost, babe... I'm sure you heard of clubs with a lot of stages and poles in it? Seats and sofas where men - and women can sit, have a few drinks and watch half naked - or naked, who knows... Women dancing at those poles?"

Loki knew what you were talking about. He had been quite a few years on Midgard now; having definitely heard of such... establishments. Before he met you, such a thought would've peaked his interest, without a doubt. Beautiful ladies dancing at poles and showing off their curves? Which man wouldn't be intrigued? By the Norns, he would've probably spent various nights there already, if he was still the same god he was years ago - but he wasn't. Meanwhile, the thought of such clubs was everything but a turn on. It disgusted him, because if he went there, he would disrespect you. Yes, Loki would probably go as far and say he would cheat on you - and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fiancè scrunched his nose. "Love, alone the mere thought of such an establishment disgusts me. I am yours - and only yours. I don't want to see other half naked women dancing for me. They don't deserve my attention. I swear to you, Y/N, I won't ever set one foot in such a club. Not under any circumstances. Never." You blinked; were quite a bit... shocked? Sure, you never discussed that topic, because there hadn't been a reason, but... All your ex-boyfriends would've salivated at the mere mention of such clubs...

"You seem surprised, my love?" You blinked again. "I-I, no, I... It's not that, babe. I'd rather say I'm shocked about the fact that all my ex-boyfriends wouldn't have said no to such a club night and you..." Loki raised an eyebrow at you; a look of disgust on his face. "Pft..." He scoffed. "Mortal men... They never fail to shock and disgust me. It's almost embarrassing that they still don't know how to cherish, worship and appreciate a woman and the love she gives them."

You couldn't help but smile; feeling pure love pumping through your veins for the raven haired god walking beside you. You reached for Loki's hand; slipped your fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. "Have I already told you today how much I love you?" Your fiancè chuckled. "Yes, darling. I believe about five times." You shook your head. "That's not enough... I love you, Loki, with all my heart."

The god stopped abruptly in his tracks and reeled you in, causing you to squeak up and crash against his muscular chest. A strong hand kept you from rebounding and pinned your body against his. "I love you even more, my darling," Loki whispered and caught your lips in a feverish kiss; not caring the slightest that you two were actually on a walk - in public.

"Let's say the unthinkable happens and Thor organises a bachelor party for me... What am I going to do? I don't think I'm the right person for such things - and not really best friends with the other... men in this compound." You smiled gently up at Loki; once again giving him a loving squeeze. "I know what you mean, babe, but... If the boys, or just Thor - whoever throws a bachelor party just for you, I'd say it's a huge gesture. Give them a chance, please? See how it goes and then decide."

Give them a chance, please? Your words echoed through the god's head on repeat. He swallowed hard; pondering what to do, but in the end he closed the contacts app on his mobile and placed the little device on the sofa. With long strides, he moved to the bedroom to change his clothes - again.

A look in the mirror told him, that the decision he made was probably already not a wise one. The t-shirt looked... interesting. He didn't really like it, but if he wanted to participate in that game, he had to play by the rules, right?

Running a hand through his raven locks and collecting a few things he'd probably need on this 'party', Loki then closed the main door of your shared apartment behind himself. Taking a deep breath, the god made his way down to the first floor.

The moment the metallic doors slid open, he could already hear voices. His brother, of course; Laing, Banner, Stark... He fought the urge to roll his eyes and stepped out of the elevator.

Tony was the first to notice him. "Reindeer Games! There you are!" All eyes were on Loki now. "Man, I honestly didn't think he'd come...," added Bruce in a whisper, whereas Thor and Scott smiled brightly. "But my brother did come!" Thor boomed and made his way over to him; slamming his meaty hand on his left shoulder blade; causing Loki to grimace in slight pain. "He truly is here!" The blond continued. "No illusions!" "And he's wearing the t-shirt! Suits you, bro!" Scott smiled like a little boy in the candy store.

"Well, yes," Loki answered and adjusted the t-shirt - which everybody else wore as well; trying to stay cool. "Admittedly, I pondered to just call my brother and tell him I rather prefer to read, but... I thought I give this-" He gestured around. "-a chance."

Thor patted his shoulder once more. "Wise decision, brother. Now let us go. A merry time is awaiting us!" "Poetically put, Point Break." Stark commented; passing the two Asgardians by. The other two men followed. Loki watched them leave the building through the main doors, where already an all black bus - yes, bus, waited.

The god grimaced. He could've relinquished the sight of Tony Stark in black leather trousers.

Loki found himself in a so-called 'party bus' again. Like the name already said, it wasn't a normal vehicle with seats. The interior looked more like a disco than a bus... Loud music, tons of alcohol and bright lights. The god didn't really like it at first; was still reluctant and kind of mistrustful. He still couldn't believe that this - whatever it was or going to be, was for him. For his bachelor party.

While the others were already in party mode and having fun, Loki sat in a corner with a drink in his hand; observing - until Thor made his way over to him.

"Brother!" The blond shouted through the music. "Do you like our surprise?" Loki hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I-" He got interrupted by Tony, suddenly shouting at the two Asgardians through the music as well. "Point Break, Reindeer Games, c'mon! We arrived!" And with those words the music stopped abruptly, just like the bus.

Loki frowned. "Arrived? Where?" Thor just grinned at him; the conversation he just started already forgotten and gripped his arm; pulling the younger god to his feet. "Let yourself be surprised, brother, but I can assure that you will like it."

And Thor should be proven right...

The building before the group of men stood now, wasn't just a building... It was huge and filled with dozens of different parcours; built for a game called Lasertag. Tony didn't need to explain much, since the game itself was kind of self-explanatory.

"Let's go, dudes!" Scott chirped like a little school boy; was totally excited and already made his way to the entrance. The others followed.

About twenty minutes later, after they all got a instruction and their attire, the Avengers decided which parcour to play first. Loki looked around. "Can we just choose anyone we like? I mean, what about the other people here?" The group started to laugh; giving the fact that the usually so attentive god didn't notice it yet.

"There are no other people here, today, Loki..." Bruce started to explain. "Tony rented the whole thing for us."

The god blinked. "The... whole thing?" He asked; quoting Banner. They all nodded. "Yes, of course the whole thing. Unless it wouldn't be fun." Stark shrugged his shoulders; looking around.

Loki blinked again. He was confused - but probably in the best way possible. "Why? Why would you all agree to celebrate this Midgardian tradition with me? For me?" The four other men exchanged a few looks, before Tony took a step closer to the tall, dark god; awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you're one of us, Reindeer Games. You're an Avenger - even if we don't always get along and approve of this, but you are." Bruce nodded; agreed with the billionaire. "Tony's right. You earned your place. You proved us and the world wrong. You can be good - when you want." Scott nodded approvingly. "Yeah, man."

Loki swallowed hard. To hear such words had always seemed to be in far distance for him. He would've never... never anticipated or expected that the team would accept him one day. He thought they'd see forever the psychotic, maniacal killer they always had seen in him... Apparently not anymore...

"I..." Again swallowed Loki hard. "I don't know what to say, except... Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

The mood was on the verge of getting very emotional. But before that could happen, Tony eased the situation up. "Yeah, well, your soon-to-be wife played a huge roll in this all, but don't get too comfortable. You are still a pain in the ass."

Loki just smirked; gave the billionaire his best, mischievous smoulder. "Vice versa."

It was already pitch dark outside, when the small group of men emerged from the Lasertag 'arena' again; laughing and smiling. Loki would've never thought that he could have so much fun with Thor, Bruce, Scott and especially Tony in his 'free time'. Perhaps you could blame it on the small amount of alcohol running through their veins, but who knew?

"I did not know that this... Midgardian game was going to be so much fun!" Thor boomed; walking besides Loki and Tony. "I told you, Point Break, haven't I? Just like I said that your drama queen of a brother was going to like it." "Indeed, Stark." "You do know that I can hear you?" Loki threw in; causing them to snicker - almost like little school girls. The raven haired god just rolled his eyes in mock offence.

The group made their way towards the party bus again. Happy already waited in front of the big, black vehicle for them to return. Of course, Tony had hired him as a driver.

Only now did Loki realise, that Happy was dressed in the same clothes as the rest of the men; paired with black sunglasses.

"Happy! Are we ready to go?" The friendly bodyguard nodded; adjusting his glasses. "Sure, Mr. Stark. The bachelor party is ready to roll on." "What are waiting for then?! Let's go, Reindeer Games! Time to really celebrate the fact that someone is willing to marry you."

Loki wanted to give a snarky response, but a clap on his back from Thor caused all the air to escape his lungs and the words to die in his throat. "Come, brother! Stark is right!" Grumbling under his breath, the god followed the others inside the bus.

It took him a little while to get comfortable and especially to just let go and - he repeated your words in his head... Give this a chance.

And he did.

The music was loud; echoing through the whole bus. Alcohol was flowing and Scott had already reached the level where he was awkwardly dancing around a pole in the middle of the bus - much to everyone else's entertainment. One thing was sure, though... Loki had fun, was definitely a bit tipsy, but also the most sober one. He hadn't had a single break yet from the loud, deafening, colourful and amusing chaos around him. Well, he went outside for a moment to call you, since he saw that you tried to call him, but that was hours ago and didn't really count as a break, did it?

A look on his mobile told him that it was already way past midnight. Usually, at this time, the god laid curled up in bed with you, but you weren't here and the alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream kept him wide awake.

"Hey! Guys, guys, guys!" Tony suddenly turned down the music; causing all eyes to land on him. "I have 'n idea." He prompted; swaggering over to the others. "What 'bout we ask Happy to take us to a strip club, huh?" The other three men were way too drunk to think straight and so they all agreed - except Loki.

The god shook his head. "Stark, no." Tony raised an eyebrow; looking at the raven haired man in disbelief. "Sorry, princess, I think I misheard ya. Did you say no?" "Yes. I won't go to a strip club with you." Tony started to pout like a toddler. "But why not? Lots of pretty ladies, Reindeer Games! They're gonna be aaaall over you!" Loki swallowed the anger bubbling up inside him. "That may be true, yes, but I don't want that. Y/N is the only woman for me. I don't want or need others."

Tony groaned and theatrically steadied himself on Bruce's shoulder; almost causing the doctor to tip over. "You're such a party pooper..." The billionaire shook his head, before pressing a button on his watch. "Happy, escort us to the next bar. Not strip club - unfortunately." Then he turned to Scott. "I s'ppose your performance has to be enough. Show us what ya got, Thumbelina." Lang didn't let himself tell that twice and Thor turned up the music again.

The party went on till the first rays of sunshine kissed the summer sky and the amount of alcohol coursing through the men's veins catapulted them into a deep slumber.

Loki awoke late afternoon that day, with a thundering headache and Scott cuddled up against him. The god groaned and grimaced. It had been definitely a night to remember.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (continuing in the comments!)

#the baby fever wedding #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #marvel loki #loki marvel #mcu loki

129 notes · View notes

send4venus · 27 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫!𝐄.𝐖

a/n : so just wanna say this is my first time writing in a while so i hope its somewhat decent, i’ve noticed the tlou community on tumblr has thinned out quite a bit so im kinda just grasping at straws here but for those who do decide to read thank you and i hope you like it even though its very short and poorly written 🤍

warnings: none i think? not proofread

𖦹 you’d worked at the bar for almost half a year now, being a sophomore in college who lives out of state you needed the extra money and your friend had started working at ‘ cherry bomb ‘ a few months before you did

𖦹 you made decent money hourly, but with usually working Fridays as its the only day that works the best paired with shirts that show just enough cleavage to make amazing tips as well as the vibes of the small little local dive bar made it more enjoyable than most would expect

𖦹 you didn’t notice her at first as it was a particularly busy night. it was just you and your coworker Clint working the bar so your mind was filled to the brim with drink orders and strange pickup lines from old dudes.

𖦹 she noticed you almost immediately however

𖦹 it was her first time at this specific bar or a real bar in general, dina and jesse had dragged her along saying she needed to get laid and be a normal human being for once but of course they coupled up and went straight to the dance floor

𖦹 she rolled her eyes, instinctively knowing she wasn’t going to have a fun night she went up to the bar to sip on a glass of whiskey until dina and jesse wore themselves out, somehow finding an empty stool, she saw you pacing back and forth, pouring and mixing different concoctions and putting them in front of their designated orderers, all while smiling and providing great customer service, being sure to push out your chest for the rich old douchebags who think they might get lucky by tipping well and writing their number on a napkin after making lewd comments about every women in their line of sight.

𖦹 finally, after being so distracted with all of the drink orders and tabs being opened and closed, Clint taps you on your shoulder as you close out a customer “hey, can you take this chicks order, shes sitting on my side of the bar but like 6 people just walked in”. you sigh before begrudgingly saying yes and go over to his side of the bar to see, a drop dead gorgeous auburn haired woman right around your age who is setting off gaydar.

𖦹 when you approach her and introduce yourself her throat goes dry and immediately forgets how to act like a human being. she cant even hear the words coming out of your mouth, yet she loves the way they sound and she especially loves the view your shirt gives her. you have to ask if shes alright to get her out of her haze and when she snaps her head up and stumbles over her words trying to save this extremely awkward social predicament, you cant help but let out a light chuckle which causes her to mutter out a small ‘sorry..’ as her face turns red

“its okay honey, just tell me what you need and ill have it over here as quick as possible”

“uhm.. can you just make a uh whiskey? or well i guess you guys dont really make the whiskey huh hahah..”

𖦹 she stopped trying to make small talk after that despite wanting to hear more of your sweet voice but decided watching you from afar gave off a better vibe.

𖦹 eventually, people started to dissipate and more stools became empty and soon enough dina and jesse were tapping her on the shoulder telling her they were ready to leave and just ordered the uber. she let them know she still had to pay and close out and with the uber still a decent 10 minutes away they opted to wait outside while she did so. she called you over to ask if she can close out her tab and pay, even though she barely drank half of her whiskey.

𖦹 you smiled at her before walking away and coming back with her receipt and her credit card, as she signed it and left a tip that was more than her drink, she handed it back to you to which you saw the tip and thanked her dearly for leaving you so much money before retreating to the back room where you but before she could leave she noticed a napkin in front of her, a napkin that had a phone number written on it with a note reading ‘ don’t be shy, call me ❤️’ .

turns out rich guys do get lucky.

#𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 🐞✏️#ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie willams x reader #tlou game

69 notes · View notes

death---dealer · 5 months ago

Note

could i see 11 with caesar? i think him talking more abojt his human upbringing, maybe about charles, would be cute ^^ he barely talks about his family!

11. sharing secrets

And then i said angsty cute fluff why not you know Caesar was never told that Charles passed away right RIGHT

Title: Long Forgotten. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Slightly Implied! Caesar x Human! Reader. Rating: K. ( Fluffy and angsty-ish. ) Words: 2.3K+ READ IT ON AO3.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

There was nothing like the sound of rain pattering against the sleek nature of the cliffside of which the Colony was placed. The dim lights that peppered against the slaten rock were the only semblance of color beyond that of the rusted and worn crimson charters of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, poking its head out from the torrent of rain that was drenching the surrounding area. It was eerie to look at, much less think about.

All of those movies that you had seen as a child about an apocalypse and how there could be a time where Humanity had to subside for the greater good. It was strange to think of the routines that Humans had at one point, being driven now to do unimaginable things in order to survive. Wake up, make your coffee and head to work. The millions of people who had driven their car against the crackling pavement of the bridge on their daily commute seemed so far away as your fingers rubbed at your cargo pant clad kneecaps, curled into a small ball near the edge of the natural balcony that the Colony had to offer in times of weather.

There was the bustling of a fire behind you, large enough to capsize your back in warmth, but not enough to engulf your entire frame with heat as you drew your gaze downwards to the few scattering Apes that were actually doing something in the chill of the rain. Their fur made you so jealous as you brought your hands to cradle your knees into your chest.

The rain slid right off and kissed the ground below without worry. The jacket you were wearing was worn from years of use and was too big, much to your own pleasure as you enjoyed the oversized fit; made it easier to wear you sweaters underneath and layer properly. The group of Apes behind you, a clutch of a few Chimps and Bonobo got quiet as your eyes laid bare to the commandeering shadow of a familiar gait and body coming to rest beside you.

The wetness of his fur captivated you first, the way that the droplets were clinging to the outer edges of his fur and seemed to strand each individual hair for your delectation and caused the already large Ape to appear even larger with a minor fluff, the darkening of it to the point where it appeared nearly black in the ambient lighting and you were able to see more of his skin as the fur had risen in an umbrella-esque attempt to keep him warm and shielded. Caesar’s eyes were alight as always, they never disappointed you as you drew into them without reserve and felt drowned in the golden flecks that resided within his green irises.

“A lot of rain today.” You whispered minutely, feeling the sheer force of gravity from the Ape King next to you as he huffed in agreement, nostrils flaring. “Reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to go dance out in the rain during the storms we had during the Summer. Th---…” Nodding softly as reminiscent melancholy hit you, your gaze drifted back outwards to the scape of the forgotten city that lay in the lush and foliaged distance. “That was different, I guess… Summer rain is usually hot. This is… Cold. Makes me want to do nothing.”

Caesar was quiet next to you and it was apparent he was listening and taking in your words syllable by syllable. He was never one for small talk like this, but there was a notch in his mind that lingered since he had woken up in his nest alone, his arm yearning for someone to hold and keep protected and warm.

The Chimp found you to be quite an enigma, having felt the pull of your body without even intending to come seek you out. In a mirror stare, Caesar glanced towards the city and felt a few raindrops fall down his face from the top furline that cased around his upper forehead. Downwards they fell, one dripping into his right nostril and the other off his strong brow ridge and onto the ground below. “Used to… wonder… what rain felt like.”

The words he used were a shell-shock as you twisted curiously towards Caesar’s barrel frame. He… Your lips parted as you exhaled slowly and felt the chill fall into your mouth as a result and it felt frigid against your lungs, Caesar never talked to you about his life before the Rise.

You knew vaguely, having seen on TV all those years ago about the Apes' escape to freedom on the very bridge that was abandoned in the distance and closed the gap of the ocean bay. Only fleetingly was it mentioned. His life with the Humans. The memories that were placed inside of his head that you wished he’d open up about in order to garner more empathy and sickeningly affectionate feelings towards him.

“Never… felt it often, growing up. Always wondered what it felt… like against… fur.”

Caesar lifted a hand and you felt entranced to watch it as he drove it forward and dipped it into the current of rain water that was diluted into a strand that was falling to his right that acted as a natural drain of sorts as it collided with the rock. You knew it would engrain itself into the sediment itself instead of flying off upon impact; it was just a matter of time as nature would take its course as it seemed to do for everything, your languid stare dragging back to the Ape next to you as he subtly shifted his own gawk towards you.

Bringing his palm back in, you looked at the gleam of the water against the leathered and darkened skin there, fingers flicking in on themselves as you wondered if it were appropriate to reach out and see how heated his skin got the water that was falling so coldly from the heavens. You refrained but the idea persisted.

“One of the… Humans… who raised me… Would… Play piano when it rained.. Like this. Made us all…” Caesar was racking his mind and vocabulary for the correct words he wanted to use, something that was slowly pulling itself together the more he openly spoke with you, “feel better.”

“That sounds really nice…” Tone was hushed and only reserved for Caesar in this moment as he finally allowed himself a full frontal gaze at you and the ease of which he moved his body to do so left you breathless, catching in your throat and unable to move as the heat from his frame was also accompanied by that.

“He is… Gone. The Flu… Maybe…” Knuckled against the hard rock ground below, Caesar rested in a hunched position next to you, a straddle position that was comfortable for Apes as their muscular thighs seemed built for the stance, not as much for Humans and their lack of definition.

“You… don’t know?”

There was silence that clung to the air as Caesar looked off to the side, towards the fire that was burning with such passion and danced his dilated pupils along the flames as they roared into the air. The other Apes did not acknowledge him aside from his arrival, normal for anyone coming into a communal space. He appreciated that. Caesar appreciated to be treated just as another one of his Colony at times and it felt like you were the one steadfast who did just that for him.

Dragging his peer back towards you, the intensity that the fire brought to his already hypnotic stare made a shiver drip down your spine as if rain had seeped into your jacket and was against your bare skin. It felt like a mutual agreement of longing was shared as the Chimpanzee brought his mouth together into a flat line, your ample eyelids admiring how he appeared to soften briefly.

“Do not think about it often enough to… seek the answer.”

“You…” It was your turn to think about your word choice as to not disturb the moment that Caesar found himself vulnerable enough to share with you. “Obviously think about it enough to wonder.”

Huffing again, you watched the aggressive state of his shoulders drifting upwards and then downwards, the cursed knowledge now resting in your mind at the way that Caesar drew his shoulder caps ever so slightly to make himself appear smaller. What an… innocent gesture for such an intimidating figure. His nostrils danced around as Caesar drew steady breaths in before nodding in solemn agreement to your astute observation.

“He was… sick. Before… All of this,” Gesturing broadly towards the Colony, you were unable to look away from Caesar as he formulated words for only you. “Could have… Succumbed to that…”

“I’m sorry.” That was more hushed than it needed to be but Caesar was still able to hear it over the small crackling of the fire that harmonized with your phrase.

“Feels like many life times ago.”

“That doesn’t take away from the pain.”

Caesar shuffled beside you once more, drawing himself to properly sit on his butt beside you. The moistened nature of his fur kissed at the polyester of your jacket and you found it difficult to find any desire to pull away from the chaste contact. Once again, he was fixated on the Colony in front of him and how it appeared so monochromatic.

There was a reciprocated feeling shared between you as Caesar shifted a centimeter towards you so his full bicep was against yours. Heart jumping into the back of your chest, you brought your knees down and crossed them to allow a more open position as you felt no need to be closed off to the Chimp regarding the conversation of his own past.

“You seem to… speak from experience.”

“Maybe I am.” Smiling dimly at that, you merely nodded and pushed the Ape King further. Your story could wait; it was always going to be there for him but you needed his. All of it. Every detail he was willing to give you on this stormy late morning. “What was his name? The Human you were talking about?”

Caesar’s shoulder fur rose out of acute disappointment that you were unwilling to share anything more with him. Maybe, he looked at you from his peripheral, admiring the way that your frown was agitated into a curled sort of smile around the corners, the fondness of shared pasts clear in the way that you accepted his body next to your own… Maybe someday, you’d talk to him… But the notion that you were cracking him open like a walnut was intriguing enough as the pitter-patter of rain seemed to urge the Ape to continue onwards.

“Charles…”

Smiling at that, you sighed and finally slotted your gaze back into Caesar’s properly with the tilt of your head. “He was a good man?”

“Yes… Gave me… my name. I think of him… When I need to recall the good… In Humans… Very hard to see at times… The way the world is.”

“Yeah.” You agreed without hesitance. “Koba’s probably right. The Flu took and took and didn't give much back. Left the worst of Humanity on the planet.”

“Koba is not… Right…” You snided a small sarcastic chuff that Caesar found mildly amusing. “Still good out there… I choose… To believe that.”

“You’re wiser than most, Caesar.” You complimented him with ease and blessed his line of vision with a genuinely pleasing grin of what he interpreted as affection before you brought head back forwards to scan the forest perimeter on the misty and foggy horizon. Caesar felt a stab of confusion inside of his chest, resting like a knife against the muscles of his diaphragm. Why… look at him like that? What was the point?

“What was Charles like? Other than a good man.”

Caesar leered out at the rain as it began falling in what appeared to be sheets of white. It would not last long, this sort of moisture and it would soon subside into the normal aspects of flatter and more calmed droplets that cried from the Heavens. You could sense him turning his muscular neck to look at you quizzically, the expression fell off of him in waves. As much as Koba told you that Humans were so easy to read from facial expressions, the same could be said about Apes and you wanted to know and page each look that Caesar had to offer.

Your side profile admittedly hard to make out much to Caesar’s displeasure as you now had yourself angled away from the fire to copy his stance towards the deeper woods cased around the Colony. You seemed genuine in wanting to know… Caesar was unable to detect any lies coming from your body language or any thoughts of deceiving him with the past he held so closely to him. Why would you want to know? They were things of little consequence now that the Apes were free and the Flu you were speaking of before you left you in the care of the Colony. In the care… of Caesar.

“You want to know…?” Caesar seemed hesitant still, brow hardening in determination when you looked back towards him.

“Is that even a question?”

“It is… a long answer…”

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop anytime soon.” That was said in a joking tone of voice which Caesar granted a chortle towards. The warmth picked up finally against your appendages but not due to the fire as you squeezed your fingers inwards and then expanded them in your lap; Caesar watched that nervous action with amusement that caught him off guard, a small crooked tilt of his mouth erupting.

The heady heat was due to the Ape next to you as he began picking apart words to use in proper sentence structure to tell you about a life that he never imagined telling anyone about. It never seemed important to those who said they wanted to listen. But the way you drank every consonant and vowel up left Caesar… Wanting to share more and more with you.

#caesar #caesar x reader #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes imagines #andy serkis #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes

132 notes · View notes

darthannie · 1 year ago

Text

day twenty-three: knife play with thomas shelby

pairing: Thomas Shelby x f!reader word count: 608 warnings: knife, little blood, fingering a/n: First fic back, yay! Would Tommy probably have a gun instead? Probably but just go with me on this one. kinktober masterlist

Breaking into Thomas Shelby’s house was easier than you thought. Though, it was more like an estate than a house. Well aren’t I lucky, you thought. You got inside and snuck through the house, struggling to find his office in the dark. You were to get in, get out, and get far away from there.

You scoured the halls, not making a single sound. Intuition told you to check the door to your left. You turned the nob and it opened quietly. You stood in the door frame, triumphant. Right as you moved, an arm snaked around your waist and you felt something cold on your neck.

“It’s not polite to show up to someone’s house unannounced,” whispered Tommy.

“Thomas Shelby, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” He pressed the metal on your skin, not enough to cause an abrasion, but enough for you to feel the threat of cool metal on your warm skin. Your breath hitched as his body pressed against yours, making you shiver.

He kept his voice low, “Now you’re going to tell me who sent you. And I will let you go.”

“I cannot give you that information, Mr. Shelby,” you whispered.

“I’m not going to take it by force, but I supposed I’ll just have to fuck it out of you instead.” Before you could question him he forced you over to his desk, removing the knife from your neck to clear off part of the desk. You hinged at the waist as he bent you over the desk. You looked back at him.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop. Otherwise, this might not be enjoyable. What’ll it be?”

“Fuck me, Mr. Shelby,” you said biting your lip. He lifted your dress and slipped the blade underneath your various undergarments and cut through them with ease. Once bare, he dragged the knife along your ass, teasing you with the blade.

You could have sworn he cut you. You reached back and felt around. When you checked your hand there was a smudged bit of blood on your fingertips.

“Mr. Shelby, I believe you drew blood.”

“I believe I did.” His fingers found their way to your entrance. He felt as your wet hole took him in. He moved slowly as he prepped you. Satified with how wet you were, he laid the flat against your pussy.

“Are you ready to tell me who sent you?” His fingers curled inside you and your back arched.

“No, Mr. Shelby. I think you’re going to have to try harder.”

He removed the knife and you felt him line himself up and thrust in you, hard. He started thrusting and pulling you up by the neck, your body now right up against his. He moved his hand to your waist. The previously forgotten knife found its way back to your neck. Tommy turned the edge away from you, careful not to accidentally slit your throat. Even still, the fact that there was even a chance he could cut you was thrilling. Your moans filled the room as his pace evened out. The items on the desk trembled.

“By the end of the night, you will give me the information I need or I will put this blade to good use.” He tried to sound threatening, but a bit of play came out in his voice. The blade found its way to the side of your right thigh, moving up slowly. You grabbed onto the edge of the desk, needing to hold onto something as a chill ran down your spine.

Breathlessly, you quipped back, “I’d quite like to see you try, Mr. Shelby.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

#kinktober ‘23 #annie writes #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader

251 notes · View notes

mustainegf · 5 months ago

Text

→ Masterpost

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓

It was around 5 in the morning, and I was a complete wreck. I had spent the previous few hours shivering and sleepless, images of James speeding through my head. I saw every single time I tried to close my eyes, him lying all alone and in so much pain on that hospital bed. On top of this, this baby seemed to do everything in its power to force me to stay awake. I fought an urge to vomit, a wave of nausea hit me that wouldn't quit.

I had barely gotten into bed for what I was betting would be a minute or two of rest when the phone rang. My heart jumped up out of my throat, and, like a sprung coiled, I burst out of bed and race-walked into the kitchen to answer it. Let it be good news, please let it be good news, I thought.

"Hello?" I answered, voice trembling.

"Hey…" It was a hoarse and groggy voice, but unmistakably James. My James.

"James!" I cried out, relief spilling over me. "Oh my God, are you okay? How are you?"

He spoke soothingly, even though I knew he had to be in so much pain, "Calm down. I'll be all right. I got caught under a huge flame onstage. I have second and third degree burns on my arms, hand, and back I think..."

My eyes welled with tears, and my heart ached for him. "James, that's awful…."

"I know," he pouted in his voice. "But they're discharging me today. I guess that's a good sign then."

"Discharging you?" I repeated, voice laced with incredulity. "James, you need to come here. Stay with me so I can take care of you. You can't just go back on tour, I won’t let you."

"Look-" he began but I cut him off.

"No, James. You have to listen to me. You've been overworking yourself, and you need your rest. And I want you away from that world. At least for a little bit. Besides, we have a lot to deal with anyway. If you want to be a father, you’re gonna do it sober."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear him breathing, almost feel his internal struggle.

“I have to get back out on tour," he finally said, his voice tight. "The band, the fans-."

I gripped the phone tighter, my determination hardening inside of me. "James Hetfield, you listen to me, you are coming here.” I insist. “And don't you argue with me. This isn't about you, not even about the band. It's about our baby. You need to be here."

Another silence, then a heavy sigh. "Alright," he said, sounding resigned. "I'll book the next flight back. But I'm doing this for you and the baby. The guys won't be happy."

"I don't care about the band right now," I said, my voice gentle now. "I care about you. The rest, we’ll sort it out."

"Yeah…" he said, and I could almost hear the apprehension in his voice. "I’ll see you soon."

"Thank you, James," I said, my heart full of love. "I'll be waiting for you."

Afterwe hung up the phone, I stood there for a second before turning my phone off, still in my hand. The tiredness was still there.

I spent the rest of the early hours preparing for his arrival. I wanted everything to be perfect so he would have everything he needed to recover. I had the couch all nicely prepared with a fresh blanket, extra pillow, and every other type of supply that I could imagine he could use: bandages, painkillers.

Though I was so incredibly tired, I bustled from one thing to the next. This was my contribution, my way of showing him he wasn't alone. My exhaustion that had been present all night began morphing into this deep, tired comfort.

Making my way across into the bedroom, every step a little lighter, I lay down. The mattress was soft, and the sheets were cool. I turned onto my back and laid one hand over my belly. I did this a lot now, it made me feel less alone.

"We're going to be okay," I whispered back to myself, closing my eyes. "Daddy's coming home. He's going to be all right."

I smiled, a few tears sliding out of the corners of my eyes, not of sadness, but of a strange and bittersweet joy. I ran my hand slowly across my tummy in reassuring circles.

"You're so loved, little one," I murmured. "I can't wait to meet you. I’m gonna take care of you, protect you, and give you everything in the world."

As I kept on whispering to my baby, the exhaustion finally crashed down on me. Heavy eyelids began to draw themselves down, and my eyes fluttered over. "You're my little miracle," I whispered, barely above a whisper. “Hopefully you’ll be James’ as well…”

The last thing that registered was a gentle kick from the baby, reminding me that there was life growing inside of me. My lips held a smile as I went to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Images filled my dreams of our family whole and happy, an image I knew deep down, would not come to fruition. No matter how hard I wished or dreamed, I wasn’t quite sure if I could pull James out of whatever he was in. I didn’t know how to bring back my Jamie.

When I woke up, I felt a feeling of calm I hadn't felt in a long time. I slowly opened my eyes, the remainder of sleep still clutched to me. As my vision cleared, I was met with a sight that made my heart jump a beat. Crouched at my bedside, gazing at me lovingly with a gentle smile, was James.

"James?" I asked softly, still half in a dream. I wearily pushed myself up, wanting to hug him, to reassure myself that he was really there.

"Be gentle," he said, wincing slightly as he moved to accommodate my hug. The bandages on his arm and the stiffness in his movements breaking my heart a little.

I slipped my arms cautiously around him; his body was warm, his breathing calm and regular. "You really came," I whispered, my voice full of emotion.

"I'm here," he said softly back, holding me.

As much as I desired to kiss him, to tell him to come back to me fully, I knew I couldn't. The past pain still lingered, and I had to remind myself of the reasons we parted ways. But his being here and seeing him safe was enough for now.

He drew back a little and gazed downwards in wonder. He watched as he gently swept the thin blanket aside. "Look at you." he awed.

Down I looked too and placed my hand on my belly, feeling the life inside me. "Our baby," I said softly.

James gazed nervously at my baby bump before I finally nodded and let him place his hand just under my belly. His gentle grasp was splayed against my stomach, feeling our baby for the first time. "Holy shit…" he whispered again, his voice full of emotion.

We just sat a little, the room filling with loving but awkward silence. The last time we had seen each other, it was the day he left. So much had happened in between. It was large, this gulf between us.

"How're you?" he asked me, peering into my eyes for any hint of distress.

"Tired," I admitted. "But seeing you helps."

He smiled then, "I'm sorry. For everything."

I shook my head, placing a hand on his cheek, feeling the hair on his face itch my hand just slightly. "We'll figure it out, James."

He nodded then, his hand still resting on my belly. "I want to be here for this kid."

"And we want you here," I whispered.

"I know," he said, his voice steady. "I'm ready to try."

James looked at me through my face with such tender concern. "You need to get some sleep," he pleaded quietly, "both you and the baby. I'll be fine."

I was dead tired, the exertion and strain of everything over the last couple of days had finally taken its evil toll. Yet, the very idea of shutting my eyes, of letting go even for the slightest of moments, was hard as well.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyelids already growing heavier.

He nodded, reassurance filling his eyes. "I promise, I'm sure. Just sleep. I'll be right out there."

With a tired sigh, I fell back into the mattress, the soft bedding holding me. James leaned in, his hand gently stroking my belly, and pressed a tender kiss to my stomach. "Take care of Mommy," he murmured.

With my eyes closed, I was cognizant of his hand protectively over our baby and his warmth beside me.

"I've got you both."

Right there and then, I let myself let go.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I was able to sleep soundly.

#mustainegf #reqs open #fanfic #request #fanfiction #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica fluff #metallica imagines #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagines #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield #miles away james hetfield

56 notes · View notes

silentmoths · 1 year ago

Text

At your beck and call

Its moth, crawling out of the covid cave to drop this and then going back to bed.

wont lie this idea has been on my mind for the better part of a week, but between work and then being smashed by the ol' rona I havent had the energy, plain and simple. but I'm starting to get that back.

sorry if it seems a little rushed, brain wanted it OUT.

Butler! Zhongli x CEO (Afab) Reader.

Nsfw, does this count as office AU? i think it does?, humiliation kink if you squint?, aftercare because even when he's mean zhongli is an aftercare king.

You had never entertained the thought of hiring a live-in personal butler until one of your friends had mentioned it. She’d gone on and on about how her much time having one had saved, and how it gave her the peace of mind to relax every once in a while, a luxury you can't remember the last time you afforded as the ceo of a major company, sure you had secretaries, but they only worked within the firm, and your life?

God you needed a secretary for life.

Even then. It took you a few more months to finally cave and look into it. The agency you find has raving reviews; there’s an interview process, which takes another few weeks for you to finally sit down and do. They ask you many questions about your lifestyle, and what you need out of their service, and then it’s left in their hands.

And so, a week later, you receive a knock at your door.

Tall, sharp features, immaculately dressed.

But his eyes.

Holy shit his eyes.

Molten gold, almost shimmering in the morning light as your new butler bows to you. One gloved hand over his heart.

“Good morning Miss. My name is Zhongli.The agency has analysed your lifestyle and have thus extended your contract to me.” He explains.

Well damn, in the looks department alone you’d be leaving them a five-star review.

—

Your first proper morning with Zhongli working for you was…hectic.

Your morning alarm didn’t go off, thankfully your body-clock was pretty on point, but still, you’d slept in ten whole minutes, throwing off your schedule.

You barely even noticed that your clothes had already been laid out in the bathroom as you whirlwind through your bedroom to get ready, simply picking up the neatly folded pile as you went.

You resign yourself to a breakfast smoothie as you flurry into the kitchen, you simply didnt have any time to cook, and you’d have to clean the blender when you got home-

“Ah, good morning Miss. I trust you slept well?” Zhongli asks as he places down a plate of bacon and eggs at your usual spot in the breakfast nook. You stop, blinking at him with wide eyes.

“W-whats that?” you ask him, brain still not quite with it yet.

“Breakfast?” He counters with a tilt of his head. “Simply one of my duties.”

Right…

Right you had a secretary for your life now…

And fuck, he could cook.

You don't remember the last time you’d sat down, in your own house, eating a hot, home cooked meal for breakfast…usually it was toast, or if you didn’t have time to sit, the aforementioned smoothie that you really hated, but it was better than nothing, because when else would you have time to eat during the day?

But no, breakfast had been made for you, served with coffee and even the morning newspaper. Zhongli looks…immaculate as always, smile on his face as he cleans up and announces he will be awaiting you in the car.

That first day…no, the first week was such a learning curve… between him driving you everywhere, keeping you blessedly on time for your meetings, he also seemed to know exactly what you needed, sometimes before even you knew.

He sometimes appears with a small plate of cookies, and a mug of hot coffee, made just the way you like it, just as your mood was beginning to wane, and immediately you feel better.

As the weeks stretch on and deadlines draw closer, you find that he’s also an amazing sounding board, and your nights become a little less weary with someone else there to fill the silence, even as he silently goes about tidying your home, he’s never too far away.

—

Something around the latter half of the year just really made all your client’s extra demanding.

Your staff were overworked.

You were overworked.

You find yourself staying up later and later into the night, going over plans and documents, trying to sort all of this…this mess into something cohesive for both yourself and your poor staff.

You rub at your temples with a ragged sigh. What time was it now? You don't think you want to know…

A soft clink beside you draws your attention to a fresh cup of tea and you startle.

“Oh, Zhongli…I-I thought you’d be asleep by now..” you murmur softly, leaning back in your chair. Your butler simply smiles at you, even now at god-knows-what time passed midnight, he was still dressed in his usual work suit. “You should be too, Miss.” he tells you softly, but not condescendingly, like a worried friend.

“I cant yet.” you sigh, motioning to the armageddon of papers strewn across your desk “I need to get this sorted before the next review meeting but…augh I dunno…I just…I cant concentrate.”

“That would be because you are stressed, and tired.” Zhongli points out, chuckling softly at your side eye before he shifts, walking around your desk to come to a stop behind your chair. “Here… perhaps this will help…” he murmurs more to himself than to you, and suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, lithe, careful fingers pressing into your trapezius muscles. You grunt and wince a little, having been totally unaware of how tense your shoulders had been until now.

“Shh, just take a deep breath and relax.” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbles behind you as he slowly massages at the tension, his hands are gentle, but expert, and it takes you longer than it should to realise that he's not wearing his gloves for this. “Now…tell me what the matter is…”

With another set of eyes, and a clear explanation of what you need, by the time he’s worked all the tension from your shoulders, you’ve finally got a clear plan, and immediately set to work sorting and organising the moment his warm, surprisingly soft hands finally leave your shoulders.

Once all is said and done, you turn to your butler.

“Thank you, Zhongli…I…don't think I could have done that without you here.”

You’re met with a dashingly handsome, genuine smile, and a graceful bow of his head.

“It was my pleasure, Miss. I am here to aid your every whim.”

—

Meeting after meeting after meeting.

If you had to speak to one more person demanding things of you and your company today, you were going to scream. The sight of your black sedan, waiting dutifully for you outside the sliding glass doors at the end of the day was almost enough to make you cry as you all but collapse into the back seats with a groan.

“How were the investors today, Maam?” Zhongli asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches you in the rear-view.

“They could invest in some chill.” you mutter, taking a few moments before forcing yourself to sit up, knowing full well Zhongli wouldn’t move this car an inch until you had your seatbelt on.

“I hazard to say you could also do with, as you say, some chill.” He adds as he easily merges into the busy afternoon traffic. “You’re working yourself to the bone.”

“It’s just another month.” you sigh “investors always get antsy this time of year…”

“You said that last month too, you know.”

“Did I?” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose “Hey…when we get home…could I have another one of those massages?”

You loathe to admit how…reliant you had become on Zhongli’s ability to get the tension out of your shoulders, ever since that first night when he’d helped sort out your work with you, you’d been asking every other day or so for one, it was just so nice to relax into his care while you vented the day’s frustrations away, or soundboarded with him.

“Oh I think I can manage that.”

“Where would I be without you…?” you mumble softly as you let your eyes shut for a moment, just a moment to rest your aching eyes.

As it stands, that moment ends when Zhongli’s gentle hand on your arm rouses you. “Wh-wassgoinon?” you mumble, looking around.

“We’re home, Miss….you looked like you needed the rest so I didn’t rouse you.” Zhongli murmurs softly, reaching past you to fetch your bag.

He smells of tea, and spices…warm…comforting.

—

You groan softly as his fingers press insistently into your shoulders.

“You’re extra tense today…” Zhongli murmurs softly, leaning over to look you in the face “are you alright?”

“I-I…yeah…just…stressed I think.” you sigh, leaning your head to the side so he can get better access to your neck. You’d never admit it, but you were pretty sure at this point you were just craving his touch, you just…didn't have the time for skinship these days, how you’d managed to survive before hiring him? You had no idea.

Behind you, Zhongli hums.

“May I try…something different?” He asks quietly, rather unlike him, usually when he did something, he did it with confidence that you would be alright with it, and so far he’d never been wrong…why ask now? “I think your stress runs deeper than a simple shoulder massage can handle.” he adds when you look over your shoulder at him.

“I mean…I trust your judgement Zhongli…whatever you think I need…” you mumble.

You expect a change in his technique, maybe working a little further down your spine perhaps?.

Not to suddenly be thrown forward, chest pressed against the dark mahogany of your desk by a single,strong hand against your spine to keep you there as you gasp in shock.

“Z-Zhongli!?” you gasp, looking over your shoulder at your calm, gentle butler.

Only to find a sharp, seductive smirk plastered to his lips. His golden eyes are dark, predatory, you should be afraid.

Keyword: Should.

You watch, dumbstruck as he licks his lips, ripping your jeans straight off your legs like they were nothing, his ungloved hand grazing up the back of your thigh, and that touch alone has your eyes rolling back and a half-bitten moan falling from your lips. Gods how long had it been?

“Hmm, needy little thing, aren’t we? Thrown against your desk by your own butler and you don't even have the decency to be afraid?” Zhongli chuckles darkly as he shoves two fingers into you; the mix of pleasure and pain is enough to have your spine arching “Looks like I was right…you do need more than a little massage hm?”

“G-god…please…” you whine, the humiliation of the situation only making you hotter as he roughly thrusts his fingers, occasionally scissoring them to stretch you open, his other hand shifting from your spine to wrap around the base of your neck, holding you still as he works you open.

This new, rougher side to him…you didn’t know you wanted it...but god damn he was driving a hard bargain, plus it’s not like this wasn't something you may have thought about on a rare occasion or three… you’d just expected it to be…slower, gentler, but this? You could work with this.

“Please…? Please what?” he purrs, leaning over to nip at your ear “what do you want from me? I am at your every beck and call.” His words are low, dangerous, but genuine, and you shudder.

“You-!” you choke “please g-god, Z-Zhongli I want you to fuck me-”

One moment there’s fingers, the next moment nothing, and you want to cry, the petulant whine only being held back by the sound of a belt buckle.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m at your service.”

And then he roughly bucks his hips and good gods.

Considering he wore such fitted trousers, where the hell had he been keeping that??

That mix of pleasure-pain is back, but more intense this time; you definitely had not been wet enough, and yet? You wouldn't have wanted it any other way, the pain added it’s own flavour to your desire as Zhongli pins you against your desk, breathing ragged into your ear as he wastes no time, setting a brutal pace from the start that has papers and stationary clattering off your desk.

“So tight” he hisses “how long has it been since you’ve had a good fucking?”

Something about Zhongli swearing like that feels so wrong, but oh, so right in the moment.

For a moment, paperwork and meetings are the furthest thing from your mind as Zhongli shoves you even further onto your desk, free hand hiking your hips up so he can slam into you all the harder, the only sounds emanating within your study are the wet slapping of skin, and your cries of ecstasy.

He’s not gentle, and deep, deep down, you’re glad for it.

You needed this, spending every damn day for the last five years telling everyone else what to do? You needed this…loss of control.

Much like everything else in the last six months, Zhongli knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and before you even realised you needed it.

“Whats the matter? Nothing to say?” He grunts into your ear as he grinds himself so deep into you, you’re seeing stars. “You’re always so talkative…”

You can only moan pathetically in response, eyelids fluttering as he fucks you down into the table, his words are harsh, and humiliating, but all they do is draw your orgasm closer, barely even registering what he’s saying.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, one moment you’re seeing stars as your butler bullies his massive cock into you, the next minute your world turns white.

—

“Shh, try not to move…I wasn’t gentle with you.” Zhongli’s tone is back to being kind and gentle after…how many orgasms did he just force you through? You’d lost count…all you know was that it had still been light out when he’d first shoved you down…now as he passes by a window with you cradled gently in his arms, it was pitch black outside.

Gentle lips press to your temple as he perches on the edge of the bathtub, holding you on his lap with one arm while he reaches over to get the water started. Wetting a washcloth to clean away a good portion of the mess beforehand.

Your body aches, but in the best possible way. You feel…breathless and comfortable, fuzzy.

You wince as he lowers you into the hot water, your muscles tensing at the sudden heat before relaxing again. Zhongli watches you with a soft look. Even coming off the back end of some amazing sex, he still somehow managed to look stupidly put together, if not even more alluring with his lack of suit jacket; it had been abandoned sometime during round… three you think? One moment it was on, the next moment, you’re being pressed onto your back, the jacket is gone, and he’s rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and you’re at his mercy.

The lip of a water bottle presses to your lips, his other hand gently supporting the back of your head as you drink.

“How do you feel?” he asks once you’ve drunk your fill for now, like that switch that had turned him from the kind and courteous butler you had known to….whatever that zhongli was, had never flipped at all.

Despite this, you smile at him.

“I feel like…I need to ask you to do that again more often, Zhongli.”

To his credit, your ever-so-handsome butler laughs. It’s a warm, hearty sound, one that fills you with no small amount of joy.

“I am here to serve your every beck and call, I’m sure I can work this into the schedule.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmothwrites #Zhongli x reader #Zhongli x reader smut #Zhongli genshin

304 notes · View notes

junos-jrabbles · 20 days ago

Text

oh god oh no there's a small angry man in a small angry car watch out!!!

authors note except all i say is im using a comically long lead to get wifi from my phone because my laptop absolutely HATES this internet, it's like a handbag chihuahua that's used to brita filter water like no. please. i need to use tumblr stop doing this to me. anyway!! cw// you guys get hit by a car but its fine, the other possible ending involved a penny farthing, so prompt from scealaiscoite's november prompt list! (hope that hyperlinked right)

November 1st - Traffic Lights, Sniper x reader, 1.2k words

Dimmed headlights whizzed by opposite you two on the long, two lane road. It wasn't late, not particularly, but with it being early winter, the nights had began to grow much darker and colder, much quicker.

It was only maybe… You look down at his wrist, hand laid listlessly onto the rim of the steering wheel, and manage to make out that it was only about five in the afternoon. “The shop’ll be shut in a bit less than an hour, how long until-”

A short cough interrupts you, and blue eyes, muddied by orange hued aviator's flick your way. “Not long, s’third time you've asked. In a rush to get the boys their dinner, ey?” The base had run out of the basics. Soldier, of course, preferred practicing the precise art of rocket jumping over doing the weekly shopping.

“Well, yeah, there's at least three of you who'll kill me if they don't get their milk in their tea or coffee, and I'm sure even you can appreciate a good tray of lasagna, of which we've run out.” No lasagna sheets, a travesty, of course you were eager for a shopping trip.

The camper's less worn passenger seat still creaks beneath you as you adjust, the sound barely audible over the engine's low hum, but you feel it against your backside. “Hey, who knows, maybe this was actually a ploy to hang out with you for twenty minutes.” He doesn't respond, and you think your attempt at a joke had fallen flat until a small, low chuckle rumbles out to your side.

“Yeah well… it's a good one, I s’pose. Wouldn't take much bribery mind, had to tell you not to bother with gas money a few too many times anyway.” He chortled softly, and cocked a leg to the side, knobbly knee bapping against yours over the low center console. In response, you roll your eyes and knock his leg back.

“Alright, alright, I'll make sure to beg you to take my ten bucks even harder next time.” And with that, a lull in conversation develops. There wasn't really much to talk about, anyway. The view wasn't exactly spectacular, the seats, and even the camper itself were a bit stiff, jostling as he'd adjust his foot on the accelerator.

The night sky and air filtered in through the barely rolled open window in a low whistle, tone fluctuating with the speed, radio crackling away in the background as you look out your window, barely making out the shadows and shapes of the rolling, sandy hills.

Five, maybe ten minutes pass of comfortable silence between both parties, until the camper whistles to a stop at a red light. You drum your fingers against your thigh, and huff a small sigh.

“I didn't say it quite right.” He's looking away as he speaks, words nothing much more than an airy utterance, rolling a bead of torn faux leather between the fingers of his gloved hand, he continues, “I really don't erh… Mind… You. Y’know?”

Whatever he's trying to say still isn't coming out right, and you’re staying quiet. He knows you're trying to let him get his words out, the look on your face says that much, but there's not enough air in here, so he rolls his window lower.

“As in, I don't mind you coming in here, like, to chat, or hang out or whatever–, I know you've seen me shoo Scout out a couple times,” He sounds more nervous than usual as he laughs, shifts, and leans forward to look up at the light, still glowing a deep red. “And that's cause he's a prick.” He clarified with a huff, and sits back.

“You're a bit less of a prick.”

You've sat back too, by this point, arms crossed over your chest, body turned towards him, attentive to his words. You didn't see him this… Concerned over his words often. For someone who's usually quite cool, calm and collected, especially with his marksmanship, he sure seemed a little muddled.

“You're lucky I don't take offense to that.” You laugh softly, reaching over and patting his arm. He seems to flinch at the touch, but relaxes quickly. “A bit less of a prick, yeah, fuck off dickhead.” You push him lightly and lean back, huffing with faux indignance.

“Thanks, though, I mean…” You knew no one really came up to hang out with him, but had always assumed he just didn't really like the company much. “Thought it'd be a bother if I came around. Plus, I'm not eating feckin’... Rabbit on a stick, or whatever you have for dinner, sorry mate.”

You laugh, he laughs, and clarifies. “Lizard, actually.” You shudder.

“Yeah, well, I'm not eating lizard either- You should come eat dinner in the base sometime.” You remember seeing him eat dinner with the rest maybe… twice? Usually when you all have to move to a new base, he'll come down, help set stuff up, have dinner, then go back to the camper.

“Engie makes the most fucking spectacular short ribs ever, genuinely, I bet you'd like ‘em. They're not emu ribs or nothin’, but they're real good.” Suddenly, a car which neither of you had realised had pulled up behind you, starts absolutely sounding away, blaring the horn and making wild gestures out the window.

“Bloody- Feckin' yobbo- Right!” He huffs annoyedly, shaking his head as you both realise the light had gone green, the camper snorts back to life, jittering as you two skid forward, your hands instinctively reaching down to grasp the sides of your seat.

It takes a minute until the camper settles back into a normal pace, and his shoulders can relax. “I'll try ‘em sometime. Who's cooking tonight?” Longest traffic light of your lives, you're sure.

“Me, or– Well, it was going to be Pyro, but, given how the morning's pancakes went,” Charred, maybe possibly entirely inedible, even if they'd tell you otherwise, “I thought it'd be best to take over… I'm sure I can convince Engie to make his ribs if you're wanting.” You hum, and settle back into the seat, glancing back over your shoulder to see the small, black car eagerly tailgating you two.

“What're you making?” He asks, voice as clipped and curt as usual, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll come down for tonight, seeing as you're all clearly missing me.” He chuckles, but it's halfhearted, you meet the laugh halfway, nerves stir in your stomach as the car continues to beep behind you. You're trying to psychically explode the driver's head.

“Well, f’course, you're part of the team, you've got your own room n’all.” You mutter, eyebrows furrow, and you reach forward to dial the radio louder, trying to drown out the incessant beeping.

“Fuckin' bed's probably gone mouldy mind–” Another red light, great. The camper jitters, slowing with the quiet squeal of brakes, when, suddenly— BANG– You both jolt forward, Sniper slaps one arm across your chest trying to hold you back, winding you somewhat in the process as he darts forward, a loud, droning growl of a groan rolling from him.

“Oh for fucks sake!” He cries out. You're clutching the seatbelt, glad you'd been clever enough to put it on when you'd gotten in, hissing in pain from the friction of it, and praying the other car had crumpled like a tissue. ~~~~~~~ the end !! this has literally taken me an hour to try and sort out on this laptop god help me i love and hate this thing,, anyway enjoy this mid little thing you can definitely tell i haven't written in ages LOL they definitely did not get to the shops in time, rip 2 lasagna night

#fanfiction #fanfic #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper #its an x reader but you probably wouldn't do any of that sorry LOL #sniper tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 fanfic #tf2 #team fortress 2 #prompted writing #oh god it's at it again

22 notes · View notes

thevoidscreams · 9 months ago

Note

A request, if I may. One of the Khan’s serfs has lost a bet. Now she must walk up to him, and ask him directly, “do Primarchs fuck?”

He offers to demonstrate.

Risky business I like it.

Pairing: Jaghatai khan x reader

Warnings: Marking, rough sex but like you get to be on top...for a little while, also he claims you at the end. Like he takes you as his consort/wife. He's not letting you go after all that okay

The long grass rippled in waves around me like an ocean. I was tending to the khan today. Cleaning his plate and bringing him any necessities. The snickering of the other female serfs carried on the breeze as I trudged towards the tent I knew the Khan would be in.

His bike was outside the entrance, a glorious piece of tech that he maintained with more love and care than some people gave their own children.

I turned back, nervous as hare to see the grinning faces of the people I thought were my friends. But after losing that bet, I wasn't so sure. They shooed me forward with waves of their hands, and I turned back to the tent, gulping.

The thick hide of an animal made up the outside of the tent. The preserved leather firm but smooth under my hands as I bowed my head at the entrance. "Lord Khan? I've come to perform my duties."

"Enter." The soft, deep voice came from within the dim interior. A shiver went up my spine, but in a good way. His voice was rich and was as handsome as the man himself. Pushing back the flap I stepped into the spacious tent. It had to be to fit the Khan.

His armor was laid aside and placed with care. The khan was in light clothes, just a pair of pants really. He was polishing his long curved sword. Thankfully the White Tiger Dao, and not the one in his pants, I mentally sighed as I bowed to him. "Where shall I begin, my lord?" I asked, being as polite as I could, maybe it would keep me alive once I asked. If I could ask. "Whichever piece." He huffed. Keeping his replies short and to the point. He wasn't very chatty.

I hefted a pauldron from the stack and began to brush away the other layer of dust first, meticulous in my work. As I did the ornate patterning beneath the grime became more obvious. It was a beautiful piece. Art in and of itself. I wondered as I worked what wearing a piece like this would feel like. The Khan raised his blade to inspect it in the light as I shifted to cleaning the metal, it drew my gaze up to him and reminded me of the bet. I felt my heart flutter and tried to focus on my actual work. My brain wandered back to last night as I drank merrily with my friends. "So you clean the Khan's armor tomorrow right?" One girl asked suggestively. There was a bout of giggling as I eyed them suspiciously. "Yeah, I feel quite honored to be given the privilege." "Well then maybe you'd care to indulge us?" I gave them all a look and sipped the sweet wine in my glass as they proposed a bet. Perhaps it was the drink, or maybe I'm just that stupid, but I didn't even think to ask what the losing terms were until I was seven losses deep into a game of dice when they told me. I tried to fight them on it, but they just laughed and told me it'd be fine.

I gave my word though, when I took the bet, even if I wouldn't have if I'd known. The khan settled his blade into its sheath and I watched him pick up a piece of armor himself and begin to clean it. He must have noticed my glance or something in my posture as he set his rag aside and settled his firm gaze on me. My body looked up, my thumb nearly getting sliced open on the razor-like crest of his pauldron as I flinched. "You wish to say something." The sound of his voice seemed to echo around the tent. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Bolting from the tent would probably have been smarter. But I swallowed my anxiety and let go of the breath I'd involuntarily begun to hold when he looked at me with his full undivided attention.

"I uh, yeah." I barely managed to whisper.

"Then speak." I expected there to be a tone of annoyance in his voice, or perhaps a cold disinterest, but instead he seemed to simply be giving me the chance to say something. His gaze went back to his armor and simply existing seemed to get easier.

'Welp, here goes.. everything' I thought. "Well, um..." I gathered all my courage and just blurted it out. "Do primarchs have sex?" I felt like an idiot, no scratch that, I WAS an idiot. No one sane asks something like that, even on a bet. "Like can you?" Stop talking mouth! Stop digging this hole. My brain all but pleaded.

The Khan went very still, almost as if he was a statue and not a man. I was preparing to take a sword or fist to the chest, but instead he let out a soft shaking breath. It was a moment before I realized he was laughing. Honest to goodness laughing. "Is that why you've been twitching since you first came into this tent?" His chuckling steadily evened out, and fuck me sideways if it wasn't a sound to lift the soul, I don't know what is. It could have been music for all the emotions it stirred in me. "Well, if my cock has given your mind that much ill ease, perhaps I could quiet it for you." He leaned in and I felt the warmth of his skin even though he hadn't touched me. "And give you a demonstration." I felt like my brain crashed, as if it'd been thrown from a speeding jet bike and straight into a wall of bricks. But again my mouth seemed to find the concept of not consulting my brain appealing once more. Then again how could it? Seeing as my mind had left the building at some point. "Yeah, sounds great." He chuckled again and I could see the mirth dancing deep within his eyes. "Good. Your form is pleasing to me. I likely would have sought after you to bed you regardless." The Khan stood and moved past me to the mouth of the tent. The blatant honesty was nice but hell. Did he actually mean that? "Disrobe, I will return." He vanished and my body immediately began to obey. Oh fuck, what was I even doing? Thinking of bedding a primarch, a son of the emperor? I mean, his body was stellar, the best around, but was I going to do this. You know what. Fuck it. I was going to go back to the snickering nitwits with a story they were never going to forget.

I, was going to fuck Jaghatai Khan. Come hell or high water, because he was willing. The only problem is I had to find out if I was able.

My shirt slid over my head and onto the ground followed by my boots and my pants. Jaghatai Came back not a minute after I was done undressing and he tied the tent's flaps shut before turning to face me. He has a bedroll under his arm and it suddenly became very real what I had gotten myself into as he knelt in front of me, setting the bed roll aside and putting a colossal hand on my waist. He nodded as if confirming something with himself and leaned his face down to kiss my chest.

My hand found its way to his shoulder to balance myself. He kissed and massaged my hips, it was relaxing, which surprised me given my previous nerves. Kissing over one breast he took my nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, the warmth and sudden pleasure making me gasp. He did that with both of them, lavishing both with attention.

When the khan pulled away I found I was breathing hard and his arm slipped around my back to steady me. My thighs were wet enough that I could feel it. And the Khan seemed to be able to tell. His fingers undid the ties holding his pants and they slipped down his body and to the floor. His cock was already hard, and just from that little interaction. "Shall we proceed?" His hands came back to me as he asked.

I smiled, nodded. "Yes, I would like that." I watched him untie the bundle and unroll it. I wasn't sure what to anticipate, but it wasn't him immediately laying down and gesturing to his face. "Sit." "Sit?" "Yes. Come sit." My legs moved and my body was eager to see where this would go. I stood over his head and knelt, he guided me down, my front facing the rest of my body. I got a nice view of his cock as hovered over his face. "Okay, now what?" He held my hips tightly. "You sit." He pulled me down so my weight was resting on his face. I was going to object but his tongue was licking me clean as soon as his lips touched my lower lips. So all I really managed was a strangled gasp and a long breathy moan.

I had to stabilize myself on his abs. His cock twitched, a bead of precum leaking from it like a single sticky tear. I figured it'd be rude not to return the favor. I reached for his thick cock, my fingers grazing the shaft and was rewarded with a sharp nip to my inner thigh. "Hey!" I squeaked, confused and shocked. "Behave yourself. You may have some later." He growled and returned his mouth to actively exploring as deep as his tongue would allow as his fingers traced lazy circles around my clit. My walls clenched around his tongue. It seemed to embolden him and he applied more force. I slid forward and was so close to his cock I could have licked it. The single bead of sticky goodness was growing bigger and it began to leak down. I stuck out my tongue hoping to catch the droplet, as inconspicuous as was possible. I wasn't as clever as I thought, apparently. "I thought I told you to behave." Jaghatai's voice growled behind me.

"I am." "Are you now? Because it seems like you're being very impatient." I whined as I watched the droplet fall to his abs. "I just wanted a taste-" His tongue brushed over my clit and I was thoroughly distracted. His fingers pushed at my slick entrance and pushed in. The movement of his tongue and fingers created a dichotomy in my body of both burning pain from the stretch and pleasure from his tongue. I grasped at his hips and breathed through it. I wasn't going to take his cock without prep, that was for sure. It worked though and the pain turned to pleasure in short order. It was hard to sit still in the face of it. The Khan seemed to come to a conclusion about something and pulled his fingers away. Leaving my pussy sadly empty. He urged me forward and sat up. "Turn." He instructed and I obeyed again.

Now face to face with the handsome man, and sitting in his lap.

He kissed me, his lips imparting my own flavor onto mine. His tongue brushed my bottom lip and I allowed him to enter. Our tongues danced together as his cock brushed over my sex. Getting himself nice and wet. "Are you comfortable with continuing?" I was surprised by the question, but it made me feel warm in my chest. "I am." I told him with certainty. The tip of his cock pushed in, I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to take his whole length today. But fuck if I wasn't going to try. The burn was hard to breathe through, but when he stopped and let me adjust I was pleased to find it subsiding quickly enough. His hand stroked up and down my back, soothing me as he sank in as much of his manhood as he could.

"You are very tight." He noted and it seemed more a rhetorical statement to himself than one meant for me. But I nodded against his chest.

As soon as he stopped fully I could feel him in my stomach. Truly he was huge. I kissed his cheek, initiating the affection for once.

That took him by surprise and I wasn't sure why. Had I fucked up? If so he didn't look as if he wanted me to stop. I kissed his cheek again and he sighed. It sounded content and returned the gesture. It was nice. His hips gave a shallow thrust, determining my readiness. I moaned, low and with need. "I will take that to mean you are ready?" "Take it however you want, just please,do that again." He did, rolling his hips up into mine as he held me against his chest, his face pressed into my hair. My mouth hung open, moans pouring from me like water, I didn't even consider that others might hear me. It was heavenly, feeling his hips roll into mine. His thick manhood stretched me beyond what I had ever anticipated. And man was it ever a trip, knowing I was bedding a primarch. I shut my eyes and watched as light danced behind them, growing fuzzy from all the pleasure. His hips picked up their pace, one hand hugging me to him while the other held my hip. I let him set the tempo and was not let down. I came hard, and none too quietly, crying his name. His first name. He squeezed my hip and gasped. Rolling us both, his body hovering over mine as he fucked me harder and faster. scrambling my insides and my brains all in one go. I felt his lips meet mine and I fell into the kiss with a thirst I'd not felt for anything else before. It was fair to call it rutting as he approached his climax. Our lips still sealed, it was not gentle and he gave a bone deep groan as he finally spilled into me. Holding me tightly to him. He broke the kiss, only to place a line of them along my cheek and jaw. It was oddly affectionate. But I wasn't going to complain.

We laid there panting, though he was clearly not winded, just satisfied. I was tired. My body was beginning to feel the strain. "Are you alright?" I gave him a thumbs up and a weak. "yeah~" His thumb brushed over my cheek then down my neck. He leaned down to suck a mark between my shoulder and neck. It would be noticeable to anyone who saw what happened. Satisfied with his work he laid on his side by me. "Was that demonstration sufficient enough?" "Plenty." "That is good. I would take you again when you are ready.If not tonight then at a time of your choosing." "Again?" "Yes. Again." "Am I allowed to do this with you again?" His mouth turned up in a rare genuine smile of warmth. "Yes. Shall I be needing to provide a demonstration?"

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #40k #my writing #primarchs #warhammer 40k x reader #jaghatai khan #jaghatai khan x reader #mating press march

108 notes · View notes