#and one he got on his shoulder when he was in New Zealand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b00tyliciousbabe · 8 months ago

Note

hey i loved your Jordan Riki himbo x male reader. can i request one with himbo sweaty Reece Walsh with fetish? smut with reader worshipping his body?

thank you so much :)

AWWW STAWP IT! that means a lot, I’m glad you liked it. jordan and reece are carrying my interest in rugby rn, smth about those himbo australian/new zealand players just gets me going.

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crutches

reece walsh x male reader

summary: just me fantasising about this man for a bit.

notes: i have been obsessed with the girl group flo for a while now and they recently dropped a new single that inspired me to write this.

song rec: ‘walk like this’ - flo

‘if he keeps this up, i might need crutches…’

your boyfriend, reece walsh was a star on the pitch. and you were always there to cheer him on. during practice, sending you kisses and stares from the field. his dad calls him lazy, that he shouldn’t let you distract him from the bigger picture. ‘if you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be such a distraction.’ the coach’s words reverberated in your head for a while and you suggested that it’d be best if you stopped coming to see him. it wasn’t a break up, and y’all would see each other everywhere else, but your heart couldn’t take the possibility of being the cause of his failure.

reece always went to the gym when he needed to clear his mind. you watched him rep with a sad typa aggression. knocking, you asked if everything was alright. ‘babe i don’t really wanna talk about it.’ your bf said as he moved on to bench press. ‘tough,’ you straddle him with a brattiness that you knew, deep down, he loved to fuck out of you. ‘I ain’t movin until you tell me what’s bothering you.’ he sat up properly , palming your lower back to stabilise himself, ‘you’re insufferable you know that,’ reece huffed. you stroked his cheek with your thumb, the anger in his face melting at the love you’d always shown him. ‘you know you can tell me anything.’ you reassured, knowing that his father’s word got to him deeply. his frown softened, wanting to unburden himself at the gentleness of your voice. reece took another breath as you laid your hand on his heart. ‘i just hate that he sees our relationship as a distraction,’ he sighs, shoulders getting heavier, ‘if anything, seeing you makes me more work harder.’ reece goes in to kiss your neck and breathes out ‘my own personal cheerleader.’ you cradled his head, placing your fingers in his locks. you broke apart, as you tapped his nose. ‘you’re so cute!’ you lovingly teased. ‘shut the fuck uppppp.’ reece droned, turning red as he hid his blushing in your ample chest. you felt a thick, warm rod pressing in between your cheeks, urging you to untie your bf’s shorts, whilst he placed light kisses on your pecs.

‘w-wai-wait.’ reece says groggily. your face dropped, afraid you had done something wrong. ‘what’s the matter?’ you asked, as he remained silent, dragging you off of him. ‘i can’t fuck you here,’ he said with a sincerity in his tone. ‘i need one place where i can actually focus on training,’ seeming more rational by the minute. he breathed deeper. you could see exactly how hard it was for him to say this; the two of you had been together for some time now, and sex was one thing that he never messed with. for him, your body was sacred, one he needed to give full attention to. ‘i get it, you just look really hot when you’re all sweaty and stuff.’ you respond, eyes widening at your last statement.

you had told him the one thing, you swore never to admit. ‘so all of those times i came home from practice all gross,’ he grinned at how open you could be in your discussions with him. ‘you liked that shit?’ you looked up, sheepishly as a mumbled ‘yes.’ escaped your mouth. trying to solve his problems and save yourself from further awkwardness , you quickly changed the subject. ‘we can’t do anything here,’ you elongated the final word in a slutty attempt to arouse him. ‘so, how are we going to solve…’ gesturing to the the bulge in his shorts that ceased to go down. no words were exchanged. reece grabbed your wrist and rushed you two into his dad’s office.

he pushed you against the locked door and closed all of the blinds. invading your neck and upper chest with lovebites, he was like a creature, ravaging you. ‘reece, wait.’ you say using your might to push his desires off. ‘are you sure you wanna do this? here?’ he watched, unable to think clearly whilst staring down at your pretty face. ‘never have i ever wanted to fuck you as much as i want to right now.’ he grunted as you palmed him through his boxers. though left unsaid, you both loved the idea of literally ‘fucking over’ his dad’s feelings towards your relationship.

before you knew it, y’all were fully naked; if you weren’t in his company, you might’ve felt some vulnerability in your exposure, but he soothed those concerns with his touch. something about how the beads of sweat decorated his tan skin, and danced around the contours of his muscles, always astounded you. whenever the two of you made love, nothing else mattered. reece walsh, the biggest prick in the world (literally), was such a mess with your mouth wrapped around his cock. ‘ughhh fuck,’ he smiled, stroking your hair ‘shit baby, you suck my dick so well.’ you adored his cock, loving how you decorated it with your glittery saliva as the shades of light brown skin and pink hues painted his rod.

‘stand up for me baby,’ he demanded. reece loved your body. cupping your cheeks and toying with them, he looked into your fuck me eyes as he grinded his dick between your thighs. jumping up to allow him greater access he sat himself on the boss’ chair, deepening his kiss. ‘y/n, you ready?’ reece breathed, fingering your hole. riding him in the team office was not on your 2024 bucket list, but you certainly weren’t complaining. his light green eyes staring at you so lovingly, as he fucked himself up into your hole with no remorse. The duality turned you insane. the tensing of his biceps, strength of his shoulder blades, you were putty in his hands. ‘I will never get tired of you.’ he moaned, the sloppy sounds coming from your pussy. ‘I love you so much, my beautiful boy.’ you stroked his ego making him blush. he could snap out of being lovesick very quickly, but you were much better at bringing it out of him.

reece had found a rhythm; each time you lifted yourself from his huge dong, he gripped your plush waist and impaled you hard as you felt the veins of his cock imprint their way into your organs. it was a sight of true love. ‘fuck reece, you’re too big, i c-can’t.’ you subtly pleaded for him to slow down. your hole began to burn with a fiery stinging, but that was quickly forgotten as he reassured you: ‘i know baby, but you take it so well. that pussy is practically begging for my load.’ he wasn’t wrong. your tight lips involuntarily milked him so well that he couldn’t think straight. you bounced on him sloppily, signalling to your bf that you were getting close. he loved seeing his pretty boy fucked out on his cock. jackhammering at an insane speed he obliterated your ass, ‘FUCKKK FUCK REESE OH MY GOD!’ you exclaimed at the assault on your hole. it felt so good to have him rearrange your body, and you loved being his. ‘yeah, take it, imma give you it all,’ he groaned. the sounds of your wet hole and his precum made a symphony of pleasure, creating a percussion that accompanied the vocals y’all made. ‘cum for me,’ he grunted deeply, as he impaled you one last time, stuffing you with his batter. you painted his abs a bright white as he giggled seeing you in a trance. ‘every. fucking. time.’ you breathed out, recognising how whipped you were. ‘what?’ playing coy. as he licked his abdomen. ‘you know what,’ you playfully caressed his ear ‘turned me on so much that im sat in your dad’s office with his son’s dick up my ass.’ you both laughed, as reece savoured the sight of the boyfriend he loved so dearly.

despite how uncomfortable it would’ve been cockwarming your boyfriend, for the next 30 minutes, time was not a constant. you were lost in his company. a few kisses were exchanged, skin was stroked, but it was the first time you could just be present with him. ‘as much as im enjoying you squeezing my dick, my legs are falling asleep.’ he teased. ‘babe, i legit cannot walk.’ bursting out in laughter, as he pulled you of his pole and across the desk. after getting dressed, he grabbed some crutches from the medical room and drove you home, his seed still bubbling inside you. ‘how you feeling?’ reece asked, placing his hand on your thigh. you loved how sexy he looked driving like that. ‘a lil sore, but i’ll survive.’ you admitted ‘sorry baby, i did go a bit too rough.’ he answered with a hint of sadness at hurting you. ‘aww stop, don’t do that, i enjoyed every minute of it.’ you reassured. ‘besides, i know that your balls are aching right now from the pressure i put on them so…my bad’ he giggles at your attempt to lighten the mood.

the next day was the big match. the two of you had agreed to tone down your interactions during the game, and that you’d see each other after. a couple of his teammates greeted you during halftime. ‘HEY Y/N! long time no see.’ you walked over to them, a sway in your hips that Reece had fucked into you. they looked at you with furrowed brows until the realisation set in. this was certainly not lost on them as one of his best friends immediately knew. ‘walshie’s the reason that y/n is walking like that.’ he laughed pointing at your bf who looked so cute concentrating on the game. you could only smile at the prospect of taking him again after the game. bonus points if the team won x

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

#gay #bottom male reader #gay male #smut #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #reece walsh

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years ago

Text

Black Widow

Summary: How a Black Widow made it out of the Red Room, and onto the 141.

Warnings: there’s a lot of talk of trauma in this, explicit smut, threesomes, jealousy, spitroasting, etc, etc, weirdly long (5k)

Notes: the reader was raised (ish) in the red room but this fic is not at all a part of the mcu – it’s just supposed to be the story of a defector, and how she became a part of the 141

kind of felt guilty while writing this bc it made me feel like ghost was cheating on red fox from the fics by @charnelhouse lmao

feedback and comments are very much appreciated!!!

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to one of my taglists!

The first memory you have of an outsider is at eleven years old. You and the other girls are sleeping in the dormitory when Madam Ivanova bursts in and opens the handcuffs binding you all to your beds. She pulls the others from their cots, and you almost don’t notice the man that grabs you by the arm.

He’s wearing a hat you’ve never seen before, and that immediately scares you – you don’t recognize him.

“I’ve found the girls!” he shouts, and others pour in, armed to the teeth. Madam Ivanova is still guiding other girls out of the room, and you can see the fear in her eyes. She’s not a kind person, but she takes care of you. Nothing bad has ever happened to you when you were with her.

Nothing like this.

So you turn around, and punch the man square in the face. It takes him aback, and he stumbles backwards. It gives you just enough time to run from him.

Later, you learn that his name is Price, and that he is with the British. An enemy of the Red Room.

Seven years later, you come face to face with him again. You’re three years into active duty, serving the Red Room, and you look drastically different from what you looked like at eleven.

It’s a mistake from another girl that causes your capture. It’s his face that you see first when the hood is pulled off your face.

In the past few years, he’s been the face of your nightmares, so you stay silent. It surprises you when the British don’t torture you. Instead, they offer you a deal. Provide them with the intel they want, and be free of the Red Room.

It takes you three months to accept that deal, and one more to get Price and his colleague Laswell the things they want.

They give you your pardon, and you move to New Zealand, as far away from Russia and Great Britain as you can.

With a fake passport, fake birth certificate and fake story, you leave all of it behind.

You wake up early, shrieking out of your sleep from a nightmare. Your first thought is to call Sarina, an old colleague who also made it out, but you know that she’s still asleep – at least the people in her time zone are. Instead, your feet carry you outside to the lake.

You fish around in your jacket, finding a cigarette and lighter. There’s a nervous feeling in your gut, ever-present. Trained into you since you can remember. This country is the safest and most isolated you could manage, and yet, there’s always the imperative of looking over your shoulder.

You hear Price walking onto the gravelly beach before you see him.

“You know I moved here to be left alone, right?” you tell him, taking another draw from your cigarette.

“I’ve got a job for you.” Price says instead, and you shake your head.

“I’m done with contracting work.”

“So you live off of government support and the intel you sell on the dark web?” he asks.

“That’s my business.”

“It’s about the Red Room.”

You pause, glancing over at him. He looks sincere, but you can also see the earpiece he’s wearing.

“Laswell on the comms?” you asked. You still remember the woman, distrusting as fuck from the moment she met you.

“Yeah. She’s helping with coordinating the team.”

You snort with disdain. “I don’t work in teams. We aren’t trained to.”

“You’ll like them.” Price promises.

“I doubt it. I don’t like you very much.”

Price gives you a dry laugh, and you know he doesn’t take it as personally as you want him to.

“I know that this is personal to you. You got out at eighteen – that’s later than most. You know what they do.”

“Ask any other defector. Sarina, or Antonya. I’m not interested.” You tell him firmly.

“We’re not taking many prisoners from the Red Room.” Price begins again, and you’re about to cut him off. “You can kill the head. Get the girls safe, and you can do with Dreykov whatever you want.”

The offer is too tempting to turn down. To be able to kill the man that ruined your life? The man that ruined the lives of all those other girls?

“I’m in.” you say, and Price gives you a grim smile in return.

“Pack your things. You can meet the team in England.”

Soap

Price had said that he was going to New Zealand for business. He hadn’t realized that ‘business’ entailed a woman.

“That yer girlfriend?” Soap asked, and the woman gave him a look so mean that she almost compared to Ghost.

“I’d hope not.” Price replied. “I’d be dead before morning.”

The woman sat down at the end of the table silently. She looked around, before her hands grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, lighting it up again.

Ghost was quiet too, but fuck, he knew Ghost. This woman didn’t say a single fucking word, but Soap still knew that Price didn’t have any kind of power over her.

“What’s the mission?” he asked impatiently, and Price set down a stack of Manila folders onto the table.

Laswell pushed off from the wall she’d been leaning against, pulling one of the folders from the stack.

“To most special operatives, the Red Room is a myth. A story made up by the KGB, and nothing more. But the Red Room exists, and we’re going to take it down.”

The woman made a sound for the first time, and it was a disdainful laugh. The others turned to stare at her, but Laswell cleared her throat to redirect their attention back to the right person.

“Over the years, the US and Britain have worked together to take the Red Room down, but it’s evolved from a KGB branch to a human trafficking ring. They take young girls off the streets all over the world and turn them into trained killers, mostly targeting politicians. Taking down the Red Room would mean putting a stop to their ongoing crimes and potentially explain some of the most unclear assassinations of the past seventy years.” Laswell said.

Soap glanced over to the woman, who was watching Laswell with close to no emotion on her face. Stubbing her cigarette on the steel table she leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And she’ll be a part of that?” Gaz asked, nodding to her.

Price nodded. “Her call sign is Black Widow.”

“Got a name too?” Soap asked, and she told him, quickly. Quietly.

“What do you do in the field?” Gaz asked her. Soap noticed that Ghost was watching her closely, as if he expected her to pull a gun on the team.

“Hand to hand combat, espionage, sexpionage. I can be a sniper if you want me to.” She answered quickly.

“She’s here to show you the way into the Red Room and make the girls there trust you enough to get them out.” Price added.

“What, don’t want to get punched by a kid again?” she said, and Price rolled his eyes. They knew each other, but they didn’t like each other at all.

When the meeting ended, the team began to file out of the room, but Soap stayed behind, hoping to catch her and introduce himself. Ghost shot him a warning look, that Soap chose to ignore.

“Welcome to the team.” He said.

“Thrilled.” She replied dryly.

“I’m John. Everyone here calls me Soap though.”

“I know. I read your file.” She deadpanned. She could have been funny if she hadn’t been constantly mean.

“Ya got access to that?” he asked.

“No.” she replied.

Of course she didn’t.

Ghost

They’d tried to get into a smaller base of the Red Room first, to gather some more intel. None of the team had expected there to be any people, much less a bunch of teen girls armed to the teeth.

It didn’t end well.

Out of the thirty girls there, they’d managed to get seven out alive. The others had either died via cyanide pills or while fighting them.

Black Widow had explained that they were brainwashed, and that was why they’d immediately committed suicide when other options ran out. She didn’t seem to be affected too much by it. At least, she tried to pretend that it was that way.

He’d taken a bullet to the thigh, and it had been her to stitch him up in the safehouse before he could call the medic. She’d been grazed by something, and she took care of that herself as well.

They’d all managed to get some time under the shower, and now, they sat in the living room together. She was in the cargo pants she’d worn on the mission and a black tank top, and Ghost could see the tattoo on her right shoulder blade while her back was to him.

The square hourglass symbol, followed by a number.

1047.

He didn’t have to ask to know that she was the 1047th girl they’d taken. He wondered how many of them had died at his hands, while he didn’t know that he was fighting children.

Price was working on the radio they’d found in the safehouse, but finding an enjoyable station in the middle of Russia was proving to be harder than expected. Eventually, he landed on a classical music station.

She didn’t seem to mind, scraping her can of tortellini clean, until a new song played. Ghost did not recognize it, but he saw her hands curl around the can tightly, knuckles turning white.

“Change the station.” She said. Price looked up. It was the first thing anyone had said in a few hours.

“Why?”

“Just change the fucking station.” She snapped. “Please.”

Price nodded, turning it to something else. A Russian voice chattered into the room. Ghost could see that she was listening, probably understanding every single word.

“What are they saying?” Price asked.

“That there was a fire in the warehouse we were in.” she said.

“Nothing about us?”

She shook her head. “From what they’re saying, they don’t have a clue. The Red Room will know.”

“Why?” Ghost asked.

“They chipped us. They know the last location of the girls, and they know that seven of the chips moved without the rest. I had the medics take them out, but it took them a while to get here. By now, Dreykov will know that something is going on.”

It was the most she’d said in one go so far.

Ghost didn’t trust her, but he didn’t mind her either. Most of the team disliked her, and Price couldn’t seem to stand her. Soap had his mind set on talking to her. But Ghost… he didn’t know who she was, only that she was as quiet as he was.

He knew that Soap wanted to ask about the scars that littered her arms and what they could see of her back, and he knew that she would not answer.

Suddenly, there was a shout of frustration from Gaz.

“What happened?” Price asked, immediately on his feet.

“Heater’s out.”

Glancing outside, Ghost saw that it was snowing heavily. Black Widow got up from her spot in the room. Ghost could hear her shuffle inside one of the cabinets.

She returned with blankets, dumping them in the middle of the room before taking one for herself. Ghost said nothing as she sat down next to him, an arm length of space between them. The snow only got heavier, until it turned into an all-out blizzard.

“We’ll be snowed in tomorrow.” Soap noted.

“Let’s worry about freezing to death first.” Gaz said. He was chattering, despite the blanket around him. Black Widow had gotten herself a second already, and she still looked cold.

“Taking first watch.” Ghost muttered, sitting down by the window.

“I’ll join you.” Soap said. Ghost knew that Soap wanted to chatter about something idle to distract himself from the image of 23 dead fourteen-year-olds.

The others shuffled together for warmth, except for her. She stayed where she was, leaning against the counter of the small kitchen.

“Ya think she’s from the Red Room?” Soap asked under his breath.

“Course she is.” Ghost replied.

“I heard they take the girls when they’re three. Teach ‘em ballet and how to be all pretty while killing a man. Then they send them out when they’re fifteen.”

Ghost nodded, letting Soap know that he was listening.

“Ya think that’s why she wanted ta change the station?”

“Huh?”

“They were playin’ sum ballet song.” Soap said. “Maybe she knows how to dance to it. “

“Doubt she does much dancing.” Ghost replied.

“Sight for sore eyes though. But after what she did today…” Soap mumbled.

Ghost still remembered it. How ruthlessly she’d fought against those girls. Wasn’t she supposed to know that they had no choice?

They had all obviously gone through the same combat training, but she was older and stronger. Those girls knew that. She knew that.

Ghost had watched her snap the neck of one with a twist of her hand. Something like that was so grotesque that even Ghost seldom did it, but with her it looked like the starter to a five-course-meal.

“She ain’t happy.” Soap said.

“No shit.”

“Ya think she’s a good person?”

“I doubt it.” Ghost replied.

“I think she could be. Maybe she’s an ass due to circumstance.”

Ghost snorted. Only Soap would say something like that. When he glanced over to her, he saw beady eyes glancing back in the darkness. He wondered if she’d listened in to their conversation.

She didn’t sleep for most of the time Ghost and Soap were on watch. A few hours in, she picked up her pack of cigarettes and lighter and offered them to take over watch.

Ghost nodded, about to get up and go back to bed, but Soap was hesitant.

“It’s fucking cold sleeping on tha ground.” He said.

“We can sleep close. For warmth.” Ghost replied.

“Nah. I’ll stay on my feet.” Soap said.

Ghost shook his head. What the fuck was going on with Soap?

You

You were back to square one, thanks to some wrong intel. On top of that, they all saw what you did to the other girls. You weren’t sure if their pity was worse or whatever they did now.

All of them except Soap, who still seemed determined to chew off your ear. Currently, he was telling you about his hometown in Scotland.

“You’re from New Zealand, aren’t ya?” he asked finally.

“I just lived there.”

“Then where are you from?” he asked. You shrugged in response. Russia was where you were raised, technically, but you did not know where you were taken from.

Soap smiled at you brightly, completely unguarded. It threw you off. He was a special ops, and yet, he sometimes behaved like anything but.

You didn’t need classes in the Red Room to know that he was attracted to you. Yet, you weren’t sure whether that would help or hinder you.

“Who raised ya? Masked soldiers?” he said, and you were sure he’d meant it as a joke.

“A woman called Madam Ivanova. She was in charge of us.”

“Was? Who killed her?”

“Price.” You replied curtly.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. You could see that he was regretting his words.

“Don’t be. She wasn’t a good person.”

“You say that as if she killed your friends.”

“She did.” You replied.

“What?”

“If recruits aren’t good enough, you don’t let them into your ranks.” You shrugged.

“Recruits? Fucking hell, you were girls.”

“Yeah, at the beginning of the program. 1 in 20 makes it through.”

Soap didn’t say anything else that night.

***

You stayed on after taking down Dreykov. By going back into this industry, you’d given up New Zealand, and in your gut, you’d known that when you made that choice.

The team had grown to accept you, and even Price was alright with your company by now. In return, you tried to be less snappy towards them. It worked, most of the time.

The last mission had been a good one. No one innocent had died, you’d gotten the intel, and the bad guys were dead. It was like out of a story, and the group was celebrating.

Price had gotten an empty bar, and Soap was playing bartender, giving out drinks like there was no tomorrow, and chugging his own just as quickly. Ghost was in the corner, mask rolled up to drink whatever Soap handed him.

You could see a bit of blond stubble peek out, along with a small scar. You knew how he’d gotten it. It had been in the Red Room, the actual Red Room, and an eight-year-old girl had slashed at him with a sharpened letter opener.

Ghost hadn’t defended himself. You’d pried the girl off him, taking the weapon from her and making sure she wouldn’t jam it into his neck next.

“Here.” Soap said, handing you a shot of Tequila.

“I’ve had enough.” You replied. “If I drink any more, I’ll get tipsy.”

“That’s the point.” Soap said, firmly putting the shotglass down. “You’re lucky we’re not playing any drinking games.”

You snatched the glass from him, ignoring his smug smile as you downed it, holding out your ahnd for a lime wedge. Soap dropped it into your hand quickly.

You laughed at some stupid joke he said, ignoring the stares on your back from the rest of the team. You couldn’t deny the fact that Soap could make you feel less…

You weren’t sure, but when you were with Soap, your past faded into the background. It wasn’t as important anymore. All the blood and fucking gore of it.

Ghost

He wasn’t sure why, but he hated that she was laughing at Soap’s idiot jokes. Somehow, he had convinced her to get tipsy, and it was a good look on her.

She was pretty when she smiled. Not that she wasn’t without, but it made her look careless. At some point, she walked over to him, another shot glass in hand.

“Soap insists you drink another. He wants to see you tipsy.”

Ghost took the glass from her, ignoring the fact that he enjoyed their hands touching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Ghost paused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re quiet. You always are, but you’re like… quiet tonight.” She said. He wanted to scoff at her.

“You and Johnny fucking?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why.

“What?” she asked. “Where the fuck is that coming from?”

“Don’t want my team messed up.”

“Oh in that case, you don’t have to worry Lieutenant.” She spat. Her entire body language had shifted in a moment, and it was telling Ghost to fuck off. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Ghost watched her storm out, before glancing over to Soap. He’d stilled his movements, looking after her.

Ghost followed a few seconds after, leaving the bar. She stood outside, clicking on her lighter angrily.

“Don’t fucking say anything stupid.” She told him, throwing the lighter away with a frustrated movement. Suddenly, Ghost surged forward, grabbing her jaw softly. He had to lean down to look at her, even if she wasn’t short.

“Wha-“ she began

“I thought you learned about all of this.” Ghost mumbled, suddenly unsure what to do. Her hands surged forward, pulling the lower half of his mask up.

His hand moved the back of her neck, covering pretty much all of it. He could taste the sourness of limes on her lips. Her lips were so soft Ghost thought he might forget about everything else.

He ghosted over her jaw, and felt the tenseness in it. Carefully, Ghost broke contact.

“Relax.” He told her.

“I am.”

“This isn’t a mission.”

“I just- I haven’t done this just for the sake of it.”

Shit. Ghost felt terrible when she said that.

“Don’t stop now.” She whispered, and Ghost obliged, his lips meeting hers again. Her jaw wasn’t as tense as it had been, and her arms hung loosely around his neck. Slowly, he let one of his hands slide down to her waist, pulling her in closely.

She let down a quiet oof as she hit his vest, letting him guide her towards the wall of the bar. His other hand pillowed her head, making sure that she would not hurt herself.

He hated to admit that kissing her was everything he wanted in that moment.

It was so perfect, the taste of her lips, her small hands on his chest and his own encircling her waist. Their closeness.

And then, the illusion shattered.

She sprang back from him, looking towards the door of the bar.

“Soap?” she asked, voice hoarse.

Soap

He’d only come out of the bar to check on her and Ghost, expecting them to be at each other’s throats. They were, just not the way he’d thought.

“Soap?” she asked, surprise apparent on her face. Ghost’s hand was still on her waist, but she’d backed away from him as soon as she’d heard his steps.

His stomach dropped. He wanted her. Simon fucking knew that. He’d wanted to do that to her since he’d met her, and he’d told Simon. He’d told him about what he thought of her and he did this?

And from the look on her face, she knew how he felt as well.

“Fuck you, Riley.” He spat, turning back around. Ghost stayed where he was, but she followed him.

“Please don’t go.” She said. “It was- I didn’t mean to-“

“What? You looked like you were about to fuck him right there.” Soap replied. He knew his accent was thick due to anger, and he didn’t care. He didn’t expect her to push him like a petulant child though.

Soap barely stumbled, and that only seemed to enrage her more.

“It was a heat of the moment thing!” she finally said. “He got me angry, and it worked, okay?”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” He finally replied. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I like you.” She blurted out. Soap blinked dumbly.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again. It makes me sound so childish.” She said. Behind her, Ghost moved.

“So why’d you make out with him?” Soap asked. She didn’t reply, but for the first time since he’d met her, she blushed. Furiously.

Oh.

He glanced over to Ghost, who towered behind her. He saw it too. Their eyes met, and Soap saw the idea that was coming to his mind mirrored in Ghost’s.

Oh.

They’d never even come close to something like that, but maybe…

Softly, he tipped up her chin, There were the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were still flushed from kissing Ghost and the Tequila she’d had. Her pupils were still dilated.

She was so fucking hot.

He could share with Ghost.

This wasn’t the first kiss Soap had imagined, but imagination be damned, it was still fucking amazing. Soap pulled her closer by the loops in her belt, feeling her body press against him. Her hands grabbed his neck, pulling him closer.

Soap could practically feel Ghost hover behind her, feel the impatience rolling off of him.

“Let’s get outta here, yeah?” Soap offered, and she nodded, grabbing him by the hand. Ghost followed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned in, whispering. “She’s never had sex for the sake of sex.”

Soap nodded. If she knew they were talking about her, she ignored it.

“I wasn’t planning on not focusing on her.” He replied.

Ghost

They found a dingy motel, and Soap barely managed to scrape money out of his wallet before he was already sprinting up the stairs to their hotel. The woman behind the desk gave them a look that told Ghost she knew exactly what they were planning.

Not that he cared much.

He caught up with her, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder. Soap shook his head, unlocking the door to their room as quickly as he could.

Ghost let her down on the bed, crashing lips onto lips. She gave a surprised squeak that turned into a moan as his hand wandered to her tits, greedily squeezing.

Blindly, she pulled Soap onto the bed, causing it to groan from the weight.

“Might break it if we keep going.” Soap said.

“That’s the goal.” She replied, before kissing him. Ghost didn’t know why he didn’t feel jealous but he was glad. Carefully, he set to work on pulling off her jacket, and then, her shirt.

He paused when he saw a massive scar, running from under her left breast until her hipbone. Ghost ran a thumb over it carefully. There was another, low on her stomach. Ghost didn’t want to think of where they’d come from. Kissing up her breasts, she felt her hands tug at his vest.

He shrugged it off, watching as she wrapped her legs around Soap’s waist, flipping him onto his back.

From under her hair, he saw the tattoo. It disappeared again when she leaned forward to suck on Soap’s neck, softly biting his shoulder.

Soap groaned and Ghost suddenly felt his pants grow uncomfortably tight.

He moved to kneel behind her, feeling her grind against the bulge in Soap’s pants. His hand snaked onto her neck, and she turned to kiss him.

“Good?” she asked. Simon and John nodded at the same time. She’s the most naked out of all of them, bra and pants still on, and God, it’s not enough for him. He picked her up, knowing exactly that she knew this was nothing for him, and beginning to open her pants.

Soap sat up, looking almost offended at being left out but then, he leaned back, giving her an appreciative smile.

Simon had almost managed to not feel guilty for making out with her behind the bar despite what Soap had told him.

She’s a pretty lass. I think she’d kill me if I told her.

That was the first thing Soap had told him, and Simon had silently agreed. He’d had no idea that Soap’s simple attraction would turn into a full-blown crush, like that of a lovesick teen. He’d had no idea that he’d follow so closely behind.

It had happened to him after the mess with the Red Room. She’d come out of Dreykov’s office, covered in blood, slick with it, and collapsed at his feet. He’d picked her up and carried her to the medics, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of the office.

Dreykov’s body, scattered across the room, his bodyguards dead with him.

He’d seen her carnal violence, and she’d held his hand afterwards, as they stitched her back together. Three bullets and six stab wounds, and she’d squeezed his hand so hard he was sure it would fall off.

They never spoke of it afterwards, but there was something there then.

There’s a moment of awkward rustling where Soap and Widow pull off their clothes, and Simon stands off to the side, unsure whether he should take his off as well.

Instead, he lowers himself to the end of the bed, pulling her towards him until her cunt is in front of his face. She crosses her legs for a moment, and Simon begins to work on her thighs. It takes her a moment, and then she lets him touch her.

Soap is somewhere above him, making out with her so intensely that Simon can see her chest heave with each breath. He’s so hard in his pants it almost hurts.

But this is about her. For her.

The first moan he coaxes from her is muffled, almost swallowed by Soap’s kiss, but the second comes more loudly. Simon stays where he is, until her legs wrap around his head with a trained strength and he can barely breathe.

He’d die happy between her legs.

Soap

Everything that’s happening turns into an avalanche once her clothes are off. She’s still sweaty from the bar and walking to the motel, but he couldn’t care less. Her tits are in his face – he has no right to.

Ghost is somewhere, doing something, and he can barely concentrate on what he’s doing with the sounds that are coming from her mouth. She’s not fragile – he knows she isn’t. And yet, he feels like he has to hold her like she’ll break apart.

“I want…” she begins, but trails off again, into another moan. Johnny throws a look behind his shoulder and sees her legs wrapped around Ghost’s head, so tightly that he isn’t sure his friend is still alive.

“What do you want?” he demands from her. She could ask anything from him right now. He’d shoot his own brains out if she wanted him to.

“Please, I need you.” She begs, and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind in this shitty motel.

Slowly, she lets Ghost go, and he stands up, pulling his mask over his face again. He’s still wearing his clothes.

Soap lets her get on top. Ghost is somewhere, holding her somehow, but all he can focus on is the feeling of him inside her. It’s never-ending, golden, and Soap knows nothing has felt more right.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, her arms shaking as she tries to steady herself on his shoulders. Ghost had done a number on her, and it looked amazing.

When she began to move, the scar on her stomach stretched, pulling on her skin. Soap wanted to take her away from it all. Him and Ghost, they could protect her. Let her truly retire.

She was younger than both of them, and had worked this kind of stuff long before them. Only Price had more experience.

Suddenly, she leans forward, her lips grazing his ear.

“Ghost feels a little left out.”

“We don’t want that, do we now?” he replies.

“I have something that might work.” She says, and Johnny trusts her. She turns around, offering her cunt to him from behind, facing Ghost. He takes out his cock, stroking leisurely, and Soap wants to gulp with her.

It’s fucking massive. She wants to suck him off when he’s that big?

But then she’s practically begging him to fill her cunt again, and all thoughts of possible or not possible are gone when he’s inside her.

He watches, through a haze, as Ghost feeds her his cock. She gags on it, and Johnny can feel himself twitch inside her. She feels it too.

Ghost is careful with her at first, whispering praises.

Good girl. You’re doing so well.

And then, he kind of forgets all about that, slowly guiding her head. The enormity of him causes her to rock back against Soap, and he wishes he could see her face.

He feels himself growing close, and suddenly he panics – there’s no condoms.

So he pulls out of her, and both Ghost and her halt their movements.

“You on the pill?” Soap asks quickly.

“I can’t have kids.” She replies. He halts at that for a moment, but then, she and Ghost are back at it, and he doesn’t want to miss out.

His hand snakes down to her belly, finding her clit. It causes her to clench around him and it takes Soap all of his willpower not to come then and there.

He doesn’t know where to look. The perfect fucking curve of her back. Her ass. Her face in Ghost’s crotch, taking him as if that wasn’t a fucking challenge.

Soap barely manages to coax an orgasm out of her before he cums. He's so close his brain has turned to mush. She shudders against him, and he has to hold her up, feeling her pretty ass bump against him, always begging for more. He gives as much as he can, making her moan around Ghost’s cock so loudly that the woman behind the desk downstairs has definitely heard.

One last time, he grabs her hips tightly, cumming inside her, before he pulls out and leans back.

He gets to enjoy the view as she continues to suck off Ghost, his cum dribbling out of her cunt. His handprints are on her hips, already beginning to bruise. Ghost doesn’t take much longer before he comes too, holding her head down. Soap hears her choke, and it’s enough to make him hard again.

She collapses onto the bed next to him, sweatier than before and hair in tangles thanks to Ghost.

Soap takes the stringy towel Ghost gets him from the bathroom, wiping down her thighs and offering it to her for her face.

“No need.” She says with a proud smirk.

“God, stop. You’ll be in for another round otherwise.”

Ghost sits on the bed across from them before she waves him over. It’s barely enough space, but she manages to squeeze between them. Soap scratches her back carefully, and she purrs like a cat.

“Was that good for a first?” Soap finally asks.

“Oh no it was totally terrible.” She answers, her voice sarcastic. “It’s not like I came all over your dick.”

“Jesus.” Ghost manages, but Soap sees his massive hand already on her ass.

“Round two?” Soap asks, and she gives him an adoring smile. There’s a moment where he feels himself falling in love with her even more, and maybe even with Ghost, for taking care of his girl.

“Give me a moment.” She says finally. “But yeah, let’s go for a round two.”

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middlingmay · 4 months ago

Note

May I request HUG from the tackle prompts, for Clegan? 🥰

[ HUG ]: sender tackles the receiver to the ground in their enthusiasm to give them a hug.

Hello! Took me a wee while to get to this one, sorry, but it was a great chance to dive back into my Footballer!John AU.

Taken from this prompt list.

Hope you like it!

EGAN TACKLES LATEST CHALLENGE

Newly-minted Arsenal midfielder John “Bucky” Egan showed off his tackling skills at Heathrow Airport yesterday. His promotion to the Champions League came with high emotions as he was reunited with his reporter boyfriend Gale Cleven, who covered Spain’s recent win in the Women’s World Cup. The couple were seen canoodling outside a trendy bar in Sydney in the early weeks of the tournament, before Egan returned the UK to embark on his new training regime. A tried and tested asset in the defensive midfield, Arsenal manger Mikel Arteta is rumoured to consider a move to a forward position…

John chuckles as he folds the paper and tosses it beside him on the couch. He knew they’d cause a stir with his display yesterday, but he hadn't cared then and he doesn't care now.

Over a month without Gale had been awful.

The nature of both their jobs demand time apart, a few days here, a week there. No biggie. And when Gale had told him his news outlet wanted him to cover the Women’s World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, John had foolishly thought this would be no different.

He’d been thrilled for Gale. John knew he wanted out of sports journalism, and was starting to dip his toe into STEM reportage and was impressing all the right people, but the World Cup was a huge privilege, a huge responsibility, a huge pay cheque, and a great opportunity to travel somewhere Gale might not have went otherwise.

Or John.

Timing’s wise, it wasn’t great. Summer fixtures were in full swing, but he’d managed to bag two full days in Sydney with Gale. They’d been a glorious sun-bleached daydream of exploring the city, enjoying some good football, and taking advantage of every opportunity he had to put hands all over his boyfriend.

Gale hadn't been able to see him to the airport because he had to be at the Allianz Stadium early. But when he saw him off at the door of his hotel, his eyes had gone uncharacteristically bright and John’s heart broke a little to realise that Gale was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” John dropped his duffle bag and swept Gale into his arms; their fifth hug in the last ten minutes. “What’s all that for?”

Gale had burrowed his head into the curve between John’s neck and his shoulders. Those long, strong fingers of his grasped at his shoulder blades tight and bunched up John’s jacket.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Stupid.”

John had pushed him back, cupped Gale’s face under his jaw and made him look at him. “Nothing about you is stupid. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

John had kissed him then, and didn’t stop until his phone buzzed angrily, his ride to the airport beckoning.

Gale had laughed at himself and gently pushed John away. “Go on, get. Some of us have actual work to do.”

John hadn’t got why Gale had been so upset then, but he does now. Waiting a whole month to see Gale, touch Gale, smell Gale was torture. The only thing that had gotten him through it, asides from their texting and phone calls and video calls, was throwing himself head first into practice. He was the first in and last out, every day. He worked his body so hard, he just had enough energy to eat and talk to Gale before he fell into bed to rinse and repeat.

So, when the World Cup was over and Gale was coming home, John had insisted on picking him up at the airport.

John can see over the top of everyone perfectly fine, thanks to the long legs and tall frame he inherited from his dad. But that doesn’t stop him from straining to stand on the tip top of his toes every few seconds.

He looks every which way at the gate, tries to see through the stupid narrow windows on the doors to get his first glimpse of Gale in the flesh. But he stays stubbornly absent.

John’s dimly aware of the looks and murmuring around him. But every time he starts to tun in a pay some attention, he thinks he sees something move where Gale’s plan is due to disembark and he’s back on his toes, craning his neck. He’s one single minute away from jumping in the air like a five-year-old to try and see even further, he swears to God.

Then, finally, the doors swing open and a flood of people swarm through. There are families lugging tired kids; there are sunburnt, hungover teenagers and twenty-something-year-olds; there are leather-skinned retirees, crisply-outfitted business folks. And then, finally through the throng, John spots him.

He’s always thought Gale was the most beautiful person on the plant. He thinks he’s beautiful in his suits he wears for work. He thinks he’s beautiful in the sweats and t-shirts he wears at home. He thinks he’s beautiful in those stupid slipper socks he wears because his feet get cold at night.

But right now, he’s never looked better. He’s exhausted, John can tell; he hasn’t slept on the plane. The shadows under his eyes are purplish. His skin is pale, his hair is unbrushed. His clothes are wrinkled. But he walks tall, looking over the crowd and scanning, scanning, until—

His whole face, whole body, slumps with relief when he spots John.

And that’s just too much for John to take.

Legs strong and conditioned for exactly this task, John pelts forward, weaving through holiday-makers, dodging wheely-cases, not breaking stride for a second. They all pass him by in a multicolour blur as he runs for Gale. Gale only has time to drop his bag before John lands. Between his momentum and Gale's tiredness, they’re careening down to the floor, John’s hand protecting Gale’s head as the rest of him lays sprawled over his boyfriend.

They hear tittering and clicking but John cannot care less. He beams at Gale, thrilled just to drink in the sight of him, and he gets his favourite Gale smile: eyes looking up through his lashes, cheeks high, like he’s trying not to smile but just can’t help himself around John.

John rubs their noses together. “Hi.”

And to John’s surprise, Gale kisses him; a brush of his lips that John follows and presses into, just enough to feel the fullness of those lips he’d dreamt about, before letting Gale retreat.

“Hi. Now let me up.”

John bounds up, and plucks Gale up off the floor easy with two hands. He takes his bag too and all but drags him out of the airport to the car waiting outside. They have to get home. Like, yesterday.

A cup of coffee appears over John’s shoulder.

“You’re up.” He takes the cup from Gale with a kiss to his jaw.

“Mm. Didn’t have anyone to stay in bed for.” Gale joins John on the sofa, his back against the arm and his legs thrown over John’s. “Saw something interesting on my phone though.”

He fishes his barely-used personal phone from his pocket (John’s surprised he actually knows where it is, today. He doesn’t normally), presses a few buttons and passes it to John.

On the small rectangular screen is the site for a gossip rag. On it’s sports section, it leads with the headline: See what Bucky did to his boyfriend in PUBLIC!

“Oh, come on,” John scoffs, nearly sloshing coffee over the lip and onto the sofa. “That makes it sounds like I was…pushing you around or something.”

“You literally pushed me over.” John poked him. “There’s more. The Daily Mail, always a classic.”

‘Tackled’ Pink: Egan humiliates boy toy.

John groans in second-hand embarrassment. “Their puns are getting worse. That barely makes sense. And I’m sorry—boy toy?”

“Excuse you: humiliated boy toy, I think you’ll find.”

John makes to hand the phone back but Gale just nods at it. “Look who wrote it.”

A quick scan of the article reveals the name. “Ulrich Haussmann?! That prick who got drunk at your last mixer and asked to be our third?”

Gale snickers into his own cup of coffee and cocks his head, his blue eyes alight with mirth as he gazes at John. “He only asked that because I was there. He was lookin’ at you all night. Swear his eyes never went north of the equator.”

John gags at Gale’s teasing. “Rather grate off my own dick, no thank you.”

Gale puts down his coffee. “Now why did you have to say a thing like that?” He slips from the sofa to kneel on the floor between John’s legs. Drawing his nose up the inseam of John’s thighs (he's borderline obsessed with them and John can't get enough of it), Gale places a clothed kiss over the crotch of John’s pyjama shorts and gives him a brief nuzzle. “Don’t worry baby,” he says to John’s groin. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

It is so utterly ridiculous, the goofy, silly side of Gale he doesn't let anyone else see but John, that John has them toppling over again, landing on the cushioned rug of their living room instead of the hard screed of the airport.

Nose to nose, John grins and says, “You happier to see me or him, here?”

Gale shimmies his shoulders and screws up his face that way that wrinkles his nose. “Fifty-fifty.”

“I’ll take it.”

#asks #ask me anything #fic requests #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #footballer au #footballer john #mota #masters of the air #fic request

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 15

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.4k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 14 | Series Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 15

“Beau.”

“Absolutely not.” The soothing sound of waves crashing onto the shore, coupled with the steady rise and fall of your husband’s breath, was lulling you into a doze. With his hands planted firmly in the sand, Jake supported your weight as you sat between his legs, back pressed to his chest.

Given that he was about to be surrounded by the ocean in just a few days, you’d been surprised when he planned to spend Sunday at the beach. Rather than stay at the beach at the Navy Lodge, where you were staying on North Island, you drove about an hour away. Under an umbrella borrowed from Penny, he passed a few hours with his head in your lap, turning to brush his lips to your stomach while you alternated between dozing and reading a romance book you’d grabbed from the airport. At his request, you read some of it aloud, trailing off when it got to a steamy scene. One green eye opened when you shifted, a sly smirk spreading across his mouth before he took the book from you and started to read you the somewhat graphic sex scene. When you tried to snatch it back, he leapt to his feet and continued. Once you’d gotten to your feet, he dodged your attempts to snatch it back, finally tossing the book onto the towels before swinging you into his arms and charging into the water. He gave a three-second warning before dunking you both under the waves.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked out far enough to conceal the fact that his hand was between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your bathing suit. With nails digging into his shoulders, you kissed him hard, forcing him to swallow your gasps as you clenched around nothing.

“I love that name,” you grumbled, toying with the high hem of his wet swim trunks.

“Do you know what Admiral Simpson’s name is?” Huffing, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, the corners of your mouth twitching when he chuckled and kissed your temple.

“If we can’t name our kid after someone you work with - you realize that narrows down our options. A lot.”

“I’m not naming my kid after my boss. Besides, we don’t need a boy's name.” His sandy hand covered your stomach, cool against your sun-warmed skin. “Kiwi is a girl.”

“Nectarine is a boy. When you call him ‘Kiwi,’ it sounds like I have a New Zealander in my uterus.” You couldn’t help but smile as Jake laughed, bouncing you lightly.

“Nope,” he finally managed. “Just the combination of a Texas boy and a Florida girl in there.”

“Sounds like a dangerous combination.”

“Parker.”

“Hmmm,” you said, wringing the water from your hair. Jake pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. “Parker Seresin. That’s cute. And it would work for a boy or a girl.” Pressing himself to your back, Jake leaned down to kiss your neck.

“What do you think about giving her your middle name?”

“It’s a weird middle name for a boy. What do you think… would you want him to be a junior?” He froze, breath stuttering against your skin. “Jacob Michael Seresin, Junior. JJ for short.” After a moment, he gathered himself and shook his head.

“No. I don’t want any of our kids to be a junior.” Something was guarded in his eyes when they met yours in the mirror. Seeing your worried look, he forced a smile. “Besides, Jacob’s a weird name for a girl.” With a sigh, you shook your head and pulled the towel from his hand, dropping it onto the floor and tugging him from the bathroom. Chuckling, he pressed against your back, fingers slipping between the gap in the towel wrapped around you. Tutting, you pointed to the edge of the bed, and he obliging sat, legs spread wide enough for you to stand between.

“Jake,” you said softly, shaking your head when his hands curled around your thighs and started to move higher. With one hand braced on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and sighed. His smile dropped at your serious expression.

“Darlin’?”

“I… I know you’re sure we’re having a girl and that you said you don’t have a preference, but…” Blowing out a breath, you tried to force away the inconvenient prick of tears in your eyes. He said your name softly, concern etched on his face. “Sorry,” you said thickly, shaking your head. “Fucking hormones. Sorry. I just - will you be okay if we have a boy?”

“Of course,” Jake said quickly, lifting his hands to frame your stomach while drawing you closer. “I thought we were having fun - I didn’t realize that saying the baby’s a girl upset you.”

“It’s not,” you sniffled, trailing your nails down his neck. “It’s just… you’re so adamant, and by the time we find out what they are, you’ll be so far away. And just now, y-you looked so… so… I don’t know when I asked about naming them after you.”

Slowly, Jake’s gaze dropped from yours, first down to your nose, then chin, before his head lowered. His forehead rested between your breasts, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each deliberate breath. You watched as his jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth. After a moment, he said, in a steady but strained voice, “If we have a boy, we can call him JJ.” Your heart broke a little at that moment, and you wrapped your arms around your husband, holding him tightly.

“I don’t care about calling him JJ. I want to know why you’re upset.” Gently, Jake pushed you away and stood, walking to his duffle and grabbing a pair of boxers. “Honey?” He dragged a hand through his hair, shoulders hunched, and shook his head.

“I don’t… I never want our kids to think that they have to live up to their name.”

“What do you - ”

“My dad used to tell me that he was glad they didn’t name me after him - that not making me a junior was one of the best decisions he made.”

He made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was.

That admission, shared after you first met his mother and sister, was unspoken but seemed to resonate in the silence. You bit your lip hard, taking a shaky breath and forcing away your tears. Never in your entire life had you felt such hatred for another person.

Silently, you walked towards him and lightly stroked his back, feeling him tense under your touch. His eyes stayed glued on his duffle as you stood beside him, his expression purposefully blank. “Love?” you said softly, brushing your lips to his bicep. His eyes closed, brows furrowing as you trailed your free hand down his arm to tangle your fingers together. Jake’s grip was limp as your thumb stroked his empty ring finger. Sighing, you quickly brushed away a few escaped tears before pulling away and retreating to the bathroom.

Hurt shone in your husband’s eyes as he watched you reappear a moment later, wearing your sleep shorts and t-shirt. Returning to his side, you took his left hand and slid his wedding ring back on, pressing your lips to the white gold band. “I want you to listen to me, Jake,” you said, voice rough with emotion. “You are a good man. You are an amazing husband. And our baby has no idea how lucky they are to have you as a father.”

“A father who won’t even be there when they’re born,” he replied gruffly.

“Not through any choice of your own,” you countered. Turning his hand, you placed your wedding rings in his palm. He quickly returned them to their rightful place on your finger. Catching his hand, you slid it under your shirt and pressed it against your stomach. “If we have a boy, will you love him any less than if we had a girl?”

“No.” His answer was quick and emphatic.

“Would you favor his sister over him?” Jake shook his head. “Would you ever tell our son that he was a disappointment?” His throat bobbed, green eyes glistening.

“N-never.” Ignoring the tears slipping down your face, you reached up to cup his cheek.

“You are nothing like your dad. You would never intentionally hurt your family.”

“Dar - ”

“Nothing. Like. Him,” you reiterated. “And if it takes me saying it every day to get it through your thick skull, I’ll do it.” Jake let out a sad chuckle, his hand sliding from your stomach to your lower back as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I love you too.” Dragging your hand down his chest, you entwined your fingers and took a step back, gently guiding him toward the bed. After you’d settled back on the pillows, he joined you, tugging your shirt up to kiss your baby bump. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on a fist while his left hand stroked your stomach.

“What…what about Oliver?” Jake asked hesitantly, focusing on the rise and fall of your breath.

Your hand covered his, feeling the ridge of his wedding ring pressing lightly into your skin. “Oliver Seresin. Sounds perfect.”

Jake tiptoed around the hotel room on Monday morning as he prepared for work. Woken by the sound of the shower, you’d reached for him only to find his side of the bed empty.

After the conversation the night before, you were even more worried about him being gone now. Not because of his physical safety - that was always a concern, and you spent too much time around pilots not to know how dangerous Jake’s job was - but because he was apparently keeping his worries hidden from you. The idea that he would compare himself to his piece of shit father angered you so much.

With reruns of Friends playing low in the background, Jake told you that he was worried about having a boy because he didn’t know how to be a good dad to a son. If the baby was a girl, he would have some idea of what to do - Lina got away with murder but was clearly loved, and he saw how much your dad loved you. There was a blueprint he could follow with a daughter. When you��d tried to assure him that having a boy would only mean you learned how to parent together, he’d agreed with a skeptical look, and you knew he was just trying to appease you.

If you ever had the misfortune of meeting your father-in-law, he would walk away with a piece of your mind. You also felt a new level of anger with Sarah for allowing her husband to abuse her son like that. The fact that Jake grew up in that household to be a man you both loved and respected was astonishing. Sure, he was cocky at times, but it was an attempt to mask some pretty big insecurities.

The water cut off, replaced by the buzz of an electric razor. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. “Morning,” you mumbled, opening one eye to see him rubbing a towel through his hair. He smiled tiredly and tossed the towel back into the bathroom before walking toward the bed.

“Morning, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shaking your head, you stretched out a hand and smiled when he took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. When you tugged, he sighed and briefly let go of your hand to pull back the blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head onto his shoulder. Light fingers drifted along your forearm, nudging you back to sleep.

“Flying today?” you asked, twirling your finger in the chain of his dog tags.

“No, just briefing and last-minute stuff. I should be off tomorrow or only need to go in for a few hours.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “What are you going to do?” At your shrug, he chuckled. “You’ll have the car, so you should go out and explore. But don’t forget that we have dinner plans tonight.” Nodding, you tilted your head back to kiss the hinge of Jake’s jaw before forcing your eyes open. His green eyes crinkled when they met yours. “There’s my sleepy girl.”

Humming, you slid your hand down his chest, slipping under the blanket to play with the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Need me to do anything this morning?” you asked.

“As much as I really wish we could,” he huffed, flattening your hand over the blanket, “I don’t have time.”

“We can be quick.” Chuckling, Jake shifted to hover over you, his hips pressing yours into the mattress.

“Not that quick,” he huffed, kissing your neck.

“It’s not fair,” you whined, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “The Navy gets you for the next six months. All I want is a couple of minutes this morning.” When he lifted his head to see your pouting lip, your husband couldn’t help but grin. He tasted like spearmint when he kissed you.

“The Navy only has me for a couple of years. You get me forever,” he murmured.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Nope.”

“No.” Jake’s voice was firmer than yours. His arm, which was draped across the back of your chair, tensed as he took a pull from his beer bottle.

“Definitely not,” Rooster added, glancing between you. Your eyes met his, and he gave a strained smile.

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“Uh,” Jake said, lightly stroking your shoulder.

“That’s his ex-wife’s name,” you supplied, squeezing his knee under the table. At the girl’s embarrassed look, you shrugged, sending him a teasing glance. “He’s got a long list of exes, so there’s quite a few names that are crossed off.” Amelia smirked as Jake tugged a strand of your hair.

“I’m surprised he can remember them all,” Rooster muttered, then grimaced when Mav kicked him under the table. “Ow.”

“Dessert?” Penny asked, quickly pushing to her feet and grabbing her empty plate. With the pilots leaving on Wednesday, she had invited everyone to her house for dinner on Monday evening.

“Rooster will help,” Mav said, giving the younger man a stern look. Groaning, the pilot quickly helped collect the empty dishes with Amelia, following the two women into the kitchen.

“So, how are your parents?” Mav asked, rolling his water glass between his hands. Jake shrugged, and you squeezed his knee again.

“Mine are good. They’re down in the Keys with their best friends right now and living their best lives. Got some pictures of them at a drag show earlier,” you chuckled.

“They seem like nice people,” the older man grinned, eyes shooting to your silent husband.

“They’re the best,” Jake nodded. “Couldn’t ask for better in-laws.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that you could, with regard to his family.

“Are they planning on coming out when you, uh…” He gestured towards your stomach, and you smiled, placing a hand on your bump.

“Yeah, they’re both going to fly out when this one makes their appearance in February. Mom’s already scoping out the fastest route in case I go into labor early.” Jake’s hand flexed, and you glanced at him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “You and Rooster will have to take care of this one for me when the time comes,” you said, leaning into your husband.

“Of course,” Mav agreed, with the solemnity of a vow.

“Admiral Tritz said the first one is usually late,” Jake said softly, turning his beer bottle around on the table.

“He’s not wrong,” Penny said, sailing back into the dining room with her helpers in tow. She set a piece of cherry pie before Mav and kissed his cheek. “Amelia was a few days late.”

“Bradley, too.” The man in question set the pie before you and collapsed back into his chair, and Jake smiled at Amelia and accepted the offered plate. “Carole was miserable, and Goose was asking everyone who had kids what they did to kick off labor.”

“Well, there’s one surefire way of doing that,” Penny laughed, winking at you. You forced a smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that your husband wouldn’t be with you to help induce labor.

“Yeah, don’t want to hear about that,” Rooster grumbled.

“Gross,” Amelia agreed. You chuckled.

“After 38 weeks, just prepare to be uncomfortable,” Penny cautioned. “But at least you’re not heavily pregnant during the summer. That was miserable.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Completely worth it in the long run,” the older woman smiled, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s hair.

A whirring sound woke you, and you opened an eye to see Jake walking into the hotel room, juggling two coffee cups. When he glanced at the bed, you quickly closed your eyes and feigned sleep. Depositing the cups and keys on the dresser, he toed off his shoes and quickly undid the buttons on his khaki shirt, draping it over the desk chair. You heard the jingle of his belt as he coiled it, and moments later, the bed dipped. The movement jostled you, and you tilted further onto your side.

But your husband didn’t pull you into his chest like you expected. Instead, the mattress shifted, and you felt a gentle pressure on your stomach and his arm on your hips, accompanied by a heavy sigh. It was silent for a long time, and you snuck a glance to see that his forehead was pressed against your stomach, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers twitched on the pillow, and you almost lifted your hand to thread through his hair when he spoke. “Mama may hate me for this, but please don’t come early,” Jake whispered. “Stay in there as long as possible. I’m…I’m not gonna be there when you’re born. I’m leaving you both tomorrow, and I hate it. I, uh…your daddy’s in the Navy, which means sometimes I’m gonna have to be away from you when I don’t want to, like now. I’m not gonna get to see you getting bigger in Mama’s belly or feel you move or get to talk to you. So just gimme as much time to get home as you can so I don’t miss more, okay?”

It took all of your strength to lie there, forcing your breath to be steady as your heart broke. Jake had done so much to be strong for you through all the preparation for his deployment - giving him as much privacy as possible for his conversation with the baby was the least you could do. He was silent for a long time, and you were starting to feel the uncomfortable duel sensation of nausea and needing to pee. One of those would be easily remedied by taking the medication Jake always set out for you on the nightstand before going to bed. Still, you were reluctant to end the moment he so clearly needed.

“I’m gonna screw up a lot.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the blanket. “But I’m gonna do my best. You’ll never have to doubt that I love you and your mama. I promise.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed hard. When he pressed harder into your stomach, you squirmed - he and the baby were pressing on your bladder. The pressure lessened, and you could feel Jake looking at you.

And then a gentle chiming started.

Taking a deep breath, you blindly reached for your phone. Fingers brushed yours, gently taking it from your loose grip and turning off the alarm. “Morning, sleepy girl. Gonna stop pretending to be asleep now?” Without opening your eyes, you threaded your fingers through your husband’s hair. His lips brushed your inner wrist when you overshot, resting your hand on his cheek instead.

“Love you,” you murmured. “Both of us.”

After a long shower, you both dressed for the day. Jake had a few last-minute errands he needed to run, including getting a haircut, so you walked around the Navy Exchange before nipping into the Commissary to grab a few snacks. He’d assured you that he could pick things up at the mini-mart on the carrier, but you wanted to make sure he had some of the canned almonds and beef jerky he liked. And you wanted to sneak another small package of toothpicks into his duffle. Plus, yogurt-covered pretzels sounded good.

The dock was the next stop. Besides visiting the Midway Museum, you hadn’t had much exposure to Navy ships, and you wanted to get an idea of what his life would be like for the next half a year. You weren’t able to get too close but could see them preparing to depart. Jake pointed out the ones going out with the strike group. In addition to the carrier, they would be joined by a cruiser, two destroyers, and a supply ship. Tomorrow, the dock would be full of families saying goodbye to their loved ones before the ships pushed away. The support and maintenance crews from Lemoore would already be on the bus down to San Diego.

Once the carrier was underway and about a hundred miles away from shore, he explained, the fixed-wing aircraft would start to arrive. Aviators didn’t have the dockside departure that the rest of the sailors did because the jets couldn’t land on the carrier while in port. Jake pulled up an aerial picture of the USS Carl Vinson and described how the jets would land and be moved on the elevator to the lower decks or arranged along the edges. He, Rooster, and Mav would be the first to arrive, given how close they would be compared to the pilots coming in from Lemoore. The same system would happen when they returned - he would launch from the carrier and fly back to the base, where he’d meet you on the flight line.

As much as you didn’t want to think about it, the whole process seemed fascinating. Over lunch, he pulled up videos to show a launch and landing, pointing out the crew in different colored vests and jobs in getting the pilots onto the steam-powered catapult. Jake had told you before how much of a rush it was to go from zero to 160 in under two seconds and come to a complete halt in the same amount of time, and an excited gleam entered his eyes. Taking off from the flight line with the meatball as a guide wasn’t as much fun.

Jake held your hand as he drove back to the Navy Lodge, and you tugged him into the room, dropping your shopping bags as soon as the door shut. His hands closed on your hips as you guided him toward the bed, tugging at the button on his jeans. After shoving his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, he perched on the edge of the mattress as you sank to your knees. “Gonna miss you, darlin’,” he breathed as you kissed the head of his cock. Jake nudged the back of your throat, and you swallowed hard, blinking back tears in your eyes. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek before tracing your stretched lips.

Waves crashed and washed over your feet, sand shifting underfoot as the water receded. Behind you, you could hear the screams of children playing in the surf, mingling with the cry of gulls. The sun was setting over San Diego as you walked further from the hotel.

“Guy.”

“Felix.”

“Felix? No,” you laughed. “Alexander.”

“Joseph.”

“James.” Jake cocked his head.

“Oliver James Seresin. I like it.”

“Enough not to get sick of yelling at him when he’s in trouble?”

“Our kid will be an angel if they’re anything like their mother.”

“Okay. I’ll let you think that.” Raising an eyebrow, he pulled you to a stop.

“You sayin’ you weren’t an angel growing up? Your mom told me you were a good kid.”

“Of course, my mom told you that - I was very good at hiding stuff.” Your family had struck a delicate balance many military families had - military brats grew up fast and independent, shouldering additional responsibilities when their parent deployed. You were also close with your parents, given that every few years, you would move away from your support system, and relationships with extended family were often impacted by moving far away from them. But with that closeness came additional freedom, which you had taken advantage of a few times. A few of those sleepovers in high school had definitely been a cover to sneak out and go underage drinking with friends.

Jake’s head fell back, and he let out a put-upon sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mama, if you weren’t the good kid, we’re in trouble.”

“I think we can handle it, Tex,” you laughed, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. He smiled down at you, gently shaking his hand free and sliding it around your waist to bring you closer. The gentle swell of your stomach pressed against him, and you tilted your head expectantly. Jake’s lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Love you,” you murmured.

“Love you too.” He held you tightly, cheek pressed to the top of your head as you watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple.

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.”

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” Jake tested the name, brows furrowed as he navigated the traffic of the San Diego airport. “Sloane Elizabeth…” He said nothing else as he pulled into the rental car return lot.

You stifled a yawn, blinking away your exhaustion. Try as he might, your husband hadn’t been able to get you to sleep the night before, wanting to take advantage of every last moment with him. To feel his weight pressing you into the bed. To savor the slide of his sweat-slicked skin against yours. The drag of his calloused fingers. To swallow every muffled grunt and moan as he worshipped you.

He’d dozed as you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the steadiness of his breathing and heartbeat. You took the time to study the slope of his nose, how his lips twitched as he slept, and the laugh lines etched into his cheeks. Tried to imagine what features the baby would inherit.

Silently, you talked to them, telling them how much you loved their daddy. That he made you laugh every day. How he would serenade you in the shower, using the body wash as a microphone. How caring he was, from making sure you had medication to taking your car on Sunday to ensure the gas tank was full. And how excited he was to meet them.

Jake turned off the ignition, fingers curling around the steering wheel. “Sloane,” he said again softly before turning to look at you. “Perfect.”

Dread pooled in your stomach as you walked towards TSA. When Jake had asked you to book your flight so you would leave before him, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to give up those last few hours he would be stateside.

“Please, darlin’,” he’d begged. “I can’t be the one to fly away from you both twice.”

So you’d agreed. And now… now you wanted to skip the flight and stand on the North Island flight line for those last few painful moments. To see the afterburn of his jet rising into the air. But he’d been so strong, and now it was your turn. If this is what he needed, you would do it. Because you loved him.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared the line until the clacking of both of your suitcase wheels stopped. Gently, he tugged you out of the way of other passengers and closer to the wall. Tears blurred your vision as you turned to bury your face in his chest, clinging to his flight suit. Jake held you tightly, hands sweeping your back as he pressed kisses into your hair. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he rasped. “It’s okay.”

The first one is the hardest, your mother told you.

Remember that you’re a team, your father advised.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you echoed, trying to make yourself believe it. “We can do this.” Sniffling, you pulled away just far enough to meet his eyes. You forced a smile when he gently thumbed away your tears, “I’m blaming the hormones for the waterworks.”

“Definitely the hormones,” he agreed, tears glistening in his green eyes. His gaze drifted across your face as though trying to memorize it. Yours narrowed to a small patch of stubble on his chin that you’d missed when he’d lifted you onto the sink and handed you his razor that morning. Gently, you ran your finger over it and took a deep breath.

“Be careful, okay?” you said, unable to look at him.

“I will. You too.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Call Javy or Nat or the guys if you need anything. Promise?”

“Promise. Call me whenever you get a chance?”

“Of course. The carrier has wifi, so I’ll be able to call you at least once a week. Can probably text you, too. And I’ll email.” Mav had passed along that piece of information the day before after he’d met with another captain assigned to the Carl Vinson to discuss the mission. “I want you to send me pictures, okay? Wanna see this one getting bigger.” He gently pressed against your stomach.

“Oliver or Sloane?”

“Oliver or Sloane,” he agreed. “But probably Sloane. Can you send me a video of that appointment? When you find out what we’re having?”

“Absolutely.” You choked on the word and inhaled sharply. His lips brushed your forehead before Jake dropped to one knee and kissed your stomach.

“Be good for Mama, alright?” he said softly. “I love you so much.” You brushed away your tears, one hand resting on his shoulder. With another kiss to your bump, he stood up and quickly wiped his face. “I think it’s time to go, darlin’.” Rolling your lips together, you nodded. Your husband pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he kissed the side of your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” Jake swallowed hard.

Together, you walked to the line and kissed one last time before you joined the queue. He retreated to the upper walkway, keeping pace as the line moved closer and closer to the TSA agents.

You look ridiculous, you texted him.

Not leaving until you’re out of sight, he replied.

Rooster’s probably waiting outside for you.

He is. He can wait.

You’re going to owe him.

He’s already told me I do. Worth it.

Too soon, you came to the front of the line. Quickly, you turned and met Jake’s eyes. ‘I love you,’ you mouthed before blowing him a kiss.

And then, with one last glance at your husband, you handed over your license. The line for the scanners curled behind a wall. By the time you got past security, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Fly safe, Hangman, you texted him.

You too, Mama. Love you.

Your phone pinged with texts from friends and family checking in as the plane landed in Lemoore. But there was only one that you opened.

Jake had sent a picture of himself in the cockpit, eyes narrowed as he smiled behind his oxygen mask.

I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon.

Javy waited by baggage claim, and he quickly pulled you into a hug at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. Though he offered to stay the night, you quickly sent him away once you were home.

Alone, you tugged on one of Jake’s Academy shirts and crawled into his side of the bed. Burying your face in his pillow, you sobbed.

Six months.

Twenty-four weeks.

One hundred and seventy days until Jake was home.

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: We knew it was coming, but this still hurt. Had to address some insecurities Jake has before he was too far away to discuss them, like the worry he has about having a son.

The USS Carl Vinson is a carrier that does have wifi that the sailors can access; I found a few articles about how it boosted morale to have internet access. So if Jake had to deploy during Darlin's pregnancy, at least it was on a ship that he could have better contact with. However, the wifi is a double edged sword as there were issues when an F-35 crashed and video leaked out before the official investigation. I surfed a couple military chat boards to find out about the CVW joining the carrier at sea, and watched a few homecoming videos NAS Oceana about the fighter pilots coming home.

Thank you for your patience with getting this chapter out, I really appreciate it ❤️ I'm also curious if you think that they are having a boy or a girl.

Read Chapter 16

Tag list: @mamachasesmayhem; @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox; @queenslandlover-93; @memoriesat30; @queerqueenlynn

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

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erina-writes-headcanons · 8 months ago

Note

i’m back! this time could i have some crushing + gen relationship hcs w/ australia?💞

Jett Kirkland (AUSTRALIA), Nathaniel Zacker (NEW ZEALAND), and Arthur Kirkland (ENGLAND), and Ciarán Kirkland (IRELAND) GENERAL CRUSHING HEADCANONS

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HI, @reeces-pieses!! Of course, you can have another crushing Headcannon. And you are the first time who actually requested for Australia and I will try my best to portray him inside of this Headcannon! I hope you do not mind that I add England and also New Zealand.

Gender: Neutral Warning: None

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JETT KIRKLAND - Australia

Actually, it's pretty obvious when he has a crush but sadly since he is friendly and an extrovert, you are going to think he would be just being friendly so this can be a bit tricky.

He will be touchy around you but not to the point he will make you uncomfortable. Mostly he would shake your hand, head, or shoulder. He still respects your boundaries.

If you are sad, he would try to make you laugh by making funny jokes but if you are still sad and need something to be hugged, he would let you cuddle his koala.

Seems confident but secretly shy. If you actually touch him, he would internally scream in happiness, he could not believe that you actually just touched him.

Actually have crazy effort for you if he had a crush on you, he would keep asking you to hang out with him but since it's in the stage of crushing, he would let you bring your own friends and his friends.

Sometimes, he would lend you his hat or an umbrella if you got sunburnt since his beaches can be hot. He doesn't care if he gets a sunburn he thinks you need it more than him.

It would be hard to catch him getting shy because once you look at him, he would act as if he had not just gotten reddened when you held one of his hands and smiled at you.

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The golden sands stretched out before them, kissed by the warm rays of the summer sun. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean as the person strolled along the beach, their footsteps leaving imprints in the soft sand. Seagulls wheeled and cried overhead, adding their voices to the symphony of the seaside.

A person with a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt, the vibrant colours contrasting against the blue sky. With each step, they/she/he felt the stress of everyday life melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. After days of working hard, (Y/N) finally deserve a resting time. "(Y/N)! Oi mate!" A person suddenly called your name.

(Y/N) turned at the sound of their/his/her name, curious about the source of the cheerful greeting. As they scanned the beach, their eyes landed on Jett Kirkland, the personification of Australia, waving enthusiastically with a surfboard in hand. A grin spread across (Y/N)'s face as they recognized the familiar figure, known for his love of adventure and the ocean. "Oh hey, Australia," You made your way over him.

Jett's playful strokes on (Y/N)'s head gave her/him/them a pleasant sensation, and his cheerful demeanour placed them at rest. As he expressed his excitement at seeing you in his own country, (Y/N) couldn't help but grin in response, impressed by his genuine enthusiasm. But you had had no idea that, beyond Jett's friendly façade, he was hiding his feelings for a long time. "Hey (Y/N), do you wanna surf with me. The waves in here are great!" "I... I can't surf," (Y/N) admitted, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

Jett's smile grew wider at (Y/N)'s response. "Don't worry at all! I'll teach you," he guaranteed, his voice full of confidence. "We'll start softly, and I'll be right behind you the entire time. How does that sound?" With a reluctant nod, (Y/N) agreed, feeling both excited and nervous. The possibility of learning to surf with Jett at your side filled you with excitement.

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NATHANIEL ZACKER - New Zealand

Even more obvious than Australia because he would be more clumsy than him. You would often catch him in the act when he was getting shy around you.

Poor guy, he is trying to speak normally around you but he would always be stammering and forgot what he should say next so he would just kind of stand there with a red face and say sorry.

I think he can bake but not as great as Austria or Germany. He would at least leave a pavlova on your tables. It is kind of messy but at least it was delicious. Or he would leave some ANZAC biscuits when it is Valentine's.

Always listen to you when you are talking around him, he would sometimes be in a daze because he thinks you look attractive but once you ask him, he would quickly snap out of it.

Gives you a meaningful small gift when he has crushes on you and it can be either handmade or he uses his own money instead of the government's money.

Most of the gifts he will give is probably a handmade scarf because I headcanon that he can knit since he is the country with lots of sheep. Either it will be a scarf, sweater, bobble head or a plushie.

Actually, would let you cuddle his lambs when you are sad but secretly he wishes it was him instead that is getting cuddled with you are sad.

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As the rain poured mercilessly, each droplet seemed to reflect the pain in (Y/N)'s heart. Standing in the rain, their damp clothes clinging to their/her/his body, (Y/N) felt the weight of their fight with their/her/his buddy push against them like thick clouds above. The lack of an umbrella reflected their unpreparedness for the storm that had formed between them, putting them in this pathetic position of vulnerability.

(Y/N) let out a shocked yelp as her shoes glided on the slick ground, landing against the wet pavement. Pain rushed through your right knee as you slumped, the pain of the impact blurring your senses for a brief second. Nathaniel Zacker, the personification of New Zealand, had just returned from a nearby conference when he heard your cries of pain and hurried to her rescue. With worry on his face, he knelt alongside her/him/them. "(Y/N), A-are you okay?"

(Y/N) gazed up in surprise as Nathaniel came before them, his presence both unexpected and reassuring. With a trembling nod, (Y/N) accepted Nathaniel's offer of help. Nathaniel softly placed his arm around (Y/N), carefully guiding them to their feet, and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel reassured by his touch. "Th-thank you," (Y/N) stuttered, their/her/his voice quiet and grateful as they fought to stand, their/his/her wounded knees protesting with each step.

Nathaniel's concern only deepened as he noticed (Y/N)'s struggle. With a tender smile, he offered his scarf to keep them warm, his gesture of kindness warming (Y/N)'s heart despite the chill of the rain-soaked air. "Come on, let's get you somewhere dry and warm," Nathaniel said gently, his arm still supporting (Y/N) as he led them towards his home.

Nathaniel's pulse raced and his cheeks flushed crimson as he silently thanked his fortunate stars for the unexpected meeting with his crush. Nathaniel took consolation in being their light of peace amongst the storm, despite the tornado of emotions rising inside him.

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ARTHUR KIRKLAND - England

Another guy who is obvious but not as obvious as New Zealand. In Cannon, he is a Tsundere and this is one of the reasons why it is obvious.

The reason it is not that obvious is because he could act like a poise gentleman. Doesn't react when you touch him or tease him or just simply look away as he hides his red face.

Acts rude towards you but in reality, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. For example, if you wanted to do something reckless, he would say whatever but as soon as you were gone. He would scream 'DON'T DO IT!"

Tries to bake a scones for you but soon there would be mountains of them that were thrown away because all of them are not edible and already looks like charcoal.

Another guy with crazy effort because if anything bad happens to you, he would try his best to protect you. For example, if you were bullied, he would stand up for you and doesn't care if he also gets injured.

He may be stubborn but he will try to be open-minded for you and tell you his opinion if you need to ramble or need someone to lean on when you are sad.

Also if he is drunk, he actually gonna cry about how mean you are for rejecting him and admitting that he has a crush on you but you keep ignoring him whereas you stood there in confusion.

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As (Y/N) sat next to Britain in the meeting room on Monday morning, the weight of the global warming debate lingered in the air. Despite their best efforts, (Y/N) struggled to concentrate on America's presentation about some mythical hero concept to tackle climate change—a notion that appeared to be more absurd than possible.

As (Y/N) listened to America's presentation, a pounding pain seized their temples. Despite the regular room temperature, a sudden cold fell over the meeting, forcing (Y/N) to quiver uncontrollably. Yesterday the girl remembered Britain told her/him/them not to eat ice cream when it's cold but they/she/he did not listen, (Y/N) just rolled their/his/her eyes and continued snacking on the ice cream bowl while watching Sherlock Holmes.

As Britain witnessed (Y/N)'s declining condition, he let out a depressing sigh, recalling his earlier warning against eating ice cream on a cold day. He rose from his seat and gently excused himself from the meeting room, hoping to ease (Y/N)'s discomfort. In the kitchen, he quickly brewed a hot cup of English breakfast tea, its sweet scent filling the room with warmth and comfort. Returning to (Y/N)'s side, Britain presented the calming beverage with a sweet smile, hoping it could help his crushes cold.

(Y/N)'s astonishment was evident as they/she/he kindly thanked Britain for the steaming tea, their/his/her thankfulness reflected in their emotions. (Y/N) received the cup with a friendly grin and sipped the hot drink. Britain, hesitant to meet (Y/N)'s eyes directly, felt a flush creep up his cheeks as he uncomfortably shook off the gesture. "Well, it was nothing," he said, his voice laced with a mix of annoyance and hesitation. "Your cough was bothering me, so I figured you needed something warm, obviously," he said, his attempt to hide his worry showing his actual sentiments.

As Britain watched (Y/N) sip the tea he had prepared, a hidden joy rose inside him, knowing that his crush had found comfort in his act. Silently, he prayed for (Y/N)'s quick recovery, hoping that the tea's warmth would help ease her/his/their sickness. Seating himself alongside (Y/N), Britain couldn't help but mutter quietly, barely audible, "Get well soon, my love." He prayed against hope that (Y/N) hadn't noticed his whisper.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

CIARÁN KIRKLAND - Ireland

The one who actually manages to hide it from you and not obvious unlike Britain, New Zealand and then Australia. He could actually act normal despite having a crush on you.

His personality is much of a Kuudere instead of Tsundere so he would not get red when he is speaking with you not stammering when starting a conversation.

But since he has a crush on you, you would actually notice chocolates shaped like clover on your table when you just arrive at the school or the world meeting.

More open-minded than Arthur so he would be more understanding and secretly more empathetic when he is around you than when he is around other countries.

It's cannon he hates getting bossed around, especially by his brothers BUT he doesn't mind if you actually ask him to do things for you if you need him but just don't take it for granted it.

From far away, you could actually hear a Celtic harp from far away and you might be wondering who plays it and what music it is. Well, it's actually for him and it's a secret way of him confessing to you through his music.

Secretly asks his fairies to get information about you, kind of creepy but the purpose is actually he just wants to understand anything you are interested in so when he speaks about it with you, he would not act like an idiot and pretend to know it all.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

On a beautiful Saturday morning, (Y/N) entered the crowded grocery shop with a list of tonight's groceries in hand. As they looked through their long list, their look changed to one of anger, as they saw how much money they'd have to spend and the effort of carrying the heavy bags. With a resigned sigh, (Y/N) readied themselves for the work ahead, knowing that the feast at home would make it all worthwhile.

Navigating through the packed aisles in search of sauces, (Y/N) felt a jolt, forcing the items in their arms to fall to the ground. "Oh! I'm so sorry! "I didn't mean to knock into you!" (Y/N) apologised, hastily leaning down to get the dropped objects. As their fingers accidentally brushed against one another's, (Y/N) glanced up to find the personification of Ireland in front of them. "Oh, hello, (Y/N)," he said kindly. "Here, let me help you," he said, joining (Y/N) in gathering the scattered goods.

As Ciara gently placed each grocery item into (Y/N)'s basket, he couldn't help but notice how heavy the load was. "You have quite a few groceries there. "Do you need a trolley for all that?" he asked concerned. (Y/N) shook her head, but Ciara sighed, indicating his concern. "Don't be stubborn," he softly reminded. "You clearly need some assistance. "Let me take that basket for you," he insisted, attempting to relieve (Y/N) of the weight.

As Ciara continued to assist (Y/N) with picking up the groceries, her surprise mingled with a blush at his kindness. "You don't need to. I don't want to burden you," (Y/N) insisted, averting their/her/his gaze shyly. Ignoring her protests, Ciara shook his head and continued to help, his determination unwavering. "Your house is nearby, right?" he asks. "I can bring these for you," Ciara offered. "You don't need to. It's too heavy, I can manage," (Y/N) tried to reject his offer again. "It's okay. Besides, you need some help so I will help you," he said bluntly, his sincerity shining through his words.

As they approached the cashier, (Y/N) sighed, accepting Ciara's assistance once more with a sweet grin. "Okay, thank you very much, Ireland. "I'm sorry I made you bring all of these groceries," you said. Ciara brushed aside your apology with a soft smile that was gone in one second. "There was no problem. He reassured you, "The least I can do is help you." Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Ciara's aid was motivated by more than simply kindness.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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fanficshiddles · 20 days ago

Text

Eternally Mine, Chapter 47

After the group had something to eat, Loki and Chris went along to the station afterwards to see if they could get any information on the body found.

Claire and Louise went back to Claire and Loki’s place to wait for them.

‘How are things going at work? Are you still getting issues with that new one?’ Claire asked as they sat down in the living room with Bat.

‘Issues is an understatement. I swear my stress levels are getting higher and higher every damn week.’ Louise sighed.

‘How is she still working there? Surely they know by now it’s her that's causing all the numbers to not add up?’

Louise shrugged. ‘I have a feeling she must be related or a friend of the owner. There’s no other reason for her to still be there. Honestly, Chris’ flowers that he brings me every Thursday is the only thing keeping me sane at work.’

‘Aww. That’s so cute he does that. I’m sorry you’re having so much shit at work, though.’ She said as she reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

‘Ugh it’s fine. We’re just dealing with her the best we can.’ Louise shrugged. ‘How are things with you and Loki?’

‘Amazing. We’re going to New Zealand in October and I can’t wait!’ Claire squealed.

‘Oh my god! Seriously? You kept that one quiet.’ Louise squeaked excitedly.

‘I wanted to wait until we had it all booked and confirmed. I’m so excited though. It’s going to be incredible.’ Claire grinned widely.

‘I bet you guys will have an amazing time.’

‘We just need to ask Chris for an extra week off… if he can sort cover for Loki’s class.’ Claire cringed at the thought.

‘I got you. Let me know when you plan to ask him. I’ll soften him up beforehand.’ Louise grinned.

‘Thanks, sis.’ Claire laughed.

There was a knock on the door, which made them jump as they hadn’t been expecting anyone. Claire went through to answer, surprised to find it was Toshi.

‘You two better come with me… trust me, you’re going to want to see this.’ Toshi smirked a little.

‘What is it?’ Claire asked, confused, as she called on Louise.

‘Your vampires are throwing their weight around. Come on. I’ll explain on the way.’ Toshi motioned for them to follow.

Claire and Louise looked at one another, then grabbed their jackets and threw them on as they ran down the steps after Toshi.

‘Basically, when they got to the station, they were told that there was no body found under the name of Stanley. I did some quick digging and turns out there’s a few rats at the station, covering up his death for some reason.’ Toshi sighed as they walked fast down the street and up the next one, then began crossing the large green.

‘They found the two cops that were responsible for messing with Stanley’s body and evidence. Though they’re not giving them information as to why, and started threatening Loki and Chris instead, the school and also you two... It’s turning nasty so thought I’d come grab you both. One thing is clear though, they’re obviously covering up for someone. They’re also close with hunters, so I suspect hunters are behind it.’

Claire and Louise shared a look again, still slightly confused over it all.

Across the green and down another quiet street, not far from the police station, Toshi motioned for the girls to go behind her as they moved down an alley and ducked behind a large skip. Chris and Loki were a bit further down the alley, attacking the two corrupt cops.

Claire and Louise were intrigued as they watched their vampires continue to try and get information out of the humans, but they refused flat out.

‘Well then, brother. What do we do to friends of hunters that threaten our girls?’ Chris growled, as he glanced briefly at Loki.

‘Take them out for a bite to eat.’ Loki hissed in response as his eyes turned red and his fangs emerged.

Chris chuckled darkly as his eyes also turned red and his fangs came out to play too. ‘Indeed.’

Claire and Louise’s eyes were locked on them, they couldn’t believe how hot it was to see their vampires do their thing. Mainly for their sake, too.

‘Honestly, no one is safer than a vampire’s soulmate.’ Toshi whispered to them with a smirk.

The two cops tried fighting off the vampires, but they were no match. Loki grabbed one of them and slammed him down to the ground, then launched straight for his neck and sank his fangs into him. The man cried out in agony as Loki drank him dry, until his body went completely limp underneath him.

Chris grabbed the other one by the collar and pinned him up against the wall, then tore into his throat. He drank a little, then ripped his teeth out of him, tearing out his flesh and killing him off.

The vampires were breathing heavy with blood dripping from their chins. Suddenly, they both caught the scent of their soulmates arousal.

Claire and Louise let out a squeak when Loki and Chris’ heads shot round, looking directly at them. Their eyes still red and fangs covered in blood.

‘My cue to leave.’ Toshi said as she clambered up the nearest ladder to get on top of the building, out of the way.

‘What do we do?’ Louise gasped as the vampires just stared at them, salivating.

‘Run!’ Claire squealed as she grabbed Louise’s arm and they began running while giggling.

Loki and Chris gave chase of course, the thrill and adrenaline running high in them. They all knew they’d be able to catch the girls within seconds, but where would the fun be in that?

They ended up turning into their bat forms when the girls ran out across the green.

Claire and Louise squealed and laughed as the bats flew about their heads, making them sprint as fast as they could to the other side of the green. Though they were a bit suspicious when Loki and Chris disappeared…

As they turned down Loki and Claire’s street, they stopped dead when they saw Chris and Loki waiting at the other end of the street, their eyes still glowing red with wicked smirks on their faces.

Claire and Louise broke into a run again towards Loki and Claire’s house that was a few houses down from them, yet further for the vampires, but they were gaining fast.

As Claire and Louise turned up the path, Chris grabbed Louise before she got far.

‘Go! Save yourself!’ Louise screeched at Claire with a laugh.

Chris tickled her sides and went straight for her neck and bit down, sucking a little blood from her, just a little taste… of course he gave her the endorphins so the pain was just a very brief stinging sensation initially.

He reluctantly just took a small amount from her, then with her still giggling, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

Loki had already told him when they were running after them that he could use the spare room, or the sofa, wherever the hell he wanted. Loki didn’t care, all he cared about was getting hold of Claire after catching her scent.

Claire managed to get inside and began running upstairs, but that’s when Loki caught her. He grabbed her ankle and dragged her back down underneath him. He let out a snarl as he buried his face into her neck and sniffed deeply.

‘God, pet… You smell so delectable. Were you having fun watching me, hmm?’ He asked as he gripped her chin.

‘God yes!’ Claire said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Loki chuckled, he slid his arms around her and carried her upstairs to their bedroom.

Once there, Loki and Claire tore at each other’s clothes until they were both naked, then they toppled onto the bed with their hands all over one another.

‘Fuck. Seeing you do that was so hot, vampy.’ Claire whined as Loki started kissing and sucking on her neck.

Loki grinned against her and trailed his fangs against her delicate skin. ‘I wasn’t going to stand for them threatening you, plus being friendly with hunters… they had to go. I’d do anything to protect you, my love.’

‘I know, that’s one of the many reasons why I love you so much.’ Claire said softly.

‘I love you so much too, my pet.’ Loki hummed against her skin.

Claire put her arms around him as he bit her neck and started sucking her blood. He also shimmied himself between her legs and hurriedly guided his cock into her, knowing she was way past the point of being ready to take him.

She started moaning loudly in pleasure, Loki wasn’t careful or slow, he was fast and rough. Desperate for release just as much as she was, and neither of them cared if Chris and Louise heard them, hell, they didn’t care if the whole world heard them right now.

Claire loved the feeling of his fangs in her neck as he sucked the blood out of her. After seeing him do the same to someone else and literally suck the life out of him, it made her tremble knowing how dangerous he was. Yet with her, he was so careful and caring.

‘God, you taste so good.’ Loki groaned as he reluctantly stopped drinking from her so she wouldn’t pass out.

‘I know.’ She said cheekily with a cheesy grin, her brain was fuzzy and so was her body. But she felt like she was flying high with every thrust of his hips against her.

Loki growled in frustration, he wanted her so badly but felt like this wasn’t enough. He sat upwards and grabbed her legs, bending them up and almost folding her in half. She gasped out as she felt her muscles stretching with her legs being up by her head wasn’t a usual occurrence.

Loki then rammed into her at a brutal pace, his balls slapped lewdly against her with every thrust.

‘Fuuuuuuuck. Loki!!’ She cried out, seeing stars.

‘Cum for me, pet. Cum all over my cock, come on.’ He demanded.

And she didn’t need to be told twice.

Chris carried Louise upstairs and straight into the spare room. By that point, Chris’ head was swimming with the scent of her arousal, he could practically taste her on his tongue already.

He placed her down on her feet and started removing her clothes, tossing each item to the floor. Louise tried to even the playing field and managed to unbutton his shirt, he shrugged it off but she didn’t get time to attack his jeans before he had her on the bed.

‘Naughty pumpkin, spying on me… tell me, did you enjoy watching?’ Chris asked as he crawled over the top of her and wrapped his hand around her throat.

She nodded slightly, her face was flushed as Chris leaned down and kissed her roughly. She could feel his fangs on her tongue, they were still emerged.

‘Mmm, fuck. You smell so fucking good.’ He growled into her mouth as he caught her arousal again.

Chris slipped off the bed, she was about to whine in disappointment, but let out a squeak instead as he quickly flipped her over onto her stomach. She gasped when he brought his hand down harshly onto her ass. Though they both knew this would just make her arousal rocket ten times, as it always did.

Chris spanked her a few times, till her ass was nice and red, then he leaned down and took a bite from her left cheek. He let his fangs sink in for a minute, then he smacked her right cheek again before letting go.

He crawled back on the bed and knelt behind her, he dipped his hand between her thighs and found her dripping wet. Which was no surprise really, from the strength of her scent.

‘You should know better by now than to play with fire, pumpkin. Hiding to watch and getting aroused, then running off like that… setting off my instincts.’ Chris moved in between her legs and he quickly shoved his jeans down and took his cock out, already hard and ready to take her.

He lined himself up with her cunt, and in one smooth thrust he was inside her.

‘Holy shit. You're so fucking wet!’ He gasped and pressed his body down on top of her.

She let out a cry of pleasure as her body squeezed around him. Chris began panting into her ear as he thrust into her roughly.

‘Shiiiiit.’ She gasped as she grabbed tightly at the bed sheets.

‘Ah, you can speak.’ He chuckled. ‘Tell me, what is it that turned you on so much? Hmm?’ He tried to slow his thrusting down, to give her a chance to speak properly. Though it wasn’t easy as he dragged his fangs along her shoulder.

‘I… it… seeing you do that… I know it shouldn’t turn me on, seeing you kill someone… I just… how strong you are. Knowing what you can do… I don’t know.’ She whined in desperation and embarrassment as she tried hiding her face into the pillow.

Chris bit her shoulder as he thrust deeper into her, hitting at just the right angle. He growled ferally as he kept up the same fast rhythm, never faltering. She was a quivering wreck underneath him, her mind was starting to go fuzzy from everything going on.

She started moaning loudly as she got closer to the end, Chris stopped sucking her blood and clamped a hand over her mouth and pressed his lips to her ear.

‘Shhh, pumpkin. Don’t want the others to hear how good I’m making you feel.’ He smirked as her body crumbled below him.

Ten minutes later, they were laying together cuddling.

‘So... they didn’t give you guys the information you were after?’ Louise asked.

‘No.’ Chris sighed. ‘It makes me think they’re hiding something. Though it would point towards being hunter related, since they were friends with hunters.’

‘I can’t believe you killed them… with them being cops. What if something happens to you?’ She asked, worriedly.

‘Don’t worry, pumpkin. Nothing will happen to me. I wasn’t going to tolerate them threatening you, love. I’d do anything to protect you and keep you safe.’ Chris said as he nuzzled her cheek.

Louise felt her heart soar as she snuggled into him tightly. ‘I love you. You and your feral ways.’ She grinned.

Chris chuckled and let out a growl as he tightened his arms around her.

‘Though I don’t know whether to be pissed off or thankful to Toshi for taking you there. It could’ve been dangerous!’

‘I say… be thankful. She was with us and knew we would be safe enough. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise.’ Louise assured him. ‘She’s human too with a vampire boyfriend, she knows how hot it is for me to see you doing your thing.’

‘Hmm. I suppose so.’ Chris smirked.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #loki fic #vampire loki #the redbridge hunts #chris motionless #chris motionless x ofc #vampire chris motionless #eternally mine

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 2 years ago

Note

birthday smut with hook? I’ll let your creative mind flow and come up with the plot and what to include🙂💕

💕 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 "𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝" 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚡, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 😘

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔈𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

There wasn’t a thing Tyler wouldn’t do for his tiger, even when such a thing sounded absolute bollocks to him. This was his birthday gift to you: a night at the Shanley Hotel, one of the most haunted places in New York.

Did Tyler like haunted places? No. Did he believe in ghosts? No. Does all of this sound like a bunch of bullshit made up to take ridiculous amounts of money from dumbass believers? Fuck yes! But you loved this. Anything that could be categorized as “spooky” or “haunted” always caught your attention, similar to his parents' dog at the mention of the word “park”.

That’s the only reason why he decided to do this surprise for your birthday, because nothing would be more exciting to you than spending the night at a “haunted” hotel.

Tyler couldn’t hold back his wide smile as you entered the hotel room and eagerly clapped your hands in excitement. His eyes wandered around the place, it definitely had an eerie feeling, but he doubted it was because it was “haunted”. Old houses are creepy by nature, and the eccentric decor and low lighting combo added to the frightening feeling.

You placed your backpack on top of the bed and mumbled “Eww, this is weird”, as your eyes stared at the intricate silver pattern on the ceiling. Small squares were drawn within each other in a side-by-side pattern, and the crystal chandelier reflected the yellow light, casting a series of small orbs of light upon the walls.

“It’s cozy” Tyler’s hands caressed the sherpa blanket that lay on top of the bed, small smirk playing on his lips “Apart from the funky decor”.

“Funky is a way of putting it” You chuckled as your eyes roamed through the three different wallpapers inside the room. Your hands touched the soft pillowcase at the same time the lights inside the room flickered and a loud tap could be heard coming from the bathroom. “Okay, that’s really weird…Hello?”

“Tiger, there’s no one here” Tyler chuckled and started to unpack your backpack for the night.

“So you’re gonna tell me you didn’t think it’s weird that the lights just flickered and there was a loud ass noise in the bathroom?!”

“This is an old house, tiggy. Lights flicker in old houses and pipes make noises”

“No, that’s not what this is. The ghosts got offended by our comments on the decor” You whispered before announcing out loud “This is a wonderful room, beautiful decor. Love the wallpapers”.

Tyler laughed before he pulled you closer to his body “You’re so fucking cute”, his hands roamed down your curves, stopping at your waist for a brief moment before naturally finding the path to your hips. He pushed you back down on the bed, hovering his body over yours.

Tyler’s head is buried in the crook of your neck, marking the meeting point of your neck and shoulder with his teeth.

“I can’t wait to taste my birthday girl” Tyler growled as his head traveled down to your breasts, nibbling on your hard nipple through your clothes.

“No, Ty. Wait, we can’t do this here” You gasped while trying to hold his head in place to prevent him from going further down. “That’s disrespectful, baby”.

“No, it’s not” He looked up at you with a smirk. “Let’s give some entertainment to the ghosts, tiger. Don’t you think they must be bored of only hearing scared screams? We should give them a private show filled with far more interesting sounds…and positions”

“No” You tried to hold back a chuckle “That’s the last thing we’ll do!”

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s fingers toyed with the waistband of your jeans “Just think of it as an OnlyFans for the ghosts, a live porn for the spiritual realm”.

“You are completely insane! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You placed your hands on Tyler’s chest “No, Ty! Don’t be disrespectful to the ghosts, damn it!”

“It ain’t disrespect, tiger. This is called caring for the ghosts. You told me this used to be a brothel, no? So don’t you think they miss seeing some action going on?” Tyler teased as you laughed

“Yeah, I’m sure one of the prostitutes on the top floor will love you. They have a thing for young guys, she might even try to get you in her bed”

“So we’ll be having a threesome for your birthday, huh? Uh, kinky tigger”

“Shut up” You slapped his chest before pushing him back “Let’s go, the paranormal tour is about to begin”.

Tyler handed you your phone and as you slid it into your back pocket he chuckled “Fine, ghost hunting first, nasty business later, am I right?” His eyebrow wiggle and pretentious grin never failed to make you burst out laughing “No nasty business for you, my dude. The last thing I want is for some ghost to see how bendy I can be”.

It was past 3 am when you came back to your room. You explored the hotel and the brothel, where one of the girls successfully caressed Tyler’s thigh - although he insisted “it was just a random breeze”.

“This was the best birthday gift ever” You turned around to face him. Placing your arms around his neck, you pulled Tyler towards you, covering his sensitive jawline with feather-light kisses and nibbles. “Thank you for bringing me here and enduring over 3 hours of ghost hunting even though you think it’s all bullshit”.

“I’d do anything for my tiggy” His hands stopped at your ass, taking handfuls of your meat as he lifted up his head to grant you free access to his neck. “Even getting groped by the ghost of a hooker in a haunted hotel room at 2 am on a Friday night”.

Your muffled chuckle asked from beneath him “So she did cop a feel, huh? Can’t blame her though, smart girl, I’d do the same”

Tyler reached down for your hand and placed your soft palm against his hard bulge “Then do it” He whispered, pulling back to cup your face in his hands “Do it, tiger”

“This is the freakiest shit we’ve ever done. I don’t think we can step it up from here” You laughed as your fist closed around his cock through the baggy jeans.

“Is that a challenge? Because I’m sure I can come up with freakier things than this” He grinned before pushing you down on the bed.

Tyler’s grip on your hips was deadly, undoubtedly leaving red bruises underneath his digits. Your face was buried in the sheets, biting the fabric in an attempt to keep your sounds muffled.

“So fucking good” Tyler grunted, staring at how your mouth opened slightly every time he pushed his cock back in you. “Fuck, tiger. Your pussy is squeezing my cock so tight, baby. Fuck me, it feels like heaven” He leaned down, pressing his chest against your back and somehow managing to sink further deep in you.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so fucking deep. Holy shit”

Tyler pushed your hair to the side so he could bite your cheek “Do you like when I’m deep inside of you? Can you feel me right here, tiggy?” His hand pressed against your lower belly, applying some pressure for you to feel precisely how deep he was.

“Yes, yes…Ty, please”

Tyler grunted in your ear “Shhh, be quiet. Shut up and take it, tiger. I know you can, and I know you want to. Just take it like the good girl that you are, baby”

His hips began to move at a frantic pace, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing inside the room as Tyler’s arm circled around your waist to keep you in place. His free hand searched for yours besides your head, intertwining your fingers and resting his palm against the back of your hand.

“You’re gonna cum for me, tiger? C’mon, beautiful. Cum around my dick, let me feel you squeezing me again” Tyler’s arm left your waist, and his hand traveled down to your hidden pearl. Without his support, your body sank into the mattress, trapping his hand on your clit and making his thrusts push you down against the old bed springs.

Your free hand quickly covered your mouth, muffling your high-pitched scream as you came. Tyler’s forehead rested against your temple as his pacing became erratic, his fingers squeezed yours and he stilled inside you, grunting your name and a series of curse words.

“Fuck, tiger. You drained me” He chuckled breathlessly, unpinning you and laying down by your side. Tyler pulled your body closer to his and the blankets up your body when the adrenaline finally came down and goosebumps started to rise on your skin. His nose was pressed against your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before a deep frown settled between his brows “Did you leave the bathroom light on?”

Your eyes opened and you stared at the bathroom door before you “No, neither did I leave the door open…Is that water running?”

Tyler untangled himself from you and stepped inside the bathroom in his naked glory. After a few seconds, he came back to the bed and lay beside you once more. “Alright, man. Let us know when you’re finished so we can shower too” He stated out loud, before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and pulling you closer to his body again.

“What the fuck, Ty?”

“I’m just letting the ghost know that we want to shower too or else he’ll use all of the hot water” He shrugged and leaned down to peck your lips.

“Excuse me?!”

“What? Tiger, we just gave this ghost the hottest live porn of his afterlife! You’ve got some cleaning up to do afterward, don’t judge him. You’re quite a sight when you’re getting fucked, you know?” Tyler smirked against your lips, as you gasped:

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just turned into a porn actress for ghosts' entertainment”.

#hook x reader #hook imagine #aew hook imagine #aew hook x reader #hook aew #aew hook #masochist writes

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phaticserpent · 5 months ago

Note

could you maybe write something for pitch x jealous reader?

YES! Sorry this is so late kejfjdkrnjker I'm going through my drafts!

Warning: suggestive

Tonight was going to be special, Pitch had promised you a date and you were ecstatic. Smiling softly, you had picked out an outfit to wear and you were now staring at your selection of accessories. You had to go with gold, since it matches his eyes....right?

Meanwhile, Pitch was busy wondering how the date would go, his anxiousness clearly showing as he paced his room. The shadows seem to bend unnaturally and the Fearlings watched as he stared for a ridiculous amount of time at his wardrobe.

".....He's been like this ever since he asked her." A Fearling sighed.

"Tch, it's so hard to see the Master so worked up." Another agreed. "What did he have in mind?"

"He won't tell us." One wailed. "He doesn't want us ruining anything and even threatened to disintegrate us if we interfere." The Fearlings all wailed in protest while Pitch got ready.

Once the sun had set and the stars peeked out in the dark night sky, Pitch waited outside for you, his hands clasped behind his back while he tried to appear casual. When you appeared at the doorway with your back turned to lock the front door, his breath hitched just a little. And then you smiled at him.

"Hey." You smiled. "You look -" you took this time to step back to examine him up and down. "-Amazing! Stunning? Hot.....honestly, you know me...I suck at words."

He chuckled sheepishly, gently taking your hands into his. "And you look as elegant and divine as always." Your face flushed, his words and voice would never fail to make you nervous and hot.

"So, where are you taking me this time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, gently nudging him with your shoulder as he peered at you. There was a slight pause in his strides as he looked up in contemplation, and you wondered if he was improvising at the last minute.

"Close your eyes." He smirked. "And no peeking." With a teasing huff and pout, you closed your eyes, even going so far as to cover your eyes with your hands.

"Satisfied?" You shot him a cheeky grin. Without your sights, you could only rely on your other sensations. You felt a light touch to your back and waist as Pitch slowly guided you; you noted the sudden shift in environment as it felt colder and almost suffocating, assuming that he was now guiding you through the shadows. And then, the two of you were through.

The two of you stilled, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as you felt his breath tickle your ear. "You can look now." He said with a light chuckle.

You slowly opened your eyes, in case you had to adjust your eyes to light, but there was none. It was nothing but darkness. "...Where?"

He placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. "Look up." The view of the night sky completely captured your breath, it was more than breathtaking. There was simply no way to describe it, the color of the galaxy, the amount of twinkling stars, the expanse of it all made you feel so......small.

".....Oh wow~." You finally took in a breath. Pitch stared at your reaction, smiling in the cover of darkness. "Where are we?"

"A small Island south of New Zealand." Pitch replied casually. "One of my favorite spots to visit....just whenever I feel.....troubled."

Your smile faded and you took this time to look at him. "I'm glad you shared it with me.....it's beautiful." He smiled softly at you. "That must mean that I mean something to you."

Pitch chuckled, his face flushed but you couldn't tell. "What gave you that idea?" You shrugged with a smile. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Pft, you're cute."

While the two of you spent most of the night walking around leisurely and enjoying each other's company, Pitch had been approached by someone in the midst of your date. He appeared almost anxious and irritated but kept a calm front. Just as you were about to shrug off the entire approach, you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down.

You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself at Pitch's side and held his arm, tugging him away from her. With a smile, "He's with me."

The two of you walked away before she could do anything else and Pitch just let out a short an amused chuckle. "You just angered the local spirits."

You raised a brow at him and shrugged. "I guess I'll be stuck by your side forever if you want to protect me."

"Oh? Is that so? Heh." Pitch laughed softly. "I'd enjoy that."

"You're such a tease."

He stopped, his hand landing on your waist as he pulled you in. "Who said I was teasing?" Your face flushed as you struggled to get words out of your mouth, much less a coherent sentence. "You're cute."

"Pitch~," You whined. "It's like it's your job to get me flustered." His gaze darkened momentarily at your whining and implication.

Instead of responding, he leaned down and closer to you. "Stop me if you don't like it." Your eyes said everything that needed to be said, how you wanted it as much as he did. So he pressed his lips to yours in such a feverish and hungry daze. Meanwhile, you were overjoyed as you pulled him in, pulling at his dark locks so that he would never pull away. As you were distracted, he pushed you through the shadows and back into his lair, pushing you against the wall.

From the impact, you gasped and moaned out his name. "Please~," Before capturing your lips again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, rolling your hips and grinding against him.

Pitch let out a groan before pulling back to see the mess he's made of you. With a smirk, he ultimately says, "It is my job to get you flustered." And he carried you to his bedroom.

#pitch black rotg #guardians of childhood #rotg #rise of the guardians #rotg pitch black #pitch black x reader #pitch black/reader #rotg fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask · 4 days ago

Text

River

The water lapped against the sides of the gently rocking riverboat Sudan, the sounds of gambling, shouting, and raucous laughter filling what would otherwise have no doubt been a quiet, peaceful night. Music played off a record machine, feet tapped as couples danced, and an excellent time was had by all.

It was the kind of scene Trouble would ordinarily adore, if it weren’t for the terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Partying, gambling, drinking, dancing… it left a sour taste in his mouth, knowing where he was headed. He kept his head low and tried to make his way through without catching anyone’s attention. He had things to do - weapons to clean and load, a letter to write for his little brother, a ceiling to stare at for hours on end as he tried to sleep… he had big plans for the evening.

“Kelp!” someone called out, interrupting his plans immediately. “Come sit down, my boy… we need another player.”

Trouble slowly approached the table, eyeing its occupants warily. He found five men - one of them wiry, thin, bedazzled with jewelry that clinked with his every movement and glittered in the lamplight, a more muscular fellow who was working hard to mask his keen attentiveness beneath a mask of indifference, a pair of massive piles of muscle who may as well have been twins for all that they nearly perfectly resembled each other, and finally a squat, rather hairy man wearing a smile so wide it looked like a tiger trainer could fit their head comfortably between those tombstone teeth with room to spare.

Trouble plastered a grin on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m more than willing to bet my life, Mister Diggums,” he said, casually hooking his thumbs behind his belt buckle and adopting a relaxed posture, “but I don’t gamble my money.”

The skinny one looked Kelp over, his eyes shining like the oversized bracelets on his wrist. “Come on, man,” he goaded in an American accent, a smarmy, surprisingly punchable, smirk taking up residence on his thin lips that looked like they were stretched too tight across his gaunt face. “Everyone is willing to bet something… For instance; I bet you five hundred dollars that we’ll reach Hamunaptra before you.”

Kelp felt a chill run down his spine. “And who says that I’m headed to Hamunaptra in the first place?” he asked through clenched teeth, his chest tight and his voice strained. He wasn’t a man who liked it when strangers knew things about him - strangers like this one knowing that he was going to the one place on earth he was willing to describe with the word cursed? That was altogether worse.

The rhinoceri flanking their narrower companion both pointed to Trouble’s rather pungent travelmate. “He does,” they answered in unison, not even bothering to lift their eyes from the cards in their hands.

Mulch at least had the decency to look nervous as he shot Trouble a bashful grin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” the skinny one - clearly the leader of this little band - asked, that infuriating smile still plastered across his face. “Have you got the stones for a little wager?”

Trouble’s hands clenched into fists by his side. He would have liked to punch that smile out of existence. He was still trying to decide whether he would or not when the question was answered for him.

“A bet? How exciting,” remarked a new voice from beside Trouble. “You’re on.”

Kelp lifted one eyebrow when he turned to find the young organizer of their little expedition beside him. Artemis responded with a quiet nod, his hand falling onto Mulch’s shoulder and tightening meaningfully.

The well-built man with deceptively calm eyes seemed the only one to perceive the silent interaction. “Well, you sound awfully confident,” he drawled in a surprisingly high-pitched New Zealander accent. “What makes you so sure that you’ll fare better than us?” One of the behemoths chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking with the effort while his companion nodded along beside him with a smirk.

This crowd did a lot of smirking, Trouble noted idly.

“Oh don’t worry,” Artemis responded, leaning forward to rest a hand on the card table. “I’ll be sure to let you know… as I count my cut of the five hundred dollars you’re about to pay me.”

Trouble couldn’t help but grin at the crestfallen expressions on the men’s faces. Artemis Fowl was not the type of man he saw himself spending much time around, but he couldn’t deny that it was enjoyable to watch the man in action.

“Well, there’s a bed calling my name,” Kelp said rather suddenly, clapping Artemis on the shoulder and excusing himself before someone found themselves tempted to lash out again in this game of wordplay. “Enjoy your game.” He couldn’t help but throw a playful wink at the Kiwi as he added, “Be sure you don’t go gambling away all of your money tonight… we only accept payments in cash.”

With that he lifted his bag onto his shoulder and marched away from the aft deck, angling for his bedroom. He hadn’t slept in days - not since he’d agreed to come on this journey, in fact. The Fowl siblings were offering him an almost obscene salary for his part in it… but he still wasn’t sure whether he’d made the right decision or not.

Speaking of the siblings, he found himself grinning when he recognized the shock of auburn hair sitting at the deck table nearest to his bedroom. Holly Fowl was easily the more agreeable of the pair - even if that was only because she provided a far prettier view. She was engrossed in a book when he approached, but turned her face up as she heard his boots on the wood plank flooring.

“Mister Kelp,” she addressed him, her tone professional. “You’re up late.” It was a simple observation, though her tone implied it was more of an invitation to speak with her than anything else. Her heterochromatic eyes studied him curiously as he neared her, taking him in with an almost clinical interest.

Trouble shrugged nonchalantly as he came to a stop beside her. “You have your preparations to make, Miss Fowl, and I have mine.” He gestured to the seat across from her and asked, “May I?” He waited for her to nod her assent before sitting down, then dropped his heavy bag on the tabletop and unrolled it, revealing a small arsenal of handguns, ammunition, knives, and even a couple of sticks of dynamite.

One corner of the young woman’s mouth curled upward in a bemused smile. “Mister Kelp, have I missed something?” she asked curiously. “Are you expecting a war?”

Trouble studied her in return as she slowly lifted her hand to stroke the grip of his short-barrelled Peacemaker with one finger. Most women would have reacted more strongly - fear, nervousness, at the very least surprise. He shook his head and ran a hand back through his hair. Holly Fowl was a force to be reckoned with, he was sure of it.

He lifted up a Smith & Wesson Model 10, making sure that it was fully loaded. He could tell by the weight that it was, but he visually scanned each chamber all the same. It helped relax him… somewhat, anyway. “Last time I was there, I was chased out,” he said tersely, keeping his mind on the familiar weight of the pistol in his hand to try to keep from thinking about the shrieking winds and panicking horses that had populated his dreams for the past three years. “There’s something out there in that sand.”

Short rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one for superstition, Mister Kelp,” she chided playfully. “All that I hope to find out there is a book… what exactly do you think is there with it?”

“No clue,” Trouble answered coolly, setting the Model 10 down and instead grabbing a 12-gauge Model 12. “If I had to pick one word to describe it, though, I’d choose the word evil.”

Silence stretched between them - Holly stared at Trouble with the eye of a skeptic, and Trouble did his best to ignore her. She was the one to break first.

“Well, Mister Kelp, I need some sleep,” she said with a sigh, standing and turning to her bedroom door. “I’m sure that we will have plenty of travel ahead of us.”

Trouble watched her go from the corner of his eye. She moved more gracefully than before - more fluidly. He finally realized as she walked past him that it was because she had changed her clothes. Where earlier she had worn the long skirt and puffy dress befitting a woman her age, now she was dressed in trousers and boots with a thin blouse more properly suited to the heat of Egypt.

“You look better without the skirt,” he remarked, wiping excess oil from the chamber of his shotgun with a worn rag.

He didn’t even realize what that sounded like until she rounded on him, her hands on her hips and an incredulous glare on her face. “I what?” she hissed defiantly.

“No… I just… what I meant was…” Trouble stammered, his cheeks turning a deep red as he scrambled to explain himself. “You just…”

That was when he noticed the playful sparkle in Holly’s eyes. “It’s alright, Mister Kelp,” she cut him off with a gentle laugh. She leaned forward, resting one hand on his shoulder and grinning as she added, “I find skirts are too cumbersome for this particular line of work. It’s easier to go without.”

Trouble brushed his hair back from his forehead, a subconscious nervous tick he had developed over the years. “You’ve got to stop calling me that,” he said, changing the subject to try to distract himself from his embarrassment. He stuck out his hand to shake hers and grinned as he said, “Call me Trouble.”

Holly’s lips twitched up in a smirk, which was not nearly so annoying as those of the men he’d been speaking with earlier, he noted idly. She reached out to take his hand in hers and shook it firmly. “Goodnight, Trouble,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“Goodnight, Holly,” he answered. Then he had to turn back to his weapons to try to keep himself from watching her walk away.

Trouble ran his fingers through his hair once again. Cursed destinations, gambling idiots, and distracting partners added up to make a whole slew of confusion and distraction. He sighed heavily as he picked up the Model 12 again to finish his work.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, he wished that he had turned Artemis’s offer down. As he turned in spite of himself to catch a glimpse of Holly’s retreating form, though, he found that for the first time since agreeing to this venture, he was almost glad he did.

---

(This one in particular goes out to @blondetroublemagnet for liking a bunch of my AF stuff and getting me back in the spirit.)

#i bet you all thought i stopped this didn't you?#mwahaha #you fools #i was but biding my time #i'll probably go back and rewrite the rest of this scene with the fighting and the burning and trouble throwing someone into the river #but first i just wanted to get this part out because it was fun #artemis fowl #af fandom #the mudman #my writing #trouble kelp #mulch diggums #holly short

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