#but it finally feels like my skin is normal again

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

pillow talk - spencer reid x fem!reader

a night well spent fizzles out into soft words exchanged in pink sheets.

genre: fluff wc: 1019 warnings: mentioned sex, their first time together, casual nudity, inexperienced reader, insecurities, reassurance

It was soft, comforting even. Of course intense because how else could your first time together be? It was him, after all. As you lay, heavy pants finally returning to normal, steady breaths, a hand comes up to smooth down your hair and a kiss is gently pressed to your head.

"How do you feel?" Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It proves to be a difficult question. A response seems counterintuitive, like it would demean the moment into something that has to be assessed. An answer has to come, nonetheless.

"I don't know." And it's the truth.

He hums thoughtfully and nods, running a hand down your shoulder. "Good or bad?"

"Good... like my brain's empty. If that makes sense," you answer.

Your head, on Spencer's bare chest, does, in fact, feel foggy. Before today, you were both too scared of the intimacy. Something changed the moment you felt him move his grip from your hip to your waist, like he was worried that he might make you uncomfortable. You didn't want that. It happened only after convincing him that you wanted to go further than the usual groping and hand stuff. Now you're unsure how you feel. Having someone you've been seeing for a while suddenly inside you is bizarre and always will be. You also can't seem to shake that voice that sounds a lot like your friends, telling you that he'll leave after he gets what he wants. Your mind is simply a flurry of everything that anyone has ever told you about intimacy. With Spencer, it was different, though.

Your hand finds his and you mindlessly toy with his fingers as you murmur, "you've done this more than me, correct?"

"Correct."

"How do people usually feel?" you ask softly.

"Everybody's different. You don't need to feel good." He takes a breath and explains in a matter-of-fact tone, his hand lifting above your shoulder to gesture while he talks, "the rush of serotonin and dopamine into our system can leave some people feeling sad or tired once those neurotransmitters decrease."

You nod, finding yourself understanding. It has been a while since you've engaged in any form of intimacy.

"That makes sense."

He nods as his fingers drop to continue the irregular patterns on your arm. His chin rests on your head. "So? How do you feel?"

Again, there's no correct answer to his question. It's a complicated experience with complicated feelings attached. But one thing is for sure, "I'm happy."

"I'm glad. I am, too," he hums.

A smile floats over your lips before a thought occurs and you have an inkling as to how he'll choose to reply to it. Your head lifts and you turn so you're now partly on your side, giving you a perfect view of his face in the soft glow of the afternoon. With the curtains closed, his skin was basked in pale yellow light, the pink of your sheets contrasting the pink of his cheeks.

"Did I do good?" you grin.

He finds you gorgeous, your sickeningly sweet smile making him gaze down at you in pure awe. It's the complete and utter truth when he responds with, "very."

You can't help but tease, "best you've ever had?"

"Yes. I don't think you could've fumbled that badge of honour if you tried," he smiles, his hand gently cupping your cheek, a rough thumb wiping away invisible tears.

Something about the sentiment gets to you. After all, you're nothing but a hopeful romantic. But you're also just a girl.

"So, even if I was bad, you'd still lie and say I wasn't?" you raise your eyebrows and bat your eyelashes.

His eyes narrow but the smile on his face shows you that he's not really upset. "No... I meant that I think I like you too much to not enjoy everything you do."

"Oh," you flush. Why does he have to be so perfect?

The hand on your cheek moves up to brush some of your hair back. "Yeah, oh."

Spencer's different than the guys you've interacted with. He's everything that little girls everywhere dream of. He's Prince Charming. That's why when your lips meet his and the sheet falls back, his eyes never once glance down. Perhaps he's an agent and an individual with three PhDs but he's a gentleman above all else. He never once wants to make you feel like he's not here for you.

When your lips break apart with happy smiles on both of your faces, you take in just how silly he looks. His hair is messy from your fingers, his cheeks are flushed and—your favourite of all—he's covered up to his stomach in pink sheets. The giggle that leaves you is unnecessary and unasked for.

He can't help the smile that comes from hearing your laugh. "What?" he mutters, brows furrowed.

"You just look... so very silly in my bed," you explain, a lovesick grin on your face.

"Oh. Well, I can't help what you choose as interior design."

You sigh dramatically, shaking your head like a disappointed teacher, "I suppose you can't."

The smile on his lips only grows as you act your ass off to seem sad by his comment.

"Perhaps I should also purchase pink sheets?" he suggests jokingly, tucking yet another stray strand behind your ear.

"I really think you should. It would complement your room and it would make you think of me so that's a bonus," you nod. You're unable to stay serious, though, the corners of your mouth lifting despite your efforts.

Spencer nods back, his bottom lip pushing up as he hums decisively. "I'm sold, let's go to the store," he says with an impressively straight face.

You laugh hard, beaming up at him with nothing but pure joy. You find his commitment to the bit amusing and, honestly, endearing. He points his thumb towards the bedroom door with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Playfully, your eyes roll and rest your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'll get pink sheets if you want me to," Spencer softly mutters.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔/𝑴.𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑰.𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒏

I don’t normally write player x player fics, but after these pictures came out, I had to make an exception 🫶🏻

The morning started like clockwork. Ingrid stirred awake before the alarm even had a chance to go off, her internal body clock as reliable as ever. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the faint light creeping through the curtains. She turned her head to the side, smiling softly at the sight of Mapi still fast asleep. Her girlfriend was sprawled on her stomach, the duvet half-kicked off her back, revealing the faint golden tint of her skin. Her hair was a messy halo of dark blonde and brown, and the tiniest snores puffed out against her pillow.

Ingrid didn’t wake her immediately. Instead, she took a moment to watch her, committing the peaceful scene to memory. There was something almost childlike about Mapi when she slept, her usual cheeky grin replaced by an expression of pure tranquility. Reaching out gently, Ingrid brushed a strand of hair out of Mapi’s face, her fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek. “Maria,” she whispered softly, her voice low and affectionate.

There was no response, only a soft mumble as Mapi shifted slightly, her face burrowing further into the pillow. Ingrid smiled to herself, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to Mapi’s temple. “Maria, det er morgen,” she murmured.

“Mm-mm,” Mapi groaned, shaking her head weakly and pulling the duvet up over her head. Her muffled voice drifted out, half in Spanish and half unintelligible. “No. Sleep.”

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Ingrid said, sitting up and stretching before turning to tug the duvet back down. Mapi clung to it like a lifeline, her face scrunched in protest. “Maria, you have to get up. We have training.”

“Cinco minutos más,” Mapi mumbled, holding up five fingers weakly from beneath the covers. Her voice was hoarse with sleep, and Ingrid couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Five more minutes?” Ingrid teased, leaning down to pepper soft kisses along Mapi’s exposed shoulder. “You say that every morning, cariño.”

Mapi groaned again but didn’t move, her resolve to stay in bed as strong as ever. Ingrid sighed theatrically, standing up and moving to the window. With a quick tug, she pulled the curtains open, flooding the room with warm sunlight. Mapi let out a dramatic hiss, pulling the duvet back over her head.

“Eres cruel,” Mapi muttered, though there was no real heat in her words. Ingrid turned back to the bed, arms crossed over her chest, her expression fond but firm.

“Come on, my love,” Ingrid coaxed, sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging at the duvet again. “You’ll feel better once you shower.” She punctuated her words with a kiss to woman’s forehead, then her cheek, then the tip of her nose. Then finally, her lips. Slowly but surely, Mapi began to stir, her brown eyes cracking open to glare at Ingrid half-heartedly.

“Eres demasiado feliz por la mañana,” Mapi grumbled, her voice still thick with sleep. Ingrid laughed, brushing another kiss against her lips before standing and pulling her up by the hands.

The shower was a ritual they shared most mornings. Ingrid adjusted the water to Mapi’s liking—warm, bordering on hot—and guided her under the spray. Mapi leaned heavily against Ingrid, her arms loosely wrapped around Ingrid’s bare waist, her head resting against her shoulder as her eyes fluttered shut.

“You’re hopeless,” Ingrid murmured with a soft smile as she manoeuvres them both beneath the water, her hand resting on the back of Mapi’s neck for support. Once the Spaniards hair was wet, she reached for the shampoo and squeezed out a decent amount into her palm, rubbing them together to create a lather.

Her fingers then worked gently through Mapi’s hair, massaging her scalp in slow, circular motions. Mapi let out a quiet hum of contentment, her eyes closed as she relaxed into Ingrid’s actions.

“Besito,” Mapi whispered after a few quiet moments, tilting her head up slightly. Ingrid leaned down without hesitation, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. And then another. And another. Their kisses were languid, unhurried, the kind that spoke of a love both deep and familiar. Ingrid’s hands continued their work as Mapi’s head dropped back to her shoulder, rinsing out the shampoo before reaching for the conditioner.

“Du er så vakker,” Ingrid murmured in Norwegian, her voice low and affectionate as she pressed another kiss to Mapi’s temple.

“Hmm?” Mapi hummed sleepily, her eyes still closed.

“Nothing,” Ingrid replied with a small smile, finishing with Mapi’s hair and turning her attention to her own. By the time they stepped out of the shower, Mapi was more awake, though her movements were still slow and slightly sluggish as she dried off and wrapped a towel around herself.

Ingrid dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of training shorts and a fitted white shirt. She glanced over at Mapi, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with her towel still draped around her shoulders, her hair dripping onto the duvet of the unmade bed. Ingrid shook her head fondly, grabbing a brush and sitting down beside her.

“Princessa,” Mapi said suddenly, her voice teasing.

“Hmm?” Ingrid responded, gently working through the tangles in Mapi’s hair.

“Tú me mimas,” Mapi murmured, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. Ingrid laughed softly, setting the brush aside and turning to press a kiss to Mapi’s forehead.

“Only because I love you,” she replied in English, her accent soft but clear. Mapi’s smile grew, and she turned her head to kiss Ingrid’s cheek, murmuring the words ‘te amo’ against her warm skin. As Ingrid headed through to the kitchen, Mapi briskly dries off her hair and pulls it back with a claw clip before slipping into a shirt and pair of jeans.

Breakfast was another shared ritual, though it was often less structured than the shower. Ingrid prepared their usual—toast, fruit, and yogurt—while Mapi hovered around the kitchen, occasionally sneaking bites of fruit from the counter.

“You’re supposed to wait,” Ingrid said, her tone amused as Mapi popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

“Tengo hambre,” Mapi replied, shrugging innocently. Ingrid shook her head with a smile, setting the plates on the table before sitting down.

Halfway through the meal, Mapi abandoned her chair entirely, plopping herself down into Ingrid’s lap with zero warning. “You’re not a cat,” Ingrid teased, though her arms instinctively wrapped around Mapi’s waist and squeezed tight.

“No, pero soy lindo.” Mapi quipped, grinning as she leaned her head against Ingrid’s. The Norwegian chuckled, pressing a kiss to Mapi’s jaw as they continued eating, their plates now shared between them. Mapi stole bites from Ingrid’s plate with a cheeky grin despite having her own, and Ingrid didn’t have the heart to protest.

By the time they were ready to leave, Mapi’s usual energy had returned, her cheeky grin firmly in place as she shrugged on her jacket and helped Ingrid into her own. It was an off white colour and oversized, burying Ingrid and making her look extra adorable.

In the elevator, Ingrid pulled out her phone, holding it up to take a picture. “Smile,” she said in English, nudging Mapi gently.

Mapi turned her head toward Ingrid, brushing her nose against Ingrid’s cheek and closing her eyes. Ingrid snapped the picture, smiling at the result. “One more,” she said, and this time Mapi turned to kiss her. Ingrid took the photo mid-kiss, their faces scrunched up playfully with smiles.

“Otro,” Mapi demanded in Spanish, her grin wide as she pulled Ingrid in for a proper kiss, her hands linked together at the small of the taller woman’s back. Ingrid, whose body was now flush against Mapi’s own, obliged, snapping one last picture before tucking her phone away with the intention of uploading them to instagram later.

As they stepped into the parking garage, Mapi laced her fingers with Ingrid’s, swinging their hands lightly as they walked toward the car.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[afyrian]

☆ cattle-crossed lovers w/ kita | wc: 542

m.list

    "you know what my dad would say, shin," you lean up against your fence, feet crossed as your hands cover one his, a gleam of perspiration on top.

  kita looks back towards you, meeting your eyes with his, his free hand reaching up for your cheek. his calloused hands that once brought wonderful nausea to your stomach, feel so normal now. the way his thumb roams your cheek, his fingers lining your jawbone. it feel natural there, just as much as his hand in yours' does. "good thing he doesn't have to know," he leans forward, pressing his lips against your's.

  similarly, you can tell that he hasn't used the chapstick you've gotten for him. the intense summer heat cracks his lips into a thick and stubborn substance. and yet, you can't help but melt within his touch. the way his lips taste like coffee that isn't quite gone yet, a hint of metallic following through. and it reminds you of all the times you've seen him hold a nail between his lips.

  biting at his lip, you take one hand from his, running it behind his neck. more precipitation is born there, rolling in beads down within his shirt and down his back. you know you should stop, that you should head back to work. that your father, no matter how intrigued with his cattle, would eventually see you. but feeling his fingers linger by your neck electrifies you.

  "you're dad's eventually gonna see us," he finally whispers into your lips, hand pulling back from your cheek, hesitation deeply sitting within his veins. 

  "your dad might too... doesn't stop you from inviting me over almost every night," you whisper back, leaning back so your foreheads touch, lips separating.

  kita leans back from your touch, pursing his lips. you can see his cheek moves as his tongue runs along his teeth. shaking his head, he taps against one of the fence posts, a smile waiting to creep out. "so you don't want to be invited over anymore? because i happen to think you rather enjoy yourself too-"

  "hey, i never said i don't enjoy your invites. just that it gets a bit risky climbing up that trellis. and unfortunately creaky," you smile, setting your hand on top of his, letting him feel the tougher parts of your skin. the very same skin that scales buildings for him. 

  the two of you stand there for a moment, staring each other down with no abandon. you want to pull him in by the jacket, give him another reason to sneak off with you again. however, you can spot his father down by the barn, ready to get on some machinery. knowing it's finally time to separate, you bring your hand back.

  "we should get back to work."

  "and you should text me when you're at my window tonight... throwing a rock probably isn't the best idea anymore. i want to see you a bit more before you're off for university again."

  "i know," you nod, looking back towards his father once more. noticing he's so far away, you grab kita by the collar of his jacket, giving him a quick kiss to the side of the mouth, "hope that makes up for the time away."

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @nectardaddy

[best-seungkwality]

morning conversations gone wrong (or right?)

pairing: roommate!hazel callahan x female!reader

contains/warnings: college!au drabble (is this considered a drabble), fluff, kinda ooc hazel?, not proofread bc again, my mantra is live fast die young bad girls do it well

word count: 1k

author's yap notes: this has been sitting in the drafts for the longest time ugh i hope it's cute bc i thought it was cute bye i love this prompt for hazel and supposedly ruby's tslocg character ash. also, happy new year <33

would like to give credits for the dividers: © saradika, magnusthemes here in tumblr!

The air outside the sorority house where the party of the month was held was cool, carrying a hint of morning dew that left one's skin tingling. It was 6 am already, and all the partygoers were either sprawled out somewhere in the house or stumbling over to a nearby store or home.

You were, amusingly, the latter.

Hazel walked a little ahead of you, hands stuffed in her jacket's pockets, posture quite stiff. She was always like this whenever she was nervous about something, and right now, you knew why.

"You didn't have to fetch me and walk me back, Haze," you slurred, leaning on the lamppost for a short break when you started getting dizzy. She raised an eyebrow at you, smiling at the irony of what you just said.

She waited for a while for you until the two of you could start walking back to your shared dorm again. She glanced back for a moment, slowing down so that you could keep up. "Could've fooled me when you almost fell into the punch bowl when I arrived."

You held up a finger, "Okay, that wasn't my fault. It got in the way when I was dancing!"

Hazel snorted, probably unable to hide it at how ridiculous you sounded, but didn't say anything else. You could feel the small smile playing on her face that she hid from you. It made your chest feel tighter than any alcohol could ever affect you.

You two continued to walk in silence for another block, the familiar tension increasing between you until the time came for it to snap. She kept avoiding your very obvious stare, looking anywhere as long as it wasn't you. That was when you stopped, running to the middle of the road, declaring, "Okay, that's it."

Your roommate froze, spinning around, and you saw confusion flashed across her face. "What are you doing? Come back here!"

"Nope!" you huffed and crossed your arms, planting your feet firmly on the ground. "Not until you tell me!" The alcohol was really making you too bold and playful for your own good.

Hazel started to go closer to you, nervousness obviously replacing every emotion in her features. "Tell you what? C'mon, y/n, get back here!" The pink blush creeping up face betrayed her, and you knew she knew what you were talking about. Even the pitch of her voice had gone slightly higher.

"That you like me!" you said matter-of-factly. "I'm not moving until you stop beating around the bush and confess!"

She blinked a couple of times like you had just transformed into an alien. You only gave her a silly smile when she asked, "Are you serious?"

"I'm not moving, am I?"

The street was empty that Saturday morning, and you could tell Hazel was thankful for that at least. The streetlights had already closed, giving way to the warm, natural sunlight enveloping the surroundings.

She then took a hesitant step toward you, brows furrowing, but you held your ground. She shakily reminded you, "You're drunk." She wanted to be firm with you, but there was a slight waver in her tone that she couldn't hide from you at that moment.

You cock an eyebrow in response. "I'm drunk but not stupid— and I'm still certainly aware!" You pouted at her small, skeptical frown. "Okay, maybe a little less aware than normal— but I know when someone's into me! The way you act around me says it all. You're not exactly that subtle."

Hazel finally let out a hand and ran it through her hair, another nervous tic you had memorized by now. She walked towards you and reached out, trying to coax you to go back to the sidewalk. "C'mon, n/n, let's go. I don't want you to get hurt."

You didn't budge once again. "Not until you admit it~"

She groaned out load, putting her face in her hands. "Why does it even matter?" she called out, a bit frustrated based on the redness of her face that cold morning. "You're drunk; you won't remember this when you wake up."

"I like you, Hazel," you suddenly told her, catching her off-guard.

You two stayed silent again for some time, unmoving, even when a motorcycle had passed by, beeping at you. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and for a second, you thought she was going to deny once again, skirting around the truth like she always did. But then, she looked at you, as if staring past your eyes and straight into your soul. Her expression was soft and vulnerable, in a way she had never let you see before.

"Fine," she whispers, closing the distance between the two of you, "I like you, okay? I've liked you since the day we met at the dorms. You're so nice and random, and you accepted me and introduced me to a new world. I like it when you steal my hoodies, but you know I would punch someone else who would do that. Ever since our moving in day, you've been the best part of every day in my life, which scares me so much because I don't wanna mess up what we have. You're also one of my best friends now..."

Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting that kind of confession. It was cold outside, but the heat from the adrenaline and your adoration for Hazel made that disappear that completely.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" you teased, but voice softer to assure her that it was out of affection.

Hazel rolled her eyes, but you knew there was no sarcasm behind it when you saw her familiar giddy smile. "You're so insufferable, y/n."

"Yet you like me~" you sang, holding out your hand this time for her.

She smiled, taking it and lacing your fingers together, "Are you done being dramatic now? Can we go?"

"I'm good now," you told her, planting a soft peck on her cheek.

Hazel shook her head, a bigger smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible. Thank goodness I like you."

[pocji]

I got that new barrier support serum from the ordinary. Was I influenced by the fact it’s pink? Yes.

[carcarrot]

thats it im going to go laser mode

[somelazyassartist]

What do I have to do to never see graphic novel Taako ever again (/nbh)

[s4pphoiduser]

microdosing coming out by macrodosing "ooo i wanna look Just Like Him. HIM. HE HIM HIM HIM. JUST LIKE HIM." like oh look at the broad shoulders and wide, flat chest. oh, oh, so interesting, isn't it? wouldn't it be fun if i were a guy? imagine That!

[softgothbabe]

.

[rowarn]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

;

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all. 

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn. 

You were going to need a lot more alcohol. 

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust. 

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them. 

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man. 

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?” 

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you. 

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?” 

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that. 

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way. 

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat. 

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.” 

He chuckles, “You caught me.” 

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.” 

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?” 

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.” 

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?” 

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!” 

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up. 

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body. 

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom. 

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night. 

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point. 

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to. 

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent. 

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new. 

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere. 

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet. 

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips. 

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat. 

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you. 

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him. 

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now. 

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in. 

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth. 

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet. 

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his. 

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table. 

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy. 

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something. 

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from. 

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom. 

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man. 

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too. 

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless. 

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you. 

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly. 

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss. 

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter. 

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his. 

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often. 

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108. 

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved. 

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you. 

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings. 

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them. 

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes. 

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating. 

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming. 

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss. 

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze. 

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. 

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released. 

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him. 

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm. 

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips. 

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you. 

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch. 

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs. 

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit. 

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention. 

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in. 

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment. 

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.” 

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock. 

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger. 

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle. 

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.” 

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you. 

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water. 

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy. 

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob. 

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure. 

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut. 

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get. 

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare. 

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up. 

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.” 

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release. 

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside. 

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip. 

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper. 

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over. 

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit. 

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes. 

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.” 

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back. 

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases. 

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down. 

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face. 

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in. 

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time. 

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys. 

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it. 

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine. 

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you. 

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much. 

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. 

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm. 

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop. 

After a few, long seconds, he feels it. 

Fuck, does he feel it. 

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears. 

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you. 

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you. 

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt. 

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap. 

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body. 

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face. 

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him. 

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you. 

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again. 

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following. 

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip. 

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time. 

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you. 

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him. 

“Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions. 

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it. 

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit. 

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come. 

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort. 

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure. 

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest. 

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past. 

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt. 

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing. 

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles. 

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft. 

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight. 

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it. 

The sight is so fucking filthy. 

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. 

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up. 

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him. 

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response. 

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle. 

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch. 

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please. 

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt. 

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place. 

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is. 

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure. 

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it. 

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole. 

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently. 

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue. 

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again. 

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is. 

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again. 

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you. 

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper. 

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it. 

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you. 

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long. 

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit. 

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end. 

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing. 

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in. 

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself. 

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move. 

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him. 

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

[furuu]

∘ ◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ You noticed how grumpy Sukuna had been all day, his temper flaring at every little thing, lashing out at servants with sharp, biting words. The deep, guttural growl that seemed to rumble from his chest set everyone on edge. His usual terrifying presence had become even more menacing, a dark aura clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his brooding demeanor, a part of you couldn't help but feel a mix of concern and curiosity. You tilted your head slightly, watching him with keen eyes as he huffed, his expression stoic but tinged with annoyance. His four, fiery crimson eyes, which normally blazed with authority, now held a glint of something else-something darker and more irritated.

Approaching him carefully, you couldn't resist the urge to ask, "You doing alright, my love?" Your voice was soft, cautious, as if trying not to provoke him further. In response, he let out another agitated huff, but as he heard your voice, his irritation seemed to subside, if only for a moment.

His gaze softened slightly, the flicker of affection in his eyes undeniable. "I'm perfectly fine," he grumbled, crossing his powerful arms over his broad chest, trying to maintain his gruff demeanor. But you could see right through him-your presence alone had a calming effect, even if he refused to admit it.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you moved closer, a small smile playing on your lips. Without hesitation, you climbed onto his large lap, settling comfortably as he sat upon his imposing throne. He let out another quiet, dramatic huff, as if trying to emphasize his unknown frustrations. An idea formed in your mind, and you couldn't help but giggle softly. Though his face remained expressionless, you noticed that his lower set of eyes were locked onto you, following your every move with a silent intensity.

Despite his grumpy demeanor, you knew Sukuna well enough to recognize that he was drawn to you, his attention unwavering.

His lower set of eyes seemed to plead for your attention, even if his pride wouldn't allow him to ask for it outright. Raising an eyebrow slightly, he finally broke the silence, his voice gruff yet laced with curiosity.

"What's so amusing?"

You leaned in closer, the playful smile never leaving your face. "You're hungry, aren't you, my lord?" you teased, your voice tinged with amusement. "Is that why you've been so grumpy today? You haven't eaten a thing yet, have you?"

For a brief moment, Sukuna's grouchy expression faltered as your words hit the mark. "Are you implying I'm... hangry?" he questioned, his voice losing some of its initial sharpness. His four arms crossed defensively as his lower eyes averted your gaze. "I'm the King of Curses. I do not get hangry," he protested, though the slight rumbling of his stomach betrayed his claim.

You pouted playfully, noticing the subtle snarl of his lips in response. "You poor thing," you cooed, your hand snaking behind his head to rub at the sensitive undercut of his hair. He grunted under your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation despite himself. "Why don't you eat, my love? You're such a grouchy thing without a full belly."

Sukuna huffed again, leaning subtly into your touch. He hadn't eaten because he knew how much you disliked it when he indulged in his darker, more primal cravings—cannibalism, his twisted preference for human flesh or organs. He wouldn't admit that he was holding back for your sake, though. "I don't need to eat—I'm not that hungry," he muttered, but the quiet rumble of his stomach told you otherwise.

Before you could respond, Uraume, Sukuna's trusted subordinate, entered the room quietly and swiftly. They approached with a small bowl, offering it to you-a grim assortment of human parts carefully prepared for your lord. Uraume's presence was fleeting, and they quickly dismissed themselves, leaving you alone with Ryomen once more. You noticed how his abs clenched in hunger, even as his expression remained distant and stoic, his lower eyes locked onto your small hands holding the bowl.

"Are you sure?" you asked softly, teasingly, as you noticed the way his gaze lingered. His growl in response was all the answer you needed.

Sukuna's body trembled slightly as he fought to resist the overwhelming urge to feed. The aroma of the human flesh assaulted his senses, his mouth watering in anticipation. You could see his resolve wavering, the sound of his stomach rumbling growing louder, betraying his need.

One of your hands gently reached up to his face, guiding his gaze to yours with a tender touch along his jawline. "Shhh," you soothed, feeling his head lean into your palm, his usual resistance melting away under your touch. His four eyes met yours, the hunger in them now mingled with a hint of surrender.

You ran your thumb over his lower lip, lifting it slightly to reveal his sharp, lethal fangs.

With your other hand, you picked up a piece of meat from the bowl, holding it up to his mouth. "Hush now," you whispered, your voice soft and coaxing. "This will make you feel better."

As your thumb grazed his lip, Sukuna shivered under your touch. He tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the struggle in his eyes as his resistance began to crumble. The piece of meat you held in front of him seemed to taunt him, the primal desire within him threatening to take over.

"Hush now, boy," you cooed again, your tone patient and soothing, waiting for him to give in and take the meat. At your gentle command, Sukuna's pride wavered. The word "boy" irritated him slightly, but the hunger gnawing at him was too strong to ignore. With a resigned huff, he opened his mouth, allowing you to place the morsel on his tongue. As soon as the taste hit him, a low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he began to chew, his primal instincts finally taking over.

You watched him with adoration in your eyes, your hand still caressing the side of his tattooed face as he ate. With each bite, you could see the tension and irritation slowly melting away, replaced by a deep sense of relief and satisfaction. His lower eyes closed slightly, contented, as he continued to lean into your touch.

After swallowing the flesh, his adam's apple bobbing as he did, Sukuna's voice was calmer when he spoke again. "More."

You smiled softly, letting go of his face only long enough to offer him another piece of meat. This time, as you held the food to his lips, his gaze remained fixed on you, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes until you gently placed your hand on his jawline again.

He visibly relaxed, his irritation fading as he accepted the food.

Grunting in satisfaction, Sukuna leaned further into your touch, silently expressing his contentment with being fed and your understanding of his unspoken needs.

Once Sukuna had finished the last of the food you offered him, you found yourselves lying together in his chambers. His body was finally relaxed, the earlier tension completely gone. He nestled against you, his cheek resting on your soft chest, soaking in the warmth and comfort of your presence. You felt his head nuzzle deeper into you as he sighed in contentment.

"My good boy," you whispered, your fingers gently threading through his pink hair. "Just needed to eat, hm? So stubborn."

Sukuna let out a quiet grumble, a weak protest against your words, though the pleasure in his expression was undeniable.

"Not a good boy," he muttered, his voice laced with defiance, but his eyes were closed, fully enjoying the moment.

Despite his protests, it didn't take long for Sukuna to drift off into a deep sleep, his powerful lower arms wrapping around your waist as he held you close. His hands absentmindedly pawed at the soft flesh of your thighs, almost like a cat kneading its favorite spot, as he surrendered to sleep.

"Such a kitty too," you whispered softly, a fond smile playing on your lips as you watched him. "So grumpy until you're nice and full, hm? Then you take a nice long nap."

He grumbled faintly in his sleep, a sound that was both a protest and a sign of pleasure, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he cuddled closer. As you held him, you couldn't help but feel a deep affection for the powerful, yet strangely vulnerable, king of curses lying in your arms.

[etfrin]

— ʙʟɪꜱꜱ | ᴅᴏᴘᴘᴇʟɢᴀɴɢᴇʀ! ꜰʀᴀɴᴄɪꜱ

✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | cunnilingus, mentions of blood, murder. tongue fucking, monster tongue. hints of overstimulation, art from Pinterest | lmk if I forgot anything

✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: doppelganger Francis makes you open the door...

✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k

✧— ᴀ/ɴ: please give feedback, it's been over a month since I wrote

「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」

The doppelganger should have known better than to show up with ‘scarlet milk’ all over his disguise. He had taken care of the D.D.D of this building already. He just needed to convince the pretty girl behind the screen to let him and cause havoc.

He leans in, his face dangerously close to the glass and he smirks. His eyes are dark and a smirk forms on his face. “Just let me in. Does the D.D.D even treat you well? You deserve to be worshiped and I am willing to be on my knees.”

You swallow as you look at him, only a layer of glass separating you and him. There was a familiar ache between your legs from his words. You couldn't remember the last time you had time for yourself, this simple desk job consuming all your time. You tried to remind yourself that this man is a monster.

But if the monster is ready to be a slut… who are you to refuse?

You press the button that gives him access to your office. You glance at the red button, knowing that the moment you're done having fun with him. You'll have to press it.

The milkman, you know his name is Francis, walks in. He doesn't take any time to press you against the desk. The wood digging into your back.

“Pretty human,” he murmurs, his head dipping in between the space of your shoulder. His lips press a soft kiss. You gasp when you feel his sharp teeth on your skin. If he wanted to, he could tear your flesh.

You let out a breath, your heart beating against your chest. You tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. He takes advantage to lick at your salty skin with his long tongue. “Tasty,” he whispered against your ear. For a moment fear freezes you, thinking that he would eat you alive.

Instead, he gets on his knees. The loud thud makes you wince. “I'll treat you better,” he said, “Be a good girl for me.”

You nod before you can even think.

He gets under your skirt, his breath fanning your wet panties. He pressed his lips to the stain of your arousal. His tongue begins to lick you all over your clothed pussy. You put your hands on the desk, your head thrown back as you moan without shame. You feel weak on the knees. The monster has you caged even though it is your thighs around his head.

He continues to press small kisses all over, and the tip of his tongue puts pressure on your sensitive clit, making you cry out. The wet, rough texture of your panties felt so good against your bud. Then he finally decides that it's enough teasing.

He uses his fingers to pull your underwear out of the way. He chuckled when he saw your wet pussy clenching around nothing. You feel yourself getting hotter.

He eats you out without a care. His strokes are short and impatient. You begin to move your hips, grinding your cunt on his tongue. He groans. His hands are on your thighs and his grip on your flesh tightens. He raises his hands until he's cupping the cheeks of your ass. He kneads the soft flesh as he begins to use his tongue to flick at your clit until it's swollen.

Only when he's satisfied, he kisses the bud and begins to fuck his tongue into your walls. It was no easy feat, but you were so wet and it felt like his tongue was longer than normal humans. He chokes on you, his tongue making out with your tight walls. You cry out from the pleasure, knowing that you'll never feel something like this ever again.

Your eyes roll back, your pussy walls flexing on his tongue. You were so close and you knew you surely were suffocating him with the way you pressed your thighs against his head.

“Please- please-” you begin to plead, your body begging to be released. You would begin to cry if the monster denied you this. His tongue reached deeper inside of your walls than any cock did. He pressed his tongue to a soft, sensitive spot and you got dizzy from the jolts of pleasure. You see white in your vision as you begin to cum. You would have lost your balance if it weren't for him.

He milks your essence on his tongue. He makes sure there's not a single drop left when he stops. You had tears in your eyes as you looked down at him. His lips glisten with your juices. He smirked.

“Let me kill those worthless humans. There's more to that where it came from.”

[vintagebishx]

FOR THE FIRST TIME theodore nott

PAIRINGS: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

WARNINGS: fluff fluff fluff, use of she/her pronouns!, i used all lower caps.

SUMMARY: in which, the usual womaniser finds himself in love with a girl who doesn’t even know his name…

“ITS JUST LIKE SEEING HER,

FOR THE FIRST TIME,

AGAIN…”

“The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight.

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and i knew

it was only a matter of time before

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that

i would question if i had

ever been in love before”.

THOSE WERE THE words that theo scribbled down in his journal as he sat in the middle of the courtyard amongst other students on the hot and surprisingly toasty day in Hogwarts. he finally dropped the pencil in his hand as his eyes averted back over to the sight before him, y/n.

theo wasn’t normally one for poetry but ever since the first time he had ever saw her, it was all he could think about.

he found himself in a never ending cycle of writing, constantly writing his feelings and thought down whenever she crossed his mind which was all the time.

it was like she had unknowingly helped him discover a part of himself that he was unaware of.

his gaze stuck to her face that was glowing due to the sun hitting her perfect caramel skin. she sat peaceful on the green grass with a big book opened in her hands, one that seemed to capture all of her attention.

his eyes then traveled down to her hands, her hands that were decorated with multiple rings and her wrists that wore a few bracelets.

she wore a sleeveless v-neck jumper on top of a long sleeved shirt as her yellow tie was tied perfectly. she wore two necklaces which hung and rested against his the tie.

he watched as the slight breeze in the air blew into her brown, perfectly curly, and volumed hair which also had a sunflower tucked into the side of her hair slightly matching her yellow, Hufflepuff tie. he wanted so badly to talk to her, to get to know her, to be near her, but he instead found himself gawking from afar and silently hoping that she would at least turn and look his way.

but wether he talked to her or not, even him just being able to look at her was enough to fuel his slight obsession with the girl.

she was special.

she was like the coffee he needed to energise him in the morning, or even the warmth he needed on a cold and gloomy day.

she was the sunshine that could light up any dark room.

with every minute he spent staring at her, he grew even more curious by the second. he wanted to know everything about her.

he wanted to know why she always wore that one bracelet, why she always seemed to read books published by the same author, why she always played with her hair while reading or even why she always came to the courtyard alone at the same time everyday and sat at the same spot too.

he was intrigued by her, she was different.

he didn’t want to say it in a corny way, but she wasn’t like all the other girls in Hogwarts. she kept to herself, had friends but never minded being alone, was always sweet to everyone, and didn’t care how others viewed her.

classic Hufflepuff.

if you had asked him a year ago today if he thought a hufflepuff would ever had him feeling this way, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. what made it worse was that he was presented with so many chances to go and talk to the girl but instead, he froze up and got lost in all of the words that he wanted to say which was nothing like him.

it was like she had casted an irreversible spell that only pulled him closer and closer to her.

“are you okay?” a voice suddenly spoke, causing him to break from his deep gaze.

he looked away from the girl and looked up which finally revealed mattheo, “oh- yeah, yeah!” he spoke as he cleared his throat and silently hoped that his slight infatuation with the girl wasn’t too obvious to his best friend.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at his friend who was sat alone, “really? cause if you ask me, it looks like little miss Hufflepuff has you distracted…” he spoke with a small smirk.

“what? no!” theo quickly denied as he jerked his head back at his friends’ words.

matteheo took a moment to look down at the notebook that was sat on theo’s lap as he took notice to all the words written down that he struggled to read due to how far it was, “and what is this?” he asked as he suddenly knelt down to pick up the notebook, and got back up on his feet.

a sudden feeling of panic took over theo’s body as he hadn’t told anybody about his recent passion for poetry that was fuelled due to y/n.

“the first time you caught my eye it was love at first sight,” mattheo began as he read out of theo’s notebook. theodore was quick to stand up in attempts to grab the notebook from his friends’ hand but failed as mattheo continuously swerved his attempts.

“i knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones?” mattheo continued with a surprised tone at what he was hearing.

he had never heard theodore speak ever so passionately before.

“into a love so fierce-” “give me that!” theo interrupted his words as he finally grabbed the notebook from him.

his cheeks were tinted with a light red pigment as a small feeling of embarrassment grew inside of his system.

“your in love?” mattheo spoke with a laugh, “your in love with a hufflepuff?” he continued.

theo rolled his eyes at his words, “can you stop?” he spoke with an irritated tone.

“she’s more than that…” he began, “she’s special, s-she’s like a breath of fresh air in a world filled with copies of each other.” he spoke, his words filled with love as he brought his gaze back to y/n.

her peaceful presence finally bringing back that safe feeling in the pit of his stomach.

mattheo just stood there with his mouth slightly agape, realisation finally taking over him. his friend wasn’t just in love, he was deeply in love.

“wow… it’s worse than i thought, your infatuated nott.” mattheo said in a shocked tone.

he took a moment to look at theo, who put his head down in defeat as his friend uncovered his hidden feelings.

there was a reason as to why he had never told his friend about his liking towards the girl and it was simply because, he wasn’t used to it.

he wasn’t used to liking somebody, at all.

he wasn’t used to constantly thinking about somebody every single moment of the day, or having your heart beat faster at not only the sight of them, but the sound of their name. he wasn’t used to only being happy if he saw a certain someone, or not being able to sleep because of somebody disrupting his thoughts. he just wasn’t used to any of it.

he thought that y/n was just another girl that he would’ve liked for at least two days then gotten over her but no, the past three weeks of non-stop thoughts about her made it clear that it was more than just a crush and that he had to talk to her.

at first he was a little mad at the innocent girl as he wanted to know if she had put a spell over him, but he realised it was all him.

he craved her.

“why don’t you go talk to her, i mean you are theodore n-” “no!” theodore quickly interrupted his friend.

just the thought of her even looking at him made his nerves come to play.

mattheo took a moment to analyse his friends’ body language before letting out a loud laugh, “there’s no way,” he began, “are you… nervous?” he laughed out.

theo rolled his eyes due to it probably being mattheo’s tenth time laughing at him.

“i-i’m not, i just don’t know what i’d say to her.” he explained himself, “since when have you had trouble talking to girls nott? your clearly nervous.” mattheo laughed a little more before stopping.

“you know what?” mattheo spoke which caused theo to listen, “your gonna go over there and just speak whatever comes to mind.” he said.

theodore’s eyes widened at his words, he wasn’t prepared to even be near the girl let alone talk to her.

“what? no i’m not-” his words were interrupted by mattheo who grabbed the boys’ arm and began pulling him towards where the girl was peacefully sat, “yes you are!” mattheo spoke, simply ignoring the boy who was trying to rebel and pull away from his strong hold.

“no i’m not, now fuck off!” theo spoke harshly as he began using his strength to try and pull away but mattheo wasn’t having it.

“yes you are!” mattheo protested as he let go of theo before giving him one final strong push, pushing him right in front of the girl and causing him to drop his notebook onto the floor.

the commotion and sudden figure blocking her from the sun was enough to make y/n finally bring her head up from her book, she looked up to find the brunette boy staring right at her which slightly had her confused.

he looked a little anxious, as if he had been scared.

an awkward smile took over the girls’ face, “um, hello…” she said hesitantly as he did come from nowhere, “can i help you or?…” she continued.

but theo just stood there, like an idiot.

what am i doing, say something. he told himself mentally as he knew how stupid he looked, this was seriously unlike him.

“uhh, i-um,” he muttered out, “no!” he finally spat out as he finally moved out of his frozen state that he was once in before.

and there it was. the usually cool, and laid-back theodore nott was not tripping over his words and struggling on how to even form a sentence.

“oh…” y/n spoke, not really knowing what to tell him as she just continued to look up at him.

her eyes left his as she began to look at the grass, noticing a random, and unfamiliar notebook beside her.

“is this yours?” she asked him before she picking it up, “um yeah.” theo nervously spoke.

just then, y/n’s eyes scanned the page that was open. she quickly realising that it was a poem, her eyes lit up as she looked back at him.

“wait, did you write this?” she asked him as she stared right at him, waiting for a response.

theo’s eyes grew wide at the fact that she looked at the poem that he had made about her, his heart beats sped up due to a little embarrassment.

“y-yeah, but i’m not really a writer so-” “are you kidding me? i love poems!” she exclaimed, interrupted his words.

she took a moment to look a with a wide smile, the smile that made him want to melt.

“why don’t you sit down?” she offered which made him become shocked, “i mean unless you don’t want to then-” “no of course i do!” he suddenly spoke before walking a little closer to her, kneeling down, and sitting right next to her on the grass.

theo turned around and took a moment to look at the girl, this was the closest he had ever been to her and definitely the longest, and the first time, he had ever talked to her.

he took a good and long look at the girl, she was even prettier when closer.

her shoulder lengthened curls captured her face perfectly as they were as healthy as ever, she had a few small brown freckles on her face which is something he had never gotten to notice until now, he also didn’t notice how high her cheekbones were either. her full straight eyebrows were what made her face even more perfect as her almond shaped eyes topped her look off. his eyes then flickered to her her full, succulent lips which were as soft as ever. to top things off, her beautiful skin glowed ever so gently as the sun bounced off her face.

she was perfect… no, ethereal.

her smell too, she smelled addictive.

her sweet vanilla, tonka bean, red berries and mandarin scent was what drew the boy crazy. it made him want to be near her forever and ever.

“do you mind if i read this?” she asked him nicely before turning around and looking him looking him right into his eyes, “uh, sure.” he spoke as he quickly got out of whatever trance he was in.

it wasn’t like she would know it was about her anyways, he thought to himself.

y/n’s eyes went down the page as she read the poem, his writing style completely had her drawn as if it were written about her.

“oh my gosh, this is so beautifully written.” she complimented as she still looked at the notebook, she couldn’t believe how well he had managed to portray his feelings onto the paper.

she turned to look at him, “i-i mean, you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep seated familiarity into a love so fierce? beautiful.” she recited his words as she continued to stare at him, impressed by how poetic he was.

theo’s eyes widened at her sudden compliments, he felt his cheeks heat up.

“thank you…” he muttered as a small smile came across his face, “who is this about?” she suddenly asked him.

theodore cleared his throat, “um, p-pardon?” he nervously asked even though he had heard her perfectly, he was just caught up by her question and did not know what to say.

a smile took over the girls’ face as she let out a breathy laugh, God that smile…

“i said, who is this about? i mean it’s so deep, there has to be someone because this isn’t something you can just make up…” she explained to him, and she was right. there was somebody who had inspired him to make the poem and it was her.

but he couldn’t tell her that.

how was he meant to explain to her that he wrote her a whole love poem, and many more, that a wife’s own husband could probably never make up if he tried.

how could he explain that for the past three weeks, she had been running endlessly through his mind?

how could he explain that every time he saw her, it felt like seeing her for the first time again?

how could he explain that in a world full of chaos, she was the peace in his presence?

he felt himself choke up due to nerves, he really did not know what to say to her. he was confused. he was confused on how this girl had so much power over him without even realising.

“a girl.” he managed to finally spit out, “it’s um, it’s about this girl.” he continued.

his eyes wandered her perfectly crafted face before opening his mouth to speak some more, “there’s this one girl who is beautiful. s-she’s sweet, kind and has been stuck in my mind almost everyday.” he spoke, “but the thing is… i haven’t talked to her yet”.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, “well if you haven’t spoken to her before, then how do you know she’s all of those things?” she questioned curiously.

“because for three weeks i’ve been sat there like an idiot gawking at her, watching her interact with others instead of being a man and attempting to talk to her.” he explained, “there’s just something about her, she’s absolutely perfect.” he rambled on.

a smile that spread on her face exposed her pearly whites to him, “sounds like your in love!” she said excitedly.

“why can’t you just try and speak to her?” she asked curiously.

theo chucked as he brought his head down before bringing back up and look at her again, “because she makes me nervous, and i never get nervous around girls.” he said.

“but she’s different… she’s not like the rest of them, she’s even better.” he said as he was now getting lost in her beautiful brown eyes that seemed to have more colour due to the sun, “s-she’s special.” he muttered as he dropped his eyes to her lips.

it took everything in him to not just take her in his arms and give her the biggest hug ever, but he stopped himself.

y/n examined the boy and his body language, it was really no secret that he was in love. she had seen many of her friends fall in love so she was pretty good at detecting when somebody was undergoing symptoms of the contagious disease of love.

just as she was about to respond to his words, a voice interrupted her words.

“y/n? y/n!” a voice spoke causing them both to turn their heads, revealing a blonde girl in hufflepuff uniform that theo had recognised from one of his classes, her name was scarlett.

“oh hi scar!” y/n exclaimed happily, her eyes lighting up as she saw her dearest friend.

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere, everyone has!” she said excitedly as she got closer to the duo sitting down on the grass.

“we need to go, it’s girls night tonight and we need to start getting ready remember?” scarlett reminded her friend which caused y/n to gasp, “oh my goodness, how could i forget?” y/n questioned herself.

she grabbed her tote bag and shoved her book in there before standing up. scarlett held her hand out, which y/n took happily and began to walk with her.

however, y/n’s movements came to a halt.

theo watched as y/n mumbled a few words to her friend before turning back around and making her way back over to him, causing him to smile a little.

“i’m so sorry, i never got your name.” she spoke, “so incredibly rude of me.” she rambled on which only caused theo to look up at her and smile due to how cute she was.

his was also slightly shaken at the fact that she really didn’t know who he was, he believed that he had made quite the reputation for himself so it shocked him.

he stood up from the ground, his tall frame now meaning that she was the one looking up at him.

“theodore, theodore nott.” he informed her, holding his hand out in hopes that she didn’t deny his request.

his nerves died down as she accepted his request and shook his hand, “i’m happy i met you theo.” she smiled. her smooth hands felt like something he had been missing his whole life.

“wait can i call you that?” she asked frantically, she didn’t want to offend somebody she had just met.

theodore smiled at how cute she was being in that moment, “of course you can… you can call me whatever you want.” he said, slightly regretting what he last said as he didn’t want to embarrass himself even though it was probably too late.

but y/n just let out a laugh. not one that was degrading, but one that made him realise that she found what he said funny which honestly calmed him down.

y/n finally let his hand go before giving him a heart warming smile and walking off as he just stood their and watch her skip over to her friend with a smile planted on his face.

“you see, now that wasn’t hard was it?” mattheo asked his friend cockily as he came out from his hiding spot behind the tree.

but theo didn’t hear him.

instead, he continued to watch the girl walk further, and further away as his stomach did somersaults.

poem made by: Lyra Wren

border creds: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

AUTHOR SPEAKS! i kind of based this off of an unpublished draft so if i post something familiar to this, it’s cause i described the character in the same way as the draft

i hope you guys enjoyed this though!!

[housepixie]

moving every single piece of furniture in my apartment around because i am doing great in the head rn

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: PT 1. 18+. Crying subby boy, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit), choking, handjob

-----------------------♡♡-------------------------

"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."

The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.

"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"

His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.

He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.

"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.

He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.

"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"

You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.

"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."

He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"

He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.

"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.

"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."

You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.

"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"

He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."

"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"

You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."

His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."

He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."

He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.

"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"

You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."

"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."

You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."

Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.

"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."

You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.

[ghouljams]

Ok nobody extrapolate anything about me from this...

The first time you cry in front of the 141:

The first time you cry in front of Ghost it's because you can't fucking take it anymore. All the little things, all the comments you know he didn't mean to hurt, all the conversations you ignored because you didn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, it all comes to a head. You don't even mean it to happen, and you feel like shooting yourself on the spot as soon as the tears start flowing. It feels manipulative. It feels disingenuous. You feel like a piece of shit having him awkwardly bundle you in his arms as you break down sobbing over a topic that normally would mean nothing to you. And it all comes out. All the worries and slights you ignored, all the fears and doubts, all the things that made you question if you could ever even start to bring up with him. Like throwing up, once it starts you can't stop it.

He looks like you've hit him when you finally escape his bear hug. You barely get the chance to take it in before you're thrust back into sobbing hysterics, blubbering out apologies, how you feel like you're manipulating him, how you're a bad partner, how you're sure he's going to realize he doesn't want you and leave. You barely hear the rough "Jesus Christ" over your own hiccuping.

Ghost shuffles the two of you over to grab you a t-shirt to blow your nose in while you're sniffling and wiping at your eyes. You feel pathetic having him hold the fabric to your face and telling you to blow.

"Didn't know ya made this much snot love," he jokes.

"You're dot funny," you whine, nose still clogged with wattery mucus as your tears finally start calming down.

"I know," he grumps.

"You're mad at me," you sniffle.

"I'm not," he sounds mad, "mad at myself. Shoulda seen ya keepin' things to yourself, I'm glad ya finally told me." His scarred mouth screws to one side. "Just gotta work on makin' sure we don't get to this point again."

-

The first time you cry in front of Soap it's because you're so fucking mad at him. He's arguing with you over nothing, the same way he always does when he's in a bad mood. Finding little things that dig at you and twisting just enough to make it not his fault when you snap. Back and forth with your barbs until you got to bed angry.

You can feel the tears burning at your waterline before they spill and you know your hot cheeks don't bode any better. You're not yelling but you almost wish you were, at least of you were yelling at each other it might make you feel better about the sudden waterworks. You hate when this happens. Too big an emotion in the body, it has to come out somewhere, you suppose this is just the quickest avenue. The way Soap's face drops from anger to concern pisses you off though.

"Hen, are ya-"

"I'm so fucking mad right now," you assure him, "don't look at me, don't even acknowledge them."

"Ah dinnae ken," His voice is getting softer, it only makes you more upset, "Oh my bonnie, ahm sorry ah didnae think this would hurt ya so bad."

"Fuck off," you try to push past him to lock yourself in the bathroom and he catches your arm to pull you against him. "Fuck off!" You shriek, pushing at him.

"No," he holds you a little tighter, "my mam would 'ave my heid hearin' ah let ya walk away from me like this, yer stayin' 'ere."

"I will fucking skin you Mactavish," you struggle harder.

"Aye anno, now shut up an' quit yer kickin'."

You do neither of those things.

-

The first time Gaz sees you cry it's because no one's ever seen you before. Even in your best relationships, your closest friendships, no one sees you like Gaz. No one picks you up from work with flowers and takes you by your favorite bakery just so you can have a slice of cake when you watch your comfort show. You're not even through the title music, Gaz sorting through your takeout options after he'd gotten you a "fancy plate" and a small fork to eat with, when you break down in sobs. He's on you immediately, hushing you as he gathers you into his arms. He's so attentive it hurts.

"It's OK baby," he hums, "don't have to talk about it, you just let it out."

God even that gets you crying. You don't have to get your words right or find a way to explain what you're feeling, you can just feel it. You try to think of a way to put it into words but it all lines up wrong, sounds too juvenile, doesn't make any sense even to you. There's no need to say anything though, Gaz just sits there with you, holds you through it as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

You don't even know why you're crying by the end of it, you just kept coming up with other reasons to cry. Jesus you don't think you ever got over your last grandparent dying, or losing that one friend, that's something to unpack later. You feel drained. Literally dehydrated drained. Gaz's shirt is soaked, but he doesn't day anything when you pull back.

He cups your cheek at wipes at the wet stains on your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching yours before he gives you a tight smile.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower, yeah?" He offers, you give him a watery nod, he smiles and pats your knee. "Alright, off you go. I'll be in, in a second."

The second time you cry in front of Gaz it's before he's got you pinned to the shower wall.

-

The first time Price sees you cry it's because you're tired. You're tired of giving everything to this relationship and seeing him leave right when things seem to be falling into place. His phone buzzes in the middle of the night and you don't stop the downpour when he grumbles out a swear and turns on the light. You glare at the ceiling and let the tears flow. It hurts. Tight in your chest. This feeling like you'll never be enough, like he'll always have something more important than you, it kills you. So why can't you leave him?

Are the good times really good enough to make up for the bad?

It makes him stop what he was doing when he sees the resolute grimace and the flow of tears over your cheeks. You shudder in a breath when he sits on the side of the bed. You refuse to look at him.

How could he do this to you?

"Sweetheart," he starts, his voice low, gentling, "I'm sorry."

"You're not." You correct him, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"You want me to choose between you and the world, you know what I'll say." He always sounds so sharp, ready to guilt you into giving up what he wants.

"I'm asking you to choose between me and paperwork," you bite back.

"You don't know-"

"You get phone calls when you're being deployed." You remind him, "You get reminders when papers are due." You turn to glare at him. The look on his face twists like a knife in your chest. You're dead on the money, and it's killing him. "So can this really not wait until the morning, are you really that eager to be rid of me?"

"I'm sorry," he tries again, toeing off his shoes, "you're right, I hadn't noticed." You turn over as he climbs under the duvet again. You fold your legs up as his arm drapes over you hip and he curls around you. His lips touch your shoulder, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Let me make it up to you, no more running into red tape I promise."

You don't bother agreeing to empty promises, but the next day he's had the paperwork sent from the base. The same the next day. Price always told you working from home didn't suit him. Waking you up with a cuppa on the other hand and walking you to the station does though.

He makes good on his promise, he doesn't run off until the next call comes in.