#but like also been having a tough time like being cool with my body not in a body image way but like in a not dissociating way??

[starlightkun]

🎶🛌

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 

John looked so sad. 

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 

The bell at the front door jingles. 

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, ��It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 

You want him naked. 

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.” 

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 

“Out!” 

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  

Well, secret’s out. 

[wenumsmol]

Umai

ModernAU!Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyojuro just got home from a solo outing on a hot day and he's looking so hot you can barely concentrate on what he's saying. He catches on and it's up from there. (He's innocent and cute til he isn't.)

Content Advisory: Proof-read but the plot twist is my eyes keep crossing from sleepyness. If it doesn't make sense, tough titty.

Fluff, Smut-heavy, Overstim, Gender Neutral Reader, A little rough (He fucks like his daddy and you can't tell me otherwise.)

WC: 3.3k words.

Do not repost anywhere, claim as your own, or advertise my works on tiktok. Kay? Thanks.

༒︎Masterlist༒︎

MINORS DON'T INTERACT. Go AWAY. NO!

*Sprays water* GIT! No means no. I do not consent.

Kyojuro pedals up to the apartment building, the summer heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He skids to a stop, dismounting with a fluid motion, and walks his bike to the rack, locking it securely before heading inside. His compression t-shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to his muscular frame, and his basketball shorts hang low on his hips. A baseball cap covers his signature golden hair, now damp with perspiration.

He climbs the stairs to the apartment, each step echoing in the quiet building. When he reaches the door, he unlocks it and steps inside, the cool air of the apartment a welcome relief. He toes off his sneakers, neatly placing them alongside yours, and tosses his keys and cross-body backpack onto the side table with a clink.

"Hey, babe! I'm home!" he calls out, his voice full of energy despite the long bike ride. He walks into the living room, where you’re lounging on the couch, and stops in front of you.

You look up from your book, momentarily stunned by the sight of him. Kyojuro’s flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his t-shirt clings to every muscle—it’s all incredibly distracting.

He glances toward you, his eyes lighting up as he sees you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book. "Hey there, sweetheart."  His voice is warm and affectionate as he greets you. "How's your day been? I missed you."

You look up from your book, smiling as you set it aside. "Oh, hey Kyo. My day’s been alright. I just got into a good part of this book," you say, holding up the novel.

Kyojuro’s eyes follow the book in your hands, then meet your gaze with genuine concern. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it," he says, stepping closer. "I missed you so much today. I know it was too hot for you to join me at the zoo, and that's okay. But tell me, are you doing alright? Did you stay cool and hydrated?"

You chuckle softly, feeling his care and concern warm you. "Yeah, I’ve been good. I stayed inside with the AC and had plenty of water. I’m glad you had a good time, though. I also hope you took breaks while riding. It's crazy out there today."

While he appreciates your worrying, being hot never really bothered him all that much. He'd even go as far as saying that he was made for this weather.

"Perfect," he says with a relieved smile, his eyes still sparkling with the excitement of his day. "Let me tell you all about it. You won’t believe the things I saw. There was this one zoo keeper who—"

He pauses, pulling off his cap and shaking out his hair right in front of you. Flame-tipped strands fall in loose waves around his shoulders, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. Kyojuro runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it to dry off some of the sweat. He looks wild, carefree, and undeniably sexy.

You hum, watching the way a stream of light catches his disheveled strands and hits his eyes just right.

"And the penguins! They were waddling around so cutely. I could watch them for hours. Oh, and the gorillas! One of them came right up to the glass and stared at me for a good minute. It was like we were having a moment."

Kyojuro chuckles, his deep laugh resonating through the room. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and takes a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. You can't tear your eyes away, captivated by the casual display of strength and grace.

As he turns back to you, he finally notices your dazed expression. "Are you okay?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You seem a little distracted."

You blink, trying to regain your composure. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... listening."

Kyojuro's smirk widens into a grin. "Oh, I see how it is," he teased, walking over to the couch. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Well, I can't blame you," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I did work up quite a sweat today."

Before you can respond, he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. You melt into him, all thoughts of the zoo forgotten as the heat between you intensifies.

Kyo pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your skin. "Let's take this to the bedroom," he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you down the hall as you clung to him, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Once inside, he lays you down on the bed, his movements gentle but intense. Calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls off your oversized tee and slides off your sleep shorts with a tender touch.

 "I've been thinking about this all day," he admitted, his voice rough with need. "Now, let me show you just how much I missed you."

Kyojuro tilts his head back, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips. His thick fingers comb through the flame-bitten strands of his golden hair, eyes locked on you. You watch, mesmerized, as his muscles flex while he gathers his hair into a loose bun.

You can’t resist tracing every dip and contour of his bulky chest and shoulders with your hands, greedily exploring the strength beneath his skin. Your gaze drifts up to his face, and Kyojuro’s half-smile sends a thrill through you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as he leans down to capture your lips. His mouth moves sensually, a slither of tongue and teeth that nibble at your lips, sucking them gently. Kyojuro's hands roam your body, leaving you breathless and craving more until suddenly he breaks away and rises to a kneeling position on the bed, chuckling deeply.

"You like what you see, huh? Well, hold on, sweet thing..."

All you can manage is a nod, your heart picking up speed.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he steadies himself with one hand splayed on the bedspread. With the other, Kyojuro teasingly plays with the buckle of his belt before unclipping it. His tongue lazily traces his lips, making a show of holding and dropping the belt, the metal piece clattering on the hardwood floor.

Next, his hands move with deliberate dexterity to the buttons of his pants, undoing each one with practiced ease. The dark denim and briefs slide down, revealing his thick thighs. Kyojuro kicks them aside, his hand wrapping around his cock with a low hum. You gasp as his erection bobs against his stomach, proud and thick. It's impressive and a bit intimidating.

Precum beads at the tip, and he wipes it away with his thumb, smearing it on your lower lip. You taste him as you hungrily suck his finger.

“Wanna see how I do it when you’re not here, sweet thing?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble breathlessly.

Kyojuro beams, his grin widening as he murmurs something your mind struggles to grasp. You pull off his thumb with a lewd ‘pop,’ releasing it.

He leans back with a sigh, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bag on the edge of the bed. His cock twitches as he holds it up, the grin on his face as infectious as ever. He flicks open the cap and pours a generous amount onto his palm.

You shiver as his fingers wrap around his shaft, slickening it with purposeful strokes. The rhythmic motion of his hands, combined with the way his eyelids hood over his eyes, makes your breath catch.

“Oh yeah...watch carefully,” he rasps. “You’ll get some soon.”

In an instant, his grin fades. He groans deeply as his grip tightens at the base, sliding up to the head. He sizes you up, his hips jolting with each stroke. The bedframe creaks, and his moans fill the room.

“Shit tends to get a little hot when I’m involved. You’ll have to excuse me...” he says, slowing down.

Kyojuro cups his heavy sack, tugging it slightly as he feels the blood pool in his shaft. His red-ringed eyes drink in your reaction.

“Fuck, do you want this dick, baby? I can see you drooling for it.” That award-winning smile returns. “I want to play with you first, though. Make you feel good and ready before I’m deep in you,” he drawls slowly.

His hands slide down your body, tracing the contours of your abdomen, the curve of your hips, and the fat of your ass, until they rest on your thighs. His fingers sink into their plushness, gripping tightly as he maneuvers your legs into a perfect press.

“But I think you’re already well aware of that...” He purrs against your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss just under your jaw. The kiss is so light you barely feel it until the cool air hits your skin as he pulls away.

Your knees are pinned back, and you're spread out so nicely for him. His eyes drink you in like gasoline feeding a fire. He leans down slowly, watching you watch him kiss and lick the crease of your thighs before focusing on your center. It's so sensitive when it's not blocked by a piece of fabric. Kyojuro makes use of his strong jaw and lips to nip and drag against your inner thigh, and your skin burns from the stimulation.

Finally, he makes contact, and you hiss a sharp gasp as your eyes roll up. He's kissing, using his tongue. Your eyes can't quite focus on the details. All you feel is raw, molten pleasure. So much pressure from different directions, causing the space behind your navel to tense.

Over the music in the background, you hear lapping and wet sounds and the occasional suck as Kyojuro groans what could have been words. But you aren't sure. All you know is he's getting a taste of his favorite dessert.

He'd stop for a moment, only to look up with a smirk and raise an eyebrow at you, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before looking you up and down again. "Don't be so impatient...You think you're soft enough for me, baby? Pliant enough? I want you hot enough to melt my dick off. Lemme finish cookin'..." and he slips his hot tongue back inside.

There's a flame-like glow in his eyes when they make contact with yours, and it does more than set your heart ablaze.

"You're aching for me down here, aren't you?" Kyojuro whispers against your entrance, tracing it with an index finger. "But patience is a virtue."

"I-I can't help it..."

You'd say, a shaky whine in your voice as he kept licking and teasing you, like he was trying to get you to the very edge - trying to get you so close, yet not close enough to send you over.

This position becomes too intense. It's almost unfair how good it feels, and you have to close your eyes as your orgasm rapidly swells.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Kyojuro's voice is ragged. His tongue outlines the very edge of your wet hole, then dips inside. The slurping is obscene, but he pays it no mind, focused entirely on you and chasing your climax.

It strikes you like a sudden burst of wind to a campfire. And like fire, your back bows in an arch from his relentless motions. You don't remember giving your vocal cords free reign, but the strangled cry of Kyojuro's name floods the entire building. Your stomach clenches and quivers, and you want to clamp your thighs around his head to stop it. It's too strong—it's all so much.

"Ooh, right there. Yeah, just like that...fuck, Kyo," you breathe, your hips faltering.

Kyojuro's jaw pops lewdly at the rough pace, but he picks it up.

"Right here?" He emphasizes his point with two fingers slowly slicking into you. You bite your lower lip, humming a lax 'yeah' as your eyelids flutter at the stretch, and nod.

"Then cum for me, sweet thing," Kyojuro slides his free hand down to cup your ass and effortlessly angles you just right. "Cum for me so I can fuck you proper, make it sloppy."

"Right fucking there, ohmyg-god please don't stop—"

Your head jerks forward violently from his intense sucks, feeling the coiling heat at your belly quickly getting tighter and tighter. A full-body shudder goes through you. Your leg shakes, accidentally kicking him in the back of the head, and he doesn't react beyond a low groan. You can't be bothered to apologize as he mercilessly draws out the pleasure until the sensation finally fades to a dull throb, and he slows to a stop, eventually sliding his fingers from you.

"Wow..."

Kyojuro releases your other leg from his grip. Your entire body quivers as the air and his exhale rushes against your now sloppily wet center, making you whimper.

He pants as his wide smile comes into view, and it's so wet it looks obscene. Yet when he pops his fingers in his mouth, it's still not the hottest thing you've ever seen.

The real winner is the look of pure bliss in his warm, hungry gaze as he rolls his tongue, tasting what's left of you.

As he positions himself above you, his lips are soft and warm, but also slightly damp against yours. Everything he does is hot. It's seriously not fair.

"So fuckin' tasty...let's see how many times I can give it to you, hm?" His hips settle against yours. "Sweet thing, I'm gonna wreck you."

"Mmmm..." His breath cools against your sweat-slicked collarbone. Kyojuro tilts your hips, and the shift in pressure sends your gaze spiraling.

"Just take it for me. C'mon baby." It's thick and velvety as it pushes into you, slowly at first. Your jaw goes slack, a small gasp escaping with each movement. Then he stops.

"Wait, wait..."

He flexes within you, hitting the perfect spot just to torment you.

Your breathing is labored as you run your hands over your face, feeling like you could go mad from his sensual torture. It was frustrating, the slow pace he's built up makes you squirm.

"You're so damn tight," he grunts through gritted teeth. "Relax for me, baby."

"Stop teasing, please..." Your plea almost sounds like a sob. "I need more, Kyo."

Kyojuro chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating through you. "Alright, sweet thing. I'll give you what you want."

With that, he pulls out almost completely before plunging back in with a powerful thrust. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming. He sets a relentless pace, each stroke deliberate and deep, hitting all the right spots. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your breathless moans and Kyojuro's grunts of pleasure.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you. The intensity builds, a coil tightening in your core, ready to snap.

"Cum for me again, sweet thing. I want to feel you," Kyojuro growls, his voice rough with desire.

You can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Kyojuro follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he spills into you with a guttural moan.

He collapses beside you, both of you panting and spent. He pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was amazing," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine affection. "You're amazing."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You too, Kyo. You too."

You grip Kyojuro's neck, fingers sinking into the sweat-slicked skin, and clutch his bicep as his thrusts grow more frantic, leaving him gasping for breath. His muscles ripple beneath your touch, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. A guttural groan escapes him, breaking through his clenched jaw. The room fills with the raw, wet slap of skin against skin, mingling with the intoxicating scent of your shared release.

You're both lost in the sensation, growing more sloppy with every breath. Kyojuro's next exhale nearly knocks you off balance as his gaze darkens with deep-seated tension. A whine escapes your gritted teeth, your toes curling as you cry out, his own moans rising in a desperate chorus. His hips twitch uncontrollably, his hand tugging at your hair in a blend of pain and pleasure as you climax together.

He struggles to maintain his rhythm, releasing deep inside you, each pulse flooding you with heat. The overwhelming fullness makes you gasp, each spurt pushing your limits.

Kyojuro pants heavily, his body shaking. Before you can catch your breath, he presses deeper, his cock still leaking copious amounts of cum. His grinding movements elicit sharp intakes of breath as he continues, not quite ready to stop. He hooks your knee for leverage, the obscene sloshing sound and the sensation of his heavy head bumping into that sensitive spot make you yelp in surprise.

"Please, Kyojuro, I can’t cum anymore. It’s too much," you plead, your voice slurred as your body shakes violently beneath him, tears streaming down your face.

"Just one more," he begs, his voice a desperate whisper. "You’re so good. Hold out for me, okay? Just one more."

It’s too much, your brain a fog of pleasure, but he keeps pushing, his desire insatiable. Your body trembles with every thrust, overly sensitive and on fire.

Kyojuro lowers himself above you, his grin as delirious as yours, but you can’t help but adore the satisfaction on his face. "That’s it... Take this dick, baby. Just don’t pass out on me. You’re too good to miss this," he murmurs, his breath hot and labored. Sweat drips from his forehead onto yours, mingling with the cum that leaks from you as he drives into you once more.

Each thrust stretches you, and with one final, overwhelming push, he loses control, pumping the last of his cum deep inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, distant yet filled with awe. "God... so hot. I love you."

Kyojuro pulls you into his arms, kissing you tenderly, licking the sweat from your neck and hairline. You swat at him weakly, complaining about how gross it is.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he eases out with a sigh. You nuzzle into his chest, murmuring, "I love you too, Kyo. Why do you always have to fuck me like it’s the last time..."

Kyojuro kisses your nose, cupping your cheek. "Because," he whispers, his voice tender as he strokes your feverish skin, "I have to make sure you always know the full extent of my love until the very end, ember of my heart."

His answer is sickeningly sweet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He tightens his embrace, stroking your hair until you both drift into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: *Consensual kisses for whoever wants em* Thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like!

[viridwns]

Can I get a fic about kidnapped reader and yandere Chrollo on a road trip of some kind and she’s like “let me get the aux” because let’s face it Chrollo’s taste in music is not gonna be road trip friendly and she’s just like jamming out to like Sexxy Red and Doja Cat and Flo Rida? Like I feel like that’s the complete opposite type of music he would listen to and she’s over there having a whole concert

Yan!Chrollo lucilfer x reader

Warning(s): mild cussing, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, one sentence is about implied dubcon

A/N: Quick drabble to try and get out of my writing slump. Too lazy to check for errors, sorry pookies.

WC: I honestly dk, I wrote this on my mobile😭

Antithetical

You loathed car rides with Chrollo. His 'work' forced him to travel a lot, meaning road trips that would usually exceed six hours with no rest stops or pee breaks to avoid being spotted by the wrong people.

Only if you were bursting—on the verge of kidney poisoning—would Chrollo force you to do your business in some random bushes alongside the road.

The close proximity of the metal box had you pushing yourself as far as you could against the door—enjoying the cool steel against your boiling skin.

It was well into summer, and even though you only wore a loose T-shirt from Chrollo and way too large gym shorts, your body didn't seem to regulate the heat.

Chrollo, the non-human that he is, didn't seem bothered by the blazing sun in the slightest. Wearing a white shirt neatly tucked into black, wide-legged trousers secured by a just as dark belt.

You could not spot one drop of sweat on his sickly pale skin.

The AC of the car was blasting in your face, helping a great deal to chase away the uncomfortable warmth. The noise it made was loud, but still not loud enough to overpower the radio.

Chrollo was a control freak through in through. You were used to it by now, but you hadn't expected it to extend all the way to what music was playing in the car.

Car rides with Chrollo were already unbearable. He was a macho driver, thinking you would fall head over heels if he parked with one hand, but even though he tried to look tough, he drove like a grandma—he didn't want any attention, getting pulled over or driving too noticeable could mess up his plans. He also had the need to have one hand rest on your thigh for the whole entirety of the ride, be it five minutes or fifteen hours. He loved prodding at your mind in these long hours; asking you deep and personal questions that would have you reeling by the end of the drive.

But the one thing that icked you the most was his taste in music.

These rides could be long—this one a nice thirteen hours from the last place he kept you—and sleeping could only cover half, if not less. You needed a distraction from the man next to you and his tongue; blasting some good tunes for example.

Für Elise wasn't one of those tunes.

Chrollo had a thing for classical music; befitting his dark academia style as he also loved to read older literature and collect antiques.

And you didn't mind it most of the time—you had to admit that some songs were enjoyable to listen to.

But not for thirteen hours on end.

With one-fourth of the journey done, no desire to sleep, and Chrollo humming along to his playlist, you finally had enough.

"Chrollo, can I have the aux?" You asked, head slightly turning to look at the raven haired man while still holding your place in front of the AC.

You had asked Chrollo this question multiple times, but he always found a way to go around it.

Chrollo squeezed your thigh, making you press yourself further against the door.

His eyes remained focused on the road, but his grin was a tell-tale sign that this was going to be a mind war again.

"And why do you want that?" He replied, turning the radio down a tat to hear you better.

You sighed.

"Because we've been listening to your music since the beginning of the trip." You sat up straight when Chrollo started nodding along with your words.

"Okay, but this music is relaxing. It doesn't distract me from the traffic around me. You don't want us to end up in an accident, no?" He said, sparing you a quick glance.

You pursed your lips.

It was hard to pinpoint where he used manipulation tactics exactly in your conversations.

You were able to pick it up rather quickly now, though.

You turned to him, lips in a thin line.

"Chrollo, this is torturing my ears." You pointed at the radio to emphasize your meaning.

He laughed.

"Don't be dramatic."

"Says you."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused"

You gave him a sharp glare as he lightly rolled his eyes.

You had to give him a challenge of sorts. You knew he liked the thrill of those—the need to prove that he is capable of overcoming anything in his way.

"You're so dramatic about other people's music tastes. You hate listening to anything other than your own playlist. You don't even know other music genres," you started, crossing your arms over your chest and slumping in the passenger's seat.

As you were about to speak again, Chrollo interjected.

"Rock, Indie, metal, pop, electronic, blues, jazz—should I continue?"

He smiled as he faced you for a second before looking at the road again.

"Nice try, love, but implying that I don't know something is a dead give away of your schemes." Chrollo mused, patting your thigh.

He was mocking you, he saw right through your plan. You were stupid to think you could outwit him.

One day though.

One day you will.

You grumbled before slumping back in your seat, craning your neck to meet the frigid wind of the airconditioner.

The car was silent now except for the violins harmonizing on the radio. You were mere seconds away from taking the wheel and crashing the vehicle just for a few seconds of peace.

Chrollo sighed. You perked up at this. He wasn't too keen on already having you on edge this early in the trip. Every time that happened, you two would fight every day because you were petty like that.

He hands you his phone. You slowly take it with a quirked brow as your straighten your back.

"Fine, go ahead then."

You peer at him, suspicion running high.

"This isn't a trick?"

"No."

"I'm not getting in trouble if I change the music?"

"No."

"I don't have to give you a blow job while you're driving if I do this?"

"If you insist—"

You push the phone his way. Chrollo laughs before throwing you a wink. He nudges the device back with his shoulder.

"There are no catches here. I swear. Play your music."

You throw him uncertain glances as you open the music app; one of the only apps it had. He had bought this phone with you in mind. Shalnark modified it, so only Chrollo's number was on it, and no other numbers could be dialed. It also contained a few games. Like uno, you played that online with a few of the other phantom members. It kept you sane when you were locked in and alone for days on end.

You scrolled through your playlists, Chrollo only had one, and that was the 'liked songs' album.

The corners of your lips quirked upwards as you clicked your 'God better not see this one' list.

You could only feel a little victorious as you watched Chrollo's face sour when boss bitch by Doja Cat blasts from the radio.

You scream the lyrics in his face as you start moving your arms with the rhythm of the music.

It felt so good to just jam out to your songs for once. You ignored the pointed look of Chrollo when the next number that came on was CPR by CupcakKe.

A twinge of happiness tugged at your heart as you realized Chrollo would suffer a hundred times more in these few hours than you did and probably will do in all the carrides that have and will happen.

At least that was what you thought, but as you were about to bellow 'I save dick by giving it CPR' in your kidnapper's ear, he was looking at you with this love sick expression.

Eyes twinkly, stupidly handsome smile on his face and a total lack of concentration of his surroundings.

You felt your stomach lurch, and without a second thought, you put on the four seasons by vivaldi; almost breaking the screen in process.

You dropped the phone on your lap and crossed your arms. Your good mood only lasted three seconds before Chrollo decided to throw acid over it.

He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before returning his eyes to the road.

You felt stupid for buying his lies once again.

"You planned that, didn't you." It was more a statement than a question that came out of your mouth as you pushed your back against the cardoor.

Chrollo hummed as his hand found your thigh again, continuing his finger tapping along with the music.

You huff.

That was all you could do in response to him.

One thing was for certain: you would never play your music again, even if Chrollo begged you to.

[alex-thegiraffeboyy]

Bewitched | Vi x reader

Chapter 1: Let You Break My Heart Again.

Summary: She has always been in love with Vi (although sometimes she wishes she wasn't) and only hopes that someday she will be able to prove or overcome her feelings for her.

Words: 1,1k

Bewitched Masterlist

She hasn't been feeling like herself lately.

It´s no wonder why when all she can think about is her. In her iron blue eyes. In her pink hair always slicked back (she still can't figure out how she does it). In the stained bandages and bruised knuckles, and well... her. In her best friend. Violet. Although calling her that these days is usually subject to a more serious or intimate connotation, so just Vi. Either way, lately all she can think about lately is her and her indomitable (though sometimes cute) personality.

Honestly, she doesn't think they are both on the same page. I mean...they're always in a constant battle for their survival and to prove themselves in order to get better jobs that would allow them to have a little more money to bring something more solid to the table and....

Anyway, a never-ending cycle. The law of the strongest, I guess.

... But back to the point; Being in this constant circle of survival everyone had built walls in order to survive, to be stronger, safer. More mature (even though they were all just a bunch of kids playing at being adults). And if anyone within her adoptive family knew about being strong it was Vi. Both physically and mentally Vi was a tough machine to crack. Always so defensive, taking raw initiative. She was tough, fast, always confident in herself. But she was also very protective. At least as far as Powder was concerned (Not that she didn't love her other foster siblings, she just trusted them more to take care of themselves, she didn't blame them either, she had her own brother to take care of). To her there was nothing more important than her sister and a decent life for her. For all of them. Her included. And Violet was her best friend, her confidant, the person with she could let down the walls a little and let her vulnerability show. They're both about the same age (Vi is two months older, but who cares about that? -clearly Vi-). But that was it. Best friends. Sometimes almost bordering on sisters, but that never seemed to be the right term. Not when the line of their friendship sometimes became blurred (for her at least).

There were nights when the two of them would stay up late talking on the roof of an old, worn-out building that hadn't worked for years. Sometimes they would share their emotions about some event that had happened during the day or the week, other times they just liked to talk about how each one of them had fared during the time they had not seen each other, they would make jokes and remember anecdotes from years ago, when they were younger. On those cool nights on the rooftop she could sometimes notice his gaze lingered on her a little longer as they enjoyed the silence and the breeze (or maybe it was hers that lingered the longest and it was Vi who caught her in the act, who knows).

Other days, when they had free time and were tired, Vi insisted that the two of them lie together in the small bed Benzo had given her when he adopted her along with Ekko or in the rickety bunk bed Vi shared with Powder. She insisted that their body heat helped her relax, so sometimes they would simply lie down to rest cuddled up next to each other (there were even times when exhaustion got the better of them and they would fall asleep sitting next to each other).

I could give you a thousand and one more examples, but what good would that do?

The point is that with every little interaction (but even more so with the intimate and vulnerable) her heart seemed to want to burst out of her chest and create its own band to play love songs in her honor. Her empty stomach filled with butterflies that threatened to escape down her throat into her mouth and out in the form of sweet words and unspoken sentiments to keep company with the loud melody her heart created. Her breath hitched at times and her cheeks... My God... She should stop deluding herself in the face of these one-sided feelings and insignificant interactions.

Heaven knows you've tried

Maybe one day she'll stop being in love with Violet (I wish she wouldn't)

Maybe one day someone will come to love her like she loves Vi (But I wish you'd love me)

But until then she will prevent his heart from creating melodies and lock the butterflies in a little box. She will keep pretending it's all in his head, and secretly imagine loving her as she desires, and let her break her heart over and over again (even if she does it unwillingly).

Though she's just trying to understand what she is to Vi. Beyond the heartfelt conversations at midnight, beyond the beautiful Piltover sunsets they sometimes watched from the roof of some building after a job (sometimes in the company of her brothers, sometimes alone) and the stolen glances. She doesn't want to cry about it, she has so many more things to worry about, and yet she feels so overwhelmed and confused, adding her one-sided feelings to the imaginary list of things that stress her out.

If only she knew how she felt....

But probably nothing would change, maybe it would just make it worse...

Maybe one day she would stop being in love with Vi and her bold personality.

Maybe someday someone will love her as much as she loves every freckle and blemish on her face.

But until then she will keep silent. She will enjoy their moments together and lock the band of her heart inside her chest while the butterflies are bound in chains in the depths of her stomach. She'll pretend the feelings aren't there, that he doesn't see that look on her face from time to time, and of course, she'll give her her heart so she can do it and undo it with sweet actions or harsh words.

Someday...

One day.

She will be able to get over her feelings for her best friend and find someone else.

But until she does... She will think about how to heal her wounds without causing her so much pain. She'll look for ways to show her love for her without ever having to tell her she loves her (at least not in a romantic way). And she'll let her break her heart again.

At least before she puts it back together again.

Life doesn't end at fourteen... does it?

[sadistic-kiss]

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Disclaimer: Angsty but I’m still not GeGe. Jujutsu Kaisen and all its characters belong to to that guy.

Universe: In the same universe but the men are in jujutsu university and closer in age. Sukuna is also Yuuji’s older brother.

Characters/Relationship: Gojo, Getou, Nanami, Yu, Toji, Sukuna, Choso x Succubus Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut (it’s the only genre I know)

Kinks: masochist, degrading, dacryphilia, pet play(mainly just a leash and collar), dom/sub, BDSM, whatever else I feel like tossing in.

Summary: A frat boys' house is the perfect feeding ground for a succubus.

~

Chef Note: Hello this is my October smut fic that I wanted to post for this kinky month~! I wanted to post it the first week of October but I was behind on my writing for HOA and my other story so I had to catch up a bit. I was also dealing with stupid stuff but you know better late than never! This is just a nice little hot smut soup for you to enjoy during this chilly season.

P.S. Another dream I had. I’m getting tired of my brain calling me out for being a simp for these men. It’s not cool honestly and I woke up feeling offended. 💅

~

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter One.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

A shadowy figure flew past the bright moon. Black and purple wings flapping in the wind rhythmically. The night was seemingly quiet as you soared across the ocean of stars. It was peaceful... but you will not know peace until you have been fulfilled. Your jaw tensed from the painful ache of your body. The feeling caused your wings to fall off beat, you dipped for a second but gain composure.

You were unbelievably hungry.

Warm glowing eyes kept focus, beckoning for your destination to come into view. Once it did you chirped excitedly. It was a large mansion, tucked away in some trees. You surged forward with haste. Muffled music played as you circled around the house before descending to the porch.

Your wings disappeared while you stepped up to the door. Leather gloves creak when you ball your hand into a fist and knock on the white wood with restrained urgency.

You smiled softly, folding your hand upon the other in a polite manner. No one came to the door so you rang the bell. As you waited for someone you heard noises behind you.

“Ooooh damn.” A man chuckled.

Looking over your shoulder you saw two men and a woman walking up the steps

“You ain’t cold in that get up sweet cheeks?”

“Yeah, sexy outfit but damn girl.”

It was late October and the winds were rather harsh, the group snuggled in jackets, scarves, and beanies. All you had on was a bikini-like top and skirt, straps crisscrossing along your stomach and back, thigh-high boots, and long leather gloves.

You didn’t say anything as you assessed their curse energy. They had little to none. If they touched you they would die.

Leave.

The command was spoken within your mind and sent to theirs.

Their eyes lost their shine and their bodies moved in sync. They began to walk away without a word and climbed back into their car. Just as they did the door opened.

“Took you guys long…”

“Hi, Choso.” You smiled at the man as his smile dropped.

“Oh…” his dead eyes looked even more deader, realizing who his guest was. “…it’s you.”

“It’s me.” You giggle lightly.

Choso looked behind you, eyes following the car moving down the street. After the headlight passed his face he looked down at you past his nose. “Did you send them away?”

“Yes!,” you nodded as if he were supposed to praise you. “I didn’t want to accidentally kill them and have a repeat of last time.” You speak matter-of-factly, “Then you guys would have been even more pissed at me.” You released a light chuckle but Choso wasn’t laughing.

Tough crowd…

You stood in awkward silence, fiddling with your fingers as you swayed a bit, hoping that the house had finally forgiven you for all the friends you killed. By accident of course! “Can I…come in…?”

Choso sighed, reaching to the side. You could see him a bit through the thin mosaic window. He was grabbing something that was hanging up by the door along with umbrellas, coats, and other things.

You heard the jingle as he pulled out the black and red collar with leash, a bell upon it. You sucked in a breath and held it, watching as he undid the collar and then looked at you.

“Get on your knees.”

Guess they were still mad at you.

You nodded, dropping right before the door. You could not enter until they invited you in.

Choso slid the leather around your neck and fixed it so it was snug. You fluttered your eyes at him, stomach churning hungrily-hoping he’d grace you with a sweet kiss when he was done, but he ignored you. When he finished he stood and tugged at the leash a few times.

“Come in slut.”

Inwardly you pouted while crawling inside. You just knew they were going to make your life difficult before they fed you.

You could most certainly find somewhere else to feast…

But their curse energy was just so addicting.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Two.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[redsrooftopprincess]

PST.

You. Hey You.

*tugs on your sleeve like an excited child*

I haz an idea, but only if you want to or like to. Absolutely no pressure, I just want an excuse to talk to a cool tumblr person.

Buuuuuuut I was thinking, you know as one does, about hair of all things. Because I’m a very vain creature like that. Like due to working in a warehouse with 10 hours shifts, I usually keep my hair up in a bun or ponytail to keep it out of my face. Then when I get home, I still have work to do so I put it up in a twist or clip or something. So the first time in a long time, I clocked how long my hair is with it actually down and now it’s like half way down my back!

And I was thinking, how do you think our favorite Bruiser Boi would respond to something like that. Being used to his friend/SO ALWAYS having their hair up to suddenly have it all down for whatever reason? But anyhoo, just a thunk. Also again, I know this sounds cheesy, but I was thinking about you today and I was like “Man. What a cool person. I hope they just have the best Friday ever.”

So here’s to hoping you have the best Friday ever🫂🧡

Hidden Talent

Raphael x Reader

No Warnings, Vanilla Spice🌶️

You met in May, just at the beginning of summer, when the streets were not quite hazy with heat, but hot enough that, between the sweat and the frizz, your thigh length mane had to be contained.

Now halfway through July, you were honestly considering cutting it off. It's becoming more than just a little annoying.

It takes you over an hour every morning to quick and dirty brush - bun - pin, and between the weight of your hair pulling your skin so tight you're shocked you can close your eyes, and the bobby pins stabbing you in the head, you are pretty much over it.

It's been up all day and you've FINALLY made it home. The massive headache pounding in your temples like a god damn marching band has been growing steadily worse since you got on the subway *this morning*, and now it's basically unbearable.

You head straight for your room, tossing a quick wave to April and the boys as they drink coffee in the kitchen before heading out on patrol.

Tossing your bag on the bed, you glare at it when it rolls off the other side and you hear the scattering of small objects. Fuck it. You'd pick it up later. Or tomorrow. Or never.

He hears the sound, and the following exhausted sigh, and slips out of the kitchen as covertly as a giant reptile strapped to the nines can "slip," making his way down the hall. It seems like you had a tough day. If he can at least make you smile before heading out for "garbage duty," he'll already start off having a good night.

He reaches your open doorway and turns, lifting his hand to knock, but pauses once you come into view.

You're back is to the door and you're pulling the last of the bobby pins out of your hair. The bun begins to unravel and you grasp the elastic to rip it out and it straight up breaks.

You don't care. It feels too good to be free, and your eyes fall closed with a sigh.

It tumbles down your back and Raphael's eyes widen. He knew your hair was long, but this takes him completely by surprise. Silk flashes in the lamplight as your hair catches its shine and it cascades down your body to just about mid thigh. He breathes in your scent as it blooms outward. He'd only caught it in glimpses before, almost as tightly contained as your hair, but with your hair now loose you are everywhere and his head is swimming.

As you run your hands through the hair at your scalp to loosen it for the first time in hours, you can't help the almost- moan of relief that escapes you.

Between your beauty and your scent, that sound is nearly his undoing, and he swallows hard.

You sigh as the headache and tension start to dissipate and rub your temples as you open your eyes. You catch his reflection in the small mirror on your desk. He's looking at you with something like awe. He doesnt notice you notice.

You're beautiful. He knows this. It's an objective fact. But beyond that you're funny and smart and so much fun to hang out with. You only met a couple of months ago, but you've starting spending more time together, even on his nights off, and he's not, totally not, even remotely possibly falling for you. Not even a little. Nope.

But holy shit are you beautiful.

"Oh, hey Red," you say, turning around with a smile.

He nearly jumps out of his shell at the sudden attention, and his cheeks darken when he realizes you must have caught him staring.

He perks up, trying to brush it off, "Uh, yeah, hey. You, um..." he clears his throat, "kinda sounded like you had a rough day. Anything I can do?"

You smile softly at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. He follows your hand and tries not to breathe. "Thanks. No. I'll be fine," you chuckle, a gentle pink coloring your cheeks, "just being dramatic."

You sit on the bed beside you, snatching your hair brush off the desk. "You boys heading out soon?" You ask.

"Uh, yeah," he confirms, as you start brushing your hair, "bout ten minutes or so, I guess." The brush is scattering your scent into the air, filling the room with you, and his mouth waters. He clears his throat. "So, uh, something happen today?" He asks, leaning against the door and attempting to appear casual. He feels drunk.

You shrug. "Just the usual. People being people. The ever present headache doesn't help," you say, glaring at the broken elastic on the floor.

"Your hair?" He asks.

You nod, "It'll be too hot to wear my hair comfortably until probably mid-september, and I've about lost my patience with this. I didn't expect summer in New York to be this unbearable." You sigh heavily, working on a particularly stubborn knot, "I don't know, I'm thinking of just chopping it off."

"Don't," He says , so quickly and emphatically that it surprises even him, and he blushes and looks away when your eyes shoot up to look at him. He clears his throat, eyes returning to yours, "what I mean is... you don't have to," he takes a step forward and hesitates, is he really gonna do this...?

...fuck it.

He walks the rest of the way to the bed and gestures to your hair, "Um, may I?" He says, trying not to show how terrified he is right now. What if she thinks it's weird. That *he's* weird. This was a bad idea.

"Sure," you say with a smile, stopping the spiral in it's tracks. You hand him your hairbrush, and turn so that your back is to him. You feel the mattress dip as he sits beside you.

His fingers brush the back of your neck as he lifts your hair, sending a shiver down your spine, and your eyes fall closed as he begins pulling the brush through it. A soft sigh escapes you when he scrapes the brush gently against your scalp.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Worst idea he's ever had. Now he was the one brushing your scent all over him, and the realization that he would be smelling you all night, along with your barely audible sounds of contentment, are affecting him in ways that are not allowed.

He takes a deep breath, swallowing your scent, drinking you like a man on his last dime, gluttonous and pathetic, as he accepts that he will gladly, desperately, keep coming back to this fountain, even though he knows it's killing him. This was a terrible, awful, amazingly wonderful idea. He should really make stupid decisions more often.

Meanwhile, you're trying not to chew a hole through your lip, because every gentle tug, every scrape of the brush, sends ripples through your body that you can feel in your fingertips. It's been a while, okay? To say your love life is non existent would be being kind. You're going over your terribly obnoxious day in your head beat for beat in desperation, trying to think of anything they might draw your attention away from what he's doing because fuck...

It isn't just the sensations. It's him.

It'd be a lie to say you haven't thought about it. Beyond him being so much fun to be around, he was absolutely stunning. He physically and metaphorically should not exist and you mean that in the best way possible. There were a lot of late nights where you found yourself imagining his scales against your bare skin, his deep voice rumbling like thunder in your ear...

He holds your hair gently at the scalp while he works out a particularly stubborn knot, so it doesn't pinch, and as he succeeds, your hair tugs gently as his fingers run through it.

Your scent changes, he thinks, but it's difficult to tell when his face is nigh buried in your hair, and your amber conditioner mixed with your own unique perfume are making his mouth water. He's wrong . He has to be. You couldn't possibly be...

He reaches over to the desk to retrieve an elastic and a few bobby pins and catches your reflection in the mirror. Cheeks pink, eyes closed, lips parted, he had to make a conscious effort not to tighten his hands in your hair. Don't react. It doesn't mean anything. He spots a hair pin on the desk, and grabs that, too.

He returns to his task, twisting and securing your hair in a low bun, just above your hair line. He can see the flush of your shoulders as he lifts your hair and attempts to control his breathing. As he places the last pin, he can't resist running the back of his finger down the back of your neck. He doesn't miss you shiver.

"There," he says, possibly a bit more huskily than he intends to, "how's that feel?"

Miraculously, the weight was still there, but he had twisted it in such a way that it was secure without pulling or pinching. When you turn to the mirror, the lamplight catches the hairpin, the warm glare making it flash like fire. You smile softly, almost in disbelief, and touch your hair gently. You turn to him, speechless.

His blush deepens, "I, uh... I'm pretty good with textiles. Hair ain't that different." His mouth turns up in a nervous smile when your smile of disbelief becomes a grin.

"Well you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" You say, almost breathless.

He blushes, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck, looking away, "I guess..."

"Hey," Leo's head pops in the doorway, "we're heading out, you ready?"

Raph looks at you, and then Leo, and then back at you before clearing his throat and standing up, "uh, Yeah. Yeah, good to go." He shoots you an almost regretful smile.

"I guess that means you'll have to come over tomorrow and teach me how you did it," you say, grinning at him, "Can I say thank you with dinner?"

"Deal," he says, unable to help the grin that lights up his face, "I'll see you tomorrow." You don't miss the look Leo gives the both of you as he makes his way out the door. With one last glance at you, pink still staining your cheeks, Raphael leaves for the night.

You sit on the bed and touch the back of your neck, feeling the ghost of his hands in your hair. Maybe you wouldn't cut it, after all.

......

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

[icequeenbae]

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings [whole story]: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 4.5k (pt.1)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Chapter Masterlist: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: This has taken me so, SO long to write and edit that I cannot believe the time has come to post it lmao I just wanted to write something simple with the classic boy-next-door vibe but as usual, the story ended up being much longer than planned and I am going to post it as a mini-series. Please keep in mind that your feedback is what motivates me to write and post more <3 And biiig thanks to the lovely @beomcoups for taking on the beta duties on this whole story~

Network Tags: @bbh-net  @k-vanity  @ksmutsociety

PART 1

In the lobby or on your floor – those were the two locations where you’d been bumping into Baekhyun most often. Which wasn’t that strange, considering that you were neighbors. But it somehow always caught you off guard and left you flustered.

Just like the first time.

It happened almost a year ago when you were waiting for the elevator on the first floor of your building with your best friend Yuki, who came early to help you with preparations. A guy in a loose white dress shirt and jeans stepped into the elevator with you, politely greeting you before pressing his floor number.

‘Oh, you live on the 13th as well? So, you and our Y/N are neighbors!’ Yuki exclaimed.

‘Nice to meet you,’ you muttered and bowed, shy from the sudden introduction. He reciprocated, chocolate hair falling into his eyes charmingly.

‘You should come to her housewarming party! It’s in a couple hours,’ Yuki chimed in again. ‘You don’t need to bring anything, it’s just a small thing with a couple friends and neighbors. We’re making sure Y/N-ie settles in nicely here. So please come, we have tons of food!’

If anyone could ever say no to your friend… Well, you had never met such a person. You guessed that Baekhyun was simply too stunned by her enthusiasm, so he said he’d swing by for sure. In a way, you were thankful that she’d asked him – you’d have never had the guts to invite someone like that; especially not anyone as good-looking and cool as Baekhyun.

You regretted letting your bestie invite him the following evening when your party was in full swing for several hours. Most of the food was devoured, so now you were all drinking, crunching on snacks, and conversing; or trying to while jumping from one topic to another.

‘I wish we could gather more often. We all like to hang out with you, you know?’

As always, Yuki nagged at you for being too ‘stay-at-home’ of a friend.

‘I like to hang out too. But home is home. You know parties aren’t really my… favorite pastime.’

‘What is your favorite pastime, lying in bed cuddling your blanket?’ Chanyeol joked insensitively.

He should’ve known better since you were the most troubled in your group of friends regarding relationships. It was super tough for you to find a match, even when you made an effort to get out of the house and meet new people, mostly because of your history of failed relationships where your partners gained interest in someone else. It seemed like you were too plain to hold someone’s attention for long. So, you’d been ‘that single friend’ for several lonely years now. And at this time, you were actually in the very beginning of a new, promising relationship. You were still pretty insecure about it; thus, Yeol’s comment really did make you flinch. He was drunk, so that was understandable, but you still sulked at his words, mainly because they were true.

‘Hey, it doesn’t have to be a blanket.’ You frowned, pressing the straw to your lips in frustration.

‘I’m kinda sad that guy you’ve been talking to couldn’t come,’ Yuki interjected. ‘I wanted to find out what he’s like.’

‘Minho had work-related travel, so he’s resting up.’ You shrugged, sipping your drink timidly.

‘I’m sure the guy made this excuse just to avoid meeting your friends. How long have you known him for, like, two days?’ Chanyeol interjected.

‘It’s been a few weeks, actually,’ you corrected, and Hoseok, Yuki’s boyfriend, muttered a reproaching ‘hyung’ in his direction.

‘Gosh, you’re really this stupid while drunk,’ Yuki shook her head disapprovingly at your friend, who simply shrugged.

Baekhyun was pretty silent during the latest exchange, so when you briefly made eye contact, it reminded you that he could also hear all of that chatter. Which made you want to choke on your drink from humiliation. Thankfully, one of your friends still had some tact left that night, so they quickly changed the direction of the conversation. Still… you’d been mortified for weeks after the event, doing your best to avoid bumping into Baekhyun when leaving for work.

***

The next time you met, Baekhyun was also in the lobby of your apartment building. And once again, before a gathering at your place. Just days prior you had lost it and left your resignation letter at your boss's desk. Working such long hours under the constant pressure of absolutely unrealistic deadlines was taking its toll on you for sure. But when you found out they promoted a person, who was obviously less experienced and capable than you in working (but more capable in flirting with your manager), instead of you… It became the last straw.

Baekhyun appeared right on time as you struggled to push the elevator button with a whole case of beer in your hands.

‘Y/N,’ you heard his velvety voice call. ‘Nice to see you.’

‘Oh- Hi, Baekhyun.’ You greeted awkwardly, puffing from the weight you had to balance.

‘Let me help you with that?’ His suggestion sounded like a question, yet he instantly scooped the case from your hands.

‘You don’t need- thank you,’ you said, and he shook his head to indicate that it wasn’t a big deal.

‘So… having a party again?’ He asked as the elevator doors closed.

‘I wouldn’t call it a party,’ you hummed, looking at your feet. ‘I kinda had to quit my horrible job of 4 years, so my friends are making me celebrate it. Not that becoming unemployed calls for a celebration…’

You trailed off, not wanting to be a nuisance to your neighbor. He was just making small talk.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you taking a break now or looking for something else?’

‘I’ll start looking next week. It’s Friday, my friends are coming… So I’ll try to just clear my mind and rest for one full weekend before I start stressing about a new job. Hopefully, my friends wouldn’t talk my ear off about it – that’s what the beer’s for. My little trick,’ you chuckled sheepishly.

‘Aren’t your friends supposed to treat you in this situation?’ Baekhyun huffed, shaking his head to rearrange his hair and better see you.

‘They should… bring more alcohol with them, I think. I couldn’t have them over for nothing, though.’

The doors opened after a robotic voice announced your floor.

‘Well, anyhow. Thanks a lot for your help!’ You tried taking the beer from Baekhyun, but he didn’t let you.

‘Open the door first; you can’t do it while holding this.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ you fussed, pressing your password in.

Baekhyun quickly placed the case on the floor of your hallway.

‘You should come!’ You blurted out, instantly getting flustered. ‘If you want.’

‘I might drop by if I’m free,’ he smiled softly. ‘My family wanted to have a video call later. That may take long.’

‘Of course. Have fun!’ You nodded, beating yourself up in your mind for being so weird suddenly.

‘You have fun,’ he chuckled, stepping towards his apartment. ‘Oh, and Y/N?’

Looking up at him as he called your name, you were met with his warm yet serious eyes.

‘If you need anything… You know where to find me.’

That made you strangely sentimental.

‘T-thank you.’

He sent you a message later on and let you know he couldn’t make it to your party. But in a way, he was there – on your mind.

***

It was about three weeks after you’d broken things off with Minho. If you could even consider it one, the relationship wasn’t long, only a couple months. At first, you thought it could be something, realizing later that it was only wishful thinking. There was no way the two of you could make it work; you were just not compatible with each other. The more you got to know him, the more you were reassured of that. Your life goals were different, your outlook on relationships was different… even your ideas of quality time with a significant other didn’t match. This time, the initial infatuation wore off rather quickly – probably because you didn’t go out of your way to appease him. You knew it was probably for the better. Pretty much all of your relationships ended the same way, with your boyfriends telling you they found someone else. Someone… more exciting.

This was the case for your first relationship halfway in your first year of university.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t feel the spark, you know? You’re so… domestic,’ your then-boyfriend said in his breakup speech. ‘I’m young, I want to experience stuff, be bold, and have fun. And there are people that I can do this with, who’ll also enjoy it.’

It repeated less than two years later when you’d barely worked up the courage to try and start something with another person. When it happened the third time, you decided you weren’t really made for relationships. It was ironic since you always wanted to be in one. You were very affectionate and were keen on taking care of people. Yes, you weren’t that into big gatherings and parties, and maybe it was a little too difficult to drag you anywhere when you were stressing about the upcoming tests and stuff… But you weren’t completely closed off! Even with those limitations, you were very sociable and had many friends. Was it so bad that you didn’t say yes to every suggestion? Did your inclination to stay at home and have cozy dates instead of outdoorsy stuff make you a non-relationship material? It seemed like every time someone else appeared, your boyfriends easily decided to move on.

And even though you weren’t in love with Minho, this breakup still made you sour. What made this particular day suck was that you’d found out that he was already in a new relationship; happily broadcasting it everywhere.

You weren’t jealous of him for being with someone else. You envied him for being able to find another partner in mere days after you parted ways, while for you, it felt like you’d never find or be able to retain anyone. Ever. Never ever.

‘Earth to Y/N!’ You jumped from someone’s voice ringing in your ears.

Looking up, you saw that the elevator doors were held open by your dashing neighbor, who was staring directly at you.

‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you quickly entered. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Baekhyun smiled, pressing the button for your floor. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Um, yeah. No. I mean-’ You sighed. ‘I’m just a bit out of sorts.’

‘Trouble at work?’

‘No, my new job is great. A huge improvement on the previous one. It’s just… everything else is not nearly as great?’

Yeah, because you pushed yourself to get back on the market to finally not be alone, and here you were. Back to square one.The sniffling you produced startled even your own self.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ he replied, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want to talk?’

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t dream about boring you with my stupid problems.’

‘I’m sure they aren’t stupid,’ he said. ‘And I have ice cream. Almost any flavor you could think of.’

You looked at him silently, and he smiled again reassuringly.

‘It’s not mandatory for you to tell me anything. But I can treat my favorite neighbor with some ice cream, can I not?’

‘Am I your favorite just because you don’t know anyone else?’ You snickered gawkily.

‘No. Not just-’

He was interrupted by the usual announcement of your floor.

‘So, what do you think? You can change first and then come, no hurry. I’m free tonight.’

You puckered your lips, genuinely intrigued by his offer. Ice cream sounded perfect right about now. Although agreeing just because of the promised treats was pretty childish, you couldn’t help but be seduced by his suggestion. So, you gave him a shy nod.

‘Okay. Throw on something comfy and come over.’

You entered your respective apartments, and only after the door behind you locked… you realized that your heart was racing.

‘Damn you, Y/N, why did you agree to do this??’ You whined, catching a glimpse of your scrunched-up face in the mirror.

Fishing your phone out of your handbag quickly, you messaged Yuki.

You | I fucked up, Yu!!

You | Idk what to do now…. ㅠㅠ

Ki-yaah | What happened?? Did you like a pic on Minho’s new gf’s SNS??

Ki-yaah | I’m so dumb for telling you about this… I’m so sorry Y/N ㅠㅠ

You | No, not that

You | Who cares about Minho and his girlfriend??

You | I mean, I was a bit salty about this… But I met Baekhyun again!

Ki-yaah | Baekhyun? Your cute as fuck neighbor Baekhyun??

You | No

You | Yes?

You | My neighbor Baekhyun. I blurted out that I wasn’t in the greatest mood, and he invited me to his place for ice cream!

Ki-yaah | WHAT

Ki-yaah | YAH

Ki-yaah | THAT SLEEK BASTARD

Ki-yaah | I hope you’re texting me from his couch

Ki-yaah | Or kitchen counter

Ki-yaah | Or wherever you kids decide to do it

A bunch of obscene emojis appeared on your screen, making you blush on the spot.

You | Do it?? We’re not doing anything. I’m home!

Ki-yaah | So, you’ve already done it?? HOW WAS IT??

Ki-yaah | Waaah, you’re quick these days, Y/N-ah! Finally, you’re learning your lessons

Ki-yaah | I hope you wrapped it up though

Ki-yaah | I wouldn’t blame you if you skipped it, though, I can imagine how starved you are on good sex.. Still, safety first!

Ki-yaah | Wait, so was he?? Any good??

Ki-yaah | You’re silent!

She typed so fast that you didn’t even have a second to write back, mostly from shock – your friend wasn’t always this shameless, actually.

Then she started calling.

‘Yah, why aren’t you spilling the beans?? Too worn out to type, bestie?’ She smirked on the phone, making you cringe.

‘Because there’s nothing to spill! I haven’t even gone over yet.’

There was a second of silence.

‘… What?!’

‘I have to change; I just came from work, you know? My makeup needs fixing too…’

Your phone instantly started vibrating as a video call request came in, which you begrudgingly accepted.

‘Damn, you can’t go like this. It’s not seductive at all!’ She exclaimed.

‘I’m not going over to seduce anyone! And he told me to wear something comfy…’

‘What?? Hm, actually…’ She tapped her index finger on her chin, deep in thought. ‘He does look like the type to be into that.’

‘I-into what?’

‘Cute girls! I told you already, he was probably crushing on you since the time he came to your housewarming party!’

‘Pfft, that’s ridiculous. And don’t bring up him allegedly glaring at Yeol for his stupid comments again, I beg of you!’

‘Alright. But he’s always so nice to you! Oh-Em-Gee, you’d look so cute together,’ she squealed.

‘I don’t have time for this. I can’t have him waiting for much longer, and I need to shower…’

‘Yes! And remove your makeup while you’re at it.’

‘Huh?? If I redo my makeup… isn’t it gonna look strange? Like I’m trying too hard?’

‘You won’t have to redo it. You’ll have only very basic nude makeup on. Looking all natural and cute.’

‘I swear, if you say ‘cute’ one more time-’

‘Can’t a girl dream?? I can already imagine how cute your children would be…’ Your friend kept musing.

‘I’m hanging up.’

‘Yah, take this seriously. Clean up nicely, and let your hair down. Also, shave your-’

‘Yuki!!’

‘You never know!! One second, he’s licking ice cream off his spoon; the other, he’s l-’

Quickly tapping on your phone screen, you canceled this embarrassing call. The vivid images didn’t leave your mind as fast, though, so you shivered, shaking your head to get rid of the obscenities.

‘She’s a bad influence, for sure,’ you muttered, still ashamed of yourself for imagining your neighbor in such a context.

The time was ticking, so you decided that Yuki was somewhat right and needed to clean up. You also needed to hurry the heck up; you didn’t want to make Baekhyun wait too long. Thirty minutes later, you were in front of his door.

‘Come in, come in,’ he ushered you inside, having you change your footwear for the pink house slippers.

Why did he have those again?

‘Cute, right? I ordered them for my niece and got the size completely wrong, but they fit you perfectly. I guess I wasn’t wrong after all.’

He looked at your feet for another second before blinking and clearing his throat.

‘Let’s not waste any more time, everything’s ready. Come on!’

Everything? Did he prepare a whole reception?

You took a good look at the back of his head as he walked you to his kitchen, noticing that his hair was slightly wet. Did he also shower? You swallowed at the thought. He probably didn’t invest as much time into the preparations as you did, though. You blamed your best friend for the inappropriate thought she planted in your head!

‘Here, take a look.’

He opened his freezer, and you gasped.

There was an entire collection of ice cream. Cones, popsicles, buckets… All different flavors and manufacturers.

‘I see you’re impressed,’ he smirked. ‘I have a niece and a nephew, you know? Kids aren’t easy to please these days.’

‘Can’t deny that I am. How many do you have here?’

‘No idea… I just keep buying them. Which one’s to your liking? You can try different ones. I’m in the mood for mint choco and lemon.’

‘Those are my favorites!’ You jumped up like a kid.

‘Really? Both?’

‘Yeah! I haven’t seen a lemon ice cream anywhere, only sorbets! Where did you find it?’ You closed the freezer as he got the two buckets out.

Baekhyun suddenly seemed pleased with himself.

‘You think I give away trade secrets just like that…’ He replied mysteriously.

‘I wanna buy some too,’ you pouted, circling around him while he took the lids off. ‘If you don’t tell me… I’ll eat all of yours!’

‘Ha, go ahead. There’s more where that came from,’ he teased right back, hovering slightly over you.

Lowering your gaze to avoid staring directly at him, you noticed something.

‘What’s this?’

Baekhyun turned back to the counter.

‘Ah, this old thing? You know how ice cream scoops are sold in paper cups or cones? This thing,’ he picked it up. ‘Is to make those. Watch.’

He dipped the instrument in water and shook it slightly, then scooped the mint ice cream, creating a smooth green ball with tiny pieces of chocolate adding to its hue.

‘Cool,’ you muttered, genuinely finding that fascinating.

‘Right? It’s awesome!’

‘Let me guess: the kids don’t appreciate it enough?’ You asked.

‘Those little- Here, you try with lemon.’ He pressed on a small lever and dropped the green globe into a bowl.

You shook your head.

‘I’ll mess it up; you do it.’

‘Come on, Y/N. You can’t mess it up; it’s just ice cream.’

‘Just ice cream? You don’t deserve to know the secret selling spots for this!’

He snorted, moving to the side to give you more space to try and repeat his previous actions.

You dipped it in water like he did and shook it before moving the lemon ice cream bucket closer. Spending about twenty seconds taking aim, you huffed.

‘I can’t do it! Yours is so round and pretty; I am not that professional.’

‘I’ll help,’ he chuckled at your meltdown, holding your wrist and softly pressing down on your hand to guide it. ‘Scoop it this way to make it full and round.’

You did as you were told, yet your mind was far away from the scooping technique. The entire focus of your being was now set on the unprecedented proximity you were in. He held your hand, his chest so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off him. When you dropped a yellow ball of lemon ice cream into the bowl, you could only pray that he didn’t notice the goosebumps littering your arms.

‘See? Yours is even better-shaped than mine,’ he hummed close to your ear.

‘Y-yeah.’

As if sensing your perturbation, Baekhyun suddenly stepped back.

‘Trying just two flavors is a waste of an evening. Let’s get more.’

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in his living room at the small table in front of his couch. The bowl with at least a dozen different ice creams sat atop another one, which was filled with ice.

‘No one likes melted goo, right?’ Baekhyun chuckled while constructing this mobile freezer.

You tried all of them one by one, gushing about each flavor.

‘The grape one isn’t tickling my fancy,’ he said, nudging the oddly-colored glob away.

‘Really?’ You reached for it with your spoon.

‘Don’t even try it. That’s bad,’ he scrunched his nose. ‘I can taste every chemical they used to make this grape flavor.’

You laughed, trying it despite his protests.

‘It tastes like… very cheap jelly,’ you said.

‘Exactly! Such a strange texture. Hmm, I shall look for a better option then. My nephew Siwoo loves grapes.’

You smiled at his concern for his youngest family member’s preferences.

‘Your nephews must be the happiest kids in town with an uncle like that,’ you murmured, stealing a bite from the rest of the lemon ball that he subtly nudged your way earlier.

‘They’re pretty lucky, aren’t they?’ He agreed easily, earning a snicker from you.

As you savored the last of the lemon flavor on your tongue, he leaned in, eyes focused on your lips.

‘You eat just like Siwoo,’ he instinctively wiped your lower lip with his thumb.

Looking up at him, you caught the moment he realized what he was doing and retreated.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘It’s a habit.’

Pressing your finger to your lower lip, which was now burning, you shook your head neutrally.

‘It’s okay. You must spend a lot of time with them,’ you scooped more in your spoon to somehow soothe the burn on your lips.

‘Not as much as I’d like. Most of the time, our schedules don’t match up, especially with them living in a different city. I try to have them over or visit them as much as possible.’

Baekhyun’s voice became warmer as he reminisced.

‘I get scolded by hyung a lot for spoiling them. But what can I do? At least they’ll have those pleasant memories and presents to remember me by while we’re apart.’

‘Are they close in age?’

‘About four years apart. Seoyul is pretty grown already; I can’t believe her little brother is going to school soon as well.’ He smiled, remembering something. ‘When she started her first grade, he was so upset. He cried every time she left the house.’

‘Aw, that’s so cute,’ you cooed. ‘So they’re getting along well?’

‘Yeah, apart from the occasional bickering. Siwoo is… a boy.’

‘A little daredevil?’

‘He’s driving his noona insane sometimes. To be honest, I was exactly the same at his age. We’re both lucky to have siblings several years older.’

‘Ah, so your hyung is much older than you?’

‘Seven years. He was almost like a father,’ Baekhyun chuckled. ‘But had he been even a couple of years younger… Pretty sure he would’ve given me a piece of his mind back then.’

‘I wouldn’t ever imagine that you were a maknae of your family.’

‘Why? I had so much aegyo as a child! Yes, my mom had to exercise lots of patience, but I was cute as hell.’

‘I’m sure that’s how it was,’ you hummed.

‘I’m still in the top-3 cutest of our family list. Might even be cuter than Seoyul at times; she’s way too serious these days.’

‘Wow, going over your nephews’ heads after the title… How mature of you.’

‘Hey, don’t blame me for being extremely cute.’

‘Show me some aegyo then,’ you challenged him with a smile.

‘Huh, you wish. You’re not ready for my aegyo, Y/N-ie.’ He responded sassily.

‘Is that so?’ You smirked, holding his gaze up until the chime of your phone provided an interruption.

Your bestie found a great time to pry into your business, which was evident from the message previews on the screen.

Ki-yaah | You’re not texting me back…

Ki-yaah | Which either means that you chickened out…

Ki-yaah | …or his stamina is REALLY freaking impressive

Ki-yaah | Which one is it??? I hope it’s the latter!

You inhaled sharply and started coughing, barely managing to swipe those messages off the screen before Baekhyun could see them.

‘Are you okay?’ He patted you on the back to help you overcome your coughing fit.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t realize it was so late… It was so rude of me to keep you up. Let me help you clean this up.’

‘Leave it,’ he shook his head, catching you by the wrist. ‘I’ll put this away later.’

‘I’ll… get going then,’ you stood so abruptly that your legs couldn’t keep up with you, completely numb from being in the same position for so long.

‘Y/N!’ Baekhyun rose to catch you by the arms. ‘Take a second, sit on the couch. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep.’

You swatted at your legs with your palms, urging the blood flow to restore quicker.

‘Sorry…’

‘Why are you sorry? I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you.’ He stated simply.

‘It’s just so late… and… you must have stuff to do.’

‘Nope. I actually had fun. I rarely get to sit around at home munching on ice cream and enjoying another grownup’s company.’

You bit your lip shyly at his words, and he suddenly tsked.

‘Although I feel like we were mostly talking about me. That’s a shame. I want to hear about you as well,’ Baekhyun mused, walking you to the door. ‘Well, let’s save it for next time.’

Next time, he said.

Next time??

You turned your back on him to conceal the shade of your cheeks and pretended to fidget with the doorknob.

‘Let me,’ he reached over you, pressing his warm chest to your back for a second to unlock the door.

But before you could step outside, his fingers wrapped around your forearm in a lax hold.

‘And Y/N… If you ever find yourself craving some lemon ice cream… I’m ready to provide it.’

With that, he pushed the door open and allowed you to leave his apartment.

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! Another BBH mini-series started 💫 I hope you enjoyed part 1~ Pls let me know what you think via comments, asks and reblogs, my darlings 💜 Also, I am very curious if you are picturing anyone in particular as Hoseok hehe 🙃

[comicaurora]

Have you seen the new Superman show on adult swim? Himbo Clark Kent rights

It's off to an extremely encouraging start! Thoughts under the cut!

I like how they portray Clark's super-strength and how comfortable he is flying and using super-speed. They really feel like innate characteristics of his body rather than powers he switches on and off - things he keeps toned down when people are watching, but things that are always present regardless. The number of times I've pulled a push door or shoved something that was stuck and thought "if I had super-strength I wouldn't get a Take Two on this because my hand would've gone straight through that" is clearly something the showrunners have also thought about. This Clark lives in a world of cardboard and physically cannot stop himself from putting his hand through it at least once a day.

There's a physicality to the way Clark takes hits that really communicates how little he feels them most of the time. Eyes open, mouth closed, immediately getting back into the fight after getting punched into a crater. This is stuff I also think about when I draw supernaturally tough characters in combat situations, and it's cool to see someone else doing it - especially since one of my very few complaints about the older DCAU is that Superman always took every hit like it was a fully incapacitating blow, which Worf'd him pretty constantly.

I also like that we have so far never seen Clark angry. We've seen him scared, flustered, disappointed - but not angry. Even in fights where he's taking serious hits, he's only motivated by wanting to protect and save people, even his opponents - he so far has never been motivated by a desire to destroy. That feels like very good writing for Superman.

It's currently a little unclear how exactly his powerset is scaling - it looks like the blue-eye-glow-and-suit-emblem thing is a legitimate powerup that lets him hit harder and recover faster than his normal baseline, but how exactly that works isn't clear yet - although that is very obviously going to be a plot point later, since they keep giving him little flashes of the story of Krypton's destruction and what shenanigans they were getting up to when it exploded.

On that note, Kryptonian tech has never looked or felt so otherworldly. I love the distorted electronic backward-voice choir they use exclusively for when Clark is on the ship. I love that hologram Jor-El can't speak English, but can clearly understand Clark - also this is the coolest Jor-El has ever looked. Some comics wax poetic about how Clark is an alien space god who only pretends to be human, but I like how this show is firmly putting Clark on the side of the audience with regards to how unsettling the "alien space god" vibes truly are. He can't understand the nature of the ship or the words of its holographic inhabitant, he's not really interested in what it means or where it came from - he just wants to know who he is, or rather who Superman should be. And I like that he concludes that Superman should be him - the heroics he was already doing, except this time on purpose. Superman should not be this spooky glowing alien god thing, even if that's the vibe we get from Krypton itself.

I like that the ship gave Superman his modern no-underpants-on-the-outside suit and Ma Kent was like "we can do better than that" and added the underpants back on.

I also like how much setup there is for future plot stuff that a DC-familiar audience can see coming. Clark hasn't used any of his vision-based powers yet, and it's possible he doesn't know they exist. No sign of Lex Luthor or Kryptonite yet, two problems we know will become more severe with time. We've already got Amanda Waller being stoically nefarious in the background. Young Hot Deathstroke is a hell of a design choice and I am Here For It.

I also appreciate how many little referential jokes are packed into the dialogue, ranging from the obvious "it's a bird it's a plane" to some hella deep pulls like Jimmy Olson's youtube channel.

And fundamentally I love how this show starts from the jump with the thesis that friendly, humble, Normal Man Clark is the real person, and Superman is the job that Clark Kent does. The title of the show is "My Adventures With Superman." The POV character is Clark. He is the "my" in that title. This is Clark's story about Superman.

I really, really hope Batman eventually shows up, because this Superman would make that hilarious.

[ioniansunsets]

I love all your Heartsteel hcs they are making me melt <3

Can I request a scenario of Aphelios going to non musician!readers house after a long day and then just spoil them with cuddles and hugs until they go to sleep? Hes my fave and I’m just so normal about him and the rest of Heartsteel thank you <<3

✖ Heartsteel!Aphelios Chilling with Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: SORRY FOR TAKING A WHILE!!!! Wrote this with Worlds in mind! Also imagining their little collab with Knotted + The Rocklove apparel drop❤️ Our boys have been busy.

I...also got really carried away, I just like soft warm domestic established relationships..........

Also doing this with the headcanon that Aphelios can still very softly whisper (like how he talks to Alune). He can sign, he can type fast with just one hand but! His favorite thing is to let you, his precious partner, hear him when it really matters.

----

It was a long month for Aphelios. He wasn't, miserable, to speak but he was slowly reaching his (already low) mental limit. The stress of performing in front of millions truly catching up to him.

Heartsteel was finally going to perform on stage so it has been practice after practice. Photoshoots, interviews, Instagram lives, meetups for collabs at stores, showcases for new merch, feedback for social media content, approving this and that. It has been non stop work and Aphelios was far beyond burnt out.

He was exhausted and he hasn't seen you in days. As such, when Alune finally squeezed some time out of everyone's schedule to give them a day off (after a grueling final full dressed practice run right before the actual performance day) the first thing he did was grab a ride to your place. It was a quick goodbye wave to the other members, thanking the staff with a curt bow before he ran to grab his stuff, change and fucking book it. Dropping you a message on Discord to let you know he was finally done and coming over as he calls for a ride.

It was late already too, the sun had set and all Aphelios could really do what think about you. Actually, all he could think about when he wasn't working on band stuff was you.

His hands and legs jittery, itching to finally see you, feel you, hear you, hold you. Oh gods, to have you in his arms again. He sucks in a breath at the thought.

How he so craves you to salve his faltering, exhausted soul. He sighs, turning up the music in his headphones as he leans against the window of the passenger's side. Fingers tapping to the beat as he tries to calm down, a smile on his face already at the thought of seeing you again.

He wasn't used to this. Being away from you this long and being so busy as to not even be able to chat with you often. Before Heartsteel picked up traction the two of you were practically inseparable, he would spend time writing songs in your room as you worked. Or Aphelios would just invite you over to his place to chill as he made music. The simple joys of being able to work from home as an artist. But alas, fame comes with responsibilities, and as much as he loves finally making it in the scene, it was tough going through the withdrawal of not being by your side.

His heart races in anticipation as the car stops at an all too familiar road. Grabbing his things, he pays and leaves, slamming the door to the car shut.

Aphelios was practically flying up the steps to your apartment, out the cab he half walked, half ran to your door. Standing by the gate as he calls you to let you know he's here.

When you finally open the door, you're met with the most excited smile, his eyes almost close with how wide he is smiling.

Your usually calm and cool boyfriend dropping everything he was holding to throw himself into your arms the second the door opened. The softest of his whispers as he presses his cheek against yours.

" I've missed you, so much."

You could tell, the way his body sinks into yours. The way his arms grasp you tighter than he ever has. The way he lightly nuzzles you. So uncharacteristic but so understandable at the same time. You laugh a little, telling him how much you missed him too as you held him close.

" Let's stop standing by the door. Come in Phel."

His shoulders rise and fall in a silent chuckle as he picks up his things form the floor to step into your house.

It was the usual domestic slice of life happenings that he was so used to doing. The absolute heartwarming comfort of just going on autopilot. Putting his things in the same spot he always has in your room. Going to get a bath, grabbing a change of clothes from his own shelf by your bed. The way you already helped make him dinner while he was bathing because you just know he hasn't eaten all day. It was perfect, it was like how things always was. A reminder that even though so much was going on, he was still yours as much as you were his.

" I'm excited for you. But you sure you can stay the night? You'll have to wake up earlier than if you stayed with the band you know?"

[ Being by your side is the only way I'll be able to calm down before tomorrow. It's worth the hour of sleep I'll miss not being in the venue hotel.]

The two of you update each other on your lives as he ate. You telling him about the things that happened through the month, watching small videos he took behind the scenes of the shoots, making fun of the other members together as you sit by his side by the dining table. You telling him about your time with your friends, telling him how much you missed him, how happy you were to be with him again too. And oh, the way his leg would reach out to yours, his foot lightly hooking you by the ankle to feel you close as his hands were busy with eating and typing to you about his day. It was nice. It was right. It was the cute little things that you were so used to with Aphelios. Your own hand reaching back out to hold his side. Aphelios' eyes closing as he takes a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of you holding him close after day after day of the noisy meals with the band or the desperately lonely silence of eating in a changing room between sets. It was a nice change of pace to finally be here with you.

Time ticks by and soon enough it was getting really late. Aphelios insisting to help you with the dishes since you cooked, so you did him a service by just hugging him lovingly from behind, giving the back of his neck soft kisses as he smiles with his head tilted to the side so you can rest your head on his shoulder.

" Sleep?"

You ask him softly as he puts the dishes away and dries his hands. Aphelios nods, it was getting late and he had to wake up at 5am to go through even more preparations tomorrow, but that's tomorrow Aphelios' problems. He shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind as he focuses back on you and your beautiful face.

Slowly the two of you walk up to your room, just like everything else, a warm familiarity as he walks to lie down exhausted, on his designated spot on the bed, pulling over some of his plushies that he left at your place as you join him in bed. As you crawl onto the soft bed and lie down, almost instantly you were pulled in close, his arms wrapping around you tight as he sighs again with a smile, enjoying the skinship.

The two of you get comfortable, his face lightly pressed into your shoulder as he laid in your arms. One of your hands around him as the other lightly strokes his hair, comforting him from all the work he has put in to reach where he was. Aphelios just couldn't help but feel all his trouble melt away, that ache in his muscles magically leaving him. Trying his best to fight off sleep as he wants to spend every minute more with you. It was not enough, never enough. Hours, days, years, spent by your side but in the end, all he can do now is but enjoys the little seconds before his consciousness wanes.

Once again, the warm comfort of the usual that has now become but a precious rarity. As he flits in and out of consciousness, he does one final act of love. You smile as he pulls himself up closer to your ears.

" I love you. Goodnight..."

As you adjust yourself to face him, you're met with a warm smile, his dyed hair falling softly around him on you, an almost ethereal glow on his skin from the moonlight seeping in from your window as he blinks at you with half lidded eyes, barely open from exhaustion. Truly a beautiful sight, one that you can't help but to cherish.

" I love you too Phel. Rest well."

You reach out to give him a gentle goodnight kiss on his lips, and just like tonight, and all the nights you have spent, and will spend, with him, he reaches out and kisses you back. So matter of fact, so expected that it was almost comical. He loves you and you love him. And that was right. Slowly the two of you fall asleep in each others arms once again.

[calliecwrites]

Shifter HRT, part 6 – The Other City (7 Months)

Of course I’d heard of Hyper City. It’s where almost everyone gets their species HRT. The clinic there has versions for almost every species (though not for shifters). But I’d always assumed Hyper City was a codename, to hide the real location of the clinic, for security or something. And the things people say about it are pretty unbelievable. If you know about the city and want to find it, you will – go twenty minutes outside town, wherever you are in the world, and it’ll be there. That sounds like magic – or a convoluted way of saying ‘if you know, you know – and if you don’t, tough’.

Except everyone talks about it like it’s real. Enough people are on species HRT that someone would leak the real location if it was just a codename. People report following the weird instructions, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Though when changing species is a thing I’m actually doing, who am I to say this is any less believable?

Well, it turns out it is real. I’ve been there now.

* * *

I find a bus stop the right distance out of town, and go for a ride. I hold my intention in mind the whole way. Then there I am, in some faded little village I’ve only ever known as a name on a map. I wander around, and sure enough, there’s a path between two houses that doesn’t fit in. It’s paved and clean, while everything else here is dusty and overgrown. And it’s somehow hard to look at, like my fixed intent is the only thing letting me see it at all.

I’m used to being in a mind-responsive world in my dreams. Intent is one of the tools in a lucid dreamer’s toolkit – expecting things to change, knowing they’ll change, making them change. But it isn’t something I ever expected to use in the real world. I do a quick reality check – try to push my finger through my palm, and can’t – and that, along with everything else, tells me I’m awake. I don’t think I could be wrong about that when I’m paying this much attention. I shake my head. This is weird.

On the path I catch glimpses of buildings in the distance, where there shouldn’t be any – skyscrapers glinting in the sun. They come and go, like something keeps passing between them and me – like I’m seeing them through swaying trees – but there’s nothing there. Not even heat haze – it’s a cool day. And my own city has a grand total of one skyscraper, so it definitely isn’t that I’m seeing.

Eventually I pass under an arch, and I’m there. Welcome to Hyper City, the arch says. There’s a sign listing the local laws – and one catches my eye: shapeshifters have to be registered. That’s… surprising. I’d heard this place was much more accepting than back home. It’s better than being banned, but… Well, it’s not my problem. I still can’t shapeshift at all – which is exactly why I’m here – so I decide I can ignore it.

I wander the streets. This place – it’s normal – and that’s strange. Where am I? The map on my phone works, as long as I stay zoomed in. If I zoom out, it loses track completely. Is the light here the same? Is the sky the same? Am I in another country – or another world? What would other people see, if they watched me step onto the path that led me here? Where would I end up, if I left the city by another arch, or just walked out the edge?

I stop at wondering how they get internet in a city that exists outside normal space – and possibly also outside normal time. Because, yeah, that would be what I’m thinking about, when I’ve just stepped through a possibly-literally-magic portal to a place that shouldn’t exist. But those are questions for another day. That’s not why I’m here. One impossible thing at a time, please. And today’s is me, mid-transition, and anyone else like me I can find.

My whole body aches – but still doesn’t do anything. I’m taking in so much detail, and can’t use any of it. Phantom limbs come and go all the time, at the slightest thought. Dysphoria is getting worse – it’s the worst it’s ever been. Every time I move, the solidity of my limbs, and how constrained they are, clashes in my head – then for a moment my arms are (mentally) twice as long, and I’ve got three legs and can’t tell how many I’m supposed to have, and I’m stumbling. My mind is so ready for this, but my body is still taking its own sweet time. Surely this can’t get worse. I have to be near the tipping point.

I came here because – I need to know this is real. That it isn’t just me, it isn’t just… delusions. I need to know I’m not losing it. Is that weird? I can feel the changes inside me, I know they’re happening. But I’ve been doing so much of this alone, I need something outside myself, something physical, to connect it back to reality. I need to talk to other people like me – not just online, but in person, where I can see them, see the changes. There is no one like me back home. Even just seeing them might be enough, to know I’m not the only one.

And – there they are, just walking down the street, minding their own business. Even here there aren’t many – but they exist. There’s someone partly-transformed into a bird. Across the street there’s a slime – and my heart sings at this one; surely they’re one of the shifters’ closest relatives. Around a corner, and there’s someone with blue skin and four arms. I’m smiling. I can’t help it. And every time I see someone nonhuman, the phantom limbs come on in a flash, how it might feel to be in that form.

Further into the city, and I’m standing outside the famous clinic, where all of this started. I catch a glimpse of the infamous doctor – lab coat, glasses, balding grey hair. There are more nonhumans here, more of us, than anywhere else – us! I’m trying not to stare, and suppress a wild grin.

Except – I realise – I still look completely human. And, suddenly, I feel like an idiot. The others can’t even tell what I am. I’m just another human to them. My mood plummets. The smile vanishes. A pit opens inside me.

What was I thinking, coming here? Did I really think this would help? Instead, here I am, on the outside looking in, as always. The perpetual outsider, even among my own. I’m used to that. It always hurts, but it’s not surprising, not anymore. Why did I think this would be any different?

Standing here, I’d give anything to have some visible change, something other people could see, instead of it all being on the inside. Any sign at all of what I am. I could have worn my ‘be goo, do crimes’ shirt – that so far I haven’t dared wear outside the house – since that, at least, would have been something. Instead, I’ve got nothing.

The phantom sensations are so strong. I can almost feel them – and I try, desperately, to make them real, by will alone, like I would in a dream. The fluid in me strains – but nothing happens. At last the changed patches on my skin bulge slightly. It’s the most I’ve ever managed to do, and at any other time I’d be delighted, but here, now, it feels so underwhelming. Is this all I’ve got to show for all these months? No one even looks my way.

I want to say something to them – anything – but I freeze. Will I ever have the confidence they have, wearing my inhumanity openly? Will there ever be anything there to see? What kind of fool am I? I take the safe way out – I walk away.

I sit down in a cafe – and instantly regret it. A dragon and a mermaid are arguing at another table, and I try not to stare. Just seeing them, the phantom limbs are back in full force, and I’m almost overwhelmed by the phantom claws and wings and tails flicking in and out of my awareness. If I move now, I think I’ll fall.

In the end I can’t eat anything. I blurt out an apology and a thank you to the staff, and almost run for it. The familiar sensations are there already: clenched eyebrows and jaw, shoulders wanting to hunch over, and the bottomless pit in my stomach – loneliness that would devour everything. Except now, with my sense of form, I’m so much more aware of it than usual. I know exactly which muscles and nerves are involved, and for once, I wish I didn’t.

I stumble back the way I came. I barely notice where I am. There’s the arch – Thank you for visiting Hyper City, it says on this side – and then I’m on the same path, to the same dusty village. At the bus stop, I look back, and there’s no sign now of the city, or the path. The bus comes.

I’m holding back tears all the way home, but manage not to break down till I’m in the door. Then the tears come – and I can feel exactly how my body does it – and for a while I can’t do anything. Eventually I drag myself into the kitchen. I reach for biscuits, tea, anything that might help – and realise, too late, that was a phantom limb, not a physical one, and now I’ve knocked things everywhere, and it’s all too much.

I lie on the sofa and curl up.

And I’m back, here. I’ve been here before. I’ll be here again. Loneliness is the flavour of my life, after all. And what’s the point in doing anything, if, at the end of the day, I’m still always lonely? All connection is ephemeral and fragile – always having to hold back, in case I overstay my welcome – never knowing if I’m too much, or not enough. I always end up here, time after time – desperate, and alone.

I don’t think about it – if I did, I’d stop – I just do it, in the pain of the moment: I call my friend. The one I think is most likely to understand. I tell them everything. What I am, what I’ve been doing, what happened today. I’ve put this off far too long. Our last few calls, it’s been so hard to talk, it’s felt like we’ve been drifting apart, because I couldn’t tell them anything. Not this time. I break into tears again as I pour it all out. They listen. Afterwards, they say, in something like wonder, that there was always so much they didn’t understand about me, about why I did and didn’t do the things I did, and now it all makes sense. I say, deadpan, that there was method in my madness – and then all the tension is gone, and we’re crying and laughing together.

I feel a weight lifting.

Eventually I fall asleep on the sofa. Later in the night, when I realise I’m dreaming, my dream guide is there, waiting. She hugs me. She doesn’t often turn up on her own, but when I need her most, she’s there. She says a few words of reassurance. Would you regret it if you weren’t? And she’s right. She always gets to the heart of it. I’m doing the right thing. She, at least, understands. We both want the best for me – she’s part of me, after all – and though I already know what she’s telling me, sometimes hearing it from another perspective makes all the difference.

I’m crying again, in the dream. I wake up with the tears spilling over into my physical eyes – but the worst is already past. The rest of my dreams are better, the most relaxed they’ve been in weeks. In the morning, I feel almost OK.

I’ll go back to Hyper City. Not right away, but I’ll go back. And next time will be better.

First | Previous | Next

I won't be posting for a few weeks, but I'll be back at some point with Part 7 – Tipping Point.

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added):

@aiden-nevada @avery-victoria-winterlight @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie @mint-and-authoress

@noizepushr @sandyca5tle @scrubbinn @theriomythic-lesbian @the-gender-fae

@void-botanist @wuwojiti

[tswhiisftteedr]

Can you do a smut of Ashton Vargas x reader? Please?

Personal ‘Training’ ☆ One Shot

☆Mean!PE Proffesor!Ashton Vargas x Senior!Fem!Reader:

After seeing you excel in his class, Coach Vargas interest had peeked. It’s not like you were as athletic as the beastmen students, actually muscle wise, you were quite the scrawny one. But it was your determination in completing an exercise that he set out, that he found admirable. One day after PE you had forgotten your gym uniform jacket behind, and being the great teacher that Ashton Vargas is, he ought to give back to you. After looking around for a bit, then spotting in the courtyard talking with your friends, he happens to overhear about your secret thoughts on him…

Warning: Mature content, Dub-Con, Stuffing Panty In Pocket, Spanking, Fingering, Mean Dom Vargas, A little Degradation, Unprotected Sex, Humiliation, Degenerate Fantasies, mentions of; blackmail. READER IS 18 AND VARGAS IS CANONICALLY 30, KEEP THIS IN MIND BEFORE READING. Not proofread.

Note: The ask was pretty vague, so I kind of went with my gut. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I hope you do!

☆ More under the cut. ☆

Ever since starting classes at NCR Wonderland, you felt off about begin your academic journey as a senior. Sure you were the right age for it, but wasn’t it a bit to much of an ask to start with senior courses, especially with most of the mediums being different from your world? But at last you had no choice but sucking it up, working harder than any other student in your year to keep up. Though you did enjoy some of the classes, just because they had familiar concept. Alchemy was like chemistry, you also had music which was the same as back home, and of course there was PE…

You relished when one of your periods was physical education, despite any thoughts of the course back in your world. That was for 2 reasons, #1 it was one of the only classes you didn’t nee prior knowledge or magic to participate in. And #2… The professor teaching it made you feel wild and crazed, just a look at his body, strong grip, flexing muscles, would bring a rush to your brain ending with you being flustered whenever he would address you.

You could swear on your life that ‘it’ was big, like it had to be, this huge man must have a huge c- Uhm, where were you again? Ah, right, PE had just ended and it was time for lunch.

Upon realizing the class was over and you had been staring at your sexy teacher, you quickly rushed back to your dorm for a shower, grabbing your bag but forgotten your gym uniform jacket on the ground.

After cooling off and dressing back into your school uniform, you had joined your friends Vil and Rook in the courtyard for an outdoor lunch. And of course your daily rant about your professor!

Meanwhile Aston noticed your jacket laying on the field, he knew it was yours just by the fact that it didn’t display any of the 7 dorms colours.

As some sort of reflex, he had brought the article of clothing, to his nose, smelling it. The scent was a mix of salty caramel and vanilla. ‘One of your little Pomefiore friends must have given you a nice expensive perfume for it to smell so fragrant, but yet sophisticated.’ He though to himself, and after being in his head he had realized that he still had the jacket close to his face.

He knew it was a bit weird for him to smell someone’s clothes like that, especially yours, his student’s. But the fact that it was your scent lingering on the clothes, and that your body would surely smelled the same, drove him wild.

I mean ‘he was a man after all’, and seeing such a pretty little thing working their bests, toughing it out to achieve greatness in such a new different environment, especially in his class. He had to admit it, it did something to him.

Plus the fact he felt your gaze on him constantly during his lessons didn’t help to keep him ‘non-riled up’. He did convinced himself that you were staring for purely innocent reasons, but the state you always were whenever he talk to you made him doubt that fact. You just acted so flustered, even when he just glanced at you. ‘And I mean, you were of age, so was it so bad? Yes, yes it was,’ the man face palmed himself.

But no matter, it wasn’t like anything would actually happen. Plus he had to get your jacket back to you, no time for naughty thoughts >:(

But that all changed when he finally found you, sitting with your two friends, enjoying the fresh air and talking about how bad you wanted him, — wait what?

A little earlier,

You had rapidly rush back to the school building after Vil had texted you that him and rook were eating lunch in the courtyard today. And of course you had a skip in your steps, you were so excited to thirst over your hunk of teacher to your two friends, one of them less entertained about the idea from the other.

In about 10 minutes,

You had arrived to the courtyard, sitting between Vil and Rook, chatting while eating lunch.

“I can’t get over the fact of how fine that man is, like, god really has favourites.” You tell the two,

“And I can’t get over the fact that your thirsting on one of our professors.” Vil said snarky.

“Thirsting, how dare you. I am but a pure maiden showing my admiration towards an amazing role model of physical health!” You replied all dramatically, this made Rook laugh.

“But seriously, he’s really, really hot.” you continue,

“Uh-huh” Vil says not looking up from his phone.

“Like I really need that man to bend me over the nearest sur-“ you begin but your friend cuts you off. “Yeah I’m done for today, it’s never innocent with you.” Vil says standing up, and starts walking away.

“Wait Vil I’m not done telling you about the 15 other positions I want him to put me in and how big I think his dick is!” You semi-shout, giggling.

“Yes, come back my Reine, our dear trickster is only showing son amour in a different way. After all one’s désire d’autrui is part off of the thing we call love, elle est just en grande romantique when you think about it!” Rook follows your lead, encouraging your little delusions for the heck of it.

“You say that every time, but it’s been over a month.” He finally says, disappearing out of sight.

The two of you knew that despite him leaving compl , Vil would return in a matter of minutes, he just left to state a point.

Unbeknownst to you and your hunter friend, the very man you were lusting for happened to overhear your conversation.

Slowly lurking out from the corner, Ashton approach the two of you. “Uh-hum, excuse me. Y/n, you forgot your jacket back in the field. So I brought it for you.” He says, his husky voice making you and Rook turn around to face the man.

“O-oh th-thank Coach Vargas!” You croak out, your face heating up, scared he might have heard what you said about him. Meanwhile Rook could help but snicker at your change in demeanour. A second ago you were talking about how much you wanted that man to fuck you, but when actually met with him, you became as quite as a mouse and could form a proper sentence without stuttering.

“Um, I also need to talk to you about something, would you mind following me back to my office.” He told you, and your heart dropped. ‘He definitely heard what you had said, and now he was going to lecture you about it, maybe even get the other teachers involved!’

You were so nervous on the walk to his office and he could sense it.

As you enter the room, he locks it behind and perform some sort of spell.

He pointed to the wooden chair sitting on one side of a desk, motion for you to take a seat. And to avoid anymore confrontation, you do so quietly.

You had expected him to seat on the opposite side of the desk, on the velvet office chair. But instead he just stood in front of you, hands resting on the desk for support. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but notice the fact that your face was at crotch level with him standing up like this. But before you keep staring at his clothed front, he broke you out of your trance.

“So,” he says and you look up. “You might have an idea of why your in here, after all you are doing excellent in my class so no reason to call you to discuss about it… This about what you said to your little friends a couple of minutes ago.” he states and your suspicions were confirmed.

You look down at your feet, and you choke out. “I’m really sorry Coach Vargas it will never happen again. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

Now he was about to correct, explaining that he wasn’t feeling uncomfy at your comments, on the contrary he was flattered and glad you felt the same. But seeing you in trembling state, tears beginning to form in your eyes. It was too much, he had to play with you, at least for a bit.

“Mmh is that so.. well I don’t believe you.” He says, pretending to be hurt but just a look at the grin on his face would tell you other wise.

“W-what?!” You ask confused, tears starting to roll down your face. He grin even harder at the sight.

“Well like I said, I don’t believe you. It’s simple really, after all Mr. Schoenheit mentioned you had been having those lustrous talks at my expense, for over a month. Plus you didn’t seem to have any shame or care in the world when you were chopping it up with your chatting buddies. What’s to tell me, you won’t just go back to your friends after this meeting, and continue your lewd rants,”

He pauses, bending down forward to get close to your ear. “I could even bet that you’re getting off on this very situation.” he says than pulls back to get a good look at the expression on your face.

“N-No, that’s not true!” You deny, though even if your professor said to tease, in reality you were getting off on his action.

In your mind, you knew you shouldn’t. Being caught saying such scandalous things by the same person you were discussing, was but an ideal situation. Yet, you couldn’t help but agree mentally that you had fantasize about a moment like this one. In your head things would go like this;

Coach Vargas would stumble on you talking about your deep desire for him, bring you to his office.

But instead of reprimanding you, he would bend you over his desk and teach you about not being such a ‘lewd minded brat’, fucking you so good as you would babble apologies he didn’t care for.

In all honesty he just wanted to fuck you and he now had the perfect excuse. This fantasy would continue with him taking you almost everyday, with the pretext you still were thinking like a pervert, and as an educator he couldn’t have you distracted from your studies.

So he would take it upon on himself to satisfy your lust, so you could ficus’s on your classes.

Knowing damn well it did the opposite, and that after each session you could only think about him more.

But at last that was just a fantasy, this fact was reinforced when he spoke his next words. “I guess I’ll have to inform the headmaster about this.”

Obviously you panicked, and he loved you in that state. “Please sir, don’t tell Crowley about this, I’ll do anything, I can clean your office for free, I can help with you with paperwork, I can-“ As you begin listing off things you could do to compensate the man for your behaviour, he motioned for you to stop with his hand.

And you did so right away, become quiet as soon as his order came by. This made him feel extremely good, not only did have you at his beck and call in this moment, but if he played his cards right he could make it last way longer.

He grabbed you chin to make you look right into his eyes, “There is something you can do, though you might not be as ready as you think you are to do it.. Do you still want to try though?” At that you only nod, not sure your words could carry what was needed to be said.

He smiled at the obedient response, “Okay then, stand up and bend over my desk for me.”

“W-what??” You look at him very much so confused, he only chuckles at that.

“You did say you were ready, sweetheart. Well I guess I could just inform Crowley instead and leave you in his care, it’s still a viable option if you’d prefer it.” He tells you smugly, knowing you would pick anything he asked of you instead of telling Crowley.

“No, that’s alright, I’ll do it...” And so you did, bending over the wooden desk, feeling your skirt hike up.

You were so anxious but at the same time exited about what would proceed. Would he spank you? Would he touch you? Finger you? Fuck you just like your dreamed about? Or would he just laugh at you, only wanting to see you bend over his desk so he could mock you then just send you on your merry way out, never to speak of this again?

Before you could continue your internal ramble, you felt his big rough and warm hand pushing your skirt, your ass was now in plain view.

“You know, I had myself convinced that your little staring habits was something unadulterated, but turns out the part of my conscious that told me otherwise, was right. You’re really a slutty little girl that has been making eyes at me since the beginning of the semester.” He accentuate his last sentence with a harsh spank to your bottom, making you whimper in pain.

He spanked you again, and wailed with new tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. That’s what a naughty little thing like you deserves, talking to your friends on the daily about how much you want my cock.” Another spank came by, “Be a good girl and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

You winced from the impact of his hand on your sensitive behind, and let out a small whimper. "Y-yes sir," you managed to choke out between sobs. You knew what he wanted now—to hear you beg for more punishment and eventually, release.

Your heart raced faster as anticipation built up inside of you.

"That's better sweetcakes," he praised, reaching down to grab hold of your hair again, yanking hard enough to lift your head up forcefully. His cool gaze bore into yours, searching for any trace of defiance or resistance. But all he saw was submission mixed with fear and desire radiating strongly from those green eyes. "Tell me you want me to claim you right here, right now."

Your voice quivered as you spoke, "I-I... want you to claim me. Please sir..." Your words came out in between sobs and gasps for air, body still trembling from the previous spankings.

You couldn't help but squirm slightly against his hold on your hair, wanting more of his rough treatment.

He released your hair suddenly, causing your head to whip forward violently before he grasped onto both of your wrists tightly behind your back. Pulling them roughly upward to avoid you slamming your face on the desk, keeping your breasts pushed forward prominently. "Good girl," he praised again, running his hand over your chest unbuttoning your shirt, now exposing your whole top area. "Now let's see how much you truly enjoy being owned by your professor." With that, he spun you around forcefully, pushing you against the desk hard enough to leave a mark on your back. His lips crashed hungrily against yours, demanding entry into your mouth as one hand cupped your breasts through the thin layers of fabric separating them.

You groaned into the kiss, unable to resist his aggressive advance, he quickly made way of your bra. Your body arched into him eagerly as he groped and fondled your bust roughly, pinching your nipples cruelly between his calloused fingers. You moaned softly against his lips, letting out a deep-throated moan when his tongue forced its way past your teeth and into your mouth. Your tongues tangled together in a messy dance of desire and submission.

You felt your panties being yanked down forcefully, leaving your bare pussy exposed for him to claim as desired. "Please..." you whimpered again, your voice hoarse from their passionate exchange.

He pulled away from your kiss slowly, his eyes blazing with lust as he looked down at your naked front.

He chuckled darkly, reaching between your spread legs to slide his hand underneath your skirt. His rough fingers explored your wetness greedily, rubbing circles around your entrance before slipping inside of your tight hole.

Your body jolted at the sudden intrusion, your hips pressing back against his touch hungrily. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as he finger fucked you hard and fast, hitting spots that made your knees weak.

"You like that don't you? Being so dirty in public?" He asked, thrusting deeper into your tight channel, stretching your opening wider. "Telling everyone you belong to me now."

Your mind was lost in the sensations he created; every thrust of his finger inside of you, pushing against sensitive spots that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your moans grew louder and more desperate as he continued to abuse your exposed flesh.

"Yes! Please... Sir..." you panted between heavy breaths, feeling your climax building rapidly within reach. Your squirmed under his hold, begging for release but knowing he wasn't done with you yet.

"That’s my girl," he praised, withdrawing his hand from your dripping wet pussy. Turning around once more, he positioned himself between your spread legs, his member already fully erect and throbbing with desire.

Without warning, he pushed hard, splitting your tight entrance on a single thrust.

You cried out in mixture of pain and pleasure as he began to pound into you, claiming your body brutally yet expertly.

His hips moved in a rhythmic motion, driving deeper than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots inside your core. Each powerful thrust caused you breasts to bounce wildly against his chest, nipples standing erect and begging for attention. Sweat trickled down your bodies, mixing together under the harsh florescent lights above them.

"You like that don't you? Taking my cock right here in my office, where anyone one on the others side of the door could hear your moans?" He growled, while continuing his relentless assault on your tight hole.

Your moans turned into incoherent sounds of pure ecstasy as he continued to ravage your body. Your nails scratched at his back through his shirt’s fabric, leaving shallow marks that only fuelled him further. "Yes! More... Sir..." you begged between heavy breaths, struggling against the hold on your wrists but unable to break free from his vice-like grip.

The combination of pain and pleasure was becoming too much for your fragile mind to handle, and soon enough, you felt the intense orgasm building up inside of your like a volcano about to erupt.

Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he slowed down momentarily, teasing your sensitive spots mercilessly before picking up speed again.

"Cum for me, you filthy little thing," he commanded, his voice low and husky with desire. And with those words, you lost control completely, your body convulsing violently around him as waves of pure bliss washed over you. You screamed his name, your climax crashing upon your like a wave crashing onto rocks.

Your entire body shook in the aftermath of your intense orgasm, your legs weakened by the forceful thrusting. Your pussy clamped tightly around his member, milking him dry as he continued to pump into your until finally, he groaned out his own release. Pulling out slowly, a thick stream of hot cum spilled onto your stomach, painting you with his seed.

Panting heavily, he finally released your wrists, allowing them to fall limply beside you. "That was amazing," he complimented, reaching out to stroke your hair affectionately.

He stepped back, admiring his work on your flushed face and disheveled appearance.

Reaching down, he grabbed your discarded panties from the floor and stuffing them nonchalantly into his pocket "Now go clean yourself up in the staff bathroom, before anyone sees you like this."

You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded from your intense encounter. Slowly, you wobbled forward, your legs shaking beneath your skirt, and made your way towards the restroom.

By the way, remember the spell he used before anything began, yeah? Actually it was 2, on that block out noise from escaping a finite space aka his office, and the other is one that recorded the events that took place in a selected area.

Was he going to blackmail you with that recording? No. But he might threaten you with it once in while to tease you.

Thanks @hipsterteller for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

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[kopivie]

as a continuation of this post.

you squeeze your eyes tight and wait for the worst to happen. you can only imagine what sort of pain you were about to be subjected to. your stomach churns as your mind conjures up the sickening sounds of bones crushing and teeth gnashing; of flesh being ripped from the bone and blood being splattered like paint upon a canvas. you wait, and you wait as the gardemek gets closer. you can practically taste the putrid steam that pours from its nostrils. you wait and you wait...

...but death never comes. or at least, not in the way you expect it to.

"at ease."

his voice is gruff, like he's speaking through his teeth. you've never heard him like this before. on any other occasion he's calm, cool, and collected; he normally sounds like he has everything under his control. but right now, after hearing him sound like he's holding himself back, you wonder what expression he's wearing.

you're paralyzed with fear. your entire body is taut and wound tight, almost as though rigor mortis has already set in. but you're not dead, you have to tell yourself. you're not dead. you repeat that phrase over and over like a mantra in your head even as the presence of the three-headed gardemek diminishes. you're not dead. you're not dead, not dead, not dead not dead not--

"you're okay."

your eyes may still be closed, but you know he is here. he is right in front of you. you can feel it. you can feel him. his hands are ghosting over your frame -- your hair, your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks. you can smell him, rich and heady -- intoxicating. hell, you can practically taste him with how close he seems to be.

he calls your name. his voice is still rough, but it is becoming softer as he speaks. perhaps he doesn't want to scare you any more than he already has. "look at me," he begs. he pleads. would he grovel if you asked him to? "please, look at me. open your eyes, my love. you're safe. it's been taken care of."

your neck feels stiff as you shake your head.

you feel his hands finally come to rest on your cheeks. his hands are calloused and cold, yet also warm and grounding. his touch sends a shiver down your spine. your joints creak as you bring your hands up to cover his own.

"that's it," he breathes. "i'm right here. breathe with me. i'm here. nothing will hurt you while i'm here."

your breathing is shallow, but he, wriothesley, is patient. he is always patient when it comes to you. four beats pass, then six, then ten. your breathing is stable and he is still here, grounding you to this plane of existence. finally, finally, you open your eyes.

and there he is. pale grey eyes stare back into your own. maliciously, your mind wanders to the sky above the overworld. you wonder if today is sunny. perhaps the sky is overcast. if it is, you wonder if the clouds are the same color as his eyes.

you used to seek refuge in nature whenever times got tough. but since you won't be returning home for the forseeable future, you let your mind run free. you start to sink as you return his gaze. lower, lower, and lower still. the closest you will ever get to seeing the overworld again is by staring into his overcast eyes. you hope and pray to whatever god exists that you'll get a glimpse of some cumulus cloud reflected through his irises. but when reality inevitably hits you, when the adrenaline starts to bleed from your pores and your body starts to deflate, you realize that the only thing that's reflected in his eyes is you.

he does not dream of the overworld. he does not dream of freedom like you do. he does not wish for a life outside of these walls. he wants for naught but you.

you feel bile sour your tongue. some savior he is. your words of thanks become rotten and disgusting. you swallow it all back and tear your eyes away from him. "i want to lay down." your voice is hoarse. "take me to my room." belatedly, you add a, "please."

he regards you closely. he analyzes you, scans you like the very gardemek that you nearly lost your life to mere moments ago. in times like these, you wonder just how much difference exists between him and the very mechanical beasts he commands.

his hands leave your face and he sighs. you recognize that sigh. defeat. he won't get any gentle treatment from you today either. but you know he won't think much of it. he never does. he will try again tomorrow.

hopefully, you think as you march to your room, he does something about that monster.

[purplesoulcollection]

What if...

So i will based my scenario based from their official art. Hope you like it ' 33 '

Deon might initially seem like an unusual baby to his parents and older brother. After all, who wouldn't be taken aback by the arrival of an albino child?

However, as time goes on, his parents make an effort to set aside their surprise and embrace their child, despite the whispers from neighbors suggesting that Deon is either adopted or not their biological child.

Cruel, on the other hand, develops a deep familial love for baby Deon. Being so young, he doesn’t see Deon’s differences; instead, he finds joy in them. Deon looks cool in Cruel eyes.

"My brother must have been an amazing person before, look at his hair, it's as white as snow!" Cruel exclaimed, gently running his fingers through Deon's soft hair.

Sadly, from the moment he born to the world, Deon has struggled with a frail body and frequent illnesses. His sensitivity to light and recurring fevers make it hard for him to stay well.

As a result, the hospital feels like a second home to him. His parents are often busy working to cover Deon's medical bills, which means they can't visit him as much as they'd like. Deon, feeling guilty for their absence, keeps his complaints to himself, believing it's his fault they can't be there.

Deon had a tough time expressing his emotions as a child, largely because his parents were often absent, leaving him mostly in the company of his older brother.

Eduardo, Caver (the demon king) I don't know his real name, and Cruel share a close friendship, and they are all around the same age. they met and were friends from university.

Caver was very happy when he met Deon, as he was the first to reach out and invite Deon for a chat, taking the lead in forming a friendship.

Deon, being quite sensitive, found himself a bit uneasy with the close interactions, especially since Caver was overly familiar, making it hard for him to feel comfortable.

On the other hand, Eduardo seemed indifferent towards his ailing younger brother, Cruel, merely offering a casual greeting. Yet, for some reason, Deon felt drawn to Eduardo, perhaps out of sympathy or a sense of familiarity that lingered in his mind.

As a result, Deon also found himself connecting with his brother's friends.

I believe Deon will gradually become accustomed to Caver's friendly nature and will develop a deeper connection with Eduardo. Cruel felt a sense of joy knowing that his younger brother finally had friends who could engage with him, even if they were not his peers.

Although Deon attended school, his status as an albino led to social isolation, prompting him to leave and pursue private studies, especially since his frail health made regular attendance difficult.

As he matures, I think he will become healthier and stronger. Thus, the sickly Deon of his childhood will eventually grow into a much healthier individual.

And indeed, he also formed a bond with his nephew Eduardo, who, along with his siblings, truly cherished their uncle.

Alethea, Elphidius, and Deon eventually became friends, all sharing the same age. Deon feels a stronger bond with Elphidius since they are both guys, while he views Alethea as the little sister he never had.

Their friendship dynamic often involves Elphidius and Deon teaming up to play pranks on Alethea. Although she gets annoyed with their antics, she usually ends up forgiving them in the end.

In the modern world, Lofty's troops represent the patients who are close to Deon, standing by him as he battles his pain.

Since he spent a lot of time in the hospital, especially when his brothers couldn't be there, these friends provided him with the encouragement and comfort he needed during lonely times.

And then even after he started feeling better and no need to be hospitalized anymore, Deon frequently visited the hospital to check on those who had supported him in his fight against illness. Yeah so Deon still have the loyalty for those who are also rarely visited by their families.

Deon also wears unique glasses to protect his sensitive eyes from bright light.

Deon in modern times is actually popular with women. But when women want to get to know each other, Deon is the first to shrink and the women lose interest in him.

On the other hand, when he's hanging out with his friends, they easily steal the spotlight, as they are all quite attractive. But nobody is being interested to having romantic relationship yet.

They all still busy to enjoy their peace.

The end

I don't know whether they will have a partner or not. It all depends on their fate and whether I will make a fanfic or someone will be inspired by my fiction.

If i have to make the fiction, are you interested?

[kamakrazeeee]

slit headcanons (with a good sprinkling of slit/nux hc as well)

(from me little google doc that is getting longer and longer the more my brain rots about mad max)

is around 28 during Fury Road; is about 5 years older than nux

did not have a name until he was a preteen pup (i hc that most pups don't have a name until they choose one for themselves, and bc of slit's volatile nature, he was referred to oftentimes as ‘mutt’ instead of pup). he was becoming aware of the fact that war boys aren't anything unless they have something to make them different, to make them identifiable. when he slit his cheek open with a glass shard at age 12, from then-on he was referred to as “Slit-Mouth” and soon after it was shortened to “Slit”

slit meets nux when he is about 13. when slit is officially initiated as a war boy (i assume they officially become war boys when they reach 17 or 18), they don't see each other again until nux is also initiated.

slit has always been rather annoyed at/jealous of how fast nux learns things, and how everyone admires him for it. slit learns things quite fast, too, but being a lancer is not nearly as shine as being a driver.

when nux becomes a war boy and is made a driver, his first pick for lancer is slit. slit had a hard time keeping drivers, most of them either not being good enough for him or their chemistry failing horribly. slit and nux, with a few bumps, worked flawlessly.

he teases nux about many things and can be straight up mean to him at times. however, when he realizes he may have gone too far, he makes up for it in his own ways, which usually just involves him bringing nux small trinkets or giving him his own cola ration (or soothes nux by simply holding him a bit tighter at night). he will never utter the words ‘sorry’ unless he's under the influence of some bad rotgut or on his death bed.

slit is quite popular among the war boys, kind of like a cool kid that a lot of boys are intimidated by (for good reason, he's a nasty prick and tough as hell!)

slit is known as a vicious fighter and not someone to pick fights with. the stapled scars on his body show just how little fucks he gives about being hurt in combat.

when he starts losing vision in his right eye, he gets more irritable and moody. once he learns how to live and lance with this new impairment, he eventually returns back to normal, but gets in a mood when the occasional headache comes knocking

though he is loyal, he's not particularly the most religious war boy. he'll pray when he's asked to, and believes in the word of the immortan, but he's not super keen on obeying every little commandment. he's a bit more pragmatic in that sense, realizing at an earlier age that they all worship a man who doesn't even know who they are.

can be quite promiscuous, but only until he finally bunks up with nux and “commits” to him

when nux’s grease rag becomes so ratty and full of holes that it is basically useless, slit gives him his old red scarf to replace it. he won't admit it, but it makes him feel something real soft when he notices how delicate nux is with it, making sure it is kept clean when he's not using it for black thumb work.

likes watching nux work on cars, and has learned a lot from him, even though he tells nux how boring it is.

his second mouth slit comes to be when he becomes a war boy. this time he uses a real knife, and cuts through his cheek nearly all the way to his ear. though he's able to stitch up some parts, he has to use a stapler to keep the more gaping parts together. it's horrifying and it's painful, but man did he love hearing his brothers cheer and shout and hype him up as he did it

absolutely loves the heat. if he was able to, he'd probably be as tan as an Imperator, sprawled out on the hoods of cars and scorching hot rocks

will sometimes skip meals just to avoid “getting fat and happy,” which just means he doesn't want to rely on it more than he absolutely has to

was absolutely enraged when he and nux were not allowed to join the forces for the 40-Day War, blames nux for it since nux was still a younger war boy at that point (a recent initiate), assuming that the gap between the 40-Day War and the events of Fury Road is about 4-5 years

slit loves teasing nux for his dreams of driving a war rig, but can't help daydreaming about being a lancer on nux’s imaginary war rig

though he's very popular, most war boys ignore it when he's being the #1 Hater. it's just bad vibes!

he's the one who decorates nux’s coupe, so it has ✨personality✨

doesn't like war pups, but can't help feeling a lil soft when he sees nux interacting with them

likes to shave nux’s hair when it starts coming back in. just likes grooming and cleaning him in general. ❤️

has carried nux to the organic mechanic so many times in the middle of the night. he acts annoyed and frustrated every time, but does it anyway, every single time. will sometimes sleep in the blood shed with him.

[ihateapbiology]

One for the road

tw- kinda smut not really but kinda

You had just recently moved into the city, and your best friend phoebe invited you to come to some get together at her friend julien's apartment. you're tired and not realizing julien's been noticing you. when people begin to leave, you still haven't been picked up and julien sees you sitting on the couch.

“you're runnin' pretty low on your drink, d'ya want me to make you another one for the road?”

You perk up hearing the faint southern accent, a little reminder of the home you were missing, but also resenting all at the same time.

“Hey another southerner?” You ask.

She smirks “yep where you from?”

“Oklahoma” you respond “yeah I know most exciting state ever.”

“So you familiar with tornados and…” she laughs drawing a blank.

“Small town Oklahoma so I’m familiar with tornados and the Bible.” You laugh.

“Well we can cheers to that.” She laughs and she holds up her soda.

You start to relax more into the couch actually enjoying yourself now.

“So what brings you to NYC?” She says.

“School and so I came up for like undergrad right and then stayed for grad school.” You say.

“Wow cool so do you miss the south.” She asks.

You raise your eyebrows surprised but enjoying how she’s past the usual small talk. “Yes..and no… I miss you know being around what I know, and knowing everyone having that community feel but then I also enjoy being able to be lesbian and not you know have the local priest act like I killed someone.”

She gives you a sad smile “yeah it’s tough even when you have people who accept you, like my parents were accepting but it was still I guess lonely ya know. Not a lot of people out like you, resources.”

You nod “BUT you do know what I hate how people act like the south is like hell and every person from the south is like the worst person ever.”

You guys continue talking and talking “ughh I should probably go cause I’m gettin myself home and don’t wanna be walking home at 3am alone.”

She bites her lip “wellllll you could always stay the night with me.” She puts a handle on your thigh.

You grin enjoying her more blatant flirting “oh yeah? Would I be sleeping on the couch or…”

She starts to pull you up “yeah ain’t no way.”

You follow fast and the second she closes her bedroom door she pins you against the wall.

“Mmmm I’ve been wanting to kiss you all fucking night” she grins looking at your lips.

“Well do it.” You challenge.

Your lips collides, starting gentle and then soon becomes more passionate. You gently bite her lip testing the waters and when you hear her respond with a soft moan and continue.

A flurry of discarded clothes, pillows flying, and moans later.

You stare up at the ceiling like you saw God. You swear you can still feel her hands over your body, her tattooed hands..everywhere.

“Holy shit.” You utter

She just gently kisses your temple.

She gets up.

shit. You were just a hookup.

You at least thought she was gonna say something.

You gingerly grab your clothes and put them back on and head for the door.

“You trying to bolt baby?” She emerges from the bathroom with a washcloth and water.

“Wh-what oh I well okay I didn’t wanna like intrude you know cause you went to the bathroom.” You explain awkwardly.

She laughs “Honey…we just had sex …you ain’t intruding..”

“Well I mean I thought you left.”

“I’m just getting you stuff lay down I said you’re spending the night. You’re spending the night. I don’t just want a hookup from you.”

You blush and sit down back on the bed. Julien gently massages your shoulders and then cleans up your thighs.

Soon you’re fast asleep on her chest. She gently strokes your hair and gives your cheek a kiss.