#but who will scare the crows away?

[bandtrees]

“Never, ever, ever look at my brother again.”

CH4 OF CROWFIC IS HERE!!!! GAZE UPON IT WITH YOUR EYES.

[rin-hanarin]

So Lucanis is in his 30s and is permanently tired, understandable. I'm gonna torture him with a silly little guy with manic energy, what could possibly go wrong.

[necronatural]

@bandtrees @sammisafetypin crowfic

[mobofficial]

how i look manifesting fics where mogami is included that actually consider mogami as a character with depth not just to be used as a narrative device to add grimdark elements for fun who has solid reasons for the things he does that, if you squint hard enough, may even be considered the threadbare amount of reasonable despite his extremist actions . like thats part of the mogami horror i think . that if you follow his reasoning for long enough you could possibly even rationalize the reasons for the things hes doing. and maybe even think huh this character might benefit from learning this lessons. and then get socked in the chest when mogami carries out his silly little plots to a horrific degree. bonus points if it starts slightly Wrong before mogami kicks it up a notch . love when characters are morally complex

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

Ngl, if Tiana doesn't wield a firearm in some way in her new series, I'm gonna be so disappointed. Firearms were already very legal and commonly used in the States by the mid-late 1920s (which is when TPATF mostly takes place), so I'd like to see her sport it at least once. She'd be the first Disney Princess to canonically wield a gun/firearm. They seriously need to make that happen. Also, why doesn't fanart of her wielding a firearm exist????

[the-kings-of-games]

Okay, so I hc that being a humanities major, Jack loves movies, and most of all, he loves horror movies. Sure, they're scary, but really he's there for the production value, the storyline, the characters, the technique, etc., etc. That being said, Crow and Yūsei are huge scaredy cats when it comes to horror movies. When they agreed to movie nights, they didn't think that they'd have to watch all these horror flicks because of Jack, but they never skip, trying to be supportive and prove they're not actually scared.

With that in mind, what if Jack got a horror flick buddy, and it's Akiza? xD She's at Poppo Time past dinnertime for tutoring from Yūsei, and Crow's just got back from dropping the twins back home. That's when Jack makes his move.

Jack: It's movie night, and it's my turn to pick. Put away the books and get on the couch.

Crow: [sweating] Ne, Jack, we invited Akiza to stay tonight. A horror movie might be too much. [Forced laughter]

Yūsei: [stiff]

Jack: Hmm, is someone a little scared? [Smirks] But if you want to be so courteous . . . Akiza, how are you about horror movies?

Akiza: I . . .

Crow: [frantic] You can be completely honest. Jack will understand if it isn't your thing. Maybe you like romantic dramas, like Pride and Prejudice!

Jack: No, you like romantic dramas.

Yūsei: o_o;

Akiza: I . . . I love horror movies. ✨_✨

Yūsei: [hides face in hands]

Crow: [swallows audibly] Y-You do?

Jack: ✨_✨

Jack: She'll make a great addition tonight. Second question: How do you feel about zombies?

Akiza: Jack, that is my favorite monster.

Jack: [rubs hands together] Spec-ta-cu-lar.

They watch something like Kingdom: Ashina of the North or Train to Busan or something that night. Jack and Akiza are enjoying themselves—Crow and Yūsei are trying to hide behind Jack, jolting at every scream and jump scare. xD (Jack's holding onto them.

[kingkatsuki]

— my protector

Tengen needs your help in trying to locate his wives on a mission, and Sanemi is furious.

Get me a man who’s only soft for us, stat😫😭

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, reader is a fellow hashira, jealous Sanemi (for literally no reason), possessiveness, rough sex, slight degradation, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 4.2k.

All Sanemi could see was red, fiery red as he roamed the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, ignoring the pain in his right arm from the wound Aoi had just patched up moments earlier.

“Shinobu will kill you if she finds you drawing your sword in here!” Aoi called after him, but Sanemi could care less as his eyes sought out the Sound Pillar.

He had just returned from a three-week-long mission to find out that Uzui had enlisted you for help on one of his missions. Practically offering you up as bait to try and find his wives who had gone missing, like that was even your problem. And Sanemi knew you were always so eager and willing to help, it was something he loved and loathed about you at the same time.

The rage continued building inside him as he pulled open another sliding door aggressively, the wood gliding back from the force as he skimmed another empty room before continuing further through the mansion.

“Listen to me, Shinazugawa.” Aoi huffed, followed after him as one of the only people inside the mansion who weren’t scared of the white-haired man, “I told you Shinobu won’t be pleased to find out you’re breaking all her doors.”

“Fuck her,” Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Where’s Uzui?”

“If you would’ve actually stopped for five minutes to let me explain, instead of being such a jerk,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “He left with her a few hours ago. Said it couldn’t wait much longer, that his wives may be in danger—”

“How the fuck is that her problem?” Sanemi growled, “So he isn't here?”

“No, but I would advise you don't follow him. Your wounds—” Sanemi ignored Aoi, already halfway down the hall as he marched towards the entrance, determined to find you on his own. It was when he stepped into the courtyard that he saw Uzui coming in by the front gate with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, my crow told me you were back!” Uzui made to step towards him to finish the conversation, but Sanemi’s sword was already drawn as he stepped towards the larger man, “Perfect timing, my friend!”

“You fucking left her there?” Sanemi barked, “Why are you back here?”

“I came to get you at the request of your lady love,” Uzui grinned as Sanemi curled his lip in irritation at the pet name, “She made me promise to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission because she wouldn’t be around. And I thought you'd prefer a personal greeting.”

“Why the fuck are you sending her on your missions anyway,” Sanemi continued, ignoring Uzui's grin, “And leaving her there!”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” Uzui shrugged, standing in place even as Sanemi stepped towards him.

“That’s already twelve hours too damn long, you prick.” Sanemi drew his sword as he made to lunge towards his fellow hashira.

“She’s probably safer there than she’d ever be out in the field,” Uzui dodged a blow with the hilt of his sword, the guard barely protecting his hands as he used his body weight to push the Wind Pillar back.

“Probably?” Sanemi roared, “She’s probably got sick fucks like you all over her right now.”

“Oh,” Uzui’s lips curled into a cocky smirk at the admission, standing upright as he pushed some fallen hair away from his eyes, “So that’s it— you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous, you fuckwad.” Sanemi grunted as he attempted another slash towards Uzui, knowing it was serious when the wind user hadn’t even bothered to use his power.

“Sure seems like it,” Uzui scoffed, taking another step back to avoid his attack, “Nothing is stopping you from visiting her, you know. She’s only a few towns across and I'm here to take you right to her.”

“Oh, you’re taking me to her,” Sanemi spat, “Right fucking now.”

“Someone is asking for me?” You raised a brow suspiciously at the implication. Wondering if this meant the demons had realised that you were in fact a slayer intent on taking their head. Your stomach swirled in trepidation as you tried not to show any fear, smiling at the young girl by the door as you bowed your head.

“Yeah, and frankly I’m glad,” She clung to the belt of her kimono, “He looks scary!”

“I definitely don’t want to spend the night with him,” Another girl grimaced, “I don’t think I’d make it out alive.”

You frowned, worried that you wouldn’t have time to access your katana to holster it beneath your kimono. Instead, all you had was the small dagger strapped against your thigh, which you were certain wouldn’t be enough to protect you from the attack of a demon. But at least it was better than nothing, knowing he wouldn’t attack until you were at least secure back inside this room as you bowed your head. Following her down the stairs to the entrance of the establishment, feeling a cool breeze tickle your ankles from the open door and curtain flowing in the wind.

Your heart stilled when you noticed the familiar man standing by the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look his way as you felt your chest swell with familiarity. You hadn’t expected to see him here this night, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be asking after you.

“Is this the girl you were asking after, my Lord?”

“Yes,” He grunted as the Madame motioned him to step forward and follow you back to your room.

You had to stop yourself jumping him in the foyer, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders.

Feeling the heat practically radiating from his body as you slid open the sliding door to your room, stepping to the side to allow Sanemi to follow before sliding it shut. And in an instant, his rough hands were grabbing hold of the fat at your hips to pull your body against his, your lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

Your hands reached up to thread through his messy hair as the scent of the woods mixed with his natural sweat invaded your senses. He clearly hadn’t bothered to bathe when he returned from his mission, far more concerned with finding you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spoke against your lips when you finally pulled away for air, still holding onto you as your nails dragged against his scalp, “I had to come home to find out you’re helping Uzui?”

“Tengen needed my help,” You murmured, and Sanemi’s nose scrunched in irritation at the use of the Sound Pillars' first name.

“Tengen,” He mocked the pitch of your voice, “Has three fucking wives that can help him, I only have one.”

“Technically,” You parroted his tone, giving him a cocky smirk as you felt his fingers press into the skin at your hips, “I’m not even your wife.”

“You’re as good as,” Sanemi scoffed as he stole another kiss, “And Uzui would do well to remember it.”

“His wives are missing,” You mumbled sadly.

“So does that mean he’s looking for a fourth?” Sanemi frowned at you as you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at his jealousy.

“No,” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “He hasn’t heard from them for a few days, the letters have stopped coming— and he thinks something bad may have happened to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sanemi couldn’t lie that it had hurt to find out from someone else that you wouldn’t be there upon his return, whether it was jealousy or the fear of losing you he was unsure. But either way, it left him with that familiar sense of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach and threatened to boil over.

“I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much time,” You did wish you’d sent your crow to warn him, but Uzui had promised you that he would let Sanemi know. Especially since you were doing this for the sake of his wives, “He needed my help, so I offered.”

“You’re far too nice.” Sanemi shook his head, using his grip on your hips to pull you into another sultry kiss.

“I thought that’s why you loved me.” You teased.

“No,” Sanemi scoffed, “I love you for your perfect ass,” He spanked your cheek for emphasis, “Everything else is either a bonus or a crux on my life.”

“You pig.” You scrunched your nose as Sanemi couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Sanemi’s eyes softened as he reached up to cup your face in a calloused palm. His thumb stroking gentle circles against your cheek as you leaned into his touch, “But you really should stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I’m a hashira,” You replied simply, “It’s what we do to protect others.”

“Protecting others doesn’t mean becoming a whore.” He spat, although you knew there was no malice there. The harsh tone covered up the fear and dread he felt in your gut at the prospect of something happening to you.

“And yet here you are, at the whorehouse requesting me by name.” You smiled back, relishing in the pink hue that dusted his pale cheeks.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” His tone sobered, resting his forehead against your own as he stared down into your eyes, “What a pitiful existence it would be.”

“You won’t lose me, Sanemi.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull his body against you, feeling his semi-hard cock press against your hip. The time without you made even more conspicuous when he's now surrounded by the comforting scent of you again.

“Did anyone touch you?” He immediately pulled back, concern evident in his features as he looked you over.

“No, I’ve been fine,” You shook your head, “They’ve mainly had me sitting down for tea with travellers passing through.”

“Good,” He pressed a kiss against your forehead in relief as he exhaled softly, “You have no idea how much I missed you, sweet girl.”

He peppered kisses along the curve of your jaw as you tilted your head back to give him more room. Your hands smoothed along his collarbones before dipping lower to trace patterns against the marred skin that scarred his chest, pressing your fingers into the ridges as you felt the tacky sweat clinging to his skin.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered gently as his teeth found your pulse point, biting down on the sensitive skin as his tongue lashed against it.

Sanemi bullied his muscular thigh between your parted legs to keep you steady against the wall as he shamelessly fiddled with the belt of your kimono. Letting the fabric fall open as he drank in the sight of your bare skin beneath, his firm hands immediately paw at your bare sides. Noticing the small dagger that you had holstered against one of your thighs as he ran his fingers over the handle of it in satisfaction.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, “Not planning to use that on me are you?”

He teased, pushing it back into the holster as he moved his hands back up the curve of your hips towards your chest. Truth be told, he was relieved that you had some form of protection in here. Especially when there was the chance that a demon was responsible for the spate of missing persons in the area.

“It depends if you’re nice to me or not,” You mused.

“I’m always nice.” The words coming from Sanemi’s lips alone were enough to have a melodic laugh rumbling in your chest, as for most, Sanemi and nice were complete contradictions.

“Liar,” Throwing your head back in a pretty laugh that had Sanemi’s heart rattling against his rib cage.

“I mean, I’m always nice to you, aren’t I?” Sanemi’s thumbs stroked the underside of your breasts as he delighted in the way your body responded to him, curving your back towards him as your bare cunt pressed against the flat of his thigh.

“We shouldn’t,” You murmured, “Not here—”

“Let me have this, sweetheart,” He hummed, leaning down to capture one of your pebbled nipples between his lips as he sucked hard, “I am a paying customer, after all.”

In fact, he was going to get that money from Uzui for his pure subordination.

“Why pay for something you can get for free at home?” You teased as he afforded your other breast the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as you let out another airy moan.

“My girl wasn’t there when I arrived home, and I had heard the girls here were beautiful,” He played along, “Apparently there’s one with the best fuckin’ pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” You gasped as you felt his fingers press against the indents of your thighs, dangerously close to your labia as you bucked against his leg. Giving your clit some slight relief as Sanemi continued forward, his thumb brushing through the wet slick that coated your folds as it drooled out of your neglected hole.

“Yeah,” He repeated, pulling away from your breast with a pop as he found your clit. Pressing sloppy circles against it with the calloused pad of his thumb as he watched you shamelessly grind yourself into his touch, “Apparently she’s already fucked into the shape of another guy though.”

“Must be a lucky guy,” Your eyes rolled back, knocking your head against the wall when you felt two of his thick digits slip inside your tight hole with ease. Scissoring them to loosen you up as he pulled back to watch you inquisitively through half-lidded eyes.

“The fuckin’ luckiest.” Sanemi grinned as he felt your walls throb around his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars as he began to focus each roll of his wrist against it.

His name continued to spill from your lips as he kept his movements poised and focused, his rough thumb kneading circles against your clit as he worked you towards your release. No one knew your body better than he did, and he knew after being pent up for so long how little effort it would take to have you dangling on the edge of your release.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” You moaned, already feeling yourself dangerously close to falling, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.” He spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his blase tone immediately had your cunt clenching around him as you swan dived directly into your bliss. The pleasure surged through your body hard and fast as you came undone, his darkened eyes focused on your movements a he kept his fingers pressed against that same velvety spot. Following the wave of your hips as you rode out your release, unrelenting against the sensitive area as he already had you hurtling towards a second.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. Your pliant walls throbbed around his slick digits as you wished for something more, something bigger.

“‘Nemi, fuck me please.” You whined pitifully.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” He teased, but he pulled his fingers away from your sopping heat, lifting them up to the light to spread them as you noticed the silvery webs of your release clinging to them as he pushed them between your lips to taste yourself.

You tried to speak, but the pads of his fingers against your tongue muffled the words as you cleaned them off. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled them out of your mouth, dragging your glossy bottom lip down in the process as both hands immediately reached for his belt.

“When we get home I am fucking you like you deserve.” Sanemi spoke coolly, “Not some quick fuck in a whorehouse.”

“I deserve everything you give me, 'Nemi.” You smile up at him lazily before watching him tug his pants down, revealing his fat cock to your prying gaze.

You immediately reached for it, and he let you. Hissing when your smaller palm wrapped around the girth of him, giving him a teasing jerk that had his nostrils flaring and his jaw locking. Your thumb swipes over the swollen tip to gather the pearl of pre before smoothing it down his length, delighting in the choked grunt that rumbled at the back of his throat.

“Is that so?” He continued, “So bending you over the moment I get you home will be deserved,” His voice darkened, his own palm joining yours against his length as he tightened your grip on his cock, holding your hand steady as he fucked himself into your fist, “You tease.”

“Fuck,” Your cunt throbbed around nothing at his suggestion, as you instinctively spread your legs further apart, “Please, 'Nemi.”

Sanemi curled a palm beneath your thigh to hoist it up against his hip, spreading you open for him as you guided the leaky tip of his cock between you. Stroking it against your drenched folds as you coated him with your essence, moaning when the swollen tip nudged your puffy clit. Feeling yourself growing more impatient as Sanemi pulled his hips back to tease you, pushing your hand away from his cock as he wrapped himself in a fist. Pressing the head against your tight entrance as he felt your hole tremble against him, trying desperately to coax him in as he indulged himself with your reaction.

“‘Nemi, don’t be an asshole,” You pouted as you tried to can’t your hips forward, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he was quick to move his hips back. More than content with teasing you, despite being in such an open, compromising place.

“If I were an asshole I’d leave you unsatisfied like this to search for the demon myself,” He goaded, pressing his hips forward once more.

“Sanemi,” You whined in irritation, “Don’t tease me, please, it’s been too long.”

He didn’t give you a moment to think before he was bullying his cock inside your tight cunt. Your inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth as he moulded you to the shape of him once more, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The sensation stole the air from your lungs as you could do little but cling to his broad shoulders as he afforded you a moment to adjust to his size, dragging himself from your velvety walls before canting his hips forward again. Setting a languid motion as he slowly rolled his hips against you.

“Sanemi,” You sighed in satisfaction as you felt whole once more. Too many lonely nights were spent dreaming of this as you felt him finally bottom out, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your clit as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“We’re in a whorehouse,” He mused, still sluggishly rolling his hips into you, “It only seems right that I treat you like one.”

Your cunt clenched around his cock hard at the notion, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sanemi who grinned in satisfaction. His fingers tighten their grip around your thigh as he takes this as his answer.

Sanemi is brutal as he fucks into you, not sparing you a moment's peace as he uses you for his own gratification. The sound of skin against skin echos the small room as his balls slap against the curve of your ass with each forward cant of his hips. The ferocity of his thrusts has your breasts bouncing and your thighs crying out for some relief as you struggle to stand upright, thankful that Sanemi’s strong body has you pinned against the wall as he fucks into you.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, nails digging into his skin as he maintains his pace. His other hand squeezes at the fat of your ass as he angles his hips, the curve of his cock drags against the spot inside you that he knows will have you seeing stars as the blunt tip kneads your cervix.

“Look at me.” Sanemi growls, his warm breath fanning your face as he keeps a consistent pace.

Your eyes meet his and you’re certain you’ll cum under the intensity of his gaze alone, your cunt clenches in retaliation as he continues to thrust into your sopping hole. Each sultry moan he pulls from deep in your chest has him rolling his hips with more vigour, eager to have you repeat them as he works you towards your climax.

It’s pitiful really, how easily he has you submitting to him as you already feel the telltale signs of your climax ebbing in your pelvis. The pressure builds up as it nears breaking point as Sanemi pushes into you with more ferocity, using your body for his own means as he works himself to his own release.

“I’m going to leave you pumped full of my seed,” He growls against your cheek, his chest heaving as he feels his balls begin to tighten, “Leave it drooling down your thighs when I’m finished with you. So that everyone knows who you belong to—”

You knew this was a direct attack on Uzui, and the fact that he’d handpicked you for his assistance on this mission. Even though there was nothing in it beyond securing the safety of his wives, it had Sanemi oozing with jealousy and he was intent on reminding the Sound Pillar that you were not his plaything.

“Do you also need a reminder of who you belong to, sweetheart?” Sanemi spoke lowly as he fucked into your pliant walls, slipping a hand between your connected bodies to press sloppy circles to your clit.

“No, ‘Nemi—” That familiar sensation throbbed between your thighs as you teetered on the cusp of your climax.

“No? Then who do you belong to?”

“You, ‘Nemi. You—” You choked out, leaving messy red lines against his chest now as he pressed harder against your clit.

“Louder.”

“You, ‘Nemi! It’s always been you!” You cry out, certain that the rest of the floor could hear you as you began to gush around his cock. Your hips bucked wildly as he pinned you in place, keeping his thumb firm against your clit as he watched you ride out your climax. Indulging in the debauched noises that escaped from between your pretty, bruised lips.

“Good girl,” He snarled before moving his hand from your clit to resume a damn near savage pace. Rutting hips against your own messily, working himself towards his own end as he felt the way your walls continued clenching around him in the aftershocks of your climax, “Such a good girl for me.”

He arched his back so he could look down at where your bodies were connected, watching the way his thick cock disappeared inside your velvety walls. And the creamy ring of slick that you’d left around the base of him, the silvery lines matting into his pubes as he felt his balls begin to seize. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last much longer before giving a few more sloppy thrusts and emptying his balls into your warm, wet cunt.

Sanemi stayed buried inside you, feeling the last spurts of his orgasm surge through him as he coated your walls in thick, white spunk. Cherishing the final few flutters of your walls around him as you both came down from your highs, peppering kisses against your face as you placed a palm against his chest to feel his racing heart, the dull thump of it soothing you as you felt your thick lashes begin to flutter.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart.” Sanemi rasped, starting to pull himself out of your spent cunt as you whined in objection. Trying to tighten your thigh around him to keep his hips in position as he grinned down at you; pressing an apologetic kiss to the side of your lips before looking down to see the mess of your combined release stringing against his length as the silvery lines split apart, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta.”

You knew he had to go, Uzui was probably still waiting for him on a rooftop somewhere. Hopeful that you’d have some news to share with Sanemi about the whereabouts of his wives, but you felt the regret begin to pool in the pit of your stomach as reality settled back in.

“If you want to leave with me, I’ll take you right now,” He said as though it was the most simple thing in the world, “But if you want to stay in I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t have to tell him your answer, he already knew. Placing a final, lingering kiss on your lips as he held you in his arms, “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m around.”

[teletubbyinlipstick]

More Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader pleaaasseeeee? 🥹

(ps, love your writing!)

OwlHybrid!Poly TF141 X Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. You're all so sweet for the support! I'm negl. I didn't expect people to read it, haha. I'm so shocked by the love.

Thankyou @bina-passion-fruit for the morning after idea! See her reblog of the first part for the gist. And please feel free to send in scenarios you could see these birbs end up in!

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The next day IS tense. The atmosphere has never been this suffocating.

Not in their own home.

Gaz sits curled up in Johnny's frame at the breakfast nook, head resting on the older mans shoulder, a deep frown setting into his face. His eyes are crusted a little, nose still deep red and cheeks puffy. He looks thoroughly exhausted, like he hasn't slept.

They all do.

Johnny has a cuppa sitting untouched. It's luke warm by now, but he can't bring himself to drink it. Face mirroring Gaz's, glaring down at the coffee like it has personally offended him. Every couple minutes, he huffs deeply, eyes darting away from the cup to glance around as if in thought, but he inevitably ends up gazing lost into his cup again.

Price and Simon are at the stove and counter. Quietly discussing things that need to be done for the day. There's lulls of silence in their convos, moments where their minds wander to the dove sleeping down the hall. Price feels guilt eating him alive. He's hunched a bit, chin tucked down in a clear sign of forlorn. Simon continues to run a hand up his spine soothingly, pressing closer to offer as much comfort as he can. But he can't deny the stabs of agony he, himself, feels.

It's raw. It sucks.

And Simon feels so fucking lost in this moment. He wants to gather all his mates in his arms (even you) and shush, coo, and coddle until there's nothing but purrs, chirps, and preened content lovers piled into a nest. He wants to scent you and rub you in their things to let you know you're safe and cared for now. He sees the trauma, the fear when Johnny reached for you. The self soothing you do by rubbing your arms.

He sees you. And in doing so, he sees himself. A scared fledgling unsure of the world, burned and bitten, spat upon by those who swore to love them.

Someone hurt you.

Tore at your feathers until you were too scared to take flight. And if Ghost ever gets a name he'd tear the motherfuckers wings from their spine.

The pitter patter of footsteps approaching the kitchen lifted them from their haze, four pairs of eyes snapping to you as you sleepily shuffled in. You wore a simple oversized t shirt and sweatpants to bed, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes and cheeks red and puffy from sleep. They can see the tear streaks dried from last night and it breaks their heart all over again.

Price makes the first move, taking a small step towards you with a plate held out. Buttered toast, sizzling eggs, and red srawberries sit on top.

"G'mornin' sweetheart, hope you slept well. 'Ve cooked some breakfast. There's coffee in the pot. Help yourself." Soft eyes gaze down at you. He's hunched inwards a little, head tilted down and the sweetest smile gracing his face. You feel very flustered, keenly aware of the 3 other sets of eyes intently watching.

Taking a deep breath, you offer a half smile, grasping the plate with slightly shaky hands.

"Uhm..t-thankyou, sir"

"John."

Wide doe eyes peer up at him, shock clear on your face. He feels his lips quirk at the sight.

"My mates call me John. Not sir. We're equal here, okay? You call me by my name." When his hand reaches out, you don't swat it away this time, only watching in marvel as he tucks hair behind your ears, crows feet aligning his kind eyes.

Taking a shaky breath, a soft, geniune smile spreads across your face, eyes darting to your feet and back up as you turn to the table. Johnny and Gaz are staring right at you, wings perked up. Gaz is quickest to his feet, pulling out a chair, a handsome grin settling on face. Pretty boy, you muse to yourself. Sitting down with a grateful smile and a hushed thankyou.

A hand reaches past your shoulder, jarring and unexpected. You whip your head up to see Simon offering a placate smile down at you, other palm face up to soothe. You tilt your head owlishly, blinking at him. It causes the older mans lips to quirk up on one side, brown eyes softening as he gazes down at you. He nods his head towards the table, and upon looking back to your plate, you realize he sat down a fork...oh.

Tears welled in your eyes, and a sniffle broke through. Simon's eyes widened a fraction, quickly backing away with both his hands raised, palm up.

"'M sorry luvie, didn't mean t'startle you."

It was sincere, filled with guilt. A small sob breaks past your lips. Johnny whines high in his throat, reaching out for your hand across the table, only to stop short, unsure if you'd appreciate the contact. His lips are once again pulled down, eyes saddened.

"Bonnie?..." Murmured so quietly into the air, the boys hold their breath, pulling their wings in to appear smaller. You wipe at your face again, sniffling, eyes glossy and cheeks rosy. And when you finally lifted your head, the last thing they expected was to see the brightest grin painted across your face, pure happiness shining, tear streaks lined with joy.

"No one's ever been so kind to me...thankyou. All of you."

Oh, dove, you haven't seen anything yet.

[misaamoure]

You were driving him fucking crazy.

Surely he wasn’t that intimidating… right?

For the first time in his life, Sylus was jealous.

The man who had it all, could have it all, and could have anyone he wanted was jealous beyond reproach.

He wanted you so fucking bad. But it seemed like you were pulling farther and farther away from him every day.

Seemed as though you much preferred Luke and Kieran too.

He would invite you over to bond over the aether cores a bit more, and you’d spend 90% of your time fucking around with the twins.

Sylus could hear your laughter all the way from his office.

Through the emotions of jealousy, he also felt a tinge of sadness. Did you truly detest him that much?

Were you scared of him? Did you have someone else?

You two had resonated before. Surely that meant something. Anything.

He was beyond frustrated. Sad. And insecure. All things he’s never felt before.

And from your perspective, it looked like he didn’t give a fuck about you.

Sylus would invite you over, let you in, and disappear into his office.

He was such a damn workaholic.

You were apparently supposed to be “spending time” together and he’s cooped up in his office plotting on next mans downfall.

You just didn’t get him. At all.

The times you two did spend together were extremely fun. And fulfilling.

And you had grown to really like him. And develop a particular attraction to him.

But the worst part about everything was that you weren’t sure how Sylus felt about you at all.

It was so painstaking, and he was so intimidating.

He had invited you over again, which you had opened the message, read it, and ignored it.

You were so sick of the emotional turmoil brought about by your possible one sided crush.

All you wanted to do was stay home and rot in bed with all your plushies.

You’d deal with all the rest another day, you figured.

“Is this girlhood?” You thought to yourself as you ran your hands across the soft material of grumpy crow’s faux feathers.

You stood like this for another thirty minutes before you heard a knock at your door.

Groaning, you get up. Taking the time to put your glasses back on to answer, you conclude that today was really not your day.

Swinging your door open with all the vigor and confidence in the world, looking at what or better yet who was behind the door made your blood run cold.

It was Sylus.

And he looked pissed.

This did nothing but fuel your own rage. What did he have to be mad about? He was the one pushing you away!

After staring at each other sideways for a good minute, you finally decided to break the silence.

“The fuck do you want?”

Sylus’s lip twitched a little at your curse at him.

“Drop the attitude, kitten,” He stared down at you sternly. “You know why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Answer my question.” You took a step closer to him, seething.

“Answer mine first.” He decided to match your energy, also taking a step closer.

“That’s childish of you,” You laughed dryly. “Not that I don’t expect it.”

Oh, you were testing him.

Sylus closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair, and counted to ten in his head.

“What’s your problem, Y/N?”

You flinched at his use of your name, but nonetheless never wavered.

He rarely ever actually called you by your name.

But you were done being intimidated by him.

“No, Sylus what’s your problem? Why do you keep inviting me over just to waste my time and hole yourself up in your office? You think I enjoy just being an afterthought to you?” Tears had begun to well up in your eyes out of anger.

This had taken Sylus aback. He always expected you to follow him to his office. He didn’t expect you to just stay in the lobby and do fuck all.

He sighed, which you took as him becoming annoyed with you.

“It’s not that I hole myself up,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Obviously you’re supposed to come with me. You’d rather just spend all your time fucking around with those two.”

You take your hand and angrily plant your hand on his chest, giving him a good shove.

“Fuck you!”

He caught your wrist, quickly taking a look around your surroundings and making sure nobody was watching you two.

All of your previous convo had been taking place right at your front door.

Opening your door further, Sylus dragged you into your apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

“What’re you-”

You could barely get the words out before Sylus’s fist slammed into the wall next to your head, effectively pinning you against it.

“Sylus-”

“You’re so fucking aggravating, you know that?” Now he was the one seething. “You got so butthurt over a misunderstanding and instead of just talking to me, you decided to throw a hissy fit instead. How fitting.”

It was only so angry someone could make you. It seemed as though Sylus danced on his own special nerve of yours, though.

“Hissy fit? I’m not the one getting jealous of my own damn henchmen!” You poked your sharp nail into his chest with every word. “I only hung with them because you were too scatterbrained to ask me to follow you to your stupid ass office!”

Sylus grabbed the hand that you were poking at him with and pinned it to the wall above your head.

“You’re such a needy kitten,” He got even closer than he already was. “Sometimes I wonder why I even like you.”

“You fucking- wait.” You’d stopped dead in your tracks.

Sylus furrowed his brows and looked at you completely confused. “What?”

“You like me??” You said, also completely confused.

“Christ to god you’re so dumb.” He shook his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not at all.”

“What?” His confusion turned into disbelief. “What else do you think I bought you all that stuff for?”

“I don’t know! To like,” You looked away from him, embarrassed. “Get on my good side so we can resonate or whatever.”

Silence.

Silence filled the room.

He looked down at you in silence for a good minute.

You looked down at the floor in silence for a good minute.

You two both stood like this before you heard his deep chuckle.

“Are you… laughing?!”

This only made him laugh harder.

“Just answer me this one time, it’s a yes or no question, sweetie,” He let go of your hand and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Do you like me too?”

You blushed hard at his hand placement. You didn’t think things would take such harsh turns today.

Pushing up your glasses, you finally mustered up all your courage and looking him right in his eyes.

He has that stupid ass smirk on his face, like always.

“Yes. I do.”

Sylus wasted no time pulling you into a deep kiss.

The suddenness and intensity of the kiss made you moan, which he immediately took as an opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss even further.

He was running his hands all over your body, it was as if his touch was setting you on fire.

Breaking away from him to catch your breath, you both made eye contact once again.

“Sylus…” You moaned his name, pulling him down once again into another kiss.

“Wait,” He smiled against your lips, turning you around so you were bent over with the support of your palms on the wall, and positioned himself right behind you. “Like this?”

“Oh…!” You arched your back, chills running down your spine as you felt his hard cock pressing right against your ass.

It was so tantalizing… feeling just how much he wanted you.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?”

You nodded vigorously.

You felt a harsh smack come down on your right ass cheek, making you jump.

“I want to hear you say it.”

It was like the words were caught in your throat. Everything was so stimulating… it was like you couldn’t think straight.

“Actually,” He rubbed his hand over the area he smacked to soothe it. “I’ve teased you enough already. I’ll give you what you want.”

You were initially confused by this statement, but his next actions cleared things up for you rather quickly.

Kneeling behind you, Sylus made quick work of tugging your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.

“Sylus!” You looked back at him with your jaw dropped. “You could at least warn me next time.”

“I prefer to take the initiative.”

He wasted no time getting to work.

Running his tongue up and down your slit to lubricate you, he ran his hands up and down your thighs.

Sylus has barely done anything to you yet and already you were a moaning dripping mess.

He felt his cock throb painfully at the noises you were making.

“Where do you want me to touch?” You felt his lips move against your skin as he talked, making you shudder.

Mustering up all the composure you had left, you found the strength to answer him.

“My clit.” You said quietly and rather bashfully.

You heard his deep, satisfied chuckle once again before feeling one of his long fingers finally dip into you as he laid a gentle kiss on your clit.

“That’s my girl.”

(requested by @athelonewolfuniverse)

[slater-baby]

Hi slater I saw that you do requests now and I can’t stop thinking about this prompt so I RAN to your ask box

Imagine if Simon had like a girlfriend or wife that he hid from the 141 bc he’s scared to put her in danger but then he accidentally ends up mentioning her anyway? Imagine how cute their reaction would be :(((((

Anyway I love Texas Red rn literally what I sleep eat and breathe <3 hope you’re doing well lovely

- 🐙 anon

Im gonna call u Octo Anon cause somehow that goes well in my mind lol hope you enjoy the story!! Tags: drinking, recreational drug use (weed), drunken confessions, banter, newlyweds, pure tooth-rotting fluff, whipped!Simon

-

Six months. 

It had been six painfully long months since they’d been sent on this blasted deployment. A deployment which, to no short degree, went off the rails the minute they hopped off the transport. They’d been stuck in the ass end of the Mexican jungle, working a joint operation to see a few two-bit traffickers into their maximum security cells in the United States. 

Thinking back on it now, it was far from the most dangerous operation they’d ever been sent on, but if the misadventures they’d had had been any less hilarious, he might have been inclined to say the short deployment would live on in his nightmares. 

First, a private had accidentally locked the keys to one of their armored trucks inside the car. Price had been livid, shouting loud enough that the enemy might as well have had their direct position on UAV. Needless to say, it took three hours, two crow bars, and five men over 220 to crack the doors in time to make it back for evening mess. 

Then, Soap’s detonators had fizzled out halfway through an infiltration.

-

“Fuck do you mean they’re blitzed?!” Simon had yelled through the heavy gunfire, ducking behind a tree trunk when a bullet came whizzing by his face.

“Means the cap’s fucked,” Soap had yelled back, crouching in a pile of wires that were all too complicated for Simon to understand.

“Get it fuckin’ fixed, will ya?! I got thirty men out here, and I’m not burying ‘em until we’re back at base—”

“Have some patience, LT—”

“Patience?!” Simon had growled, pinning Johnny with a pointed stare, “Another word, MacTavish, and send you out there myself.”

“Just—” Soap grunted, stripping another wire, “Got my wires crossed or something—”

A blaze had consumed the battlefield, a shockwave big enough to make Simon stumble on his feet rocking the earth. A tense quiet had ensued, punctuated by falling tree limbs. The gun shots had halted immediately. Panting, he’d looked down at Soap’s confused face.

“Oh…” the sergeant had chuckled, holding up the detonator for Simon to look at, “Guess it was the yellow wire then.”

-

And even after all that, there were no shortage of stupid mistakes on base that had nearly cost him his sanity. A few privates suspiciously AWOL (who’d eventually been found blind drunk at a tequila bar after a five alarm fire and an intense search of the entire base). An air raid siren that malfunctioned the minute the lot of them were finally down to sleep. And to cap it all off, a session with a group of green recruits who wanted to observe a few SAS soldiers in their prime. One thing led to another, and when an errant misfire at the gun range nearly landed in Simon’s foot, he would have swum all the way back to England just to get a night of peace and quiet in his own damn house.

However, all’s well that end’s well, he supposes. No use in complaining about it now—especially when the mission had bore such impressive fruits. In the end, all three of the targets they’d been searching for had gone away in cuffs, and to top it all off, the leader of the cartel in question was coincidentally at the meeting they’d raided just hours ago—an absolute miracle by all counts.

Another success. Another name crossed off the Most Wanted List. And another long night of celebration before they headed back to Europe. All things considered, it couldn’t have ended better. 

Though, that isn’t to say they were any more professional than they’d been when they’d gotten here.

-

“Soap,” he’d groaned, deadpan.

“C’mon, Ghost, lighten up,” Johnny had drawled, sticking the smoke between his teeth.

“What the hell is that?” He’d pointed to the smoke in question.

“Nothin’, LT. Just…” he’d shrugged, lighting up, “…not baccy.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon remarked, pinching his nose bridge, “Y’know, Price’ll have you by the balls if he sees you smoking that.”

“Not if I offer him a hit first,” Soap answered, blowing a ring of smoke, “Old bastard’s got back pain, y’know…”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Simon had shaken his head, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Beyond the fence of the base, he’d seen the chirping night bugs, glowing fireflies illuminating the woods just on the other end. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen another cloud of smoke waft throughout the air. His fingers had tapped against his bicep. His profuse scowl fell with a single twitch of his lip.

“Fine,” he’d relented (all too excitedly), “Give it—before I decide to write you up myself.”

-

Needless to say, one hit turned into a second…turned into this.

“No—no, that’s against the rules,” Kyle wheezed, bent halfway over in his chair while Soap sat on his knees in the chair across the table, squinting aggressively down at the cups of beer on Kyle’s end.

“It’s fuckin’ not, ye git, now yer just being dramatic—” he wobbled on his knees, barely able to catch himself on the edge of the table before he fell off the chair.

“Hate it break it to you, lads,” Price smirked, feet kicked up against the table while he sipped on a finger of whiskey, “But beer pong ain’t exactly meant to be played sitting down…don’t even know what rules you’re yapping about…”

“Shut up, Price,” both of them had drunkenly snapped, and Price acquiesced with two raised hands.

Somehow, the night had come to this. The four of them in the basement of the watchman’s tower, surrounded in all the army fanfare one could expect. Open bottles of Jack Daniels. Old posters of bikini models on the concrete walls. Metal music blaring through a tinny bluetooth speaker. 

Soap had bought too much weed for his own good. Which—when combined with a near lethal dose of liquor—had all of them blazed off of their faces. Captain, included. At least, if they got written up, their leading officer’s signature could bail them out. Not like the MP wouldn’t keep their mouths shut for a few hits, anyway.

Now, Kyle and Johnny were an hour into a game of beer pong, adding a new rule seemingly every second just to keep things interesting. First, you had to drink two cups for every point the other person scored. Then, you had to balance a shot of tequila on your shoulder when you threw. And now, you had to be sitting in a chair that was at least a foot away from the edge of the table when it was your turn.

The two of them were so smashed this round alone had taken them forty five minutes at least. And—judging by the way Soap was wobbling on his knees—it would be another forty five minutes at the very least.

“Just fucking throw already,” Kyle giggled.

“Shut up, Gaz, m’allowed to take my time—”

With a look of sloshed concentration, Soap inelegantly chucks the ping pong ball across the table, arm wound up like a baseball pitcher just to get it in the cup without a bounce. It smacks Kyle in the chest, knocking over a cup of beer, and before he can even curse, the wheels of the chair slide out from under him, and Johnny lands face first on the concrete floor.

The sound of it is so loud it rings around the walls. The laughter that ensues is so raucous the boys on watch duty upstairs are no doubt getting an earful.

“Fuck—” Gaz wheezes, clutching his stomach.

Simon manages to stifle a laugh with another sip of beer. But when Price suddenly jerks forward, a spray of whiskey leaving his mouth, Simon can’t contain his own laughter for even a second longer. His chuckles are deep and hoarse, a sound that was so scarcely heard Soap stops his whining just to straighten up in awe.

But, hell, even if the three of them are staring at him like he’s grown a second head, Simon can’t stop it. No, he laughs until he’s nearly blue in the face, coughing around the remnants of the beer in his mouth.

“Damn,” Kyle peers curiously over at him, drunken gaze so amusing it only makes him laugh harder, “Looks like you broke him…”

“Not broken,” he manages brokenly, clearing his throat to try and appear a bit more sober, but he’s far too sloshed to hide the way that he smiles, “Y’just look like an idiot is all.”

“M’not an idjit—”

“Just proves his point,” Price chips in.

“Whatever,” Soap sighs, standing up and dusting him off, “You bastards’re no fun anyway…”

For a second, the conversation drops out and only the music on the speaker can be heard. Idly, Simon looks down at his watch, however, with that simple movement, his head spins viciously, and he takes a deep breath just to steady himself. 

“Anybody got a pack o’ menthols?” Kyle suddenly chimes in, “Already smoked through mine…”

Simon hums, propping his hip up to reach into his jeans pocket to rifle around, “Think I got another pack…”

“Which brand?”

“Newport.”

“Braw,” Soap reaches over the table, “You lads want another round?”

-

“I miss Nando’s,” Gaz sighs, lazily fiddling with the beer bottle in his lap.

“Fuck, that sounds good,” Soap hazily leans onto his shoulder, eyes closed, like if he thought hard enough, he might be able to conjure the taste of it on his tongue. Truthfully, Johnny was a bit too drunk to conjure up anything beyond the taste of Don Julio, but even that seemed a little far fetched at the moment. 

They’d been doing this for a while now, going back and forth with all the things they wanted after deployment ended. It was a mindless game, one they probably wouldn’t even remember in the morning. Hell, even Simon was getting loose in the lips, droning on and on about some magical dish he’d been aching for. Honestly, it was so surprising to see him open up that the three of them were all but speechless to reply, listening intently as he stumbled through an incoherent explanation. Hell, at this point, they’d listen to him talk nonsense so long as his coworkers got a glimpse into the mysterious life he lived when he was off base.

Over the years, the most he’d talked about was the gym that he frequented, and which groceries he bought for dinner. In all honesty, it was hard to imagine Ghost outside of those two particular scenarios. Ghost, lifting weights for hours on end, some acrid black metal blaring in his headphones. Ghost, puttering through the grocery store with a surgical mask on, trolley chock full of sad TV dinners and beer cans. To Johnny, it seemed like Simon only came out of his shell on base, amongst his friends. But as a civillian…

Yeah, Johnny can practically imagine him sitting in his darkened flat, scarfing down protein bars and counting down the days until they were back on the job.

Coworker gossip aside, all the food talk was making Johnny’s stomach rumble, and the fact that they’d be back in the UK just past one in the morning was not helping the vicious craving he had for Peri Peri chicken.

“I miss sausage rolls,” he slurs. God, when had Kyle’s shoulder gotten so comfortable? Somewhere between pint three and four?

“Jaffa cakes,” Price offers.

“Fuck,” Kyle groans, head thrown back against the sofa cushions.

Simon mumbles something underneath his breath. It’s slurred and nearly incoherent. Johnny peaks open a single eye to look over at where he sits in his stool, leant up against the wall because he was too drunk to sit up straight anymore. Idly, he laughs. God, if only the guys on the other side could see him now: the infamous Ghost, blackout drunk next to some faded Playboy poster.

Fuck.

Soap has half a mind to take a picture of it if only so that he could tease Simon about it when they were nursing hangovers on the plane tomorrow morning.

However, Simon doesn’t make to speak up again, and the rest of them don’t comment. Instead, they continue sipping on their final drinks, all of them watching with rapt attention as the ceiling fan makes another circle.

“Miss my couch,” Price suddenly chimes.

Another few seconds. Another few circles.

“I miss steak pie,” he suddenly finds himself drawling eyes unwittingly closed, “The one my ma used to make…”

“Chicken dippers—the kind you put in the oven…” Gaz responds, “And fresh chips.”

“Chicken noodle soup,” Price hums, “Mum used to make the best…”

Just imagining the taste, Johnny could burst into tears. God, it’s been a long six months, eating nothing but mess hall mashed potatoes and MREs. He’s just about to chime in when Simon’s arm shifts against the wall and he manages a slurred sentence.

“Pasta and shrimp,” he says, voice unfocused like the reply was completely unconscious, “With…white wine and butter…”

At that, Soap furrows his brows—even with his eyes still closed. Simon drank white wine? Simon  “Ghost” Riley, the man who wore a literal human skull on his face and had a tattoo of an AK-47 on his forearm, drank white wine and ate shrimp pasta when he was off duty?

Hm.

Never guess a book by its cover, he supposes.

Another silence ensues, one that’s punctuated with the somber, quiet atmosphere of the early morning and months without comfort. Now that the beer has dried up, and the battery on the speaker had died, there was nothing left except for a quiet yearning for a place that wasn’t here. A place that was faraway and over seas, full of life and love, as well as all the people who were waiting for them to come back.

“I miss doing the laundry,” Price says, voice…unreadable.

“Miss going grocery shopping,” Gaz huffs quietly.

“I miss…” Johnny beings, nearly falling asleep, “I miss going home.”

With that, it all drops dead. There’s no more fanfare, no more celebration. Not for what they’d achieved or what they’d done. There was only reality, cold and hard, weighing on their shoulders like a barbell. 

That is, until Simon makes a long sigh, clumsily leaning his elbows on his knees. He swipes over his face, tired and smashed.

“Fuck,” he says, “I miss my wife.”

At that, three pairs of eyes shoot open all at once. Suddenly, sleep seems like a faraway dream. And even if his head spins, Johnny straightens up in his chair.

“What?” Kyle asks, voice so sharp Soap would have thought he was sober.

“Miss my wife,” Simon drawls, taking a breath, “It’s been…six months.”

“But…” Soap furrows his brows, sending Price a questioning look from across the room. Even the Captain seems puzzled, sending Johnny an eager nod in approval.

“But…you have a wife?” Soap manages, wiping his eyes to see Simon’s exposed smile even a little bit clearer.

“‘Course I fuckin’ do,” he answers, nearly falling off of his stool when he straightens back up, “She’s waitin’ for me back home. Doesn’t know I’ll be back tomorrow…”

“But you have a wife?!” Kyle edges, leaning forward on his elbows like this was astonishing news. And Johnny does, too, because of course it fucking was. His lieutenant? Married? Had hell frozen over?

“What?” Simon glances around the room, lips pulled into a clumsy scowl, as if the answer were obvious, “Price has a wife. S’not all that weird…”

“Had,” Price corrects, taking another gulp of beer, “Divorced last year.”

“Whatever,” Simon flippantly waves his hand, leaning back into the wall like he could pass out at a moments’ notice, “Fuck the lot of you. My wife is...Fuck, I miss her.”

“No—didn’t mean it like that, it’s just…” Kyle swallows, trying valiantly to wrack his brain for any singular instance where Simon could have mentioned a girlfriend, “Never heard how the two of you met.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Guess I just forgot,” Gaz lies through his teeth.

“Mm…” Simon swipes his palm over his stubble, head lolling, “Met her a couple years ago. She lived across the hall. Y’know, neighbors ’n all that shite…”

As Simon readies himself to speak another word, Price leans forward, too, the three of them watching with equal amounts of bewilderment as Simon explains his supposed “wife.” If he was being truthful, Johnny still didn’t believe it. To have a pretty little thing waiting for him at home, cooking him dinners with white wine and grilled shrimp…sue him if it all feels like a grand lie. Another joke Simon would play on them.

“She brought me biscuits when she moved in,” Simon huffs, eyebrows raised like he was imagining the taste of it himself, “God, they were so good…I miss that. Her biscuits. She makes ‘em so good. Cherry pie, too…She makes ‘em on movie night. Whole batches of ‘em. She doesn’t even complain when I eat ‘em all. She just makes more. Fuck, she’s too sweet…”

Simon rubs his fingers over his eyes, mouth closing—like he didn’t have an entire audience captivated with his drunken slurs. 

“And…?” Gaz prompts, practically unblinking.

“Well…I mean, when I opened the door I hated it,” he snorts, unconsciously smiling, “‘Cause I don’t want some neighbour makin’ a racket when I get home from work, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Totally.”

“Completely understandable.”

“But then…” Simon rubs over his lips, eyes hazy, “Had to return the container. ’N so I went over one night, and she was makin’ dinner. Said she didn’t have any friends in the city, and…I felt bad so I ate with her.”

Kyle scrunches his face, sending Soap a questioning look. He leans over to Johnny’s ear, letting out a conspicuous whisper.

“Some romance this is,” he jokes, chortling.

Soap’s inclined to agree. The most romance he could imagine for his lieutenant would be a hookup in the bar bathroom, nothing more. Home made cookies and white wine dinners with the girl next door seems like a pipe dream…

“So you got with her cause she cooks well?” Price asks, smirking.

“What?” Simon’s lips curl into a snarl, and he glares in Price’s direction, “What makes you think that?”

“Nothin’ just…” Price quirks his head, smirk widening into a smile.

“No,” Simon growls, passionate but much too inebriated to make it eloquent. Price chuckles, raising his hands in faux surrender, “S’not that, she’s just…she’s so good to me.”

“So, then,” Kyle stifles a laugh, “You got with her because—”

“Don’t talk about m’wife like that,” He warns, rolling his eyes, “She’s too sweet for that. Didn’t let me kiss her until the third date…”

“So you dated her?” Soap asks in awe, “Like, for how long?”

“For…” Simon concentrates, taking in a low inhale, “Until December…Before we came out here.”

At that, the three of them send each other confused looks, brows scrunched.

“So she was dating you until you came out here?” Kyle pushes, “I thought you said that she was your wife…”

“She is,” he hums dreamily, a small smile overcoming his scarred lips, “Went to the courthouse ’n everything. Gave her my last name. She said she didn’t wanna let me go until I made her mine…’n so I did. Don’t tell her, but I like it like that. Her havin’ my name. It sounds prettier with mine right next to hers.”

“Yeah?” Price chuckles, hiding behind his bottle, “’N what’s her name?”

Simon lolls his head to look at Price, clumsily readjusting himself in his seat. He crosses his arms over his chest, trying and failing to look as intimidating as he is when he’s sober.

“Not telling you,” he sighs, “You lot would just fuck with her…”

“No, I swear we won’t,” Johnny scoots up in his seat, “Just…c’mon, Ghost, what is it?”

Simon’s eyes are pensive as he looks down at Soap, worrying his cheek. That is, until he opens his mouth.

“Definitely not tellin’ you, MacTavish,” he grunts, “Don’t want some git like you hittin’ on my wife…”

Soap’s face falls, unduly offended. Price and Kyle, however, only laugh just that much harder, practically spitting up liquor with every noise. Johnny, however, can only cross his arms in anger. 

“Whatever, s’not like the lass even exists anyway,” Soap rolls his eyes, gesturing towards Simon’s inebriated state, “What’s next, Simon? Gonna say she goes to another school or some shite?”

“Just ‘cause I got a pretty thing at home doesn’t mean you have to be jealous, Johnny,” he defends himself, “Just upset that I got a girl who loves me ’n you don’t…”

“M’not jealous—”

“No, no, Johnny’s right, Simon,” Price interjects, shoving Johnny back with a hand against his chest, “it’s just…no offense, but you haven’t talked about her…well, uh—not that much, anyway. And her being your wife…I mean, I don’t quite believe it.”

“What, gonna ask me for pictures or something?” Simon screws his face up in disgust, “Yeah, right…Try ’n cop a look and I’ll lay you flat.”

Before Johnny can ask for said pictures (let alone what kind of photos Simon had of his supposed “wife���) John nails him with a look, zipping his mouth shut.

“No, not that just…” Price shrugs, gesturing towards Simon’s phone on the table, “Call her or something. Tell her you’re coming home tomorrow. Sure she’d love to hear from you.”

“No, not right now,” Simon groans, resting his arms on the table, “Fuck…she gets mad when m’drunk. Doesn’t want me out late. She gets scared when she’s at home alone, wants me there to keep her safe. She needs me at home, y’know…She doesn’t sleep well when she has the bed to herself. Can’t be sloshed like this…”

“Well,” John smiles, “All the more reason to tell her you’re coming home tomorrow, yeah? It’ll be fine, just…call her.”

Simon seems to debate it for a moment, wavering in his spot on the stool. Meanwhile, Price, John, and Johnny all watch with rapt attention, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Simon reaches to tap at his phone screen, navigating through the apps on pure muscle memory, they’re on the edge of his seat. But when he taps a contact, the ambient sounds of a tone ringing, they’re nearly vibrating—that is, until the ringing halts with a spur of static.

“Hello?” A female voice answers.

Instantly, all three of them go from lounging in their chairs to leaning over the table in utter disbelief, staring down at the screen with unblinking eyes.

“Hey, love,” Simon calls, the word slipping out of his mouth like it was second nature.

“Simon?” You ask, “Is that you?”

Your voice peaks around his name, some ambient shuffling in the background as you no doubt stood up from wherever you’d been sitting before—delighted to hear from him.

“Yeah, it’s me, love.”

“Hey,” you say in response, an awed giggle exiting your mouth, “I—I thought that I wouldn’t hear from you for another week…”

“No, just…finished the mission early. Cuffed the bastards like…five hours ago. It’s just me ’n the boys now.”

“Really?” You exclaim, a broad smile in your voice, “You’re not lying?”

“No, love, I was jus’ calling ‘cause I wanted to tell you I’ll be home tomorrow.”

Simon’s voice is softer around the words, kinder. Almost like he thought the rough baritone of his voice would grate on your ears. Well, that, or he was just too drunk to hide how infatuated he was with you. Hell, the smile on his face—small and imperceptible—was almost so telling Johnny would have thought you were standing right in front of him if he hadn’t heard your voice coming through the speakers.

However, Johnny’s a little too busy to articulate that particular thought right now. No, his jaw was firmly on the table, listening to Simon sweet talk his wife through the phone line.

Simon had a wife.

Simon had a bloody wife and he didn’t fucking tell them.

The mangey bastard, Soap whips his head around to look at Simon, about ready to curse at him before you speak up again. 

“So it all went well? You’re—you’re not hurt are you?”

“No, just tired…” Simon huffs, “Wanna fuckin’ sleep, and…I wanna go to Gregg’s when I get back.”

At that, you can’t contain the flowery laugh you release. It’s so melodic Soap has a hard time connecting Simon’s monologue with the vision of you he’s getting now.

Pretty thing like you showed up at his flat, a box of cookies in hand, with that sweet voice and beautiful laugh and Simon didn’t jump at the chance? Fucking unbelievable.

Though, looking at the man now, Johnny has no doubt that Simon was about ready to get down on his knees and kiss the ground that you walked on. Literally. He seemed about drunk enough to do it, too.

“Simon,” you scoff, “Are you drunk?”

At the dreaded question, Simon sighs all too obviously, closing his eyes, “Yeah.”

You don’t get angry. No, you only giggle to yourself once more, a quiet exasperation in your voice.

“Babe,” you huff, and Soap imagines that you cross your arms, “Y’know, you can have Gregg’s any time you want…Don’t you want a dinner at home before we leave for Italy?”

“Italy?” Kyle raises his eyebrows, whispering.

Johnny does the same. Only, the alcohol catches up to him before he can pretend to be subtle.

“You’re going to Italy right after ye get home?” He asks Simon, nearly yelling.

“Shut up, Soap, m’talking to my girl right now,” Simon grunts, too sloshed to be mad.

“Who was that?” You interject, but before Soap can reach for the phone, Simon clumsily shoves him away.

“No one you should talk to, love,” he shakes his head like you could see it through the phone, “Just…yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, then,” you laugh, “Well, what do you wanna eat? I’ll have it made before you get home.”

Simon considers the question for a few seconds, like it was of monumental importance to him. When he speaks, he speaks precisely…even if it is slurred with alcohol.

“Can you make that—that pasta? Y’know, like, with the shrimp and the wine…”

“You mean white wine pasta?” 

“Yeah, that one…”

“White wine pasta…” Soap furrows his brow, releasing a disbelieving chuckle, “Dinnae know you liked white wine, LT…”

“I don’t…”

“Then why do you want it when—”

“It’s in the pasta,” you laugh, barely able to get through your words without being interrupted, “He doesn’t drink it.”

“Oh,” Soap says stupidly, tempted to introduce himself, if only so that he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself in front of his friend’s wife. But what would he say?

Oh, hello, Mrs. Riley. Sorry, we force fed your husband weed and menthols until he was too high to remember not to tell us about you?

Yeah, he should save the formalities for later.

“Well,” your voice is staticky through the phone, “If that’s it, then I guess that’s fine. You sure you don’t want me to make anything else? It’s been six months."

“I know,” he professes, like it was some grand hurt in his heart, “Fuck…I miss you.”

You only laugh, voice sickly sweet and cloying, “I miss you too, baby. Know when you’ll be home?”

“We’ll be at the airport late…Probably after one.”

“Want me to pick you up?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs, wiping at his face, “Don’t wanna bother with the transport…”

“Got it,” you hum, “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” Simon relents, but before he can forget himself, he suddenly perks up, huddling closer to the speaker, “Hey, love, wait a minute.”

“What?”

“When you drive there, promise me you’ll be careful, yeah? The car’s still…fucked,” he explains simply, almost like he couldn’t come up with a way to describe it when he was so drunk, “Just—check the power steering fluid. Make sure it’s topped off. You’ve been doing it like I showed you?”

“Yeah, but…” you make a small noise, “We’re kinda running out…”

“That’s okay, love. Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “So long as its topped off I’ll know you’re safe. I’ll take care of it when I get home…’n I’m not so tired.”

Once again, you chuckle, “Got it, Simon.”

“See you tomorrow?” He asks.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, baby.”

“Good,” he finishes, letting out a long sigh, “When you get to the airport, wear that white dress. The pretty one, y’know. That way I can pick you out of the crowd.”

“Simon, you don’t have to make an excuse to get me to dress up…”

“Yeah, but…” he smiles down at the phone, looking all too sick and in love, “Want you to look good before we leave for Italy.”

“Don’t worry about that, Simon,” you snort, “I’ll give you a whole tour of all the clothes I bought while you were gone.”

“Can’t wait,” he supplies, eyes closing around the words, “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“I love you,” he says without even thinking, staring down at your screen name with blackened pupils, “Sleep well, love.”

“I’ll sleep better once you’re home,” you tell him emphatically, “I love you, too, baby.”

With that, the line goes dead, and all that remains is Simon’s swaying form and his friends’ locked jaws. The three of them are so stunned they can barely speak, looking back and forth between Simon’s face and his phone like all of this would suddenly start making sense the more they wracked their brains about it.

“M’fucking knackered,” Simon suddenly says, planting his hands on the table top, “Can’t be too tired when I get home tomorrow…”

“Wait—you said you’re gong to Italy when you get back?” Kyle questions, grabbing Simon by the sleeve when he gets up to leave.

“Yeah,” Simon answers—like it was just common sense. Kyle, however, can only roll his eyes.

“Well, what for?”

“Our fuckin’ honeymoon,” Simon shoves Kyle’s hands away, “Just got bloody married and you think I wouldn’t treat my girl right. You lot are fuckin’ twats,” he shakes his head, climbing the stairs before any of them can say another word, “Bloody cavemen. The lot of you.”

They watch, stunned, as Simon scales the stairs, clinging to the hand rail like he’d go tumbling down without it. And judging by his clunky steps, he really might. However, when the door up top opens with a squeak and is slammed closed right after, Soap figures he can leave the man to his own devices tonight. Slowly, the three of them exchange looks between each other, all equally puzzled as the next.

“Honeymoon?” Kyle whispers.

“Simon’s a newlywed?” Price hisses.

Above, they hear Simon’s footsteps plod away, getting lighter and lighter as they go. At that, Soap can only laugh disbelievingly, shaking his head.

“Fuck me,” he curses, staring down at the table in awe. He looks at all the empty bottles, at the brimming ash tray.

“You think if he sleeps it off he’ll forget?”

“Better hope so,” Price sneers, standing from his chair, “Otherwise, he might accuse you of hitting on his wife again.”

Soap deadpans once again, glaring at the captain, “I was not—”

“Yeah, tell the newlywed husband that,” the Captain waves over his shoulder, “Who knows, might pummel your face in before you get back to Edinburgh. Sure the cashier at Nando’s would love to see that.”

“Whatever,” Soap rolls his eyes—not for the first time.

Kyle’s hand claps down on his shoulder,  and his friend sends him a widening smile.

“You’re fucked, mate,” he supplies simply.

[bandtrees]

accompanying illustration/screenshot redraw for chapter 2 of my partner @sammisafetypin and i’s “mogami mentors ritsu” au - i think art like this for future chapters would be fun too ^_^

[dcvina-claires]

i think the six of crows fandom has a real problem with acknowledging complexity in the characters which is ironic because it’s literally a book about morally grey characters. like yes kaz is a cold blooded murderer who cares more about money than being a good person but he’s also a dumb teen boy with a crush and a bad haircut. inej is a knife-wielding spy as well as a deeply religious girl who never stopped believing in kindness. jesper is a confident, reckless sharpshooter but he’s also incredibly scared and angry. wylan is an empathetic and kind artist along with being a dangerously intelligent explosives expert. nina is a fun, food-loving girl but she also stands up for the oppressed and struggles to recover from an addiction. matthias is an angry druskelle but he’s also the boy who learned to love grisha unconditionally. even kuwei has more depth than we give him credit for. he’s the flirty troublemaker as well as a grieving kid who’s had too much pressure put on him. they all have nuance, please don’t take that away because it’s such an important theme in the books

[yawnderu]

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

[muwapsturniolo]

𝕭𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖘 🗡 Matt Sturniolo

"You're mine now doll, get to runnin' "

✘ dom matt, mask/face paint kink, knife play, blood, murder, serial killers, pussy slapping, rough sex, exhibitionism. degradation, dacryphilia, fear play, predator x play kink. IF I MISSED ANYTHING, PLZ LET ME KNOW.

ALSO! Although this is not doll!reader and I’m using it as a nickname, I’m still giving credit to my fav rose toy with big tits @bernardsbendystraws

Halloween Horror Nights.

The night where you allow yourself to be chased by fake chainsaws, scared out of your skin, explore haunted houses, and enjoy food.

Y/n however, went for a whole different reason.

It was no secret to the people who knew her that she was a horror fanatic. She watched all the scary movies, often fawning over the masked murders—Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, to be exact. She'd immerse herself, sitting in the dark with a bowl of popcorn on her lap. She'd even take it a step further and leave her front door unlocked, hoping one of her masked lovers would stroll right in.

So here she was, dressed as Alice from 'Alice in Wonderland', wandering around the big amusement park with a certain spark in her eye.

She was having the time of her life - the haunt actors getting in her face and screaming only to be met with a wide smile. They had run up to her multiple times, waving their fake knives, bats, and chainsaws in her face, hoping to scare her. However, she never screamed, she laughed and clenched her thighs, her wetness pooling in the center of her bright blue panties.

She had just finished walking through one of the haunted houses, smiling to herself as she heard the screams of the other house attendees. As she walks out through the exit, the smell of kettle corn and funnel cake hits her immediately.

Her stomach grumbles softly, and she decides it's time for her to eat. As she begins to walk towards the food area, she stops hearing the loudest screams of the night. Just as she turns around, she sees a group of teen girls running from a Haunt actor.

He was tall and lanky, dressed in black suspenders and a white button-up adorned by a tie. His face was covered in white face paint, black triangles painted over his eyes, the black paint also covering his lips - He looked like some rendition of the crow. His hair was slicked back as well, a singular curl falling in his face.

He was beautiful, nothing about him was scary - She was attracted.

Suddenly, his head turns, his eyes landing on her.

She maintains eye contact, not backing down from the impromptu staring contest. She watches as a smirk makes its way across his face, his tongue gliding over his teeth swiftly. She found herself imagining him biting her, his tongue gliding over the indentation on her skin soon after.

She's knocked out of her daydream and staring contest by a few kids bumping into her, running away from what looks like their parents. She huffs and goes to look back at the painted face, only to see he's gone. She was disappointed, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would approach her. She continued on with her task, getting in line to get food before she went on with her night. However, she couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching her.

Throughout the night, she would catch brief glimpses of him, their eyes connecting before he disappeared once more. It seemed like every corner she turned, he was there watching her, stalking her, getting closer and closer each and every single time - She loved it. She dreamed of having her own personal killer dote upon her, and even though he wasn't a real killer, she would settle for it.

Eventually, she had gotten bored of the horror night, having been in the majority of the haunted houses and seeing all of the Haunt actors. She was ready to leave, but before she left, she decided to take a picture.

She holds the phone up, fixing her hair and getting ready to smile when suddenly, the haunt actor who has been watching her this whole night, appears behind her.

He's quick to yank her closer, using her hair as an anchor to pull her back into his chest - his fake knife pressing against her throat.

She freezes, completely caught off guard by his sudden appearance, her thumb hovering over the button to capture the pictures. She feels the ridges of the blade pressing against her throat, the coldness of the metal - She doesn't question it, the only thing her mind can focus on is his warm breath fanning over her ear.

She can't help the excitement building in her core, her wetness forming at an accelerated pace. She clenches her thighs, the nameless haunt actor chuckling darkly by her indiscreet actions.

"Are you scared?" He whispers in her ear, sniffing her neck in the process. She already looked appetizing, but she smelled mouthwatering. The subtle scent of cherries wafting through his nose and making his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy.

"No-"

She wasn't lying, she wasn't scared, she had that anxious excitement building in her stomach. She knew something was going to happen tonight, and she was ready for it.

"Then go on doll, take the picture," he whispers in her ear, a slight chill running up her spine due to his raspy voice. She does as told and takes a picture, a few pictures actually.

"You've been watching me tonight." She says softly as she puts her phone down, the knife still pressed against her throat. He hums in acknowledgment, still holding onto her hair tightly. "And you did nothing to stop it." He removes the knife and turns her around, wrapping a strong hand around her throat, tilting his head to the side as he notices the chaotic gleam in her eye.

He smirks when he recognizes it, "but you liked it, didn't you? You liked the idea of a killer stalking you, hunting you down like prey?" He stares deep into her soul, his eyes never leaving hers. He trails the knife along the front of her costume, stopping right at her heart, never breaking eye contact.

"I love it actually."

His grip on her jaw tightens, his eyes darkening in a sadistic way. He allows his thumb to press against her bottom lip, slowly prodding into her mouth. Her plump and glossed lips wrapped around it, her tongue swirling against it as she kept her eyes locked on his.

He pulls his thumb out of her mouth, his whole body rushing with adrenaline.

His night is taking a turn, the original plan between him and Chris now being tweaked, all because of her. He wasn't mad about it at all, Chris might be, but he would deal with that later.

After all, Chris couldn't stay mad at a girl dressed all pretty for him.

"What's your name?"

"Y/n...What's yours?"

He ignores her question and turns her around, using his knife to point at a specific haunted house she hasn't been in yet.

"Go-" she furrows her brows, not understanding why he would tell her to go into the attraction. Before she could question him, he was gone, leaving nothing but directions and a raging ache between her legs.

She huffs in annoyance, mainly due to his disappearing act but also due to the wetness in between her thighs.

Fixing the hem of her dress, she heads over to the haunted attraction standing in the long line with other people.

Shockingly, it wasn't long before she was next to enter the attraction, showing her ID to security. It was then that she realized this was the scariest haunted house - You have to be 21 to enter due to the extremities.

It was interactive, the actors being able to touch you and terrorize you for however long until you find the exit.

She's soon let in, her legs moving slowly as she takes in the inside of the horror house. It was dark at first, no light in the small entranceway. All she could hear were the screams from the group in front of her and the mechanics of the attraction.

Eventually, she makes it to a long, dimly lit hallway. The lights were flickering and she couldn't tell if it was rigged that way or if they were truly flickering.

She turns the corner and stops - a masked person was hunched over a body, their arm coming down vigorously and violently, blood splatter landing on their white shirt. She assumed it was part of the attraction, not really thinking about it- until she recognized the body on the ground.

It was a girl from earlier, the same girl who ran up to her and complimented her costume.

Everything looked so real - the blood, the knife, even the lifeless look in the girl's eyes as she lay on the floor. Y/n didn’t realize the girl was part of the haunt crew, she wasn’t dressed up in a scary costume - but what does she know?

She hummed to herself and kept walking, not noticing the way the masked actor halted his actions and watched her, tilting their head in wonder as she proceeds without a care in the world.

She walks deeper into the house, laughing in the actors' faces as they attempt to scare her. She even laughed when a girl ran up to her, covered in blood, screaming and crying for her help.

She didn't take her seriously, why would she? It was a haunted house, these are actors.

"Please! Help me out of here, he's going to kill me!"

The emotion in her voice was so raw, it had a true tone of panic

It was so real.

"You actors get better and better every year," Y/n says as she examines the girl's costume. "Costume?! T-this isn't a costume! H-he tried to ki-" The girl stops, her eyes widening in fear as she begins to back away. Y/n rolls her eyes, "Oh, let me guess. There's someone beh-" She stops feeling something looming over her, the energy in the room turning dark as goosebumps rise along her arms.

She turns around, coming face to face with the same painted-faced individual along with the masked figure from before. She looks them up and down, both of them covered in blood. The one in the mask was drenched, the black color of his pants looking even darker with the red liquid seeping into it. He was breathing harshly, his ragged breathing echoing from behind the mask.

The masked figure grabs her, snatching her by her throat and raising his knife. Just as he goes to land his lethal blow, he's stopped by the one covered in face paint.

"She's mine, Let her go."

His voice is stern, leaving no room for debate, but the one in the mask doesn't listen. His grip tightens around her throat, the blue eyes peering down at her hardening. She knew now that this was, in fact, a life or death situation, and she couldn't help but shift slightly, her legs pressing together as she attempted to relieve the ache between her legs.

The one with the painted face smirks, walking behind the masked figure and whispering in his ear. She watches as the blue eyes behind the mask soften, his grip loosening.

He almost looked vulnerable, like he was scared of her.

"She's getting away Chris-" The moment of vulnerability is whisked away, the masked figure now known as Chris whipping his head toward the battered girl rushing off through one of the hallways.

"Go handle her, then come find me."

Chris shoves Y/n into the arms of the painted-face killer, darting down the hallway with a deranged objective. Not even a second later, she's shoved into the wall, her back hitting the plank wood harshly, her purse falling out of her hands. He presses his body against her, inhaling that cherry perfume he finds himself becoming addicted to.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asks, her heart beating wildly. He chuckles and pulls away from her neck, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Kill you? Don't tell me you're scared Dollface."

She shakes her head softly, "I'm not scared, the opposite actually." He hums and looks over her face, trying to see if she is lying. Suddenly, he pushes her off the wall, watching as she stumbles from the unsuspecting push. He uses the tip of his knife to lift her chin,

"You should be."

Her brows furrow, not understanding why she should be scared of him.

"Why should I be? "

"Because you're mine now Doll. Get to runnin'."

Her brows furrow even more, her confusion evident.

"Wha- RUN!"

She can't help but jump at the volume of his voice, her feet moving before she can even register. She takes off running, the beat of her heart ringing in her ears as she looks for a place to hide. He waits a minute or two before stalking down the hallways, whistling as he searches for her.

She finds herself hiding in one of the rooms of the haunted house, shoving herself under the bed, thankful that the prop had a long enough bed skirt. He walked down the hallway she had just run down, stopping in his tracks when he noticed an open door.

He knew this haunted house like the back of his hand - that door was never opened. He walks into the bedroom, letting his knife trail against the wall, an eerie screeching sound being heard.

"I know you're in here Doll-" He smells the air, the strain in his pants growing. "I can smell you, that sweet, sultry cherry perfume-"

She covered her mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear her breathing.

"I can smell the wetness forming between your legs, it's just as sweet as that perfume-" He looks down and notices a bit of her shoe peeking out from under the bed.

He purposely drops the knife, her heart skipping a beat when she hears it collide with the ground.

"- And you know what else I can smell?"

He bends down, reaching for the knife,

"Fear!"

He reaches under the bed and firmly grasps her calve, yanking her from under the bed. She screams loudly as she is dragged from under the bed, her body soon being thrown on top of it. He holds her hands down above her head, using his own body to hold her legs down.

"I thought you weren't scared Dollface?" He taunts, watching as she struggles to get away from him. He grabs the knife and trails it along her thigh, watching as all her movements stop.

The blade trails higher up her thigh, stopping at the hem of the dress from her costume. " You were scared and yet... You found it exciting, thrilling even." He flips her dress up, exposing her saturated panties.

He smiles at the sight, tightening his grip on the handle of the knife, "Look at that, all wet and I haven't even done anything besides scare you. But you know what they say-" He trails the tip of the knife over her clothed core before sliding it under the band.

"Fear is the best foreplay."

The blade swiftly cuts at the band of her underwear, the material falling flat against her body before he yanks it off, throwing it to the side along with the knife.

"Say it, say you like being scared." He urges, his hand getting closer and closer to her core.

"I-I like being scared...I like being hunted by you like a pray, knowing you're lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and take me." His eyes darken at her words, his pupils dilating.

Instead of fingering her like she assumed he would do, he slaps her folds, a yelp of shock falling from her mouth only to be silenced by his lips. Their lips mesh together feverishly, the black and white paint staining her face as he continues his assault on her folds. He pulls away, watching the fat and salty tears roll down her face. He groans lowly, his cock twitching at the sight of her tears. He stops his heinous ministrations and finally looks down at her cunt - He spreads her puffy folds and watches her hole clench around nothing, begging to be filled and stretched out. His eyes dart toward her clit, watching the puffy mound pulsate under his gaze.

His mouth waters, the urge to be suffocated by her plump and plush thighs as he tastes her sweet, delectable juices strong - He'll save that for another time.

She gasps as she's flipped onto her stomach, his hands harshly gripping her waist and hiking her up, surely leaving bruises in the process. He trails his hand over the soft flesh of her ass before allowing his fingers to dip into her cunt. A whimper escapes her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, that pit in her stomach already forming and ready to burst.

The lewd squelching mixed with the screams of terror throughout the haunted house is like music to his ears - He couldn't wait any longer.

He rips his fingers away from her cunt, ignoring her pathetic cries of greediness as he quickly unbuckled his pants. He wastes no time lining himself up with her dripping cunt, slamming into her harshly.

Her back arches upward like a hissing cat, her finger clenching at the sheets as a strangled moan echoes throughout the propped bedroom. He slams her back down into the bed, her joints cracking in the process.

He fit inside her perfectly, her walls taking in his length with a warm and wet welcome.

He's relentless with his actions, his nails digging into the handles of her hips as he forces her to meet his thrusts. She feels as if she can't breathe, her mouth open and eyes rolled back as she gasps for air. Her brain is scrambled, every thought she had now jumbled and incoherent. The only thing she can think about is the immense pleasure she's feeling, all because of this nameless killer.

She fails to notice the multiple goers of the haunted house walking past the open door, watching with wide eyes as they assume the two were just actors acting- Just as she had done.

She also fails to notice the pair of eyes hidden behind a mask watching from the closet, his gaze stuck on her scrunched face.

"Fuck- Look at you, taking a killer's dick like a whore." She moans loudly in response to his degrading words, her whole body shaking with euphoria. Her slick was trailing down her inner thigh, coating his dick and glistening under the yellow lights.

He props his foot on the bed, allowing him to reach even deeper. He hits that spot hidden deep in between her gummy walls - That "Final Girl" scream tumbling from her lips.

Her body lurches forward, attempting to escape his brutal assault on her body.

He growls and grabs a handful of her hair, shoving her face into the mattress. "Stop fucking running and take it! You wanted this, you wanted to be fucked by a killer!"

He feels her walls fluttering around him, sucking him in deeper despite her attempts to get away. He can tell she's close, her muffled sobs and wails only getting louder with each and every thrust.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, but he refused to cum without seeing her face - Much like when he goes in for the kill.

He had to see his victims' faces, the light leaving their eyes doing nothing but bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

He pulls out of her aching cunt and flips her over, giving her no time to adjust before he slips right back in, resuming his relentless pace.

Her arms lay limp by her head, her whole body weak as she takes everything he gives her.

He wraps a single hand around her throat, using his other hand to swirl figure 8's against her clit. Her whole body begins to shake, choked gasps and broken pleas filling the air.

"P-Ple-" He tightens his grip against her throat, her hands flying towards his wrist and clawing at it.

"Go on Doll- Shit- Let go."

Her body thrashes around violently, a horrific scream echoing throughout the haunted house, the guests flinching as they rush through with their friends.

He lets go himself, groaning loudly as he paints her walls, claiming her as his.

He heaves as he pulls out of her, a small 'pop' being heard. He tucks himself back in his pants, sniffling softly as he watches her tremble on the bed.

He gives her a few seconds before he grabs his gloves and knife, "I suggest you make your way out, doll. Don't want you to get caught in the crossfire." She continues to lay on the bed, struggling to even sit up or listen to what he's saying.

He chuckles at her fucked out expression and crawls over her, grasping her jaw gently. Her eyes are glossed over, blown out as she looks up at him.

"Look at you, fucked out and dumb." He grabs her arms and pulls her up, holding her close as her knees buckle. He smirks as he looks down at her, enjoying how spent she looks.

"You're so pretty like this," he caresses her face gently, wiping a mascara streak off her face before pushing her harshly towards the door.

She stumbles, leaning against the wall for support. "Go on Doll, I'll see you soon," She says nothing as she stumbles out of the faux bedroom, a mix of his cum and her juices trailing down her leg.

She doesn't even remember making it out of the haunted house, nor does she remember making it home. All she knows is that she woke up still dressed in her costume, traces of dirt and blood in the satin material.

She went about her day, quietly getting herself together and trying to come to terms with what happened the previous night. She thought it was all a dream, there was no way that actually happened...Right?

With a huff she walks into her living room and collapses onto the couch, her body still feeling sore from the night she was still trying to understand. She sits in the dark, aimlessly flipping through channels on the TV before the news catches her attention.

"- Here, reporting live from the grounds of Halloween horror nights in Los Angeles, California. It has been reported that as the team was cleaning up after their week of festivities to celebrate Halloween, they found more than ten bodies in the main attraction. I've heard from some of the workers that they have counted up to twenty bodies scattered through the biggest haunted house -still counting. They don't have any suspects so far, nor do they have any camera footage."

She fucked a serial killer.

She knows it's horrible, clenching her thighs as that ache returns between her legs. People actually died, and here she was, thinking about the way his rough hands felt on her body, ravishing her.

She shudders softly at the memory, blinking profusely before switching the channel. She turns on an old rerun of some random show, watching it for a short period of time, when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She gets this odd feeling, almost unsettling but comforting at the same time.

It's almost like she's being watched

Her eyes dart around the living room, addressing the space as she tries to figure out the source of this feeling. She comes up empty-handed, but her eyes land on her front door.

She stares at the white door, her eye drifting down towards the unlocked knob, hoping that someone would walk through.

Matt watches as the girl stumbles out of the room, his eyes full of never-ending hunger. He knew after this, she was his. There was no way he was letting her go so easily.

His attention was soon drawn to a small shuffling sound coming from the closet. He smirks and walks over, his footsteps sounding like thunder due to his boots. He opens the closet doors and comes face to face with Chris, his mask still covering his face as he looks down shyly.

Matt says nothing as he looks him up and down, his eyes noticing a small wet spot near the younger boy's crotch. Matt smirks, his voice now taunting,

"You liked watching? You always did."

Chris whimpers softly, craning his neck downward in submission toward his older brother.

Matt chuckles and goes to poke fun at him, but stops when Chris slowly holds up the purse. It was tan and woven to look like a basket, the details intricate.

"What is that?''

Chris haphazardly goes through the small basket-like purse, rummaging for a few seconds before pulling out a wallet. He drops the purse and opens up the wallet, pulling out an ID, and holds it out to Matt. Matt eyes the plastic before snatching it out of his hand and looking down at it.

It was her ID.

He looks back at Chris who is already looking at him with hopeful eyes. Matt harshly pats him on the back, his way of showing thanks and affection.

"Good job...Lets finish up here, and then we'll talk about you having your turn with Dollface."

[polarspaz]

Carrion AU Crow tiddbits

-Tim is always accompanied by a least 3-5 crows whenever he's outside. Even dressed in his civilian clothes, the birds will dutifully follow him and act like little bodyguards, scaring away other birds and bothersome journalists.

-When Tim found out that Crane was afraid of crows, he studied the crafty critters and found a way to use them in his plan to kidnap the man. After working with the birds, Tim found himself endeared to them and decided to train and raise his own flock.

-Tim has an ENORMOUS aviary in the backyard that is hidden by trees and ivy. His flock is very intelligent and their behaviors rub off on the wild crows in the city, making Tim's training even more effective.

-The drug use in Gotham has gone down significantly since Tim started training his crows to gather needles. Many drug addicts who used in public would find themselves surrounded by hundreds of crows, all leering down from the rooftops as they waited for the used needles to drop.

[kunikuyu]

"A reward for someone so good." Hashira Series!

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Gyomei Himejima x Male! Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, NSFW, read as afab reader, size kink, "calm" sex, faint, belly bulge, Himejima has feelings for the reader.

Summary: Pillar training has begun, much to your delight. Of course, as a hard-working and strong person, you can handle any challenge. Even if it's fighting a hashira. And in a way, they all see some value in you, and want to reward you for it.

You decided you would trust Sanemi (in which case, you were too tired to try and cut the ropes). You slept on the floor of that room and were woken up by someone mumbling while untying you.

"Ah, you finally decided to wake up? Lazy bastard." And you just shrug. If Sanemi wasn't going to untie you, you'd probably stay there until you gathered the strength to do it yourself.

Shinazugawa finally lets you go, but you can't walk at the moment. "..." He stares at you, hoping you'll get up soon. "You haven't realized my situation yet, have you?"

"I won't carry you in my arms, don't you dare ask."

....

You didn't even have to ask. He picked you up willingly and covered you with his haori (which only covered the bottom part due to your height). Fortunately, no one saw you in this situation.

Sanemi carries you to the room and offers you new clothes, next to a hot bath since you were covered in blood. He seems to want to apologize for being too rough last night, but he's too proud for that.

This is how he shows that in a way, he cares for you. Genya came to see you after your shower, and he seemed very curious to know why you disappeared last night and are now in Sanemi's room. You just laugh softly.

After some small talk and some things about the upcoming training and about Gyomei, Genya and Sanemi accompany you to the gate. You were already more recovered, and could probably get to Gyomei's training area with ease.

Genya says goodbye to you with a handshake and quickly leaves. Sanemi would finally apologize to you. "... Sorry for yesterday." "It's okay. Just make sure you don't leave me tied up next time." And so, you walked away while following your crow.

"Wait... WILL THERE BE A NEXT TIME?!" The older Shinazugawa screams and tries to reach you, but trips on a rock and ends up falling.

......

You finally arrived at Gyomei's training area. The few people who made it past Sanemi's training looked washed up. Himejima's training was very heavy, just like Genya said.

A hand subtly touches your shoulder, and you immediately recognize who the person is. "Himejima-san!" You smile, and the man almost twice your height smiles back. You weren't exactly short, but Gyomei was almost a tree, he was so tall.

"[Name], long time I haven't seen you. Namu." He says, voice deep as he rubs his hands together. The bulging veins on his arms made you blush softly. Maybe you have a thing for muscular men. And speaking of which, you've done a lot of missions together. It was almost a trio. Genya, Gyomei and you (since Tomioka stayed away from you in the past).

For a few seconds you wondered how Himejima knew it was you. But he's like a bear, his senses are extremely keen. "So, what's the training like?" Even though you already had an idea, you still wanted to be sure of what you were going to face.

"Your training is unique, please follow me. Namu."

.....

You obey the Hashira, and soon, you arrive at his mansion. It was very similar to all the others, except it felt more warm and comfortable. "Please sit."

Gyomei takes you to the farthest corner of the house, and sits in front of you. The difference in size was brutal even when he was sitting down.

He holds your hand gently and sighs, preparing to say something unusual. "Sr. [Name], I would like you to have sex with me. Not only that, but I propose that this be your test of strength." He was so straight to the point that it scared you.

Okay, you knew that was his personality. But it was on a much higher level. Seeing that you didn't answer him, but didn't move away either, he continues what he was saying. "On every mission we've done, I've felt something for you that I never thought I'd feel for a man. You are kind and pure, despite your personality being somewhat eccentric."

You had no words for it. You were normally the one praising people, and now you were being praised in such a kind way. You just squeeze Himejima's hand, as your body moves closer to him.

"...I accept this training, Himejima-san."

.....

He takes off all of his necklaces, and starts to unbuckle his belt. Before he even took off his pants, you noticed that his cock was already hard as a rock.

And when he took off his pants, you almost fainted. Seriously, your blood pressure has really dropped. That thing was huge, probably 44 centimeters. That wasn't even humanly possible! Now you're not sure if you agree with this training.

Himejima senses your concern, and quickly reassures you. "If you can't take it, I won't force you." And you just make a mumble of "ok"

He takes off his pants, and pats his hand gently on his thigh, to signal that he was ready. You quickly take off your pants too, and crawl until you are face to face with that monstrosity. It was quite heavy, and his balls felt swollen, as if it were waiting to release their load.

You try to sit on Gyomei's lap, placing the man's cock in your pussy. But it was almost an impossible task, it was too big. Only the head had entered and you already felt full. He throws his head back and lets out some low, hoarse moans, already feeling pleasure just from having contact with your body.

Little by little, you get used to the new sensation, and Gyomei's cock starts to slide inside you. Soon, (almost) everything was inside you, and you were already sitting on Gyomei's lap. He let out much louder, but still discreet, moans as he hugged your body. Your belly was swollen, and you could be sure that that bulge was the perfect shape of Gyomei's cock.

You massage that bulge and squeeze gently, making you and the other man moan again. He didn't seem to care if you weren't moving, he just wanted contact with you.

But you wanted to move, you wanted to go after your own pleasure. And so, you began to lightly move back and forth, riding the taller man. He starts to sigh deeply and moan some meaningless words, while you bite your mouth to keep from screaming. Every slightest movement you make makes his member hit your sweet spot.

Until he decides to help you with your movements. His hands held your ass, and without any difficulty, he made you move up and down gently on his slippery cock. That was as far as you could go without moaning loudly.

You just put your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming while he fucks you. "H-Himejima...Ah!~" It's all you can say, because you were almost screaming.

And this goes on for a few minutes. He makes calm movements with his body as he reaches the deepest point he could reach. You were already close to passing out, it was too much to handle and every time he hit your sweet spot, you could feel your blood pressure dropping.

"... [Name]-san... I feel like I'm about to..." You widen your eyes, already understanding what he meant. And it only took a few seconds for him to release his load inside you. As soon as his cum hit your deepest point in a warm jet, you passed out.

There was a lot of cum, it was even leaking and causing a bigger swelling in your belly. He notices your body going limp, and pulls you off his dick. He wasn't that experienced in having sex, but he felt like he shouldn't have such extreme concern, just take care of you and your body while you were passed out.

And so he does, giving you a bath, putting on clean clothes and lying next to you in bed, hugging you in a bear hug.

He was really happy with everything that happened. He really likes you, and sex only confirmed his feelings.

Bonus lines!

"I really love you, [Name]-san. We should get married, I want you to be my husband."

"... I see..."