#he always looks so damn concerned lmao

[brendathedoodler]

How is Sky weird? I mean just being Link would make you weird, but Sky specific weirdness?

(Referring to this post)

It really depends on who you ask.

If you ask Four, he’d say that Sky’s facial expressions remind him of one of the stable dogs back home. That is to say, he always either looks like there’s not a single thought in his head or he looks incredibly bewildered and concerned. There is no in between. Internally, Red never shuts up and constantly compares the two, and Four has almost accidentally called him by that dog’s name a few times.

If you ask Time, he’d say that his love of cuccos is very strange (though Time is extremely biased because those feathery demons are the reason he actually needs an eyepatch). He’s also been taking and saving pictographs of weird and wacky places and poses Sky has fallen asleep in.

If you ask Legend, he’d give you a list of reasons he thinks Sky is weird. There’s fact that his sailcloth always smells like perfume that never seems to fade, how he always seems shocked by all this hero nonsense despite going on his own adventures, how he can fall asleep basically anywhere, and how the only dish he’s capable of making is a particular pumpkin soup but somehow nothing else. That’s just the things he’d think of off the top of his head.

If you ask Hyrule, he’d say that Sky’s “commander voice” is weird and honestly kinda spooky! It’s like Sky’s an entirely different person when he’s barking orders on the field. He does really enjoy watching Sky fight though, he’s so elegant and fast!

If you ask Twilight, he’d insist that Sky is the smartest dumb guy he’s ever met. This man looked him in the eye and referred to cauliflower as “ghost broccoli” with all the confidence in the world, but he also has an incredible grasp of physics and has given Wild tips on how to be more aerodynamic when he jumps off mountains.

If you ask Wind, he’d say that the way he makes kissy faces at those “hell birds” (cuccos) both “fucking weird” and “crazier than Loft and Champ combined” (referring to Wild and Four and the shenanigans they get into).

If you ask Warriors, he’d say that he can’t understand how different Sky is on the battlefield versus anywhere else. In battle he’s incredibly fast and keenly aware of everyone and everything in the vicinity. He keeps an eye on all of them while also shredding enemies like he was born to do it (and in a way, he kind of was). But he’s also witnessed Sky walk right into a tree because he was daydreaming, draw his sword on it, and then apologize to it before realizing it’s just a tree, not a person.

If you ask Wild, he’d insist that it’s fucking weird how everyone else considers Sky to be one of the least crazy of the group (which is a fucking lie if he’s ever heard one). He’s watched Sky get into all sorts of chaos and shenanigans just like the rest of them, but somehow his sleepy demeanor and the fact that he isn’t usually the instigator somehow keeps him from getting any blame.

If you ask Sun, she’ll say he has the strangest compliments. “Your hands are very convenient!” he tells her with all the love and adoration in the world. She’s charmed but confused.

If you ask Groose, he’ll just say “his face”. (In reality he finds the weird prophecy and reincarnation bullshit to be his weirdest trait, but he shares that with Sun so it’s not a Sky exclusive weird thing)

[gojorgeous]

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 

 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 

“Yes… Thank you.” 

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 

“Take care.” 

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 

“N-no–” 

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 

“‘M following your scent, baby.” 

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 

“You on birth control, baby?” 

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…” 

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙩3 ♡︎

characters: sub!dragons x dom!gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, dragons have vent that hide their two cocks anatomy, eating out, fingering, handjob, squirting, light mind break, exhibitionism, biting, blood/injury mention

notes: part 1, part 2 is here respectively. genuinely didn’t think this idea would be liked so much it would have two more parts lmao. wasn’t really thinking of writing part 3 since i was all outta thoughts but here we are. dividers from benkeibear

it had been a while since the relationship between you and your beloved dragon had become official. of course, there were bumps along the way and you two still wished to keep your relationship a secret. who knows whatever the hell the court of elders would say or how people would react to you once they find out that it was you who was chosen by the dragon himself specifically to be his mate and not some higher ranking diplomat or a royalty. mainly, it was to keep you safe.

the dragon could give less than two fucks about his title or fame. title be damned, he could care less of society’s judging eyes and open ears on him. he could care less about how the courtiers would argue against his decision. all he cared about was you and he wanted to keep you safe and away from harm. the courtiers included. most specifically the courtiers; he dealt with their shit for long enough on a daily basis, he didn’t wanted them to find out about his most favored treasure and meddle with his personal life.

but mostly, it gets annoying when he wanted to keep his beloved by his side yet his beloved is away on a business trip. a very long one. it has been what? over a month and a week and the poor dragon was desperate to have you by his side again. every moment he catches himself recalling of past moments with you, he finds his tail swishing side to side, a low pleased purr in his throat. or he would recall of moments of comedy; such as when you tripped and fell down the stairs in front of him at your first meeting, how you stuff your face full of your favorite treats like a chipmunk, or when you accidentally drank a cup of hot tea, mistaking it for a cold one and burning your tongue. the dragon finds himself chuckling at that, snorting, turning to his side as he calls out your name to recall said events out loud. only for his wagging tail to droop and a sad whine escape him when he remembered, right; you were away on a business trip and hasn’t returned yet.

his mood was noticed of course. it’s easy to be noticed when all eyes have always been on you since the very beginning of your life. the courtiers asked him of what has been weighing on his mind lately, the soldiers that guard his grand office bowing in respect as their eyes look over him with concern, how the people have already started a rumor amongst themselves.

“the great dragon found a mate they said”, “the great dragon perhaps lost a loved one recently”, “the great dragon’s mood downing reason is his nature. he is a dragon after all, he would surely miss his kin” great dragon this, great dragon that — all he wanted was you. finding himself stuck in the middle, he could barely find the time to even focus on his work. words on the paper in front of him meddled and meshed together into a white and black mess. he could read the words but it wouldn’t register in his brain. instead, what occupied his mind and heart was you with your bright smile that was like the warmth of a sunlight on his skin after a millennia of snowstorm. letting out a sigh for the nth time this past hour, he turns to look at the calendar hung on the wall of his office. a bright red marker circling the 23rd of the next month, making his tail droop as a defeated whine escapes his lips. how could he ever wait patiently for your return?

walking through the long corridors of the grand building where the dragon stays seated for work, you whistle a few tunes as you pass by some of the workers or nod your head in greeting when a guard walks by. the workers of this place knows you by now; or at least have memorized your features. you were a common visitor to the dragon, either called by him or coming by your own accord to tend to some matters. whether it be your lazy work ethnics or the large contracts you’ve struck — no one really knows. no one is yet to suspect that you two are in a relationship. not yet.

knocking on the grand oak doors with dragon symbols carved onto the outside, you push the door open as you saunter inside. the moment the door closes behind you with a soft click! you were nearly tackled over onto the floor as a scaled limb tightly wraps around your thigh. wet kisses trail from your neck down to your collarbone, the tail on your thigh squeezing harshly enough to the point it nearly cuts off your blood flow. laughing, you return the death squeeze, running a hand through his hair as you kiss the base of his horn that had materialized.

“i’ve missed you too, my love” you manage to breathe out, voice nearly a gasp with the way he was about to topple you over with his bigger frame. you could see the shine of his scales on his jaw and chin, the hardened skin having grown vastly in number due to the sudden shift in his mood. and if the room were any but darker, you were sure that his eyes and horns were pulsing a soft glow. just like the thrumming of his heartbeat you could feel over the material of his clothes.

before you could tell him to get off and allow you to breathe, his lips met yours in a manner that was as if he was trying to smash his skull with yours, merging the bones together. he must have been lonely, hands cupping your cheeks tenderly while he desperately kissed your lips over and over as if trying to merge your bodies together. his usually cold veneer be damned, he had missed your scent, your lips, the warmth of your body — you.

the great dragon had missed his beloved mate.

forked tongue licking at your lips, he impatiently pushes the wet muscle inside your mouth. licking at the cavern, messily slurping on your tongue and dismissing your choked noises, your dragon pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, preening his scales with a low whimper. pulling his tongue out, seeing the saliva connecting you together, he lets out a drawn out whine, grinding his crotch against your own.

“missed you… missed your scent and everything… so bad” he mumbles, a low rumble in his chest as he drags you towards his desk by the tail that was hooked around your thigh. you let out a grunt, almost loosing balance but following along. sharpened claws fumble with his belt and pants, eager yet impatient as he leaves a few tears and holes into the material. disregarding his clothes half heartedly, he lays down on the desk, claws grasping at the edge of the wood as he props his legs up, showing you the weeping slit of his vent. he was already so wet and aroused, acting like he was in heat as his tail tugs you closer to himself.

“look at you, my love. we just shared a hug and a kiss and you’re already dripping wet” you tease him, fingers spreading his vent open as usual. like an excited puppy seeking for validation, his two cocks slip out, reaching for your hand.

“mhm. all wet and eager for you, mate♡︎” he nods enthusiastically, claws leaving the desk to spread his cent open further for you to stare at. just seeing him like this, in a compromising manner with slitted pupils blown wide; it was enough to make your mouth salivate. the fuzzy end of his tail tap against your calf, already telling you to hurry up and bury your face into his vent, take his cock into your mouth, any cock, anything — he doesn’t mind it. the poor pent up dragon just wanted your touch, craving for the high that you deliver so expertly, knowing his body better than he does.

“my my, thank you for the meal” you coo, patting the inside of his thigh gently. hooking the beck of your leg into his chair behind you, you pull it close to yourself before plopping down. the soft cushions felt like clouds to your tired body that was cramped into the workers’ ship, inviting you to sit on it and eat out its owner to your heart’s content.

placing tentative kisses to the small bundle like clit on top of his vent, you flatten your tongue, licking a stripe up the soft scales of his vent and the base of his cocks. just a token of affection and he was already squirming in his place, bucking his hips into your mouth. but he needs yo learn patience when it came to you, something you showed with small little licks to the side of his vent, collecting his juices into your tongue and tasting them. he lets out a punched out whine at that, spreading himself open more to try and entice you. he smelled like a freshly brewed maple syrup, tasted like the nectar of the forbidden fruits on your tongue, sounded like your favorite song in loop.

“hurry it uppp—! aaah♡︎ j-just like that... deep♡︎ deeper♡︎ wan’ your tongue deeper inside my vent♡︎!!” a surprised squeal comes from him, legs jerking in place as if wanting to wrap around your head. reaching a hand out, you push two fingers inside his mouth, muffling his noises and making him choke on the digits. the poor thing tries to make a noise of protest, only succeeding in a meager choked moan.

pushing apart his vent open further with your fingers, you push your tongue inside as far as it could reach. not deep inside to reach that soft spot inside his vent, but certainly deep enough to make him gasp around your fingers. you can feel his forked tongue come up, the long limb slithering around your fingers and between them to try and wet them. his attempts sometimes ended up futile, making the dragon choke on the accumulated saliva on his tongue and your fingers. sometimes, he would get a little too excited, his thighs warming your cheeks and ear until you slap them open again.

he tasted delicious, like a fruit mix syrup that was left in the perfect condition for you to feast on. a nectar of both sin and sweetness, coupled with his cute noises that ask you for more like the greedy dragon he was. dragons were naturally possessive, it didn’t surprise you that your sweetheart pulled you in for a quick fuck inside his own office in broad daylight. flattening your tongue, you ease the muscle in and out smoothly on the soft scaled base of his cock inside his hole. slimy liquid drip down your chin, forcing you to slurp some while the ones you couldn’t taste dirty your jaws and the floor.

“ummgh! s-sho guwd… deeper♡︎ wan’ iwt deeepeeerrr♥︎♥︎” he chokes out around your fingers, rocking his hips back and forth to make your tongue thrust inside his vent more forcefully. your poor pent up dragon, so needy to the point he was fucking his dripping folds into your mouth. taking one of his hands that tried to hold his vent open for you, you guide one of his fingers to rest over the small bundle on top of his slit, making him rub the muscle slowly. it acted like a clit, a tiny muscle that came out when he was aroused, sensitive to the touch.

after a few messy flicks to the clit like muscle, without even having you properly touch his angry red cocks, he was spurting cum into his shirt. it will be a mess to wash them out later but right now, all you focused on was the cute flush of his face and the way his pupils dilated into hearts when his eyes met yours. making a show of his debauchery, the dragon pushes your fingers out just enough to make you watch how he drooled around them, long tongue slithering between the two digits. the hand that was over the small clit like muscles stroked his bigger cock a few times, letting the last few drops of his cum spurt into his chest. just like how you guided his hand earlier, he did the same to yours. letting your wet fingers scoop up the mess on his skin and shirt before wiping them clean with his tongue, suckling on the tips of your fingers as if he was suckling on your cock. were your eyes deceiving you or were the corners of his lips turned up into a smug grin?

taking your fingers out of his mouth, making the dragon whine at the loss, you push your saliva coated fingers into his hole. all the earlier smugness of his face disappears in an instant, throwing his head back with a loud wail as his vent clenches around your tongue. claws that were scratching at the wood of his desk weakly paws at your head, fingers fisting at your scalp as he couldn’t decide between fucking into your tongue deep into his vent or the fingers now scissoring his hole open.

“angh—! ah ah guhhn♡︎♡︎ [n-name]! mmng eengh—♥︎ aah... so gooddd♡︎ m-missed you, missed this—♥︎!” the dragon weakly bucks his hips, wiggling in place unable to decide what to do. all he could do was paw at your head or at his shaking legs that were propped up on the desk, mind melting away into a soft mush. there were nothing in his mind, filled with cotton as he could only hyperfixate on the feeling of your fingers and tongue fucking him open like he was a cheap whore in a brothel and not the great dragon inside his own office.

“ummgh!! umgck— kuhng♥︎♥︎!” a sharp wail of his gets muffled as your place your free hand over his mouth, forcing him to stay quiet. in his own greed for pleasure that your provided, he had forgotten where you two were. not like he could care less. he was disgustingly possessive and his tail refused to budge from its place that was snugly wrapped around your middle. the fluffy end consistently patting against your thigh whenever your fingers pushed deeper, curling up to hit his prostate.

it was dizzying; the pleasure, your tongue squeezing into his vent, the way you roughly fucked into his prostate with your fingers as you force him to muffle his noises. if only he could moan and shriek to his heart’s content and not force himself to shut up.

slipping your fingers out of his hole with a lewd shlick! your hand pumps his smaller cock at an agonizingly fast pace. his smaller cock was more sensitive, another new discovery you used to your heart’s content as his legs thrash around, the dragon’s tail squeezing around your middle painfully. bot that you cared, you were just trying to get him to cum again quicker. if you were correct in your assessment, in half an hour, he had a meeting.

unable to help himself, the dragon bites down on your hand, making you grimace as the sharp fangs in his maw pierce through your skin. he could taste your blood as it trickles into his mouth, making him whine in concern for hurting you before his legs jerk violently, wrapping around your head tightly. back arching on the desk so beautifully, screaming into your hand, his smaller cock spurts out more cum than the one before, his slick juices squirting onto the warmth of your tongue from his vent. slurping up as much as you could, you finally ease your tongue out as his cocks go soft in your hand. the small clit like muscles on top of his vent soften back inside as you push his legs open slowly. taking your hand away from his mouth, you couldn’t help the smug grin that crawls onto your face as you see your cute dragon.

pupils blown wide, covering the color of his irises, a small smear of blood on his lips with his cocks wearily slipping back inside his vent. once safely tucked back inside, the glistening folds of his scaled vent flutters, clenching around the phantom feeling of your tongue showed up inside it. pulling over a pack of wet wipes from one of his desk drawers, you place kisses to the pulsing scales on his chin as you wipe him clean to the best of your ability. satisfied with how he finally had you by his side, his tail weakly pats your leg, a pleased rumble of a purr in his throat as his claws hook into your shirt to yank you down onto the desk on top of him. as quickly as you fell, his arms were around you, keeping you caged in his grasp. huffing out an amused laugh, you decide to indulge in his wishes for cuddles.

only until the doors will be knocked of course.

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 (𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐨𝐦. 」 ⋆

feat. — toji fushiguro x f!reader, kid!megumi

word count. — 1.4k

content. — sfw, non-sorcerer au, established relationship (marriage), mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, reader is addressed as ‘mom/mama/mommy,’ toji’s kind of a bad parent but he’s working on it, brief mention of toji smoking (cigarettes), overprotective!toji, very minor suggestive themes (from toji 🙄 he’s a walking cw/tw)

notes. — idk. this has been incessantly on my brain pretty much from the moment i  woke up today, even to the point where i was writing half of this at  the laundromat lmao. mother’s day yesterday had me feeling some type of way, so here have some fun headcanons from a strange eldest daughter!!!! (i might end up doing a set of these for gojo x reader too 🤔)

⋆ 「 — he’s not your biological son, but you’ve been around since you started seeing toji when megumi was still a baby. but now, a few years later, you might as well be his real mother. you certainly act like it and feel like it, so toji gladly initiates the conversation about official adoption. it just makes sense. you eventually explain the situation to megumi as best as you can simply so that he doesn't grow up thinking he was lied to or anything of the sort, but as far as he's concerned, you're his mom whether it's by blood or not.

⋆ 「 — and oh, megumi’s a mama’s boy. i imagine he’s just a little bit of a healthier kid vs. canon given the better family situation, but he’s still always a bit of a grumpy baby, appreciating his autonomy and trying to be as self-sufficient and mature as he can be. but he’ll most certainly run to you when he needs help, is truly hurt, or just needing a bit of comfort. you’ve always treated him so softly and kindly with understanding, so he honestly feels more comfortable coming to you most of the time instead of his dad.

⋆ 「 — he likes the way you organize the bookshelf in his room or fold and sort his clothes in special little ways. he gets upset any time toji tries to put a book back in the wrong place or can’t figure out where his damn socks are. gumi will scowl and say, “that’s not where it goes.” or go deadpan and be like, “mom always keeps the socks in the bottom drawer.” disappointed that his father can’t even remember. toji just grumbles and says, “your mama’s gonna ruin you.”

⋆ 「 — has called you 'mom' basically since he was old enough, but don't let him fool you. megumi will drop the big boy act and come out with 'mama' or 'mommy' when something's wrong or he's really excited. he'll come to you with quiet tears and sniffles, a little ashamed that he's crying, but present to you a scraped elbow, "mama... it hurts." you clean up the scrape and explain to him the little medical details in a somewhat understandable way to help him focus on something besides the pain, and you tell him that it'll be okay, and that it's alright to cry. or on the flip-side, you and toji take him to the zoo, little gumi on his dad's shoulders, and he gasps and points excitedly, "look, mommy! look at the big elephant!" and it feels incredible to see him be so spirited.

⋆ 「 — along the lines of the art from this post and the thought i had about it earlier, just imagine that you're at some event (maybe like a birthday party or something), and toji's been hauling megumi around. they're both so over it at this point and are like 'please get me out of this' so as soon as toji walks past the obnoxious inflatable bouncy house, he smirks and just YEETS that kid inside without a second thought. after regaining his breath, megumi just looks at his father with the most EVIL little scowl as other kids bounce around him with smiles. by the look on that child's face you could've swore that his father had just done him the ultimate betrayal.

so gumi slides out and hurriedly makes his way over to where you're sitting off to the side, quietly climbing into your lap for a little bit of solace. he wiggles in close to your chest and you tuck him under your chin with a ‘come here, sweetpea,’ rocking slowly and humming something soft because he always seems to like it when you do.

toji comes over and you look at him through narrowed eyes. "kids are supposed to like shit like that," he says.

"you know he likes when things are more quiet," you respond, and toji rolls his eyes at how you seemingly spoil your son.

"just thought it might be good for him to try and get along with the other brats." toji tries to cover up the fact that he tossed his kid for the sheer personal enjoyment of it.

you huff in disbelief. "oh, like you get along so well with everyone?"

he scoffs and moves in behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. "i get along with you," he says almost suggestively.

you just keep stroking megumi's hair and give the top of his head a gentle kiss. "yeah, well not today," you say, shooting a smug, resolute smile towards your husband, ultimately taking his son's side.

⋆ 「 — outside of his alone time, megumi would honestly much rather be with you instead of other children. toji thinks it's probably unhealthy and you're inclined to agree, but you also don't want to force megumi into situations that will just make him miserable. so, when appropriate, you don't mind at all pacing around with him in your arms or have him walk next to you (maybe holding your hand if he’s not in a ‘big boy’ mood), teaching him about the things you see in the woods, the park, or even the museum. when toji's not away working, he'll join too because it admittedly makes his heart feel soft to watch you two together. it always has, because you've been doing this with megumi since he was a baby. it never gets old. if it wasn't already so difficult trying to figure out how to do things right by his son, he'd want you to give him even more babies.

⋆ 「 — megumi likes doing things with his dad sometimes too, though. toji tries his best to do it right and watch both his mouth and his temper. you like seeing them getting along, even if it's just quietly watching tv or a movie (probably a cartoon where toji gets kind of into and will ask the occasional question like "why does that one stupid chick keep doing that?" and megumi just shrugs like, "i dunno. she is pretty dumb.") or playing ball outside because gumi's starting to show some athleticism. but you have to remind toji that he can't always be so rough or competitive with games because megumi is literally a child.

⋆ 「 — toji can also be way too overprotective of you two at times. you'll be out and about and he'll just be wearing such an intimidating expression as he walks behind you both, on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause trouble or take the wrong sort of glance at his wife. he'll even snap at people for walking too close or like cutting in line or something petty, and you have to tell him stop acting like an attack dog and looking like the grim reaper because dear god you're literally just having lunch at the park. even at his age, megumi's just eating his ice cream and looking at his dad with his little baby deadpan expression and thinking "this man really needs to take a chill pill." other times he can be more relaxed, however, obviously confident in his ability to protect you. it depends on his mood. but that still doesn’t stop him from being embarrassing and going off on people in public if something happens.

⋆ 「 — you also know all of gumi’s favorite meals and snacks. it’s yet another one of those things where, if his dad does it wrong, megumi expresses a disappointment beyond his years. toji will be making and packing his son’s school lunch just as instructed by the notes you gave him, but it’s by no means as neat and meticulous as when you do it. toji’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with furrowed, concentrating brows, his free hand shakily reaching for a cup of fresh coffee, and megumi’s standing there with his little backpack, criticizing his father the entire time. “mom doesn’t do it like that,” he says.

“well mom ain’t here right now. and it doesn’t matter how the sandwich is cut, is still tastes the damn same.”

gumi doesn’t even physically react, still wearing the same neutral expression, just waiting for his dad to hurry up. “mom says you shouldn’t smoke. and she also says not to use bad words.”

toji scoffs and then smirks. “well mommy uses all sorts of bad words you don’t even know about when her and daddy have play time.”

megumi’s already almost late for school and can barely feel his feet from how tight his dad tied his shoelaces. he also asks you later about “play time,” and you want to absolutely murder your husband over it.

[vivwritesfics]

Oh for Carlos x LeClerc sister, please please say she starts dating another driver with Charles’s blessing as a slap in the face for Varlos being such an ass

lmao okay i got so many requests for this one and i was gonna put them all on the top but there is wayyyyy too many lmao (they're down the bottom)

Part One

Max Verstappen had never seen someone look so downright upset before. He knew her, of course he did (she was Charles's little sister, she had grown up watching him race her brother).

Her being alone was concerning. She was always with Charles or Arthur, never on her own. Max watched for a moment, waited for one of her brothers to come back. But she stayed there on her own, looking like she was going to cry. Max wouldn't have been surprised if she did.

Sucking in a breath, he approached her. She didn't look up as he walked over, not until his fingers touched her shoulder. When her head snapped towards him, Max offered her a soft smile. "Hey," he said, sitting down beside her.

She sniffed, wiped her nose and looked up. "Hey," she mumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Max copied her pose and offered her some of his red bull can. But she shook her head. "No, I get it," he said. "You're a Ferrari girl, can't be fraternising with the enemy."

That pulled a laugh from between her lips. But then her face fell. "I don't think I'm a Ferrari girl anymore," she mumbled, resting her chin on her knee. "Fuck Ferrari. Ferrari and it's drivers."

Max laughed as she said it. He didn't mean to, but he laughed. "That's the spirit," he said and her fist connected with his shoulder.

"Shut up," she mumbled, but it was weak. And something of a smile graced her features.

She hadn't meant to grow close to Max, not in the slightest. But she'd found true friendship in him. True friendship and more.

The first time Max kissed her had been such a surprised. But, the more she thought about it, the less of a surprise it was. Soon it came a surprise to her that it had taken him that long.

He kissed her once, kissed her again, and then took her to his bed. That night. And then the next night. And then the next night. And then he held her hand as he walked her through the paddock, her in one of his hats. There was no doubt who they were to each other from that point on.

Carlos saw it first. His ex lover, the woman he was in love with, walking through the paddocking holding his ex teammates hand. It was a giant slap in the face and it damn near had him choking up.

Max got freedoms Carlos never did with her. He got to kiss her, got to hold her hand, let the world know that he loved her. That was all Carlos had ever wanted. That was what he had never gotten.

[onceuponastory]

go to bed - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky Barnes is a pain in Y/N's ass...until she gets sick. Pairing: Hinted Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Reader being sick and exhausted, and Bucky being annoying. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: This is short (just under 550 words), and complete self gratification because I woke up yesterday full of the cold and I feel pretty crappy. So I need Bucky Barnes in my life rn, lmao.

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Bucky sits on his phone in the Avengers kitchen, mindlessly scrolling through social media. The room is quiet, just how he likes it. That is, however, until Y/N shuffles into the room, a blanket wrapped around her shivering form. She groans as she walks, every part of her body aching. The sooner this damn cold goes away, the better. 

“Woah, you look like shit.” Bucky says, looking up at her from his phone, his blue eyes narrowing. Y/N rolls her eyes. This is the last thing she needs right now - Bucky’s annoying ass making her feel worse. She doesn't know what she did to make Bucky tease her so much, but she definitely isn’t sticking around to find out, or listen to his teasing.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No.” Bucky places his phone in his pocket, walking over to her. He studies her, her croaky voice, her runny nose, the clear lack of sleep, and her pyjamas and slippers. “I mean it. You really look like shit. Are you sick?” “No, I just decided to dress like a-a-achoo!” Y/N sneezes, answering Bucky’s question right away.

“Go to bed.” He orders.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Y/N murmurs. She pours herself a glass of water, sipping it in the hopes it alleviates the pain in her throat. “I have stuff to do, anyway.”

“I’m not asking you. You look exhausted, you need sleep.” He replies, and before Y/N argues back again, she notices a look of genuine concern in his eyes. For once, he’s not being a tough guy… he actually cares about her. And despite how much of a pain in her ass Bucky Barnes is… Y/N is glad to have someone looking out for her right now. “Come on.” Bucky prompts, wrapping an arm around her and leading her towards her bedroom. Whether it’s to protect her or simply hold her aching body up, she isn’t sure. But she does know that being so close to Bucky and feeling the warmth radiating off his body is making her feel a lot better already. “Go back to bed. I’ll tell you what you miss in the meetings.”

“Probably won't be much. Just Tony showing off.” She jokes, and Bucky laughs, a sound which makes her stomach flutter, and her legs turn into jelly. And this time, she’s sure it’s not because she’s sick. It’s because Bucky caring for her, and her being important to him feels…wonderful.

Bucky leads her to her room, helping her into bed and wrapping a blanket around her. “Do you need some more water? Tea? I’ll be right outside if you need me.” He offers, and Y/N chuckles, shaking her head.

“No, I think I’m okay.” She yawns. “I might try to get some sleep.” Bucky smiles, nodding. He turns, heading back to her door. “Bucky, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks. “I thought you didn’t like me.” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Of course I like you.” He whispers, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I’m just an asshole.”

“You are.” She murmurs, her exhaustion catching up to her. Bucky chuckles, looking down at her as she starts to drift off. Once she's asleep, Bucky gazes down at her, smiling softly.

“I like you a lot, actually.” He whispers. “More than you’ll ever know.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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[ivymarquis]

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him. 

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her. 

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[writingmeraki]

men on a mission.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married lmao )

genre : fluff. few rotten tooth worthy fluff.

warnings : kissing and mentions of alcohol/drunkness.

author's note : well. i was inspired by a sort of dream i had abt mingyu and this sprouted out of it lmao. i rlly do hope it makes sense <3 i kinda wanna make this a fic someday but i have too much shit on my hands rn so take this instead :D also unkept, unsaid,ugly emotions other units will be coming soon and maybe something for enha too cause it's been a HOTTT minute ☝️!!

sp. dt to my svt luvr moots 🩷!! @blue-jisungs ; @shuamorollss ; @odxrilove ; @flwoie ; @strxwberry-skiess ; @bambikisss ; @enluv !!!! ( this is my small attempt at showing y'all i am alive and do think of you guys everytime i open this app :( love u all even those who aren't mentioned ! )

word count : 0.9k

small drabble in the same universe ( continuation if you wish ) !!

Mission be darned, you may just get exempted due to murdering your assigned partner.

“Mingyu! Can you please stop drinking!?” 

You were sure your forehead might have become red from the amount of times you've been rubbing it and you can feel the grey hair seeping through.

Glaring at said man as he downed probably the fifth shot of some combo of liquor, you turned your attention to the bartender.

His eyes widened as he gulped in slight fear from the anger radiating in your gaze.

“I told you to stop. No more drinks for him.” 

You said calmly as he quickly nodded his head and went in a rush to clean the already cleaned up counter for the second time, finding it better to be anywhere but near a furious person.

He knew what he was paid was not worth getting into an argument about how customer service is the top thing and all that. 

“Loosen up! Have some fun babyyy!” His words slurred towards the end and you had to stop yourself from grinning at his words. You rolled your eyes at his words before hissing out lowly towards him,

“We are not supposed to have fun, if you remember, we’re here to collect some information!” You were whisper yelling at this point but you doubt anyone would hear you anyways from the loud music playing in the club which was already giving you a headache. 

“ ‘s fine~”

“I’ll get it out some other time, just relax yeah? It’s been a while since we went out.” 

Sighing at his words, you avoided looking at his face. You knew damn well he had that specific look. The look when he really wanted something from you which you weren’t agreeing on. You think it’s his eyes that get to you every damn time. 

Suddenly, he moved from his position and clinged to your arm, almost making you fall off the bar stool as he scooted closer with his, making a screeching sound that would have made you cringe if it weren’t for the fact you were trying not to fall over from the sudden weight added.

“Mingyu!” You yelped as you moved your right arm around him, trying to hold him as support,which was another mission in itself considering how broad his shoulders were. 

His face plopped itself on your shoulder, cheek smothered on it as he spoke, “You’re so warm, always are warm.”

You suppose he was somewhat fulfilling the actual mission you’d come for, which was acting like a couple in love as bait to get some information on a group that was specifically targeting couples for their acts and scams. 

“Uhm, are you alright?” You turned to the concerned bartender, who had immediately turned towards you once again when he heard your shocked yelp from before. 

“If he’s bothering you, I can call security.”

You rolled your eyes, for probably the nth time that night, murmuring under your breath how if he hadn’t given him the shots, he wouldn’t act that way.

“No it’s fine- he gets…clingy when he’s out of it.” 

“Gyu?” The coldness of the ring on your ring finger touched his cheek which made him slightly wake up from almost dozing off as you had turned your attention away from him.

The ring didn’t go unnoticed to the bartender as he nodded at you and went about his business. 

Turns out your mission was already halfway complete because you didn’t really need to fake being a couple, after all being married for six years is probably as real as it could get. 

“You’re so pretty, wanna marry you and just be with you~” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle now, your eyes sparkling underneath the club lights as you rubbed his cheek in adoration.

Well what was the point of trying to accomplish the mission anyways? You knew you would be able to get the information through other ways, so you might as well just 'have fun' as your actual partner ( for life ) said right?

Your anger was considerably simmered since it had occurred to you, it had been an actual while since you went out with him. Even if he was your husband, it was tough to get free time when you were both the best at your agency. 

“Well I think you’ve already accomplished that yeah baby?” You don’t think you’ll ever get over how your stomach feels like butterflies are roaming around when he grins at you the way he is at the moment. 

You’ll definitely never get over how he always and always looks at you like you hung up every star in the universe just for him to gaze at in awe. He looks at you, always did as if you held all the answers to his questions and perhaps in a sense you did. You were his everything, all the answers and all the stars. 

“I love you.” Your cheeks were probably hurting from grinning so much, you could never be angry at him. 

You moved your face a little closer to his, pecking his nose and pulling back,

“I do too. I mean I don’t think I'd have kept up with your annoying ass for the past almost decade if I didn’t.”

Before he could go on a rant about how mean you were being, you moved again, placing your lips on his, effectively shutting him up as his hazy brain tried to comprehend his long time–lifetime– crush kissing him. 

He would never get used to how you would make him feel like he’s a giddy boy in love all over again just from your mere actions. He’s probably been in love a trillion times by now but just with you and only you. 

Mission be darned, if he could have you like this at the end of the day, he doesn’t think he’ll ever regret anything. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

[saddleups]

𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃.

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 3k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . drabble , complete. ARTHUR MORGAN X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . mid/low honor arthur . spanking . p_rn without a plot !

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . .   arthur is gruff and often irritable. despite his tough exterior , it's become a running joke that he'd do anything for you. so one day you decide to reward him.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . one of my fave things to do is intentionally bump into npc's and hear a low honor arthur morgan get all dramatic about it lmao. pretty self indulgent drabble that's much needed considering, ugh, recent world events, smh. let's just relieve some stress with our fave cowboy :')

"Arthur, the damn horse got out again."

"Arthur! Go fetch meat for the stew, or we’ll be eating air tonight."

"Arthur! For heaven's sake, take a bath!"

"Arthur? Are ya even listenin' to me?"

Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.

The sound of his own name twisted through the air like nails on a chalkboard. The way you said it—a sharp, clipped tone that hovered between scolding and command—set his teeth on edge, feeling less like a partner and more like a child caught in mischief. No matter how much it grated on him, he obeyed, if only to spare himself the prolonged nagging… and to give himself a chance for one of his well-timed snarky comebacks.

"Arthur, did you get what I sent you for?" you asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Nope," he deadpanned, but then, almost as an afterthought, pulled the small inkwell from his satchel and placed it in your palm.

"Thank you kindly," you said, though the hint of exasperation bled through.

He cocked a brow, smirking. "The way you say that, darlin', doesn't sound all that kind."

You rolled your eyes, but a faint, grudging smile betrayed you.

It had become a running joke around camp that, grumpy attitude and all, Arthur would go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. You’d often hear, “Hell, that boy’d wrap a lasso 'round the moon and bring it right to ya' if he could!"

No matter how reluctant he might act, he’d always come through—whether it was fetching supplies from town or bringing you something from across camp, you knew you could count on him. His grumbling had become a ritual, the begrudging look only making it clearer: when it came to you, he’d always show up.

Maybe it was time to pay it forward.

Arthur sat on a rock by the lake, hat tipped low, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of the water slapping against the shore. It was a warmer day, the first few buttons of his work shirt came undone, exposing the curly hair underneath.

The murmur of camp life floated faintly from behind him, but he couldn't care less about what they were fussing over now. The weight of responsibility hung around his shoulders like a yoke, dragging him down. Hungry mouths, Dutch's endless plans, your constant badgering—it was all just so damn relentless.

He tried to focus on his journal, but the words blurred on the page, his eyes drifting to the lake’s glassy surface instead. Out here, alone with the quiet, he could almost forget.

“Arthur!”

He groaned, snapping his head around. “Goddamn it! Woman, can’t you see I’m tryin' to relax?”

Ignoring his grouchy tone, you sauntered over, a teasing smile on your lips. “Well, maybe if you didn't run off, I wouldn’t have to come find you,” you replied, slipping in behind him. With a practiced touch, you set your hands on his shoulders, kneading the knots beneath the dusty fabric.

“Poor Arthur Morgan. Carryin' the weight of the world on these big strong shoulders, huh?”

He tensed, half-tempted to shrug you off, but he couldn’t deny that your touch felt good. Still, he wasn't about to let you off easy.

“Seems like 'yer mighty concerned 'bout my shoulders all of a sudden,” he muttered, trying to sound gruff even as his eyes drifted closed.

“Apologizin’ for all that naggin’, are ya?”

You leaned in close to his ear, a playful tone slipping into your voice. “Well, I know you like the attention, Arthur. If I left you alone too long, who knows what trouble you’d get into.”

He snorted. “Trouble? Woman, I can barely take a piss without you findin' some reason to come yellin' after me.” A faint smile tugged at his lips, even as he tried to keep his expression set in a scowl.

“Somebody’s gotta keep you in line,” you said, your fingers pressing firmly against his tense muscles. “Otherwise, you'd be a mess—and you know it.”

After a beat of silence, Arthur let out a reluctant sigh. “Maybe,” he grumbled, “but don’t go thinkin’ I need ya hoverin' over me all the damn time.”

You press into his back harder, attempting to release the tension stored there. "Goodness, Arthur your back is in knots."

"Wouldn't be so damn knotted if I didn't have to hear my name in that god-awful tone of yours every damn day."

"Oh?" you teased, leaning forward to rest your chin lightly on his shoulder. “Maybe you just need to hear it said differently.”

You shifted your hands down his shoulders and towards his chest. Your own pressing firmly against his back, meanwhile your fingers pressing in a slow, suggestive rhythm, just enough to make him squirm.

“Would that help?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched, fighting the twitch of a smile. “You really think that little trick’s gonna work on me?” he said, turning his head just enough to catch your mischievous grin.

Abandoning your previous position, you decide to swing your leg over Arthur and settle your frame onto his lap. "Maybe," you replied, voice dipping lower, your fingers looping around his suspenders, pulling them off his shoulders in one go.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to admit you like the sound of me sayin’ your name at all.”

A reluctant chuckle escaped him, though he tried to bury it. “Keep talkin’ like that and maybe I’ll get used to it.”

You continue to press his shoulders, his arms. Arthur's initial scowl began to soften, lashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes open. You could feel him loosening up, his breathing evening out, and the smallest smile breaking through his mask of irritation.

You leaned forward, letting your fingers trail down his arms. “Guess that wasn’t so bad, huh?” you murmured, voice low and teasing, your lips just grazing the edge of his ear.

His breath hitched imperceptibly. Arthur shot you a sidelong glance, a warning smirk tugging at his mouth. “Watch it. I ain’t exactly a gentleman right now."

“Good thing I don’t need you to be,” you replied, letting your fingers slide down to lace through his, guiding his large hand to rest at your thigh.

Without waiting for another word, you closed the space between you, capturing his lips with a boldness that matched his own rough edges. Arthur’s hands settled firmly around your waist, and his grip tightened, pulling you closer with a possessive intensity.

His mouth was warm and demanding, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment a lot longer than he’d let on.

Your fingers tangled in his collar, pulling him closer to you, and he responded by pressing in even harder, his hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

Arthur's lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss as if he were staking his claim. The lake, the distant murmur of camp, everything around you faded until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped in each other, the simmering heat between you spilling over.

You felt his length twitch against your core, the thought of it makes you moan, "Arthur," it's softer this time. It was that girlishly lewd moan men like Arthur dreamt about.

"I like when you say it like that."

"Do you?"

He kisses you harder, hips buck into your core. You clench his collar.

"Arthur," you whispered in a sultry purr. "You like it when I say your name like this, don't you?"

He growled lowly, a deep sound in his throat that vibrated through your bones. "Damn woman, you know I do. Now stop teasin' and give me more."

You bit your lip, a wicked smile playing on your mouth. Leaning in, you captured his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling gently before whispering, “What if I don’t want to? What if I like having you needing more?”

Arthur’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening almost painfully. “Yer askin’ for trouble, darlin’.”

You arched an eyebrow, hiking up your skirt to bundle at your waist. You met his gaze with a challenging glint. “Is that so? And what are you going to do about it, Arthur Morgan?”

Before you could react, his hand slid up to cup your cheek, forcing you to look into his intense eyes. “This,” he rasped, and with a swift motion, his other hand landed on your ass, giving you a sharp spank that made you gasp into his mouth.

The sting spread quickly, mingling with the heat pooling between your thighs. You whimpered, biting back a moan, but Arthur wasn’t done. He repeated the action, firmer this time, his fingers digging into your flesh as he punished you for your teasing.

“Arthur…” you breathed, your voice shaky with arousal. “More… please…”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I already do so much for you, might as well have you start beggin'" his voice is rough, commanding.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with your desire. But the way his hand lingered on your ass, the way his thumb brushed over the spot he’d just spanked, sent jolts of pleasure through you.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, Arthur… again…”

His intense gaze meets yours, full of desire. He gently lifts your chin and lightly traces the outline of your lower lip with the rough pad of his thumb, savoring the moment. Arthur murmurs, "my beautiful girl, you say my name so sweetly, I just might eat you right up." You’re caught in his trap, surrendering your prideful nature to please him.

With a swift, deliberate movement, he brought his hand down again, a firm smack that echoed in the quiet of the lake. The burn ignited a fire deep within you, and your body instinctively pressed against him, craving more of that delicious friction.

“Is this what you wanted?” he breathed against your lips, his voice low and teasing as he reveled in your reaction. “You ain’t too proud now, are ya?”

The question swirled around you like smoke; the answer lay heavy on your tongue. “No,” you murmured, barely able to muster the words as he continued to trail his fingers along the edges of your bloomers before pushing them up your thighs, the fabric snatching between your wet folds.

Arthur’s gaze flickered with something instinctual, a hunger that painted his features with shadows. “Good,” he murmured. “Now let’s see how far I can push ya.”

With that, he thrust his hips upward, pressing against the solid heat of you. A cry escaped your lips—a mix of pleasure and surprised urgency—as you felt him coaxing every quiver from your body. His hands were everywhere—exploring, claiming—and you responded eagerly to each touch.

“Goddamn,” Arthur muttered, his voice thick with desire as he settled into a rhythm that was both punishing and pleasurable. Each caress ignited flames that licked at your skin, demanding attention and coaxing moans deep from your throat. “Yer a temptress, you know that?”

“Only because you make it so easy,” you replied breathlessly, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, seeking more grip as he pushed you closer to the edge of sanity.

With every thrust, every firm touch, Arthur was unraveling something inside you, a tangled knot of need and yearning that had long gone neglected. Each whisper of his name became a prayer, a plea for him to sustain this blissful torment. The sound of his name on your lips sparked a fire inside of him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He was no longer the troubled man caught up in mischievous acts, but a devoted lover who had complete control over you.

“Can ya’ handle it?” he teased, slipping one hand back to squeeze your thigh possessively while the other found its way under your chin, tilting your gaze upwards. “I ain’t holdin’ back anymore.”

Without waiting for an answer—knowing all too well that any attempt at defiance would only further stoke his desire—he surged forward with reckless abandon. His lips crushed against yours, raw and insistent as that spark ignited into an inferno between you.

You could barely think as he plundered your mouth and coaxed every ounce of passion from you. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, and for a moment, time seemed suspended in the heated silence between heartbeats.

Arthur's hand shot down, fingers digging into the delicate fabric of your bloomers. With a savage tug, he ripped the seams, causing you to gasp and shriek his name in surprise. The sound was abrupt and high-pitched, a sharp contrast to the low, rumbling growl that escaped his throat as he moved quickly to cover your mouth with his palm.

"Shhh," he whispered fiercely, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "The camp's only a few miles off, darlin'. You want them to hear?"

You shook your head frantically, feeling the heat of his hand against your lips, the roughness of his skin contrasting sharply with the softness of your own. His gaze never wavered, and you could see the fire burning in those blue depths, a testament to the control he was exerting over both himself and the situation.

Assiting his undress, you reached for the buckle of his pants, your movements swift and determined. He watched, breath hitching in his throat, as you unfastened the leather strap and opened the fabric, freeing his large, hard cock from its confines. It jutted out proudly, thick and throbbing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Your mouth watered at the sight, the desire pooling low in your belly. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around his shaft, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Arthur's breath hitched, his hips bucking instinctively against your hand. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice ragged. "You keep doin' that, and this is gonna be over before it even starts."

He shifted his weight, positioning himself between your legs, which you had spread wide in anticipation. He didn't waste any time, guiding the head of his cock to your slick folds. The sensation was electric, hot and wet, and you couldn't help but moan against his hand, biting his calloused palm while your body arched up to meet his.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. "All that work I do for ya, this is how a bastard like me likes to be reward."

His words were like fuel on the flames of your desire, and you nodded frantically, desperate for more. He removed his hand from your mouth, he holds his cock, sliding the length of him along your drenched slit. The friction was maddening, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and frustration that left you panting, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Arthur," you whimpered, the sound torn from your throat. "Please…"

"Sing my name," he commanded, his voice rough and urgent. "Sing it loud and clear, and watch what it does to me."

You obeyed, letting out a soft, melodic cry as he pressed deeper, teasing the entrance to your core. Each thrust of his hips brought him closer, the head of his cock dipping between your folds, mixing his wetness with yours. The sensation was intoxicating, a dizzying blend of heat and pressure that made your head spin.

"Arthur," you chanted, your voice growing stronger with each repetition.

"Arthur, that feels so good."

"Arthur, please..."

"Arthur, harder."

His thrusts became more forceful, his grip on your thighs tightening as he drove into you with relentless determination. The sound of your voice seemed to fuel his fire, his breathing growing harsh and uneven as he pummeled into you, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Yes, that's it," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Keep sayin' it, darlin'. Keep sayin' my name."

You did, your voice rising to a breathless plea as he plunged deeper, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, the sounds of the lake and the distant camp fading away until all that mattered was the feel of his body against yours, the raw, primal connection that bound you together.

"Arthur, please," you cried, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your orgasm. "I can't take it anymore…"

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging deep as his hips snapped forward, burying himself inside you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed over you, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Almost there," he whispered against your lips, his voice strained with effort. "Gonna come with you, darlin'. Gonna make sure you feel everythin'."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, your body straining towards the edge of ecstasy. The rhythm of his thrusts was driving you closer and closer, each powerful stroke pushing you further into the abyss of pleasure.

"Arthur, I'm so close," you gasped, your voice breaking with the force of your desire. "Don't stop… please…"

"Never," he promised, his thrusts becoming almost frantic now, his body straining with the effort of holding back his own release. "Gonna make it perfect for you, darlin'. Gonna make sure you remember this."

With one final thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You shout his name, the sound echoing across the lake as waves of pleasure rippled through you, leaving you trembling and weak. So much for being quiet.

Arthur followed you over the edge, his own climax crashing over him with a roar. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he emptied himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the steady thump of your hearts beating in unison. Then, slowly, Arthur pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a look of raw, unadulterated satisfaction.

"Good girl."

Your eyes are shut, but you can feel his gaze, searing and unrelenting, tracing over you. His cock is still warm inside you, the sensation feels…homely. Slowly, your lashes flutter open, confirming what you already knew—his soft blue eyes are fixed on you, brimming with pride and satisfaction. You give him a playful slap on the chest, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, shut up.”

[rustygem]

: ̗̀➛ “DOUBTS.” | v. ratio

彡 prompt: dr. ratio discovers that his lover is more insecure than they let on.

彡 warning(s): self degradation/loathing (from the reader).

彡 notes: gender neutral reader. maybe ooc! ratio. this was partly a vent lmao. all dividers are by cafekitsune!

THE day you started dating Veritas Ratio was the best day of his life. He always considered you to be his equal in intelligence...and good looks too. Your more lenient personality, however, was in contrast to strict personality. But, you still taught your students well.

Granted, to Veritas, you really should be a little less merciful. You’re a professor, it's not like you're teaching preschoolers. If one of your students is stressed out, instead of coddling them, help snap them out of it.

Other than that, you’re a genuinely good professor. As stressed out as some of the students might be, they’re still learning. To Veritas, the way you teach shows that you’re confident in yourself and your teachings.

Although, outside of your job, lately you’ve been acting unusual. Veritas has noticed you hesitating to hold his hand. The way you’ve been kissing his cheeks instead of his lips, your refusal to look him in the eyes when talking to him.

Now Veritas Ratio doesn’t know how to comfort people. And when it came to you, he would give you a hug or a kiss, but that was about it.

Only because your concerns were the usual stress of work, so he wasn’t worried about you. He knew you were strong when it came to being a teacher, and that’s what he loved about you.

He thought to get you a coffee before your next lesson, as you are a hard worker. Of course, hard workers need energy and a relaxing drink. Especially when they’re in the presence of idiots.

So when Veritas hears you crying in your classroom, mumbling the cruelest words to yourself…his heart starts to ache.

Calling yourself a nuisance, nothing but a burden.

He’s damn near offended. If anyone else was caught talking like this about you, he’d have no problem insulting them back.

But…it was you saying these awful things about yourself. Why?

As you spotted him walking towards you, you wiped your eyes with a few tissues.

"Good morning, Veritas." You mumbled a soft 'thank you' as he handed you your coffee cup. You did your best to give him a smile, but you were only met with a glare in response.

"You know I despise lying, my dear." He leaned closer to you, your lips almost touching, as if he was about to kiss you.

“So, why don’t you be truthful?” The man with purple hair moved his head back, drinking his own coffee.

You were silent as you sipped your coffee, tears brimming from your eyes again.

“...I’m sorry, Veritas." Your voice was barely audible, until after you spoke again. “I…just felt like I’ve been of no use to you recently.”

Exhaling from his nose, he frowned. "I’m still failing to see how you could ever view yourself as a nuisance, [F/N]."

Oh, he heard that? Wonderful.

Getting up from your seat, you stared at your coffee cup. “I don’t feel like I’m your equal. That I’m below you.”

What. Were you serious? You were his lover. Of course you were his equal. Were you actually foolish? You were simply one of the most intelligent people he’s ever met, both academically and emotionally. You had a good heart as well. You were an honest person.

How could you speak about yourself this way? Absolutely not. He won’t hear it.

“Answer me this,” Veritas took the coffee cup out of your hand, setting both his and yours cups down on your desk. Staring into your eyes, he continued. “Have I ever told you that you were beneath me?”

“…No.” You mumbled.

“Have I given the impression that you’re bothersome, or a nuisance to me?”

“No, but–”

“Do you think I would be in love with you if I considered you to be worthless?”

No response from you.

Walking closer to you, he grazed your cheek. “So please, tell me where you got these thoughts from, sweetheart.”

Scrunching his eyebrows, Veritas thought for a moment. The first thought that came to his mind made his jaw clench.

“[F/N].” He said firmly, maintaining eye contact with you. “Has anyone said anything to you?”

Taking in his words, you broke eye contact with him. It was true that people talked about you behind your back. But, you’ve been feeling like this for a while…all your co-workers did was just make it worse.

“These thoughts have been sitting in my own mind for a long time, Veritas.” You stared at your shoes. “Nobody needed to say anything.”

Moving your chin up to make you look at him, his gaze softened. “Then let me tell you this.”

Taking your hands in his, he began. “I’m with you because I love you. Simple. You are forever my equal, and I‘be never imagined myself being with anyone but you.”

While his voice was nonchalant as ever, every single word still heartfelt, and came from a place of love.

Seeing your lips almost twitch into a smile, he continued, “Or should I remind you it was me who confessed to you?”

Yeah, that happened. Veritas Ratio told you he loved you. He didn’t expect you to feel the same way, forget starting a relationship with him.

Seeing tears almost well up in your eyes, he kissed your temple. “I love you, [Y/N], and that will never end. Am I understood?”

Nodding your head, you wiped your eyes. “Yes, I understand. I love you too, Veritas.”

With a satisfied hum, the genius reluctantly separated himself from you and picked up his coffee cup.

“Good, now get yourself together, my dear. You have a lesson in 5 minutes.”

[lxvvie]

On today's episode of 'Simps 'R Us', Call of Duty: Medic. How is your fave as a patient when you have to take care of them when they're sick/injured?

Capt. John Price - Probably the grumpiest patient ever; doesn't really know what to do with himself while he's recuperating. Also can't smoke so that contributes to the grumpiness. The boys will poke fun at him (read: Gaz and Soap) and Price threatens to make them do wall sits when he gets better. The plus side is that you're there to keep him company.

Gaz - Is somewhere in the middle between grumpy and the best patient ever, depending. Luckily, he has an abundance of entertainment in you and whatever movie or puzzle you have for him.

Alex Keller - Is actually quite agreeable as a patient where you're concerned. When he's sick, Alex is the one who has Vick's vapor rub slathered under his nose, on his chest, on his feet (with socks on, too), and he's under as many blankets as possible. Even though he hates being hot, he's prepared to sweat that motherfucker out because he'll be damned if he leaves you hanging, Boss. ❤️

Soap - Golden Retriever as fuck. This is the man who can clear a fucking building, y'all. Soap is the one who's absolutely heartbroken and mopes in bed for all the wrong reasons. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him when he's at his lowest? How could you—"Johnny, I'm in the other room."

Ghost - What is man but a miserable pile of Ghosts? Simon is agreeable because he's knocked the fuck out asleep 80% of the time. He's also under a lot of blankets. Like... a lot. So much so that you'd be forgiven for thinking that it's just a pile on the bed and not him. The only way you can tell is the tuft of hair sticking out from under the covers. Also has a tendency to sleep curled up somewhat. He feels... safe.

Roach - Is absolutely, 💯 the best patient ever. You hardly have to ever worry about him. For the most part.

Keegan - Keegan is just... there. Existing. And feel just like he looks right now: sorry and like shit. He's right there in the middle, surprisingly; he really only calms down and accepts the help because you sweet talk him into doing so.

Alejandro - Is the one who has to warm up to being a patient because if he had it his way, he'd work from bed. Good thing he doesn't and you and Rudy are there to keep his ass in bed and AWAY from the desk. He winds up loving it, though, because it means he gets to flirt with you endlessly.

Rudy - The perfect patient. In fact, he's the one who'd have a list of home remedies passed down in his family so Rudy's always prepared if something were to happen.

König - His nervous energy won't keep him down for long and, surprisingly, König hates being tended to. Doesn't like the implied helplessness that comes with it. He'll relent somewhat after you've lectured him but there are some trying moments.

Horangi - Probably the absolute worst because he won't stay down for anything. Horangi likes to move around because it helps him to not concentrate on the pain. You'd have to literally proposition him or something like that to make him stay in one place lmao.

Graves - The most complaining motherfucker on the planet. Doesn't like this shit at all. He'd have a change of heart if you were butt naked while taking care of him, darlin'.

Valeria - The one who's busy being pampered while plotting revenge on the bastard(s) who managed to get her sick.

Farah - The one who feels guilty for being in the state that she's in and would rather she tend to herself but Farah relents when you tell her she deserves this and more. It's so cute the way she gets a little bashful when you do so.

[wraithdance]

Tf141 and the reasons their partners (you) get mad at them

Note: there will be a part two on reasons they get mad at their wives but it got too long lmao

Cw: mentions of extreme violence, afab!reader no gendered terms, explicit mentions of sex, slight dub-con, breeding, daddy & size kink if you squint, terrible British-isms and I’m not as funny as I think I am lol -not editing this so read at your own risk

Ghost will piss you off by: Wearing his full military get up (including the hardened skull mask) to intimidate anyone he thinks is interested in you.

It isn’t enough that you verbally decline less than polite or platonic advances, or show off your wedding ring proudly. He wants the weak fucks to know that he kills people for a living and would systematically break every bone in their body, reset them and break them all over again. That is before he stares them right in the eye as he fucks you until there’s enough cream leaking onto his cock to sail to the other side of the pond- thrice.

At least that’s what he told the local butcher who gave you his number last week. The man had been so frightened he burst into great weeping sobs and banned you both from coming into the shop.

You’d been pissed for a week straight and yelled at Simon every time you thought about it. It always ended with his large hands grasping at the back of your neck, damn near scruffing you, while you take as much of his cock down your throat. He’s letting you do the work of opening your throat and taking him as far as you can, but he glares in warning when you retreat. Your nose brushes the sprinkle of hair at the base of his cock when you take him deeper, watching a full body shudder wrack him. He’s close by the far off look in his eyes and the raspy hum/moans he does when he’s entered that space in his head you can’t reach. When his balls twitch as a tell tale sign of his release you plop him out of your throat and swat his hands off of you. It takes him a concerning amount of time to come back to earth and understand the haughty look on your face.

Before you flounce out of the room you tell him he doesn’t get to cum since he can’t learn to behave. That he can finish himself off or go apologize to the nice man. You’re only half surprised when he glares at you and takes his cock in hand tight to get back to that glorious sweet spot. He was such a stubborn bastard. The man was just trying to arrange the charcuterie order for your friend’s baby shower, for fucks sake!

But Simon didn’t give a fuck, his cuts of meat were shit anyways.

Soap pisses you off by: nearly burning down the house. You love him for his passion for life and you’d learned to navigate around his inattentive and reckless nature over the years. The problem of not landing ass first into the bottom of the toilet could be solved by simply looking before you go. but putting out multiple fires throughout the week because he got too caught up in whatever fleeting thing caught his interest, could not.

The last near fire was caused by him accidentally overcooking a package of Buldak noodles you’d hoarded from your last Asian food market trip. He’d run into your shared bedroom to show you a video of a ‘Bonnie little lass’ reciting the names of every country, which somehow ended up with you under him, with your knees locked up around your ears. he bullied his cock deep inside your cunt until it felt like a punch in the throat. Your wails doing nothing to cover his throaty moans as he asked you to say yes to giving him a baby

‘What do ye think about making me a Da, dove? Give me fat wee ones to chase after? Aye, you don’t have to say it I feel, you choking my cock. give me one more and I’ll give you what you want, Bonnie”

It was right when you were about to scream some semblance of an affirmation that you’d smelled the smoke. You’d screech for the dirty dog you called your husband to get off of you when he’d kept stroking into you with vigor, saying to wait one sec he was close. When you’d finally ran into the kitchen with a pussy addled Soap stumbling on your heels you came face to face with a blazing fire. The pot containing the ramen was bone dry and the blackened noodles were little more than kindling.

The process of putting out the fire was quick, you’d learned to keep multiple fire extinguishers on hand, but the kitchen still stank of smoke for weeks and the backsplash remained warped with the smoke stains. Soap wasn’t allowed to cook anymore or ask for a kid for at least six months as it was enough work keeping the house safe from his shenanigans.

Gaz will piss you off by: Having to have the last word. Your sweet man was perfect in nearly every way. He was attentive, romantic in all the right ways and made it a priority to make love to you to the point of tears. The problem was he was fucking petty.

The reasonably level headed man became an absolute shit when he felt slighted even a little bit. It didn’t matter if it was over something reasonable, like your overspending on a gift for a male co-workers birthday or a childish argument over who was the actual winner of a friendly Uno game during date night (he insisted you looked while he was in the bathroom), Kyle had to have the final say.

You’d been arguing for three days about, well you don’t even recall. You just hated the cold shoulder Kyle gave you and the space between you in bed where he’d normally be. You’d finally given up your pretense of being upset and stood before him as he sat on the couch with a solemn expression. You asked for you both to reach an impasse tired of arguing, for him to please come back to bed. He continued to pretend to read the stack of junk mail that collected on the coffee table with interest.

‘Don’t know luvie, wouldn’t want to get in the way of your alone time.’ He sniffed indignantly.

You stood confused, trying to decipher his tone and meaning before your eyes narrowed into slits.

‘Kyle are you fucking mad because I watched the final episode without you?’

His dead pan glaring made you stomp in indignation. In your defense, He’d been out in the field for six months and you couldn’t help it that Netflix kept playing the show you had both started while you were asleep. And so what if you did happen to keep watching when you’d finally woke up, he was on LEAVE for six whole months!

You spent the next hour arguing with him on the illogicalness of staying mad but he’d come up with snarky quips. It only slightly pissed you off that the only way he agreed to let things go was if you’d let him cum inside during anal. He’d agreed with a smug smile and shepherd you out of your pajamas and into your bedroom.

Price will piss you off by: trying to reprimand you like one of his soldiers. The key to a blissful marriage to a man like Price is having a willingness to pick your battles. Your husband is loyal and a provider through and through. it didn’t take much effort to just let him lead you both in decisions- you trusted him deeply. But, the man was gruff and prone to callousness especially after being away from home for long bouts of time. Weeks spent on classified missions taking down the big baddies of the world and being up to his elbows in blood and shit made him edgy.

During an impromptu shopping trip that he’d insisted on tagging along on, he’d turned into a nightmare. If it weren’t you in the situation you would be humored by the 42 year old military Captain acting like a toddler over how long you were taking to shop. But you were on the other end of his surmounting tantrum and it wasn’t cute how much he was reminding you of the big ass toddler you both shared. It all came to head when your son’s daycare teacher, Mrs. Hudson, spotted you and came over to chat.

You’d done your best to try and rush the conversation along, aware of the brooding bear of a man behind you. The sweet but a tad dense woman did not clue in to your subtle hints to speed things along. She was too content on telling you about your son’s acclimation to singing the potty song whenever he needed to go tinkle.

Just as you were going to politely interject, John had un-pried your hands from the shopping cart and promptly pushed/dragged you from the aisle without a word. You weren’t even aware of what was happening until you met the startled eyes of your son’s teacher as she watched your retreat, Your cart full of groceries left in the middle of the aisle.

Fuming you kept carefully silent all the way home, even as he barked at you to ‘get in the damn car’ and to buckle your seatbelt. Rage burned the hairs of your nostrils like a blacksmiths fire as you grit your teeth hard enough to hurt. It was much to your disgust that your seething husband lost his own anger midway through the trek home. His tensed shoulders loosened as he tapped the wheel of the car, having the audacity to hum softly to the radio station. Your eye twitched.

You really hoped your son didn’t grow up to be an incel with daddy issues and a podcast mic-because you were about to murder his father.

You didn’t wait for John to open your car door. You jump out and race across the lawn, slamming the passenger door behind you. You hadn’t looked back until you’d crossed the threshold of your home making sure to look your husband in the eye when you try to slam the ornate dark wood in his face before he entered. He’d pointedly narrowed his eyes when he blocks the door for closing and you knew he’d make it a thing later. It was rude but you hold tight to your self righteousness and venomous mood. It wasn’t until after you fed your son an impromptu dinner of cut up sausage patties and a handful of fish shaped crackers that you face a circling Price.

‘‘I can’t believe you! Why would you embarrass me like that, John!’’ You hissed.

He scoffed from his place at the kitchen island, he stretches into a stand. You’re irritated at needing to step back from his crowding, agitated when your thoughts get caught on the broadness of his shoulders in his tshirt. He’d filled out even more since he’d been gone. You loved his body in all forms but the last few years he’d gained a bit of belly fat from desk duty after having decided to cut back on field missions to help out with your young son. Now after months away he was all lean muscles and broad everywhere.

You know you’re already leaking at the thought of taking him and the arrogant twitch of his beard says he knows the same. But you’re not willing to back down. He can’t just bully you into doing what he wants when he doesn’t like something. You’re his spouse dammit not one of his men! At least that’s what you think you said to him. You don’t quite remember the concept of time or your own middle name when he traps you against the granite tower and fucks you until your eyes cross.

“Say it, darling. Tell daddy you’re sorry, love.”

You try to deny it with all your heart, you swear it. But his big hand snakes out in front of you to work your clit in tight circles before you can get the letter ‘N’ in no out. Behind you he leans back and down just enough to switch angles. It’s enough that every thrust is of him drilling his girthy cock into your g-spot with rapid succession. He doesn’t let your screams meet air for longer than a millisecond. He clasps his free hand over your mouth muffling your cries. He tells you not to wake his son and to take his cock like a good wife.

You sheepishly wave at Mrs. Hudson from the carpool lane the next time you drop off your son for school. You’d make a note to drop her off some flowers when you came back for pick up.

[1800-fight-me]

Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body. 

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place. 

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions. 

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep. 

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back. 

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry. 

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth. 

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room. 

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you. 

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you. 

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state. 

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother. 

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up. 

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you. 

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed. 

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled. 

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war. 

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you. 

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back. 

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said. 

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble. 

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well. 

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone. 

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke. 

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back. 

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother. 

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest. 

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her. 

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor. 

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain. 

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear. 

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold. 

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back. 

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned. 

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor. 

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing. 

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you. 

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes. 

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely. 

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos. 

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall. 

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. 

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife. 

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl. 

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again. 

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own. 

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely. 

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat. 

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response. 

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not. 

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek. 

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured. 

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” you said sweetly. 

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.” 

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter. 

[amourtoken]

so I literally cannot stop thinking abt this here u go

god kink Noah and softie Christian reader

I already know I'm going to hell so no need to remind me ik this is filth but that's what's fun abt it also basing the looks of the building off of this big ass church I used to go to and it's very weird and industrial so apologies if it's confusing

*NSFW below the cut, MDNI*

cw: sacrilege lmao, degradation, raw sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, Noah kinda thinks he's better than everyone else, maybe bc he thinks he's God idk, corruption, loss of virginity, experienced Noah, dirty talk, slightly public, belly bulge, dacryphilia

♡ Noah's only at church cause he has to be, otherwise why the fuck would he waste his morning here. He sits through the awful music and wonders how all of these people live such a lie, its pathetic to him. The only thing that makes it bearable is the pretty little thing in the little white sundress that never fails to show up every Sunday.

♡ he thinks you're so cute. Brainwashed, but cute. All he ever thinks abt is how he could desecrate you and how you'd look so much prettier worshipping him.

♡ Noah is damn near your exact opposite, covered in tattoos, always wearing dark colors. He never really talks to anyone either, keeping to himself. You'd say he was miserable if you didn't see his face soften a little every time you catch his eye. You try to make a point and interact with him every chance you get, maybe he's lonely? You can't let that happen. He's the worship leader's son, you'd think he'd be having a better time but who knows what's going through his head.

♡ Noah almost feels bad that he can't keep his thoughts in order when you walk up to him, pretty smile plastered on your face. You're chattering about today's service and he's picturing his hands on your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin while he bucks up into you and gets to hear those pretty little noises he's sure you'd make. All he'd have to do is pull your dress up too, it'd be easy. He's nodding along with your conversation and trying to seem interested but it's getting harder and harder to pretend he's listening.

♡ his eyes drifting to the neckline of your dress which is pretty modest but God he'd be able to pull it down so easy, tease your nipples while you grind yourself on his thigh and whine for him to fill you up. His eyes snap back to your face which is etched with concern.

"Noah, are you feeling alright? You seem out of it."

♡ he could lie, but what's the point. Isn't lying a sin?

"I'm fine. Just thinking about how pretty you'd look split on my cock."

♡ did he really say that??? You weren't sure how to even respond. Or if you should at all. You were flushed down to your chest and Noah admired the pretty pink tinge to your skin. He was almost nervous he'd fucked up but he knew what to say to have you following him like a little sheep. If you can sit through service every week and genuinely believe the shit his father is saying, you'll do anything if it's said in the right tone.

"Bet you've never even fucked before, have you? Saving yourself for marriage and all that bullshit. You know I could make you feel good, you should let me show you."

♡ you're still stunned, standing like a little deer in some headlights. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find Noah attractive but you felt like he wasn't in the cards for you. He's everything you're not, but maybe that's what's so enticing about him. How he talked about your beliefs stung a little but you couldn't help the way your thighs pressed together at the thought of him and his suggestion. He'd never hurt you, right? You can trust him, why would he wrong you?

♡ Noah nodded toward one of the exit doors, turning to leave and hoping you'd follow. You nearly tripped over your own feet trying to catch up with him. Your brain felt fuzzy and you knew whatever he was gonna put you through was horrifically sinful but you can be forgiven for being curious, right? Noah locked the door behind you, leaving you both in an empty stairwell. Hopefully no one tried to interrupt the two of you, because Noah was immediately to work. He walked you backwards until your back was pressed to the concrete wall and he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling until you whimpered and keened against his hand for some relief.

"The only fucking God in this building is me. I expect you to treat me like such."

"You answer to me, and you follow my fucking directions, yeah? Gonna be a good girl and do what I say?"

♡ you felt your heart race terribly in your chest from how close he was, you felt like a prey animal being stalked by a predator. You really didn't know what to expect, you've never done this before. You shouldn't be doing this at all...what have you gotten yourself into...

♡ Noah surprisingly sinks to his knees in front of you, hands brushing at your knees and sliding up your thighs, hiking up your dress as he goes. His long fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties to tug them down and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, without warning burying his face in your pussy making you yelp and tangle your fingers in his hair for some balance.

(Something like this yk)

♡ you pulled his hair tightly between your fingers, whining while he lapped at your pussy and groaned against you when you pulled a little too hard. You felt pricks of pins and needles all over your body, it felt like a swarm of butterflies populated your lower stomach. Oh god...one of his hands steadied itself on your thigh but the other slid up to glide between your folds, gathering the slick mess before prodding at your entrance making you squirm. He was right, you hadn't done this before. He wanted you to enjoy yourself though, that's why he was taking the time to stretch you out and make you cum, so you could actually take his cock afterwards.

♡ the fingers at your entrance slid in slowly, stretching you out and scissoring slightly to spread you further. Your legs were shaking and the swarm in your belly felt 100x worse. You were worried you couldn't hold yourself up much longer...Noah pressed his fingers as deep as he could fit them, brushing your cervix and curving up to press right into the most sensitive spot he could. He laughed against your pussy when he felt you clench around his fingers, teeth brushing your clit and making you whimper pathetically above him. He was the one on his knees and you were unraveling. Pitiful.

"You gonna cum for me? Can't let you take this cock till you cum, won't fit."

♡ when he nudges a 3rd finger in you completely come undone, tugging his face closer to you and nearly crying while you grind into him through your orgasm. He speeds his fingers up inside of you until you're squirming and begging him to stop. He withdraws and stands back up, reminding you he towers over you at his full height and he licks your slick off of his fingers right in front of you. You're still panting and your legs feel shaky, this isn't helping.

♡ Noah thinks you look adorable so shaken up, he can't help but admire how your chest is rising so quickly and your face is flushed. He did that to you. He's gonna do so much more too. He backs you into the wall again and runs his hands down your thighs, picking you up and pressing your back into the wall for extra support while your legs wrapped around his waist. You threw your arms around his neck to steady yourself but he wasn't gonna drop you, he could hold you up for hours if he needed to. Again though, he thinks you're adorable and lets you think he could drop you just to get your heart racing again.

♡ he holds you up with one arm while freeing his achingly hard cock with the other. You didn't even really get a chance to see it, but when he drug the tip through the slick mess between your legs you could describe the feeling as dread. He felt huge. Noah leaned his head against your neck, pressing soft kisses up to your ear and nipping at the soft skin.

"Gotta relax for me, promise I'll make you feel so good...trust me"

"Can't wait to feel how tight this pussy is, can't believe I'm your first. Bet I'll be the last too."

"Gonna fucking ruin you for everyone else, gonna be mine forever, yeah?"

"So much for staying pure, hm? All it took was one little comment and here you are letting me fuck you raw in a stairwell. Wonder how your god feels about that."

♡ he'd planned on taking it slow but after sinking in just a few inches he couldn't help himself. He trusted up into you, hilting himself in one move and sank his teeth deep into your shoulder to try and muffle the groan that escaped his chest. He slapped a hand over your mouth as he sank in and thank God he did because the sound you made was nothing short of a scream. Big tears welled in your eyes even after all the work he did to prep you, the stretch of taking his cock felt almost too much. Noah was loving every moment, watching you fall apart for him. He pressed a large hand to your stomach as he started fucking himself into you just to feel how deep he fit in your poor body.

"O-oh god-"

"The only fucking god you should be praying to is me."

♡ your whimpers and moans were nonstop but thankfully muffled against his palm, he didn't want anyone interrupting you. You gripped his cock just fucking right and he doubted he could really last long but he needed to have you unravel on his dick before he could finish. Noah reached up and tugged the front of your dress down, leaning to absolutely cover your chest in hickeys and lick at your overly sensitive nipples, your whines pitched up when his teeth got a little too rough but he couldn't help but admire his work. Your pretty soft skin marred with teeth marks and bruises. There's no way you could walk back out there and have no one notice, everyone would know exactly what you did, and who you did it with. Perfect.

"bet you've been thinking about this just as much as I have, huh bunny? Needed to get fucked, needed to get filled up by some fat cock, yeah? Tell me."

"Your little god was keeping you from this, does he really feel better than me? Wanna hear you say it."

"Gonna cum again for me, bunny? Need to feel you squeeze this cock, you can do it. I got you."

♡ your head fell back against the hard wall as he fucked into you, the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. Every thrust sank as deep as he could possibly get and made your legs shake in his hold. Noah was chasing your pleasure as much as his own, he loved seeing your pretty little pathetic expressions. He slid a hand between your bodies and barely even had a chance to brush your clit as you came. His arm around you tightened to keep you still as he fucked you through it, tears spilling from your eyes and ruining your pretty makeup.

"S-shit- that's it- good girl, feels good yeah? So good for me-"

"That's it, tell me who's making you feel this good baby say my fuckin' name- n-need to hear it"

♡ his thrusts picked up in intensity, fingers sinking into your hips hard enough to leave Bruises and he sank in impossibly deep as he shuddered through his own end, you whined at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up and the extra dripping out of you making a mess on the floor under you. It took a second for Noah to set you back down on shaky legs, he helped you straighten your dress back out before pulling you in for an uncharacteristically gentle kiss. He felt like he was a little harsh on you but he was happy you actually would do something like this with him finally.

"So pretty...we should do this again sometime, yeah?"

[temis-de-leon]

Grumpy and sunshine - 500 F.C.

Characters: Lucifer x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: anon

CW: established relationship, some kissing, a tiny bit of miscommunication

A/N: this ain't a drabble lmao, but I don't care

.

Something laid on his shoulders, bringing a much needed warmth and a familiar scent, but the soft texture and comforting weight paled in comparison to what came right after. Gentle hands tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbone and taking the pen out of his clenched fingers; a delicate kiss placed right on his temple.

He hoped MC would stay next to him for at least a little longer, but he had no such luck. The chair at the opposite side of the desk barely scratched the floor before his beloved gasped at the noise and lifted it to sit down, then grabbed all the documents that weren’t buried under his arms and started writing on his behalf.

The heat turning his body back to life, the sweet humming of his partner and the pen dragging ink across the paper should’ve been enough to lull him to sleep, but Lucifer found himself unable to.

There was a train of thoughts still drilling every crevice of his mind, mixing dates and locations within each other, the numbers on Mammon’s bills increasing a never-ending list of failures and Lord Diavolo’s insistent enthusiasm adding piles and piles of duties to his already tall stack of paperwork. Pitiful curses reeked of Satan’s power and tainted every inch of his possessions and something in the depths of his brain held its breath in apprehension whenever his DDD showed a notification.

It was just a damn festival. One of many thrown in hopes to raise the school’s morale and tighten the relationships between all of the exchange students. It was the same as always.

So why did it feel so draining this time? Why did he feel the need to fill the room with dense darkness, a cocoon for him to scream profanities and frustrations? Why did everybody seem more moronic than usual? Did they think before speaking or was that too much to ask? Couldn’t they see what was happening around them? Couldn’t they realize that he had more important things to do other than help organizing a stupid festival?

“Lucifer” a voice called him, kind and caring.

He opened his eyes, cringing at the harshness of his frown and the impending headache coming with it. His neck was stiff and hurt when he tried to sit straight to look at MC, but he managed, his expression softening at their concerned features.

“What’s with the face, my love?”

“I should be asking you that”

The scowl was unnatural on their face and it made Lucifer chuckle. He moved to grab their hand in a gentle grasp, but, to his surprise, they brought his knuckles to their lips instead and playfully smiled when he turned his face away to hide his blush.

“C’mon, tell me what happened” they begged, carefully placing the pen in its holder and laying on the desk to get closer to him “Is it about the festival? Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

They stood, still holding his hand while they walked around the desk, just as if they were dancing in the music room, and as lovely as the memory was, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to smile at it. His mood soured again at his predicament and not even their weight on his lap made it better.

He couldn’t tell them what was on his mind! It would spoil everything! But then again, the festival already spoiled it, didn’t it? Lucifer hoped he could still surprise MC if he played his cards right.

“Oh, Luciii…”

“Do not use that name”

MC laughed despite the interruption and cupped his cheek to kiss his entire face, but, unlike other times, the feeling of their lips wasn’t enough of a distraction. He continued to stare at nothing, sight unfocused, while mindlessly hugging his human, which seem to be what broke the camel’s back.

“Lucifer, please!” they cried, desperately grabbing the fur on his coat to make him look at them “Tell me what’s wrong! Our anniversary is in three days and you’re going to hide in your office to rot? We haven’t seen each other in days…”

“I took you out for lunch earlier”

He finally looked at them, immediately scowling at their mischievous smirk. Their eyes showed a gleeful glint, face squished against their hand and elbow resting on his shoulder.

“Still! Too long!”

MC’s laugh was contagious and it managed to break his frown and dissipate the darkness in his eyes, although some remnants of displeasure persisted. His previous irritation and current disappointment still lingered in the room.

“Are you excited for the festival, MC?” his voice was quiet, nor angry nor sad, and if MC saw anything unusual about it, they didn’t show it.

“Are you kidding?” they answered instead, filling a corner of his heart with heavy stones. Their bright smile warmed his body better than the blanket did, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit frustrated “Dia says is going to look like a fairy-tale! How am I not going to be excited?”

How come they weren’t mad? He’d made reservations weeks ago, a whole evening planned in great detail; the first of many years to come sharing their lives and loving each other. It was supposed to be a private event, just for the two of them, and now they would have to spend it with his brothers and Father knows who else. Would it kill them to act a little bit sadder at the situation?

“Just imagine” they continued talking “Flowers everywhere, fairy lights, sweets and music, blues and pinks and yellows and cute animals and costumes… Oh, it’s going to be so good! What better way to spend our anniversary!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We could match and eat special baked goods for the occasion and take a stroll around the gardens…” MC sighed, taking his hand from his chest and hugging it against their face. Their flushed cheeks turned them warm and he couldn’t help but curl his fingers around theirs “It’s going to be so romantic, Luci…”

Their love-struck gaze left him speechless, a blushing mess unable to stop looking at them like they were the only thing worth his time in the room. He felt stupid, then, and he thanked every entity in the universe that would listen to him for putting MC in his life.

“It does sound good, I admit…”

His whisper died against their lips and finally, for the first time in some very long days, he felt the butterflies caressing the edges of his heart; MC’s name drawn in their wings.

“So?” they murmured while kissing him.

“Hm?”

“What happened before I got here? You didn’t seem okay”

“Never mind that, my love” he insisted, placing their head on the crook of his neck and taking a magazine from the desk “Would you help me choose a venue for the main event? I’d like to know your preferences…”

.

.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Since you open ask box and request, can I get TF141 men (or Ghost and Gaz if you don't feel like to write all of them) reacting to cool, rarely smile, intimidating and stoic reader finally smiling for the first time. Let's say reader has soft spot for certain things (cat, dog, book, flower etc) and they immediately smile when they see them without realize it. Boys just keep falling harder for reader and decide to make it their mission to make reader smiles more often.

I guess that's all for now. Thank you

🦈

hello🦈 anon!! Sorry I wasn't sure you want me to write them separately or together, so I chose the latter lmao. Hope you will like it (or don't hate it), TYSM for the request :) I love this request so much since I'm always a fan of cool reader. tf141*GN!Reader, Reader's kinda tsundere word count: 1.9k

Every member of Task Force 141 saw you as a capable teammate, you went through thick and thin with them, and always have their back. On the field, your shooting accuracy and excellent combat skills saved you and the team many times, quickly clearing any threat so the mission wouldn’t be compromised. You have rarely been scolded by Price, and always dealt with your paperwork impeccably. The only problem was that you’re too stoic, they never saw you smile from the first day you joined the task force. More like a robot than a human, this is how others evaluated you, and you had an aura that made recruits afraid to speak to you.

You even smiled less than Ghost, at least the man still got some dry humor and bad jokes to spit out, but you rarely reacted to greetings except a nod, less to say about Soap and Gaz joking with you, they were lucky if you spared them a crook of your eyebrows to their teasing that day. but this only made your teammates curious —especially Soap — eager to know the person under the facade, even if it was just a little. Soap wrote down what he discovered from you every day in his journal, from how you always have your tea, to trivial habits like you would frown nearly imperceptibly when you see the cafeteria is out of your favorite sandwich. Soap would tell other men about what he finds about you today, and they would keep those details in mind too. Until the day, Laswell brought a big cake which she was gifted by others but she was unable to finish it herself. They saw your eyes brighten instantly, and an expectant smile blooms on your face. Your eyes stuck on the exquisite big cake in front of you, not aware of Gaz gaping at your smile like he saw the sun rise from the west today, how Price immediately stopped his hand while smoking his cigar so he could take a good look, even Ghost’s eyes were wide like full moon behind his mask. It wasn't until Soap’s yelp that dragged you out of your trance, and you turned around just to find all your teammates staring at you like you were an alien. “Any issues, MacTavish?” Confused, you asked Soap who made you stop staring at the cake. “You- You can smile?” “Did I?” “Well, let’s finish this quickly so it won’t left over to tomorrow” Price raised his hand to interrupt the talk before Soap could say other things “The fridge has no place to put this bloody huge cake.” After Price’s command, all of you walked and took a plate and fork. Price sliced a medium size for him, Ghost did the same. Soap took the knife and sliced a slightly bigger one for him and Gaz, but when he was about to cut one for you, you reached out your hand to beckon a “give me” gesture, which Soap obliged and handed over the handle to you. Only for him to see you slice 1/3 of that damn enormous cake and put it on your plate. “Wha- ye sure ye can eat all of ‘em ?!” His jaw dropped at the huge slice of cake that made the center of your paper plate sink, but only received an “huh” face from you. Well, his concern was unneeded, because you devoured the whole thing in 5 minutes, faster than everyone else, and stood up to cut another piece. “you really like cake ain’t you.” Gaz chuckled at the scene where you almost bury your face in the plate. “No.” “Then why are you smiling like a kid who sees their favorite toy?” Frowning, you touched your cheek to check, and oh shit, you truly were. “I-“ your face changed from :D to :| while you tried to find an excuse “It’s just Captain said that don’t leave the cake overnight, so I’m eating this much, not that I love cake.”

Even though your poor excuse, all of them knew their new goal now: bringing you cakes so they could see the pretty smile enthralled them. The first who brought you cake is Ghost, he saw a strawberry shortcake on his way back to the base, he didn’t think twice before he told the staff to wrap the cake for him. and he was sure his decision was right when he showed it to you, and you two sat in the common area. He drank the tea you made for him as appreciation while watching that pretty smile reappear on your face again. “Look who said they don’t love cakes, and eatin’ like a man who haven’t eaten in days now.” He lifted his mask to his nose to drink the tea, so when you shot him a glare, you could see the smirk spreading on his lips. “You bought it and I don’t want to waste it, that’s it.” you stabbed the fork on the cake. Ghost huffed out a laugh at your answer, but when you went back to swallow a full spoon of whipped cream, he took note in his mind to buy you the chocolate mousse he saw at the store next time, so the precious expression.

Gaz bought you an Earl Grey mille crepe cake a few days after, which was the flavor of your favorite tea. “It’s it good?” He gave you a toothly grin that you thought was too dazzling when the “not bad” slipped out your lips whilst you were busy finishing the cake. He sat beside you and ate the slice you cut for him, and he rambled about what happened today to entertain you. You pretended you were not interested, eyes never left the cake, but you memorized everything he said clearly.

Of course, Soap wouldn’t forget to dig into this breakthrough of yours. A big ‘they love CAKES!’ was written in his journal, with 2 circles highlighting the words. He considered you have eaten crepe cake and shortcake from Ghost and Gaz, so he got you a basque cheesecake. “What is this?” You tilted your head when you opened the take-out box. “basque cheesecake. Heard it from the medics.” Soap watched you attentively take a little bite at the cake, and he laughed when your face beamed up in a second. “Not bad?” He knew you just refused to admit you love cakes. You answered with your cheeks stuffed with cheesecake. “NAOW BAA” After he waved goodbye to you, he came back to his barrack, he opened his journal. a big ‘Basque cheesecake ✔️’ had been added under the circles.

The captain hadn’t let the chances to see your face gleam with happiness slip by too. As usual, you came to his office with a flawless report, and for some debrief about the next mission. When it was over and you were about to leave, he called your name to stop you from exiting. “Is there anything I forgot to tell you, Captain?” Your face was serious, without any improper or unprofessional, but it didn’t last long because Price took out a fresh cream Swiss roll. “You’re going to drool all over your shirt, sergeant.” He teased and received a little scowl from you, but the harmless scowl was unable to stop him from fixating on and mesmerized by the satisfied grin that lingered on your face when you made both of you some tea and started consuming the whole roll.

You got pampered by all 4 men of your team for months. Thanks to the high amount of exercise, you didn’t gain belly fat, and getting lots of cakes from them had you started gifting them things too. You got Ghost some nice whiskey when you came back from leave, which he gladly accepted and invited you to drink together. You gave Soap some snacks from your hometown and stationeries for journaling, and almost get squished into a dough by his tight embrace. Gaz got some game cards from you, and when he surprisingly asked you why you knew he wanted those games for a while, you just shrugged and walked away, there was no chance that you were gonna tell him you had been listening to him and Soap chatting about them. Price entered his office one day morning, and saw his box of favorite cigars and tea being placed on his desk. He realized it was you in the blink of an eye, only you would choose to secretly put gifts and refuse to leave a note indicating who you were. He just patted your head and thanked you when he met you in the training room.

Times flew fast when your life was occupied with missions and training (and cakes). Tonight you went out for a while to buy something for your teammates, since they still insisted on feeding you cakes frequently, recompensing them with gifts they loved had become your habit too. but when you searched from the common room to Price’s office, you couldn’t find any of them. Odd, you thought, you hadn’t heard them leaving the base too, you even searched each of their room, which still lacked their figures. Furrowing your brows, you decided to go back to your room, maybe you could give them tomorrow. What you didn’t expect was when you opened the door of your room, you were welcomed by Soap and Gaz’s exciting voice. “Happy birthday!” “Jesus… I was searching for all of you…” Your eyes rounded “Wait… It’s my birthday today?” “Don’t tell me ye didn’ remember!” Soap, who standing closest to you and with a birthday cake, shoved you playfully with his elbow. “I…” You glanced at the calendar hanging on your wall, unable to form words when you realized it really was your birthday today. “Come take a seat, love.” Price’s words help you fill the silence. You slowly closed the door behind you, and your gaze traveled from the elegant cake, the flames dancing on the candle, to your teammates — the people you trusted with your life. “A cake makes you stupid, sergeant?” You heard Ghost chuckle at your reaction, but you didn’t glower at him this time, because you felt tears welled up in your eyes, uncontrollably. “Oh no, lovie’s going ta cry!” Gaz joked at you while he led you to your seat. You blinked away tears before they could escape, and smack at Gaz’s bicep. “Shut up, Garrick.” The laughs and jokes filled your little room with joy, you sat there listening to Gaz and Soap banter with Ghost about how he was so selective about the cake so they could give you the best one, and as Ghost retorted back, a plate was handed to you. The biggest slice among others, full of whipped cream and fruits decorating it. You picked up the fork and started eating, the sweetness spread inside your mouth, with the fruit neutralizing it and taking the taste to a whole other level. “Ye always smile when ye eatin’ cakes, you know? really like cakes don’t ye?” You raised your head from the plate, and finding everyone looking at you, with such softness you questioned yourself if you were able to reciprocate, and you touched your cheeks, you could feel the corner of your lips curling upwards. but this time, you deepened your grin, warm and fascinating, before you picked up your fork again. “Maybe I do.”