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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91.

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him.

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable.

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon.

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it.

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji.

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task.

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely.

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow.

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt.

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam.

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential.

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk.

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide:

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge.

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way,

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas.

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator.

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture.

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue.

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands.

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release.

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded.

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride.

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold.

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying,

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes.

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed,

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke,

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer.

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet.

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed.

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her.

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff.

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit.

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you.

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him.

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes.

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting.

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right.

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind.

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated.

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive.

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it.

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving.

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none.

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose.

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other.

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed.

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you.

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture.

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit.

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor.

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat.

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…”

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…”

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.”

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm.

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward.

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous.

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple.

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager.

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…”

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws.

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly,

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure.

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction.

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours,

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…”

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again.

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality.

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it.

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure.

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat.

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you.

“Sounds like it,” you agreed.

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger.

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well.

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you,

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while.

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines.

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post.

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings.

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday.

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly.

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge.

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box.

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away.

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing,

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you.

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it.

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight,

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike.

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him.

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price,

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed,

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it.

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could,

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed,

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home.

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him.

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours.

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label.

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape.

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given.

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy.

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow.

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight.

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #guile and guilt #soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish

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5eraphim · 8 months ago

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swinging out the gate with pure filth but i recently stumbled upon a scout voice line that made me cream my pants (tumblr doesn't allow links as anon so i'm putting extra parentheses to make sure it doesn't appear as one (https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/4/48/Scout_domination20.wav))

anyways it got me heavy thinking about dom scout because i really truly think this boy is a sadistic motherfucker. huge ego and need to be the best, especially growing up the youngest sibling? having someone stupidly fucked out for him blows his mind.

and i KNOW for a FACT he has a daddy kink, too, and wants a real title to hear the power he has in the moment (plus there's another scout voice line that says "come to daddy" so it's essentially confirmed because i said so).

he's still a little bit of a teenage horndog about it, rolling his eyes back and getting a little nervous when you actually do submit, because he was prepared for a fight.

i would almost say he prefers it, wanting the struggle and the power that comes with quelling the flame in you but never fully, trying to push buttons to get you to give him a shove or a nasty remark so he has an excuse to pounce on you like a predator.

"yeah? you like that? gettin' fucked on daddy's dick?" almost really talking to himself when he drills into you as fast as he physically can, positioned in missionary because he wants to see that pretty face (and tits).

he wants to see overstimulation paint your features, you know that. he also wants to see that feisty side of you just so he can tame it. you push his abdomen the best you can, hands really just shoving his shirt that he didn't bother to take off. it's not working, and all he can do is laugh at your pathetic attempt.

you yank the dog tags that dangle in front of your face, sort of wet because of the sweat he's pouring, not due of the physicality but rather that he's so worked up and thrilled that he's heating up. the chain wrings around the back of his neck a little, not necessarily doing the damage you hoped for. in fact, you can see a switch flip and his eyes darken. uh oh.

his hands slam around your neck, having previously been attached to your waist, and squeeze so hard your vision goes fuzzy at the edges and all the blood rushes from your head. "you wanna choke me? how's it feel ta be fuckin' choked, huh? stupid bitch." he's degrading, harsh because he knows he can be. your eyes well u with tears, threatening to spill, and he grins like a wolf. he loves it.

"oh, what, you gonna cry? you gonna cry now?" he spits at you. that's all it takes before the waterworks start, cooling your warm cheeks and letting him know he's won this round.

there's nothing that stops you from cumming on his cock, completely overwhelmed by feeling and so far gone that it doesn't even matter. scout's overjoyed that he's got a pretty girl so fucking stupid for him that she can't even control her body anymore. he gets so high off the feeling that he can't help but bark out every filthy thought and word he has, a reminder that he is conscious enough to talk and you're so braindead you can't form a word.

"aww" he wipes your tears with the pad of his thumb, "don' cry kid, i'm not even bein' that cruel!" he taps his thumb against your lips, scowling when you turn your head to avoid his digit. he grabs your chin to force your eyes on his. "open up and suck my fuckin' thumb or ill replace it with my cock and fuck your face."

im making my mark as 👽 emoji because i will 100% be back to write more

HELL O?? HELLO 👽!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!! MAKING OUT WITH THE SIDE OF YOUR NECK RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK

thank you so much for sending me this, a bit blown awayy right now, i must say. top-tier scout characterization, on GOD. He is MEAN. he is literally a one man bully squad- of course he's gonna overdo it act like a total maniac getting nasty with his obsession.

i love this because i love writing Scout as on the more dominant side, but in a almost playfully sadistic kind of way.

#tales from the ask box #👽 anon #im so locked in on you right now #ok but it's crazy bc i have this scout piece i've been working on and i like it a lot #and it was sooo fun to touch on something a bit different #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere self ship #yandere tf2 #yandere team fortress 2 x reader

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pinkcannibal · 2 years ago

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um um um adult ghostface!misty quigley with fem!reader who she gets obsessed with and instead just stalks EYES EMOJI been thinking of this and nothing else

oh this is so personal to me. misty!ghostface you will always be famous

you are hyperaware of the recent killings in your small town and become super paranoid, always double checking your locks and never staying out too late now

your neighbour, misty (who you've literally had a crush on for months) is always checking up on you and making sure you feel protected by hanging out, watching movies, cooking dinner with you, when you feel particularly unsafe

it worsens your crush, and you're a complete lovesick puppy bc sometimes she even sends you texts if shes at work and can't make it, making sure you're okay

unbeknownst to you, this has skyrocketed into an obsession, one that misty is addicted to now. she doesn't have a ghost face partner, or a person who calls, she does it herself (this is misty quigley, shes never getting caught) so she's free to spiral into these unhealthy thoughts abt you as much as she likes with no distraction

if mistys feeling a particular high from a kill, she'll climb through your window still in her costume covered in blood and just stare at you, head tilted and thumb idly rubbing at the hilt of her knife

misty does not like it when you stir from nightmares, or whimper from awful dreams. she gets irrationally angry at an unknown force she can't protect you from

she tries to gauge your reaction to ghost face and the killings, rambling about a true crime podcast that has you a little uncomfortable as you lean into her with your cheek on her shoulder for comfort.

she internally smiles and sinks into the touch, knowing her tactic has worked. "misty? can we um, talk about something else?" she would just frown, blink back to you, and reassure you that "you have nothing to be scared of, honey, okay? ill protect you."

(which you find hilariously endearing. she's five foot two and can barely reach the top cupboard in the kitchen, how she would protect you from a murderer is beyond you)

oooh and the reaction to finding out its her?

you wake up from misty getting caught up in her excitement coming through your window, making too much noise. and you'd just immediately scream and crawl back on your hands against your head board at seeing her masked body

misty would immediately try and reassure you through your panic. hands out, head tilted in confusion at your reaction, just instantly pulling off the mask and saying

"its me!" which makes you whimper in fear and betrayal and hurt. she'd be smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges. but her face would drop immediately as you start to shake. "no, no no, dont be scared, i wont hurt you." she'd snort, fixing her glasses and rolling her eyes at the mere idea. "youre my favourite!"

#yellowjackets #misty quigley #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley x fem reader #sorry this got SOOO away from me what the hell #not apologising that this unlocked something inside of me

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safelycapricious · 3 months ago

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Looking for a little external motivation atm, so let me talk about some fics I'm working on and if one sounds good to me then let me know and hopefully I'll get off my ass. Just going to list some and give a random snippet I suppose.

Bucktommy Amnesia:

“Evan, baby, can you open your eyes for me?” someone asks at his side, and he realizes his hand is being held. The voice doesn’t register immediately, but he once didn’t recognize Maddie’s voice when he woke up, so that’s less alarming than it could be.

Bucktommy Old Guard:

The year is 1863 and it’s the first time Evan has ever felt like he has a real family, people who actually care about him and what he thinks. He’ll fight out the rest of the war at their side, but he’ll never be as good at it as they are.

BuddieTommy Buck self doubt:

He grabs his salad and slides back into his booth and puts the phone down again, so he can resist revisiting the texts from his boyfriends. How their latest response to him saying he was going to be coming home today were just the thumbs up emoji and an “Okay, let us know if that changes.” So different from the reply to his first text, before he’d been invited to stay, with heart reacts and “Can’t wait to see you! We miss you!”

Jason/Constantine Priest of Gotham:

“Why didn’t you bloody well tell me you’ve got a priest?” Constantine barks, several notches higher than he had been talking with B.

All three of them glance over in time to see B actually try to pinch the bridge of his nose through the cowl. It doesn’t work, of course, but says a lot about how he’s feeling. “He don’t have a priest, but if you think a man of the cloth would be helpful I can reach out to St. Michaels —”

“Not have a — he’s right there!” and the tan trench coat clad arm is pointing right at Jason.

Jason eats another chip.

“You’re a priest, little wing?” Dick asks around a barely suppressed laugh.

“Not in this universe,” is Jason’s response, “unless Halloween counts — but I was technically a nun for that.”

“I have questions,” Tim says, no longer solely focused on his screen.

Jason/Slade Flu:

Jason didn’t understand why someone would genetically engineer an illness to give to Slade that only gave him a minor flu. Until he had to be the one to take care of him.

He gets it now.

He’s going to kill that son of a bitch whoever it is whenever he finds them — regardless of who it is or where they are. He will kill them in front of Bruce and the whole world and not regret it at all.

Because Slade? Slade is the worst patient in the history of patients.

Jason/Natasha/Bucky in series (series):

“Hey, so that thigh move you do,” the Red Hood who is probably Jason Todd says to Natasha while the person who might be James Buchanan Barnes but is certainly the Winter Soldier is evaluated at the Avengers Tower.

Natasha turns to him, not bothering to smile. People bringing up the thigh move only goes one way, and when she has to pretend sometimes that it’s not deeply offensive she doesn’t have to pretend right now. “Yes?” she prompts.

“Could you teach it to me?” he finishes, grinning bright behind his domino mask which he’s refused to take off.

#fanfic cheerleading request #bucktommy #buddietommy #jason todd #jason/constantine #jason/slade #jason/natasha/bucky

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ratsoks · 2 years ago

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If it's no problem, could you do a Villain Deku x reader where reader has Depression and anxiety and gets triggered by loud noises that sound argumentative or like said person is disappointed in them? And they overthink things & think they are a disappointment and they aren't enough and can't do anything right, all that good stuff. They also struggle with remembering to drink water and sometimes skip a meal. The loud noises could just be people yelling at each other or at them. If you could do something like that and it be a fluff that'd be amazing <3

Oh, and of the things that help calm them down is listening to music and they have a very slight shake in there hand and they also appogize A LOT. They also have very shitty memory so, sometimes they forget things and scold themselves for doing so.

Srry if this is all confusing or unspecific. I was just jotting ideas for this down 😅 I hope this made sense and it would be amazing if you could do it, no pressure and you don't have to if you don't want too-

a/n — SORRY IVE DISAPPEARED FOR MONTHS uhh has it been a year........ blinks BHWAHGAH burnout is crrazzyzyy BUT IM ON SUMMER BREAK NOW so hopefully ill be able to write more thumbs up emoji anyways TY FOR REQUESTING ANON!!!!!! i love details pls don't apologize for specifying what u want :) gender — neutral (no pronouns mentioned) warnings — depression, anxiety, mentions of breakdowns, mentions of medications, mentions of forgetting to eat, mentions of yelling

bro THIS MAN growls barks howls at the moon

he's fucking WHIPPED

he would do anything for you anyways, but????? you crying??????? he just???????? combusts?????

whether you cry a lot or you don't, midoriya is always there to wipe your tears away with gentle gloved hands. a warm drink of your preference would be pressed into your palms, and the man would never pressure you to tell him what was on your mind unless you wanted to SNIFFLES

he himself has never liked loud noises—the loud explosions coming from bakugou's hands has always unnerved him ever since he was four—but it never got to the point where he was triggered by it

in some way, when he first encounters you getting triggered, he feels mildly prepared on what to do, but at the same time, comfort differs for everyone.

he knew what he liked when he got upset, but the same couldn't be said for you

he didn't want to trigger you any further

tldr MY MAN WAS NERVOUS HBWAHAH

if you're not touch-averse during times of distress, he would take your hand in his and gingerly stroke the back of your hand with his gloved thumb

if you don't like touch, he'll hang back and talk to you softly, whispering encouraging words and maybe even humming a gentle song in order to calm you down

when it comes to self-deprecating thoughts, izuku is always there to help you

constant reassurances are made, and izuku vehemently stamps out any sort of thought that nobody likes you

while he doesn't want anyone to like you except for him, he can make some exceptions for his precious angel

depression often makes it hard for you to be able to do anything, such as brushing your teeth, drinking water, or even getting out of bed

izuku is able to coax your sheet-encased form out from the bed and into a warm bath with him, lighting some candles and pouring some bubbles in the water

depression also fucks up your sleep schedule; you either sleep way too much or not at all, but no matter what, izuku makes sure that you don't mess it up too bad

he wakes you up when you've slept for at least seven hours (will occasionally let you sleep for more but too much is bad for u) and will sing/soothe you to sleep when you can't

you feel terrible for keeping him up at night bc like!!!! ur such a nuisance!!!!!! dawg what why would you stay up w me im such a bad person!!!!!!!!!

and he's like >:(((( babe >:(((((( tf do u mean ur a bad person >:((( honey UR GORGEOUS and then he will proceed to pepper u with kisses all over ur face bc he's a great boyfriend :)

he will rob every single bank in japan just to get u a decent pair of headphones and i will stand by this fact until the day that i expire

since listening to music calms you down, headphones are a must in his eyes!!! even if you don't use them a lot, or even at all, deku always likes to be prepared :))) it never hurt anyone :))))))

if meds are prescribed to you, izuku will make sure you take them whenever needed

all in all he's like the best boyfriend ever mwa

he may be a villain but he's not evil!!!!!!! god!!!!!!!! get with the times broski

#shoutout to all of the requests on quotev and tumblr that are rotting in my inbox <3 #yandere villain deku #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #villain deku x reader #villain deku #villain midoriya #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #fanfiction #jamie's posts

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sonknuxadow · 2 months ago

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okay big wall of some of my shadow generations thoughts . spoiler warning obviously

i will start by just saying that this game is soo good like in general. ive said before that i was initially very skeptical of this whole thing but very quickly changed my mind upon seeing the first trailer and im SO glad that it did turn out to be good. this feels like one of the first times in a really long time that theyve put actual care into shadows involvement in a story instead of just throwing him in something for five seconds because they know hes popular. the game IS a bit short but i was expecting that and its somewhat reasonable considering its technically only half the game. but what we did get was great. we are so back .

i love the gameplay i talked earlier about how i like that they put more effort into making shadow play differently from sonic by incorporating his chaos powers into his gameplay, but the doom powers are really cool also and were such a fun addition. ive always wished they would do more with shadow being part black arms but didnt expect it to ever come up again so everything about this is kinda surreal to me

i love love love the optional dialogue i went out of my way to make sure i didnt miss any of it and theres so many cute ones and i have to stop myself from mentioning specific ones on this post because if i do ill be going on forever

also the music was good Obviously thats a given with sonic games. but special shoutouts to the menu music i thought it was a cute detail that sonics side had a remix of it doesnt matter while shadows was a remix of throw it all away. and that all hail shadow remix for the final boss goes sooo hard i was honestly expecting them to use i am all of me but this is cool too

as far as criticisms and nitpicks go. uhhhhh . this isnt that big a deal but i do find it the tiniest bit disappointing that they didnt really leave anything a surprise in terms of the gameplay, if im remembering right they showed pretty much everything in the trailers except for the final boss but im sure everyone knew who that was going to be it was jut the specific form he took that was the surprise. but like i said its not that big a deal especially considering they didnt show much of the story in the trailers so it balances out in a way . also i didnt know what the best place to put this in would be but i just wanted to say i got so excited when i got to the final stage because radical highway is one of my favorite sonic levels . peace and love on planet earth

i also think chaos island was a weird choice for a stage because all the others are from games shadow is a main character in but he isnt in frontiers at all? maybe they didnt wanna repeat games and were running out of ideas so they just threw a frontiers stage in since it wouldnt have any representation otherwise. i dont know.

there is only one real "this sucks" thing for me and its rouge's voice acting. its soo terrible ive never liked her current voice but she sounded particularly bad here to the point where it was distracting..... when it comes to other voice actors who are one of my less liked voices for their character im at least able to say that theyre doing a good job or have improved a lot over the years even if theyre not my first pick. but i swear to god rouge has gotten worse

anyway . good game . the ending made me tear up a little. thumbs up emoji . will probably play sonics side at some point too but idk if ill do it today

#i definitely have more thoughts on the story/dialogue but ill save that for other posts this is getting really long already #sonic x shadow generations #sxsg spoilers

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berriweb · 1 year ago

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do you think you could do a platonic miles and y/n where the reader comes out as lesbian? like y/n hasn’t told anyone and she’s been struggling abt it and kinda closing off to miles. and how miles would react. if u can’t it’s ok! and thanks if you do :)

╰┈➤ ❝ that’s it? ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x fem! reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. reader comes out to miles as lesbian

: ̗̀➛ a/n. my mind and soul simply gravitated to this request as soon as I saw it and instantly knew what to write I love it sm

n/n — nickname

Miles knew something was seriously up from the moment you asked to come over.

He was no expert at reading people or knowing what to do when it came to comforting someone, he couldn’t sense what was going through someone’s head or guess what emotions they were feeling from a glance, but he had been your best friend long enough to know you, and by association when there was something wrong and you weren’t telling him.

In the beginning Miles didn’t worry too much when you stopped wanting to hang out as often, it was around finals season and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was because you were busy with school. He had his fair share of times where he’d been flaky due to his own personal matters (mostly due to Spider-Man business), he wasn’t going to take it personally, but then you started getting distant.

Scratching off his first assumption, he came to the conclusion that maybe something had happened to you instead. Trouble at home, a bad friend, a crush gone wrong? He’d tried going through every bad scenario in his head but none seemed applicable, and with you starting to close yourself off from him it was getting harder and harder for him to find out. He didn’t want to come off as too strong so he started to resort to subtly hinting that you could talk to him whenever the two of you would hang out.

Or at least he believed it was subtle, but awkwardly suggesting that the two of you start confessing anything that’s been trouble you, then insisting you go first and repeating how he was there to listen wasn’t exactly keeping his intentions low-key. Still, the effort was there and it was clear he had no ill will and was doing his best to try to help, but to no avail. When that eventually lead to you starting to avoid him all together unless unavoidable, Miles came to the conclusion that he must’ve done something.

N/N: ‘Can I come over?’

He felt his mouth dry as he stared down at the message that’d only just appeared in his recent notifications.

Miles had been cooped up in his room after the school day, hunching over his desk drawing for what was likely hours to occupy his hands and distract his mind. It’d only been a few weeks since the two of you had a proper conversation, but to him it might as well have been an eternity. By that point he’d accepted the fact that he’d been in the wrong and would simply have to wait for you to want to speak with him again to get a chance to properly apologize, but nevertheless he was still caught off guard when you suddenly texted him that afternoon wanting just that.

He frowned at his phone, sitting slouched in his chair and hastily tapping his marker against his desk. Even then, Miles could sense the abnormality in your tone with the dry message you’d sent, and he couldn’t help but silently wonder what could’ve possibly went wrong to warrant it.

After debating for what was probably far too long about how to respond, he chose what he assumed to be the safe route and sent a small ‘yep’ and a thumbs up emoji.

He didn’t bother to elaborate on anything else, by this point the two of you had hung out so often that you were familiar with where his home was and would stop by regularly, even getting approval from his parents for being one of his only respectable friends, though when your only competition was Ganke it wasn’t that hard to win them over.

He didn’t leave his room even after he’d noticed you’d read the message. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to be happy to see you, it’d been far too long since you’d seen each other outside of school, but part of him was worried that it’d only been initiated so that you could break it to him that your friendship was over when you arrived and he wouldn’t know what to think.

It was around half an hour later when he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and his mother’s voice happily greeting the visitor, followed by a knock at his own bedroom door.

“You have a visitor~!”

When it swung open, his mom was beaming and you were standing sheepishly beside her. You’d walked in without a word, but as Miles stood to shut the door after you his mom paused, shooting him a look that sent shivers down his spine but sent a clear message that she could tell something was wrong and for him to tread carefully.

When he turned back to you, every apology he’d practiced and revised in his head was gone in an instant and he regretted not writing it down on cards beforehand. You’d sat on his bed, glancing around the room and studying the decor as if you hadn’t seen it many times before, unable to meet his gaze.

With every ounce of intelligence slowly draining out of his head, Miles’ idea of mending the situation was to say what first came to mind.

“I’m sorry!” He blurred out without thinking, and much louder than he had intended for it to come out.

At the very least it got your attention, nearly making you jump as you suddenly turned and looked at you, but the assumed anger he’d expect to cross your face never came. Instead, your eyebrows knitted together and the left was slightly raised, staring at him with confusion written all over your face.

“…for what?”

It was then Miles turn to look confused, followed by dumbfounded at your lack of understanding. That was a great question, actually. What was he sorry for?

“I, uh-” he stumbled over his words for a moment, standing awkwardly with his hand gestures doing no good at explaining his words for him. “For…I don’t know, actually.”

He let out a strained sigh. “I don’t know what I did but you’ve been acting real weird so I kinda figured I did something?” His explanation sounded more of a question than a statement, but he got his point across nonetheless, watching the guilt cross your face as you listen.

“Wha- no, Miles, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault, really,” you assured remorsefully, patting the spot next for you as an invitation for him to sit.

Miles let out a breathe he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, relieved at the revelation that he, in fact, had not been in the wrong, but as he accepted your gesture and sat down, he couldn’t help but wonder that if it wasn’t an issue with him, what was it? You must’ve recognized the puzzled expression on his face and realized what he was wondering.

“It’s…complicated. I was struggling with something and I didn’t mean to be so cold but I was worried and didn’t want to tell you in case you-” “Hey-”

Miles cut you off mid sentence, placing a hand on your shoulder with an expression that matched the sudden switch to serious and concern he displayed. “You don’t have to worry about that, you can tell me anything. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t? No judgement, I swear.”

You smiled at the genuine reassurance from him, only for him to immediately follow up and break the seriousness of the conversation. “-unless you were confessing to something crazy, I guess, like eating babies or kicking old people; in that case maybe I’d judge a little.”

He was satisfied with the laugh you cracked at the switch, it’d been a while since he’d seen you genuinely smile. When it subsided, he removed his hand and let you bring it back down to properly speak.

“Promise that you’ll be cool about this-” “Promise.” “-and won’t go blabbing to anyone-” “Done and done.” “-not a single soul.” “My lips are sealed.”

The anticipation was bubbling up within him and he nearly started fidgeting from it alone as he waited for you to explain what’d you’d been struggling with and upsetting your friendship for so long.

“…I’m a lesbian.”

Miles counted approximately 12 seconds of long, drawn out silence as the two of you stared at each other, you with an expectant and hesitant expression and him with a completely blank face, before your sharp inhale broke the silence and his head tilted slightly to the right, raising a brow.

“…that’s it?”

You blinked. Miles blinked.

“…yes?”

Miles was, once again, no expert at comforting people or responding to any serious conversation that normally would’ve been emotional, which would explain why rather than any normal route, he laughed.

You were left sitting there, more puzzled than ever before as he slapped a hand over his mouth to try and contain his fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

After he willed himself to calm down in a matter of seconds, Miles let out a deep breath and beamed at you.

“You thinking there would’ve been a problem if you’d told me this is what’s funny.” Miles playfully bumped your shoulder, and you could tell he was keeping the tone lighthearted despite the significance of his words. “I couldn’t care less if you like girls, no one else would or should either. If anything this is great! Eventually I’ll get to flex that I’m the first person you came out too!”

The sincerity of his words was enough to make you smile and almost completely forget your previous reluctance to bring this up to him in the first place. “Miles, you’re an idiot.” He frowned and exaggerated his motion as he slumped his shoulders. “But thank you, I really appreciate you, I mean that.” He cheered back up in an instant.

“Anytime.”

bonus:

“Hey does this mean I can talk about girls with you now too?”

“You already did that Miles.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same when I thought only I could like them. Maybe not though, you do have shitty taste.”

“Hey-!”

“What do you think of that girl in second period who sits in the corner? I think she’s pretty cute.”

“Eh, she’s alright I guess, but I’m more into your mom.”

“…okay, too far.”

“Worth it.”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #atsv fanfiction #spider man #atsv x reader #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles x you

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rickybowensfever · 4 months ago

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Dance the Sickness Away (Campus Crud) - Sicktember 2024: Day 3

Welcome to Sicktember 2024, Day 3: Campus/Con Crud!

You can find out more info @sicktember.

About this story: Days after "Dancing for A Cause", a charity event put on by Kylie and her sorority sisters, everyone starts to fall ill and Zach is first.

CW: very brief mention of childhood cancer since that's the cause they were raising money for

NOTE: I love all of my oc's equally but I can't help but have a strong connection to Zach and Kylie. I just *love* them. Short bio: College AU, Zach and Kylie are living with each other during their junior year of college at Lakewood University (All of my college oc’s go here!). Zach went to community college but transferred to Lakewood once he completed his associates degree. . Zach and Kylie started dating senior year of high school. The two have known each other since kindergarten. They're childhood friends to lovers. Now, they live in an off-campus apartment together. If you think they're as cute as I do, I have a couple of other fics with them. See this fic for their origin story & you can also search #zachandkylie on my Tumblr for more fics of them or any of my oc's. about my ocs! Zach Perez loves Spiderman and is a hopeless romantic. He studies computer science. He comes from a single mother, Angela who is an RN and he has an older sister, Emily who is 2-years older than him. She is a pediatrician. Kylie Daniels is a girls-girl, she loves event planning & is the Community Service chair of her sorority. Kylie studies Media & Communications. She is the eldest daughter. She has a younger brother, Blake who is a trans boy. He is a year younger and on the road touring with his band.

(SET DURING MID-OCTOBER 2024)

Zach felt like he was hit by a truck.

It had been three days since he pulled an all-nighter for Kylie’s 24-hour dance-a-thon for charity. Kylie had been planning the charity event for months with her sorority sisters. Like many other universities that held these types of events, Dancing for a Cause helped to spread awareness about childhood cancer and raise money for the charity they collectively chose. Plus it was also a great way to bond with other students on campus. For twenty-four-hours, they raised money for every hour that each participant danced.

Thus, Zach’s sleep schedule was totally off. But now, it felt like it was finally coming back to normal. However, when he woke up that morning, something felt off. Of course, the morning after the dance-a-thon where they both slept for over 7 hours, his body was sore, and his muscles ached; that was normal after dancing for a long period of time.

But this time felt different. Aside from the body aches, his head pounded, his throat felt like he had swallowed shards of glass, and chills coursed through his body, making it impossible to move from his bed. Plus, he had been coughing all night, sporadically which definitely didn’t help with his throat pain. He slowly patted the mattress to find his phone. He grabbed the cold phone from beside his pillow, lying on the white sheets on the bed. He used his thumb to unlock the phone and spoke for the first time that morning.

“Siri, can you text Kylie and tell her I’m sick?” he croaked, wincing at the pain in his throat as he spoke.

Certainly. To Kylie (heart emoji), “I’m sick” Send it?

In the midst of a coughing fit, Zach croaked out a weak yes as he curled up under a mountain of covers hoping that would ease the chills.

Sent.

Moments later, Kylie was hovering over their bed and pulling the blankets off of her boyfriend who groaned in response. She frowned as she got close enough to see his condition. Glassy eyes, pink cheeks, and a pale complexion.

She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to feel his warm forehead. “Awe, you poor thing. You were coughing all night. Everyone’s been texting me saying they’re sick too. I asked Krista to send me the symptoms she and Natalie are having too” she said, running a hand through his matted dark brown hair.

“I feel so sick” he croaked, holding his throat as if that would ease the pain and pulled the comforter up to his chin as his teeth chattered and a train of coughs followed.

Kylie grimaced as she heard the painful coughs escape his lungs, “You’ve been out for a while. It’s already noon” she told him. Despite being in college, Zach was usually awake before 11am on his good days. Thus, her boyfriend looked at her with pure shock on his face as if she were pranking him. She chuckled and showed him her phone’s lockscreen with an image of them hugging with Zach kissing her on the cheek at a college football game. Her phone’s time read 12:15 PM.

Zach blinked at her. His energy was on E. She smiled softly as she revealed two pink tablets of pain reliever showing them off in her palm like a hand model. Zach cracked a half smile and slowly picked his body up. Kylie turned toward his night stand and grabbed his reusable water bottle, as she shook it she made a mental note to refill it on her way out. There was enough to suffice for now.

“Take these. It’ll help the little fever you’re running and relieve some discomfort for a bit” she said with a smile, passing the water bottle off to him and holding her palm open toward him. Zach slightly nodded and grabbed the two items from her, taking the medicine and chasing them down with the cold water. He winced as he swallowed, the pain in his throat making him clench his fist in pain.

Kylie pulled out her phone, her face lit up as it dinged. She tapped the phone’s screen and read her newest text message. Zach groaned as every little sound started to bother him and melted back under the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

She recited the text listing off the symptoms the rest of the group were experiencing: runny/stuffy nose, low-grade fever, chills, cough, headache, sore throat, fatigue. Zach gave a short nod if he was experiencing the same. He happened to check off half of the list.

Kylie kept her phone in her hand and looked down, swiping until she landed on the DoorDash app. “Alright, I’m going to order some things on DoorDash so we’re prepared. I’m sure to catch it soon. So I’d rather be safe and quarantine for a few days. Thank goodness for Fall Break,” she said as she tapped the screen, adding things to her cart.

As Zach dozed off to sleep, Kylie quietly tip-toed out of the room and closed over the door waiting for the notification that her order had been delivered.

###

Zach woke up in a daze to a cold hand gently shaking him. “Hey babe, you’ve been out for a while. Why don’t we get some medicine in you?” she said, holding a bottle of cough medicine in her hand.

He groaned, attempting to pull himself up with any ounce of energy he had. Kylie set the cough medicine on the nightstand and grabbed the warm pillows her boyfriend had been sleeping on, fluffing them up. She placed the two pillows by the headboard and put a hand around his waist helping him sit up, her cold hand touched against his warm skin.

Kylie smiled softly at the boy; his hair messy and his cheeks bright pink, lips chapped. Kylie leaned over the nightstand filled with supplies: tissues, digital thermometer, a bottle of red sports drink and a bottle of cough medicine with a small plastic medicine cup beside it. She twisted the lid to the bottle and poured the required dosage of purple liquid into the medicine cup and handed it to her boyfriend.

Zach took the medicine cup from her hand and drank, wincing at the awful taste. Kylie frowned, holding in a laugh. “I’m not trying to poison you. I swear this will make you feel so much better” she explained. Her boyfriend looked at her giving a glare then a thin-lipped smile to show he was joking.

With his right hand, he signed “thank you.” His hand near his lips, he moved his hand forward and slightly down toward her direction, giving a thin-lipped smile.

“You’re welcome” she whispered, grabbing the red sports drink from the table and passing it off to him. “Want to watch a movie or something?” she asked, turning her head toward the flat screen TV on top of the TV stand in their room.

Zach took a long sip of the drink before responding with a nod. “Sounds good! Be right back” she said, jogging out of the room. Zach was starting to feel slightly better even if it did still feel like complete garbage. He grabbed the TV remote from the night stand on his side, leaning his body slightly to grab it as it sat next to the lamp in the center of the table. He pointed the black remote at the TV and selected Hulu, starting up Freaky Friday with Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan.

Kylie quickly returned with a mug of chicken noodle soup, her reusable water bottle, and a pack of saltines. Zach turned to look at her and smiled as he melted into the covers. Kylie set everything on the nightstand next to her side of the bed (on the right) and joined him.

Zach lay his head on her shoulder as the movie played.

#original characters #my ocs #sicktember 2024 #!sickzach #sickfics #sicktember #zachandkylie #zach x kylie #kylie caregiver #campus crud #hey siri im sick #upper respiratory infection #fever #sore throat #in bed all day

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