#i love mouth scar op

[tonycries]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

@nanatsuyu

How are we feeling about some tummy kisses?

Andrew giving them to Neil. Kissing his scars with so much care. Tracing them with his tongue. Digging his fingers into his sides to bring him closer, and falling asleep afterwards, cuddled up to him.

Neil giving them to Kevin, and Andrew watching. Drawing small circles with his fingers and ghosting kisses just under his belly button. The whole time Kevin is squirming and blushing while making eye contact with Andrew. Kevin telling Neil to fuck off while simultaneously having his fingers in Neil's hair to bring him closer.

Neil giving them to Andrew. Nibbling on his stomach here and there to make a shiver run down his spine. Hiding his face under Andrew's shirt until he is pulling him up for a kiss.

[portgasdwrld]

Hello, Tomie! Are requests still open? I got the cutest fluff idea and I think you're the best writer for the job because you really write the characters so well.

Cold/stoic OP boys reacting to an S/O who MUST always stop to pet, feed, and photograph every cat on the street? Maybe Smoker, Zoro, and Law.

🍃Hey sweetheart!! Thank you for sending this ask! I love the idea so much and thanks for the support!! I hope you like it 🪽

🥝 Op men + cat lover reader

Featuring: Zoro, Law, Smoker

Warning: None, fluff, established relationship for Zoro & Law. GN! Reader

Zoro

Zoro stares at you as you stopped for the third time today to pet a black kitten this time. He doesn’t see the appeal & doesn’t understand why you love cats so much. He looks around making sure you two are still out of any enemy attack, before he approaches you. He gasps a little when he sees you open your bag to feed the animal with some treats specially made for them.

-Do you just walk around hoping to fall on a cat?

He asks in his usual stern voice. You look over your shoulder and laugh when the realization hits. You couldn’t help but soften, faced to those adorable animals. You would take them all on the ship with you if you could.

-I do be giving this impression, huh?

-Yeah,… you really seem to like them.

-They are so cute don’t you think??

You exclaim while picking up the cat in your hands and showing it to him. He furrows his eyebrows, before looking away uninterested.

-Nah, don’t get it.

-You’re always so grumpy, a bit like a cat.

-Are you comparing me to that thing??

-A thing?? It’s so cuteee!! Look! It even has a scar on its eye just like you! What are the odds!

Zoro’s cheeks slightly flush embarrassed by your comparison, while the cat and him stare at each other. He scoffs as your words ring in his head. He doesn’t see the ressemblance and doesn’t want to. A pirate like him looking like a kitten? You must be out of your mind.

-Let’s go, the others are waiting.

He says quicken up his pace as he walks away from you, still flustered. He hears your laugh echo again and soon after, your arms wrap around his as you look at him with big eyes.

-Do you think the cat is a fighter too?

He gives you a bit of a side eye wondering where you find those type of questions. He shrugs his shoulders as a smirk cover his face.

-He must be the strongest, if so.

Maybe he will consider making space for a cat in your shared cabin, maybe…

Law

Law sighs as he sees you once again bend down to pet a cat. He’s always a bit in a hurry as he’s a busy man, in his words. So he does find it inconvenient that you have this habit. The crew is walking not too far behind and he hopes to not waste any more time in this village after buying everything they needed.

-Are you done?

He asks softly, but it still comes off with an annoyed undertone and his stoic facial expression doesn’t help. You straighten your back as you give him a bit of his attitude back.

-Nah

You retort while putting your tongue out and hugging the cat in your arms.

-The cat has an ear missing..They need a doctor!

Laws mouth stays open for a little a bit speechless. He cocks an eyebrow as he looks at you.

-It’s a stray cat, they are made strong.

-Pfff, not very doctor of you, Trafalgar.

You reply while scrunching a little your nose unsatisfied with his answer. Law rubs the bridge of his nose, before getting a better look of the cat.

-Im a doctor for humans …. The ears seems like an old scar that have already been healed, so don’t worry.

He adds as he notices your uneasy expression. You smile and ruffle with the tip of your finger the fur on top of the cat’s head, happy with the news. You thank him, before letting the cat go.

-Stay safe~

You say to the cat with caring eye as you watch it walk away. Law watches with a fond smile. You take his hand and with the crew, you make your way back home.

Smoker

He exhales a cloud of smoke as he cocks an eyebrow to you petting a cat that crossed by you two.

-Isn’t it so cute!!

You exclaim with an excited expression as you focus on the small creature in front of you. You reach for your bag where you find your camera and click couple of pictures.

-What are you doing? We are wasting time.

-Im taking pictures for souvenirs!

-Of cats ?

He retorts, lowkey judging you. He thinks the behaviour is a little childish, especially when you two needs to be attentive at all time for any pirates that can cause trouble. But here you are, taking pictures of cats and petting them.

-Yeah, why not? Want me to take some of you?

You say with a teasing smirk and you stare at him this time. The man blushes a little flustered and shakes his head.

- This isn’t very professional.

-Ohh, relaaax. If some idiots want to cause trouble we don’t need to worry if you are here right ?

-U-uh yeah…

-All cool then~

You conclude with a cocky smile, satisfied as you pet another cat under the man’s confused eyes.

[sidewalk-cracks]

okay everybody, listen up, because I need to talk about Edward Elric. I've started watching fmab and I am losing my mind over this boy. There's so many incredible things about this kid; he's such an incredible protagonist.

the realism of Ed is so painfully wonderful- this is a fifteen year old child. Remember what you were like when you were fifteen? Yeah? Fifteen is so young. This is a child who's had to grow up WAY too fast and has been through so many unspeakable things, but he's still a kid and he actually ACTS like it. He gets irritable over small things and acts "childish" when he's excited and has that touch of arrogance a teen gets when they know they're important.

Ed gets scared. He's not like a lot of your "unshakable" shounen protagonists, who, when faced with something shocking in a fight, eyes only widen and mouth only frowns and they only worry a little and maybe ask for an explanation. No, Ed is a kid and he gets scared. Sometimes he handles fights well, but sometimes he freezes. When Scar found him and Al, when he hurt Al and tore out Ed's arm and pursued relentlessly in the rain, standing over Ed as Ed writhed on the ground, Ed screamed for his brother and froze in his fear and thought he was about to die then.

He's so fifteen in everything- in his anger and his arrogance, in his fear, in his trauma, in his reverence of life. Ed is at the age when your eyes truly start to open to reality and society, though given his past he probably started earlier. But he holds life so preciously, so closely, cradles it in his arms and declares over and over again that it is one thing he will not trample, will not hurt. That fifteen-year-old conviction and the leftover naivety from childhood, paired with the newer discovery of just how sacred, how beautiful and important life is.

He's fifteen in his love. You ever been around teenagers, especially today's teenagers, and you know they do everything fiercely, most things boldly, and Ed screams it in his love. In his protection of Al, his absolute dedication and protection to the one person he has left, can hold close. He's a teenager in their banter but such an eldest sibling in every way- in his drive to protect Al from anything, everything he can, in his leadership, in his fear of losing his sibling.

Ed is such a real person, such a real kid. He's incredibly mortal, unlike a lot of op shounen protagonists. He hits his head and it bleeds. He gets impaled and struggles to stand at all. Every time he's injured we see him recovering in the hospital after. He has nightmares from his fear of failure, about Al and his mother and Nina. He's smart but not indestructible. He's incredibly earnest about his convictions, earnest about the beauty of life, just like a teen.

Edward Elric is probably the most realistic anime teen I've ever seen, and I love him SO much

[ghosts-cant-sleep]

you told me love is to pray (i'm sorry, i dont pray that way)

russell adler x male! reader warnings: average mlm soviet era situationship, a wittle sexual but not straight smut, age gap, toxic yaoi, not proof read lolz notes: posted in honor of bo6 coming out!!! i love the bo series sosososo much and cw was def a favorite. lowkey rlly hoping this years cod will have the same effects as mw22 because jesus christ the men in the black ops series r SO fine and it's criminal that they dont get the attention they deserve. give me bo requests rn. like rn.

fem dni

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, "DIE LANDEBAHN"

[Name][L.Name], CIA

52.6200 N. 13.4050 E. West Berlin

March 8th, 1981

The dank musk of the safehouse had long since grown stuffy and suffocating, a damp draft they could never quite figure out. The stench of tobacco was seldom better, but it was everywhere, clinging to the walls.

Adler sat at the edge of his thin, stiff matress. The sheets pulled from the corners and tangled around him, tugged over his lap in an attempt to preserve whatever dignity he thought he still had.

He keeps his elder on his knees and his eyes glued to the floor, concrete cold bent his bare feet. He tried to ignore the sleeping body behind him. A sleeping body who had no place with him, yet there he was all the same. He wasn't sure what to do with all this.

It was hardly four in the morning, but Adler had long since given up his fight for rest. His hands instead found his zippo, the weight in his hand, an old, comforting friend. He fiddles with the cap, calloused thumb rubbing against the cold metal surface, flicking the cap up, then shutting it with a 'click.'

Christ, how far he's fallen. Where did his resolve go, his self-control, his dignity? How had he made himself so easy to beckon into the hands of another man, nearly half his age, no less. He was better than this. He had to be.

He'd liked to believe his hands only ever yearned for [Name]'s skin when his brain was at its slowest, in the midst of a drunken stupor, but he'd be lying through his teeth. Even now, he fights to keep his gaze off of him, imagining how [Name]'s body looks stretched across the matress, sheets thrown askew over his bare body, the scars carved into his skin that seemed to age him decades.

With a tired sigh, Adler's hands find his coat, thrown haphazardly on the nightstand. He fiddles with the fabric, leather squeaking and rustling as his fingers search through pockets, plucking out a pack of cigarettes.

The cardboard box is wrinkled and hardly intact, falling apart in his hands. There's only a couple left, and the thought makes him nervous.

He slides one one out, and not a moment later, it's held between his lips, pack tossed aside, and his lighters flame igniting the end. The stench of smoke is quickly to fill the room, pungent. The immediate buzz brings a soothing lul to his mind, quieting his worries.

He knows the relief is temporary, it always is, but the moment he lets himself pretend he doesn't realize.

Behind him, [Name] stirs awake, mused up by the smell of tobacco. The matress shifts with his weight, the springs screach, the blankets pull.

Adler sneaks a glance over his shoulderx watching as the young man behind him turns to lay in his back inside, eyes still screwed shut. He stretches out like a cat, back arching against the matress, sheets bending within the dips of his legs as they bustle beneath the bedding. His skin is littered with evidence of Adler.

Who, in turn, is quick to avert his eyes back to the cigarette burning away in his fingers, pinched almost too tightly between his thumb and index. With a shakey hand, he lifts it back to his mouth, taking a greedy huff.

[Name]'s eyes blink in the darkness that still shrouds the room, pale moonlight filtering in through the dirtied windows, and the slight glow from Adler's cigarette.

His gaze finds purchase on Adler's back. Even in the fuzzy, dim light, he still feels like he can make out every detail. He traces up the length of his spine, brain filling in where every freckle, mole, and scar would lay. He doesn't miss how the muscles of his back roll under the weight of his eyes.

"It's rude to stare," Adler huffs out, voice abrupt and bearish as he cuts through the stillness. Smoke rolls off his tounge with every breath, disapating into the room.

"What's rude is not offering a hit," [Name] retorts, unbothered by the calloused tone of Adler's voice. He was always like this the morning after, the asshole. [Name] grown used to it quickly-- he always came back around.

The scratchy material of the matress bends under his weight as he moves to his knees, settling behind Adler. He leans in close, letting the warmth of Adler's back soothe the cold skin of his chest, pressing their bodies close.

Despite whatever naivety Adler saw in [Name], he wasn't some idiot kid. Adler was far from a good, nobel man, and anyone with half a functioning brain could see that clear as day. He saw that dark charm, that relentless ambitious, with what ease it took for his words to bend the minds of the people around him-- and maybe he's fooled himself into thinking he's ammune to it.

He wished Adler could make up his mind. There was a constant push and pull, hot and cold, soft and doting one second, then cold and dry the next. It was tiresome. He was sure Adler felt... troubled in regards to the situation they'd gotten themselves wrapped up in.

What he wasn't sure about was exactly how he fared in Adler's thoughts, what the man makes of him. Was he an asset, a tool, a teammate, a liability, a lover, something better, something worse?

There was a certainty in the back of his mind that he tried to ignore. If it came down to it, him or Adler, he doesn't think it'd take much for Adler to make that decision.

There wasn't a single word out of Adler's mouth he could trust wholeheartedly. Nonsense stories about whatever scar [Name] had proded at, every word of support, every promise, every notion of praise muttered against [Name]'s sweat soaked skin.

All the same, [Name] let's his chin rest against the junction of Adler's neck and shoulder, leaning his weight onto the older man. With a sluggish groan, his arms, still heavy with sleep, wrap around Adler's torso.

"You're a fiend," Adler huffs, sneaking a sidelong glance at the toung man drapped against him, only able to make out the blured lines of his hair from the corner of his eye. "I cut the checks around here-- I know you make enough to quit bumming off me."

All the same, he steals a quick breath before raising the cigarette up to [Name]'s lips. He feels the warmth of his breath and can imagine with ease the way his lips part just to wrap around the filter.

He takes a long, slow hit, the burning paper sizzling, burning brighter. He lets the toxicity fill his mouth, burn his throat, flood into his lungs, warm his blood. He can't help but smile around the butt.

He takes a moment to savor the flavor before letting the smoke drift from his lips, eyeing the ribbons, noting the shape it takes.

"They taste better from your packs."

"Bastard."

"Hm." He sounds far too pleased with himself.

A moment of affection breaches past Adler's will. His free hand finds a place on [Name]'s own, resting gently, pliant fingers wrapping loosely around him. His thumb finds the curve of his wrist, rubbing against the thin skin shrouding the bone.

The small gesture pulls a soft sigh from [Name]. He focuses on the feeling, letting it silent the rampant hum of his thoughts.

He leans his head against Adler's, eyelids relenting to the heft that pulled them close. He relaxes into whatever faux comfort Adler provides. It was a tricky little thing to resist, giving into this simple desire, the brief beats of calm. What was the harm in playing pretend a little while longer? They were both good at it.

"You're cold," Adler complains, despite how he leans back into [Name]'s skin, even if just slightly. Regardless, he makes half an effort to rid [Name] off his shoulders.

"It's not me, it's the room," [Name] rebuttals back with a defensive scoff, sinking deeper into the heat of Adler's body, feeling the scratch of his stubble against his cheek. He speaks low, "You're just really warm," he mutters, hot breath hitting Adler's skin.

His hands spread flat against Adler's skin, fingers sprawled, greedy for more purchase on his flesh. One hand follows the line between his abs up towards the dip in his chest, touch firm, and certain. The other is lighter, softer, teasing the nails of his fingers trace instable patterns between Adler's hipbones, brushing against the hem of the sheet.

Adler nearly allows himself to once again fall back into [Name]'s hands, giving into his touch. The smooth skin of the young man's hands gliding over the bumbs and ridges of scars carved into his skin.

But, just as he'd be trained to, he pushes through the temptation, the desire, the buzz [Name] brought to the pit in his lower stomach.

His hold on [Name]'s wrist turns firm and almost cruel, pulling a slight hiss from the youger man, hand stilling against Adler's body.

He pulls out of Adler's constraint, leaning back away from him, the air around them suddenly feeling much too frigid.

Adler finally spares a glance over his shoulder, staring straight on into [Name], breath mingling, noses brushing together.

Adler looks older than he is. The crows feet at the outer corners of his eyes are deep and only seem wose at this early of an hour. A scowl personality ghosts his features, lips pursed, a perpetual frown even when all seems good. His eyes are a hollow blue as they bore back into [Name]. They narrow just a twitch-- observing, scrutinizing.

The gaze Adler meets is like a cruel parody of his own. His gaze is tight and narrowed, but still too soft. Boyish. All that ages him are his eyes-- the dark bags heavy beneath them, and although his wide-eyed look may be green and childish, that idleness is unmistakably one in the same with his own.

Turning away, Adler shrugs him off his shoulders-- with less laze this time.

"We're both up," he states, clearing his throat as he lets his cigarette rest on the overflowing ashtray sitting on the bedside table. He bends over, bed creaking, sorting his own clothes from [Name]'s. "Might as well get a headstart."

[Name] sits back, arms fully leaving their place around Adler, resting them in his own lap. His hands come together, fingertips tobacco stained, much like Adler's own. He fiddles with his fingers, pressing one nail into the other, noting how it feels when it bends.

He watches with a vague, tired interest as Adler stands from the bed, tugging on his clothes. The sound of rustling fabric, a few popping joints, and the jingle of his belt is what fills the silence before [Name]'s voice takes its place.

"Work can wait for a few more hours, can't it?" His head cranes up, tilting to the side, lips parted and dry. "It's hardly past four."

The request wasn't even inherently lewd. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't take whatever Adler gave him, but for once, he admitted to himself that he wasn't hoping for sex. There was a tenderness he searched for-- a glowing warmth as opposed to raging heat. Innocent touch without the assumed promise of something more.

Adler's brows pinch together, crows feet further crinkling as he looks back towards [Name]. He regards him with a strange look of disinterest-- one of the many faces of Adler that left [Name]'s mind running itself in circles all day long.

He wishes his could crack open Adler's head, look around inside, poke and prod. He imagines seeing tangible thoughts sliding along the ridges of his brain, telling him what Adler's thinking how he feels, what makes him happy, sad, angry.

Oblivious to the thoughts in [Name]'s head, Adler approaches the edge of the bed, smoothing out the wrinkes in his shirt. His lips press into a pensive purse as his knees reach the edge of the bed.

After a beat, he raises his hand to curn around the contors of [Name]'s jaw, giving it a tentative squeeze. The gesture lays halfway between affection and mocking, unsure of where it leans.

Adler mouth falls open, then closes once more. A soft sigh is shared between the too men.

Adler allows himself just a beat to feel the weight of the younger man's jaw resting in his palm. His fingers press into the flesh of his cheeks, letting it dip under the pressure of his firm touch.

Just as quickly, his hand falls back towards his side. Finally, he offers his version of an answer;

Then, just as quickly, his hand falls, then he finally answers.

"Get dressed. We've got a job to do."

[tibby-art]

Foaming at the mouth over your convexian au. Would you (sometime in the future) ever do a full breakdown of how the watcher powers work, or will it be a mystery to us as well as the characters?

As much as I love deep dives into power systems, I also know the temptation of leaving things open ended for future development, or just being able to say "the power of lore" when things don't quite match up, so no pressure or anything!!

I think a lot of inspiration for the watcher powers comes from Imogen from Critical Role, if anyone is familiar lol. There's also this game that's a few years old called Beyond Two Souls, and I always found the protagonist's abilities super interesting. I remember there was a mechanic that if she touched a dead body, she could see a ghostly image of the moments leading up to that person's death I think? And maybe a hint of stranger things inspo thrown in there too. I really like the trope of "character has kind of OP abilities but the nerf is that the abilities are hard to control". As I said in the last ask I like the idea of Watcher abilities being very true to the name, a lot of sixth-sense abilities such as being able to see/locate people and objects that aren't nearby, being able to sense a being's presence and what type of creature it is (like, i think Cub and Scar would come up differently on his radar from a normal person, he's able to sense the vex magic). I don't think Grian can literally read minds like, exact thoughts but I do think she's able to sense a general vibe from someone. Like, if someone is lying to him, he may not know what the exact lie is, but he's able to sense that there's dishonesty coming from that person? Since the powers are new to Grian and nobody really knows the extent of what he's capable of, it gives me a lot of room to come up with cool power ideas later on that Grian learns the more his powers get stronger? Idk I love cool psychic powers we're frolicking in the fields together

[cod-thoughts]

Waiting for you (waiting for you)

Word count: 6.5k

Relationships: GhostPrice, PriceGhost

Tags: PricGhostweek2024, established relationship, Reunions, they're so soft for each other, they are very smitten, fluff, a little ooc, suggestive themes, meaning they just flirt with each other lol

Day 6 of GhostPrice week: "Sunrise/Sunset" and the title is what i was listening to while editing: ""SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK" - Joji

Ghost and Price have a routine, they meet before their day starts at sunrise every single day. They share that quiet precious moment where the sun shines its golden and pink rays across base. They share a final moment before Ghost has to go on a solo op and won't be able to contact Price. Let's just say Price doesn't have a good time. Good thing Ghost makes it up to him anyway. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The first hints of light crept over the horizon, soft and pale, brushing the edges of the base in muted gold. Their base was still, the kind of quiet that only existed in the moments before the day began in earnest. Price stood with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug, the warmth seeping through his fingers as the faint bite of dawn’s chill hung in the air. He glanced to his side, where Ghost leaned back against the low wall of their usual spot, his posture relaxed in a way Price had come to think of as rare and precious.

Ghost’s mask lay discarded beside him, forgotten like an afterthought. Price’s gaze lingered longer than he meant it to, tracing the sharp lines of Ghost’s nose, the scar that tugged the corner of his upper lip into the faintest hint of a smirk even when his face was neutral. A thin line cut through one of his brows, another scar, stark against his pale skin. His blonde lashes caught the early light, almost translucent, and his curls—too long for regulation—fell forward slightly as he bent his head to sip his tea.

Even now, after all these years, Price felt something stir in his chest at the ease with which Ghost shed his mask around him. It wasn’t just the physical gesture—it was everything it represented, the trust, the intimacy, the unspoken understanding that here, in these moments, they could be entirely themselves.

“You’re staring,” Ghost murmured, not looking up, but Price caught the faint twitch of his lips as he set his mug down. His voice was low, roughened by the chill of the morning air but carrying a warmth that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Price huffed softly, his mouth curving into a faint smile. “Admiring, more like,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something softer. “Don’t see why you bother with the mask. Bloody crime, hiding a face like that.”

Ghost’s brow lifted slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing his features as he finally turned his head. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he said, his lips twitching into what might have been a smile if not for the scar pulling it tighter on one side. “You’ve seen me on a bad day. Hardly ‘bloody criminal’ then.”

Price didn’t answer right away, his gaze steady as it lingered on Ghost’s face. The quiet vulnerability in the way Ghost held himself, unguarded in a way he rarely was, made Price’s chest ache in the best way. He let out a slow breath, the steam from his tea curling into the air between them. “You’re a sight either way,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “And I love you. Thought you’d figured that out by now.”

Ghost’s head tilted slightly, his expression softening into something unmistakably tender. “You’ve been telling me that every chance you get,” he said, his voice low, but there was a warmth in it that made Price’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.”

Ghost set his mug aside and leaned forward, his hand lifting to brush the back of his fingers along Price’s jaw. The touch was deliberate, affectionate in a way that still made Price’s chest tighten despite how often he’d felt it. Ghost shifted closer, his other hand settling lightly on Price’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Price’s mouth, soft but lingering.

“Love you too,” Ghost murmured against his skin, his voice quieter now but carrying a weight that made the words settle deep in Price’s chest.

Price let out a slow breath, his hand coming up to rest over Ghost’s where it lingered on his shoulder. “You’re not half bad at saying it yourself these days,” he said, his tone light but his eyes warm as he met Ghost’s gaze.

Ghost chuckled softly, the sound low and rough, but there was no missing the way he leaned in just a little further, his forehead brushing against Price’s for a moment before he pulled back. They didn’t need to say anything else. The quiet between them said enough.

The sun climbed higher, the day beginning to press in around them, but neither of them moved to leave. Not yet. Not while the morning was still theirs.

---

The sky was streaked with faint pinks and oranges, the kind of colours that promised a clear day ahead. The base was still cloaked in the heavy quiet of early morning, the only sounds the faint hum of a generator and the occasional shuffle of a sentry’s boots. Price stood in their usual spot, a mug of tea cradled in his hands, the steam curling into the cool air. The warmth of it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.

Ghost was beside him, the line of his shoulder brushing Price’s as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. His mask was off, as it always was during these mornings, and Price found himself watching the way the light caught on the sharp planes of Ghost’s face, softening the angles just enough to remind him how young Simon looked in moments like this.

It wasn’t the first time Ghost had gone off on a solo mission, but it was the first in years that would leave them completely out of contact. The knowledge sat heavy between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore. Price took a slow sip of his tea, letting the heat ground him, before setting the mug on the low wall beside him. He let his gaze linger on Ghost’s profile, tracing the curve of his nose, the scar that pulled his lip up, the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

“You’ll hate it as much as I will,” Ghost said suddenly, his voice low but steady, as though they’d already been in the middle of a conversation.

Price huffed softly, the sound more exhale than laugh. “Reckon you’re right about that,” he said, his tone quieter than usual. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on the edge of the wall as he tilted his head up toward the lightening sky. “Not being able to reach you—makes it feel different.”

Ghost turned his head, his gaze steady as it lingered on Price’s face. “It is different,” he admitted, his voice softer now, though the words carried a weight that settled deep in Price’s chest. “I don’t like it either.”

Price turned his head to meet Ghost’s eyes, the sharp brown softened in the early light. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve got a bad feeling about it, are you?” he asked, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles in an attempt to lighten the moment.

Ghost snorted quietly, the sound low and rough. “No. If I did, I wouldn’t be going.” He paused, his hand shifting slightly before resting lightly on Price’s knee. The touch was brief, almost hesitant, but when Price covered Ghost’s hand with his own, curling his fingers firmly around it, Ghost didn’t pull away.

They sat like that for a long moment, the silence between them filled with the quiet hum of their breaths and the distant sounds of the base waking up. Price let his thumb brush over Ghost’s knuckles, his grip firm but not harsh, grounding in a way that made Ghost’s shoulders ease slightly.

“You’ll come back,” Price said finally, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something softer, something unspoken. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Same as always.”

Ghost’s lips twitched into something small but unmistakably warm. He turned his hand under Price’s, his fingers curling to return the pressure. “You’d better be,” he murmured, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the scarred corner of his mouth.

The sun broke the horizon then, its light spilling over the area and catching in Ghost’s hair, turning the pale blonde curls almost gold. Price’s chest tightened at the sight, something he didn’t have the words for rising and settling in equal measure.

Ghost turned slightly, his free hand lifting to rest against Price’s cheek. The touch was deliberate, careful, his thumb brushing along the line of Price’s jaw. “I’ll make it back,” he said, his voice low but carrying a quiet conviction that made Price’s breath hitch. “Promise.”

Price leaned into the touch, his eyes closing briefly before he turned his head to press a kiss to Ghost’s palm. “I know,” he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to hear. When he looked up, the softness in his gaze was mirrored in Ghost’s, a warmth that lingered between them as the day began to press closer.

They stayed until the tea went cold and the sun climbed higher, neither of them ready to leave but both knowing they couldn’t stay. When Ghost finally stood, his hand lingered on Price’s shoulder, the grip firm and grounding before he stepped away. Price stayed until the shadows began to shorten, watching the horizon long after Ghost had gone.

---

The mornings felt wrong without him.

Price stood at their spot, a steaming mug in his hands as the first light of dawn brushed the horizon. The routine should have been comforting, grounding even, but today it felt hollow. His gaze drifted to the mug beside him, still full, the steam curling faintly into the cool air. He’d made two cups, out of habit more than anything, his half-asleep mind reaching for a normality that wasn’t there. The sight of the untouched tea tightened something in his chest, the absence of Ghost’s presence settling like a weight in his ribs.

The world around him was still, their base just beginning to stir in the distance. Normally, that quiet would bring peace—a chance to breathe before the day consumed them both. Now, it only emphasised the solitude, the space Ghost had always filled with his steady presence. Price took a slow sip of his tea, the warmth doing little to chase away the ache that had settled deep in his chest.

His mind drifted, unbidden, to the last time they’d sat here together. Ghost’s face in the early light, the soft curl of his blonde hair against his forehead, the warmth in his gaze that he only let Price see. It was those moments Price clung to now, the memory of them steadying him even as it made the absence cut deeper.

He shifted, leaning back against the low wall, his free hand running over his beard in an attempt to shake off the thoughts. It didn’t work. The stillness gave them too much space to grow, and he found himself gripping his mug tighter, as though holding on to it might ground him.

The sunrise climbed higher, its light spilling across the horizon and warming the stone beneath him. Price let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders sagging as he stared out at the sky. The base was waking now, the faint hum of movement and conversation beginning to rise, but he stayed where he was. It felt wrong to leave, like stepping away from this spot would be admitting Ghost wasn’t here.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through his thoughts, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Soap and Gaz making their way toward him. Their expressions were lighter than his, but the faint furrow in Soap’s brow told Price they’d noticed his mood long before now.

“Morning, Captain,” Soap said, his tone easy but carrying the slightest hint of concern.

Price nodded, taking another sip of his tea. “Morning.”

Gaz leaned against the wall beside him, his gaze following Price’s out toward the horizon. “Any news?”

Price shook his head, the motion small but enough to make Gaz’s lips press into a thin line. Soap exchanged a glance with him, his mouth twitching as though he was about to speak before thinking better of it.

“We were going to grab some breakfast,” Soap said after a moment, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on Price. “Care to join us?”

Price glanced at him, his brow lifting slightly in response to the forced cheer in Soap’s voice. He knew what they were doing—trying to pull him out of his head, to distract him from the gnawing worry that had taken root in his chest. And he appreciated it. He did. But the thought of sitting in the mess hall, pretending everything was fine, made his stomach twist.

“Not today,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “Got some things to take care of.”

Soap didn’t press, but the concern in his gaze lingered before he nodded. “We’ll catch you later, then.”

Price watched as they walked off, their quiet conversation fading into the distance. He stayed where he was, his tea growing cold in his hands as the sun climbed higher, painting the base in warm, golden light.

When he finally rose, the ache in his chest hadn’t lessened, but he carried it with him anyway, letting the memory of Ghost’s quiet promise—I’ll make it back—guide his steps through the day.

---

The sun was rising, but Ghost barely noticed.

He crouched near the edge of the ridge, his eyes scanning the terrain below, the faint streaks of lavender and gold reflecting off his scope. The plan was set, and the time for action was creeping closer, but his mind wasn’t entirely in it. It had been days since he’d left Price behind at the base, and though he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it too much, the quiet moments like these made it impossible to ignore.

The sunrise brought an ache with it, a strange emptiness that settled low in his chest. He should have been standing with Price, their shoulders brushing as they shared tea and easy silence, no need for words. His hands flexed slightly, the leather of his gloves creaking faintly as he tightened his grip on his weapon. The stillness around him didn’t help. It gave his thoughts too much room to roam, to linger on the image of Price leaning against the wall, his face soft in the early light.

Ghost took a slow breath, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly. He imagined what Price might be doing now. With the time difference, it was likely dark at the base, but Ghost liked to think Price had made his way to their spot anyway. Maybe he had his tea, and maybe—if Ghost was lucky—he’d spared a thought for him, too. The idea steadied him, grounding him enough to keep moving.

The morning air was cool, carrying the faint bite of the desert’s night chill, and Ghost took another slow breath, letting it fill his lungs. He scanned the horizon again, his eyes sharp and calculating, but a part of him stayed tethered to the thought of Price. The quiet reassurance of his voice, the way his hand always lingered just a moment longer than necessary when they touched.

Ghost shook his head slightly, dragging his focus back to the mission. He shifted his weight, his boots digging into the loose gravel beneath him as he adjusted his position. He ran through the plan in his head, each detail a deliberate distraction, a way to keep his mind from circling back to the ache of missing Price.

He knew Price would hate this—knowing Ghost was out of reach, knowing he couldn’t step in if something went wrong. It had been years since a mission like this had come between them, and Ghost couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother him too. But it was their job, their reality, and he trusted Price enough to know that the man understood, even if he hated it.

The sun climbed higher, the colours shifting to warmer tones as the harsh light of day began to take over. Ghost let out a slow breath, his grip on his weapon steadying as he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander anymore. There was work to be done, and Price wouldn’t forgive him if he let his thoughts get the better of him now.

Still, as he moved back toward their base, his gaze lingered on the horizon for just a moment longer, the faint gold light catching on the edges of the sky. He allowed himself one last thought of Price, the memory of his smile in the soft morning glow, before turning away.

---

It had been two weeks.

Price paced the length of his office, the usual calm authority he carried chipped away by the growing unease that had settled in his chest. The mission had been projected to last no more than seven days—maybe eight if things went sideways. But two weeks without a word? It wasn’t just unusual; it was wrong.

He stopped at his desk, resting his hands on its edge as he stared down at the reports in front of him. None of them told him what he wanted to know. None of them could. He straightened, raking a hand through his hair before reaching for his radio. His thumb hovered over the button, his jaw tightening. It was the fifth time today he’d considered making a call he knew he couldn’t make. It wouldn’t go through. It wouldn’t change anything. But the urge to try still burned in him.

“Captain?”

The knock on his open door startled him enough to pull him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Soap and Gaz standing just outside, their expressions carefully neutral but their concern clear in the way Soap lingered in the doorway instead of barging in like usual.

“Everything all right?” Soap asked, his tone casual but edged with caution.

Price’s hand dropped to his side, and he nodded tightly. “Fine,” he said, though he knew the word didn’t convince any of them. “Just busy.”

Gaz stepped into the room, his gaze flicking to the reports scattered across the desk before settling back on Price. “Anything on Ghost?” he asked carefully.

Price shook his head, his throat tight. He couldn’t trust himself to say more, not without letting the tension show in his voice.

Soap’s lips pressed into a thin line. He exchanged a glance with Gaz before stepping further into the room. “He’s fine, Captain,” he said, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that made Price’s chest ache. “You know him. Bastard’s too stubborn not to be.”

Price let out a slow breath, the faintest twitch of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That he is,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. He straightened, rolling his shoulders back as though it might ease the weight pressing against him. “Thanks, lads.”

Soap nodded, but neither he nor Gaz moved to leave. Price gave them a faint wave of dismissal, and after another shared look, they stepped back out into the hall. He waited until their footsteps faded before turning back to the window, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.

The base was quiet, the early evening light casting long shadows across the grounds. He hadn’t slept properly in days, the restless worry twisting in his gut refusing to let him rest for more than a few fitful hours at a time. He could hear Ghost’s voice in his head, teasing him for overthinking, for letting his mind wander into worst-case scenarios. But without news, without confirmation that he was still out there, Price couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiralling.

When night finally fell, he dragged himself to bed, the exhaustion catching up to him even as his mind refused to let go of the worry. The bed felt too big, too cold without Ghost in it, and Price turned over for the third time in as many minutes, his hand brushing against the empty space beside him. He closed his eyes, the memory of Ghost’s quiet promise—I’ll make it back—the only thing keeping him tethered.

It was hours before he managed to fall asleep, and when he woke the next morning, the ache in his chest hadn’t eased. He forced himself to go through the motions, brewing two cups of tea out of habit and carrying them to their usual spot. He sat there, watching the horizon, the untouched mug cooling beside him as the sun climbed higher.

He stayed longer than he usually did, his thoughts caught between the sunrise and the empty space Ghost should have been filling.

---

The sun had barely begun to rise when Price heard the footsteps.

At first, he thought it was his imagination—his mind, desperate and grasping after days of waiting, conjuring the steady rhythm out of the early morning stillness. His hands tightened around the mug of tea he’d been nursing, the ceramic biting into his palms as his heart kicked up a notch. It was nothing. Just the base waking up, a sentry making their rounds.

But then the steps grew louder, deliberate, measured.

Familiar.

Price’s breath caught, the faint ache that had lived in his chest for two weeks flaring into something sharper, something that burned. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder. Not yet. If he turned too soon and the steps weren’t what he hoped, the moment would break, and Price didn’t think he could bear it.

The steps stopped just short of him. Silence stretched, heavy and taut, the air between them charged with a kind of anticipation that made Price’s pulse thunder in his ears. Slowly, he turned his head, his breath stalling the moment his eyes landed on the figure standing there.

Ghost.

He was a silhouette against the faint glow of dawn, the pale light catching on the edges of his blonde curls, tousled and messy, and on the faint white bandage peeking from beneath his sleeve. His gear was gone, replaced by a simple black shirt and trousers that hung slightly loose on his frame. His face—bare, maskless—was paler than usual, shadows etched beneath his sharp eyes, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed something warm and steady.

“Miss me?” Ghost murmured, his voice rough from exhaustion but carrying a softness that made Price’s knees nearly buckle.

The mug slipped from Price’s hands, landing on the wall beside him with a dull clink. He moved on instinct, closing the distance between them in three long strides. His hands found Ghost’s shoulders, gripping tight, as though grounding himself in the solid weight of the man in front of him.

“You bloody idiot,” Price rasped, his voice rough, thick with something he didn’t bother to name. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Ghost huffed softly, his lips twitching into the faintest ghost of a smile. “I know,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I’m sorry.”

Price exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening in the fabric of Ghost’s shirt before dragging him into a crushing embrace. He buried his face against Ghost’s neck, the faint scent of sweat and dust and something achingly familiar filling his lungs. Ghost sagged against him, his weight warm and solid, his arms wrapping around Price’s back in a way that felt desperate and grounding all at once.

Price didn’t let go, not even when his chest began to ache from the force of his hold. His fingers pressed into Ghost’s back, mapping out the hard lines of muscle, the subtle tremor in his shoulders, the warmth radiating from his skin. “Don’t ever pull that shit again,” he muttered, his voice muffled against Ghost’s neck.

Ghost’s arms tightened briefly around him before he pulled back just enough to meet Price’s gaze. His hands came up to cradle Price’s face, his thumbs brushing over the coarse stubble along his jaw. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, his voice warm, edged with exhaustion and something softer that made Price’s throat tighten.

Price’s hands slid up to Ghost’s shoulders, framing his face with rough but deliberate care. His thumbs brushed over the faint smudges beneath Ghost’s eyes, his gaze searching as it flicked over every detail of his face. “You’re all right?” he asked, his voice steadier now, though the worry still lingered in his eyes.

Ghost nodded, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Went to medical first,” he said, his tone carrying the faintest hint of humour. “Didn’t want you chewing my ear off.”

Price huffed a quiet laugh, the sound more exhale than amusement, as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Ghost’s. His hands slid down to Ghost’s neck, his fingers curling gently into the soft blonde curls that always refused regulation.

“Good,” Price murmured, his voice low, almost tender. He tilted his head just enough to press a kiss to Ghost’s temple, lingering there for a moment before drawing back.

Ghost’s expression softened further, his hands slipping down to rest lightly on Price’s hips. “Missed you,” he said quietly, the words simple but carrying a weight that settled deep in Price’s chest.

Price let out a slow breath, his hands tightening briefly on Ghost’s shoulders before he spoke. “Missed you too,” he said, his voice low and steady but thick with unspoken emotion.

The kiss that followed wasn’t tentative—it was grounding. Price closed the distance without hesitation, his hand sliding from Ghost’s neck to cradle the side of his face, thumb brushing over the faint scar that tugged at his upper lip. The press of their mouths was warm and steady, a slow unravelling of tension that had coiled tight in both of them for weeks.

Ghost responded immediately, leaning into the kiss with a quiet, rough sound that sent a pulse of heat through Price’s chest. His hands gripped Price’s waist, firm but not desperate, as though reminding himself that Price was real, solid, and here. He tilted his head slightly, his lips parting against Price’s, deepening the kiss with deliberate care. There was no rush, no urgency—only the quiet intimacy of two people who had waited far too long to be close again.

Price let his fingers tangle in Ghost’s too-long curls, the softness of them a contrast to the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint scrape of his stubble. His other hand slid to Ghost’s chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm grounding him in a way words never could. He let his thumb brush over Ghost’s cheekbone, the motion gentle, almost reverent, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

Ghost shifted closer, his body pressing against Price’s as though trying to eliminate the last sliver of space between them. His lips moved with quiet insistence, a slow, steady rhythm that spoke of longing and relief in equal measure. Price could feel the faint tremor in Ghost’s hands where they rested on his waist, the slight shake that betrayed how deeply the moment affected him despite his usual composure.

When they finally broke apart, neither of them moved far. Ghost’s forehead rested against Price’s, their breaths mingling in the cool morning air. Price’s hand lingered on the back of Ghost’s neck, his fingers still threaded through his hair, while Ghost’s hands remained on his waist, thumbs brushing absently over the fabric of his jumper.

“Missed that too,” Ghost murmured, his voice low and rough, the words carrying a warmth that made Price’s lips twitch into a faint smile.

“You’d better have,” Price replied, his tone edged with teasing affection. He let his hand slip to Ghost’s jaw, thumb brushing over the scar that pulled at the corner of his mouth. His eyes softened as they searched Ghost’s, taking in the faint shadows beneath them and the exhaustion etched into his face. “We’ll make up for lost time later.”

Ghost’s lips twitched, his expression warming further as he leaned in just enough to press another kiss to the corner of Price’s mouth—softer this time, but no less grounding. “What about right now?” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of playful challenge, even as his exhaustion threatened to weigh him down.

Price chuckled, his voice low and fond as he leaned back just enough to meet Ghost’s gaze properly. “If I let you keep this up, you’ll fall asleep halfway through,” he said, his tone laced with gentle humour. His fingers brushed lightly through Ghost’s hair before dropping to his shoulder. “Save it for tonight, yeah?”

Ghost huffed softly, the sound almost a laugh as his hands tightened briefly on Price’s waist. “You’ve got me there,” he muttered, his voice rough but amused. “Should conserve my energy for my welcome later.”

“Cheeky bastard,” Price murmured, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the fondness beneath the words. He stepped back reluctantly, his hands brushing down Ghost’s arms before taking one of them gently. “Come on. Let’s get you sorted.”

As they walked back toward the base, side by side, Ghost’s fingers brushed briefly against Price’s hand before falling away. Price glanced at him, catching the faint curve of his lips beneath the early morning light, and felt a warmth settle in his chest that had been absent for far too long.

---

By the time lunch rolled around, the shift in Price’s demeanour had become impossible to miss. Soap and Gaz sat across from each other in the mess, their trays half-forgotten as they exchanged glances. Price was at the far end of the room, leaning against the counter as he spoke briefly with one of the cooks, a faint but undeniable ease in his posture that hadn’t been there in weeks.

“He’s almost smiling,” Soap muttered under his breath, leaning forward slightly to keep his voice low.

Gaz smirked, his spoon twirling idly in his hand. “Reckon there’s a reason for that,” he replied, equally quiet but edged with curiosity. “Didn’t see him this morning, did you?”

Soap shook his head, his brows furrowing slightly. “Wasn’t in his usual spot when I walked by.” He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Price as the captain finally returned to his seat near the window. “Think he’s had news?”

“Not the kind you’re thinking,” Gaz said with a knowing grin.

Before Soap could press further, the door to the mess opened with a soft creak, and both men turned almost in unison. Ghost stepped inside, his movements deliberate and unhurried, but there was a weariness to the set of his shoulders, a heaviness in the way he carried himself that hinted at the toll the mission had taken.

His mask was in place, but the shadows beneath his eyes were visible even in the dim light of the mess hall. It wasn’t his exhaustion, however, that caught their attention—it was the hoodie he wore.

It fit him perfectly, the fabric snug across his broad shoulders, but the faint embroidery on the sleeve gave it away. J. Price.

Soap’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face as he elbowed Gaz lightly. “Oi,” he said, his voice loud enough to carry across the room. “Is that what I think it is, Lieutenant?”

Ghost’s steps didn’t falter, but his head tilted slightly as he turned to regard Soap with a raised brow. “Careful, Sergeant,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, the faint rasp of exhaustion making it sound sharper. “You might want to rethink where you’re going with that.”

The response earned a quiet snort from Gaz, who leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Looks like the captain’s been sharing his wardrobe,” he said, his tone teasing but with a warmth that softened the jab.

Ghost’s gaze shifted to him, sharp and assessing, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. “Thought you two had better things to do than play detectives,” he said dryly, setting his tray down on the table across from them.

Soap shrugged, unbothered by the remark. “Hard not to notice,” he said, grinning. “Embroidery’s a dead giveaway. If you didn’t want questions, you’d’ve gone with something plain.”

Ghost let out a quiet huff, pulling his tray closer as he settled into his seat. “Didn’t think you’d be this chatty about it,” he muttered, though the faint humour in his tone undercut the words.

Soap opened his mouth to respond, but Ghost’s gaze flicked up suddenly, sharp and direct. “How was he?” he asked, the question soft but carrying a weight that immediately shifted the mood.

Soap’s grin faltered, his eyes darting briefly to Gaz before he cleared his throat. “Managed,” he said carefully. “But he wasn’t himself. Spent most mornings out at your spot, just… sitting there.” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “Tea went cold more than once.”

Gaz nodded, his expression softer now as he added, “It’s not been easy for him. He’s better now, obviously, but yeah. He missed you. We all could see it.”

Ghost’s hand stilled on the edge of his tray, his jaw tightening briefly before he gave a small nod. “Thanks,” he said quietly, the words carrying a weight that made both sergeants glance at each other again. He pushed his tray aside, rising to his feet with deliberate slowness. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Soap couldn’t help himself, his grin returning as Ghost walked past. “Don’t wear him out too much, yeah, Lieutenant?”

Ghost paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder just enough to let the faint curve of his lips show. “No promises,” he muttered, his tone carrying enough dry humour to draw a laugh from both men before he turned and left.

The door swung shut behind him, and for a moment, Soap and Gaz sat in silence.

Gaz broke it first, leaning forward with a smirk. “Think Cap’s gonna be in a very good mood tonight.”

Soap snorted, shaking his head as he dug into his food. “Better him than us, mate.”

They both laughed, the sound light but carrying a knowing edge. Whatever storm had been brewing over the past two weeks had finally passed, and for the first time in days, the mess hall felt just a little brighter.

---

Price’s pen hovered over the report in front of him, his thoughts straying yet again. The numbers and lines blurred together, the words refusing to hold his attention. The quiet knock at the door barely registered until it opened without waiting for a response.

Price looked up, the faint crease in his brow smoothing the moment he saw who it was. Ghost stepped inside, his presence as steady and deliberate as ever, though there was an ease to the way he moved now—a quiet confidence that Price hadn’t realised he’d missed so keenly.

Price leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders melting as a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Checking up on me, Simon?” he asked, his voice low and warm, the unspoken affection threading through his tone impossible to miss.

Ghost stopped in front of the desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed. His mask was still in place, but the weight of his gaze made Price feel as though he could see right through him. “Heard you weren’t doing great while I was gone,” Ghost said simply, his tone soft but laced with quiet intent. “Soap and Gaz filled me in.”

Price exhaled through his nose, a huff of quiet amusement as he shook his head. “They always did have big mouths,” he murmured, his tone fond despite the words. He pushed himself to his feet, stepping around the desk to stand in front of Ghost. The closeness was grounding, the solid presence of the man in front of him a balm to the ache that had settled in his chest over the past two weeks.

Price reached out, his hand coming to rest lightly on Ghost’s chest. The warmth beneath his palm, even through the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie, steadied him in a way he hadn’t expected. “You’re back,” he said, his voice quieter now, the words carrying a weight that settled in the space between them. “That’s all that matters.”

Ghost’s gaze softened, the sharpness in his eyes giving way to something warmer, something unmistakably tender. He lifted a hand, covering Price’s where it rested against his chest, his fingers curling loosely around it. “Still,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in slightly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Price tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he met Ghost’s gaze. “You’d better,” he replied, his tone teasing but edged with warmth. His hand slid upward, his fingers gathering the mask up above Ghost’s nose and then lowering, brushing along the edge of Ghost’s jaw before finally settling at the back of his neck. With a gentle but deliberate pull, he brought Ghost down into a kiss.

It started soft, their lips meeting in a way that felt familiar and grounding, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Ghost leaned into it, his hands settling on Price’s waist with a quiet insistence as the kiss deepened. Price let his fingers curl into the soft blonde curls at the base of Ghost’s neck, the faint rasp of stubble brushing against his skin as Ghost shifted closer.

The warmth of it unraveled the lingering tension between them, chasing away the worry that had weighed them down in their time apart. Price could feel Ghost’s grip tighten slightly, his thumbs brushing absently along the curve of his hips, a grounding touch that spoke volumes without a single word.

When they finally parted, Ghost lingered, his forehead brushing against Price’s for a long moment. His hands remained on Price’s waist, the faint rhythm of his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of his jumper. “Tonight,” Ghost said softly, the word carrying a weight that made Price’s pulse quicken despite the calm in his voice.

Price smiled, his fingers brushing along the line of Ghost’s jaw before dropping back to his shoulders. “Tonight,” he echoed, his voice low and steady. He leaned in, pressing another brief kiss to Ghost’s lips, softer this time but no less meaningful.

When he pulled back, he let his hands drift down to Ghost’s arms, brushing lightly over the fabric of his hoodie before stepping back. “Go get some rest,” Price said, his tone firm but warm. “I’ll find you later.”

Ghost nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile as he straightened. He held Price’s gaze for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them, before he turned and made his way to the door.

Price watched him go, his chest warm and steady in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. The room felt quieter without him, but the emptiness wasn’t as sharp. Not anymore.

He let out a slow breath, his fingers brushing absently over his lips as he turned back to his desk. The reports still sat there, demanding his attention, but this time, the weight of them didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

[ranbitteeth]

Hello! Could I request a sub!mizu/bottom!mizu x softdomGN!reader that features a nipple play smut scene with a lot of moaning please? Mizu's titties deserves all the love and praise and pleasure!!!!!! Thank you❤️

Note: Ahhh OP this should NOT have taken as long as it did. It was originally to be a modern au, frankly rather vanilla and sweet— but my interests have been seized by shibari as of late. And, guess what I’ve found? The art of “shibrai”( or Kinbaku) in Japan first originated in the Edo period. The art made itself!

So, do take this as a tribute to Mizu’s titties and also the lovely art of shibari. If it’s not to your liking, I can always write that modern version!

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Speak, Fetch, and…

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Tags: Bottom!Mizu, Submissive!Mizu, Dominant!Reader, Top!Reader, Shibari, Edging (if you squint), Light Degradation, GN! Reader, Bondage, Gag Uses, Breast/Nipple Play

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A/N: Made [Reader] A rich and powerful Shibari enthusiast in this to apply settings and dynamics. Hopefully it adds a layer of kinkiness to this piece! My inbox is always welcoming requests, so feel free to drop some! Regardless, Please enjoy! ^^ <3

“You look so perfect like this.”

The words spill past your lips flowing with the adoration only heard in the prayers of the most devout monks. Mizu, the demon samurai, elusive, raging, and entirely inaccessible to all but you. There she was, the most feared bastard in all of Japan, laying on your bed, bound and panting, drooling with a gag in her mouth as a whore would in any decent brothel. Crimson red, thick and bruising knots were intricately designed to fit snugly around her body, expertly marked by your hands— deft with skill, in loving patterns tracing up and down pale skin. The body that could move like a monster, the body that has taken so many lives and maimed thousands— subdued and helpless, entirely at your mercy.

You see her cheeks redden with embarrassment at the compliment, you see her entire body shudder as goose pimples spike across her scarred skin, you see the glistening quality to her cunt that has your knees buckling with the insatiable desire to run your mouth against her core.

But all things in due time.

No, in the heart of your gaze were the two pert, round, soft mounds of skin that made up the two halves of her buxom, rising and falling as her chest heaved with pleasure. Moving in hypnotic, wave-like movements in sync with her breaths were the two lovely buds that bloomed at the tops of her petite breasts, the color of soft petals, of womanly skin. Your ropes only accentuated the shape of her body, the emphasis on her maidenhood.

“Are you feeling alright, dearest?” You croon, running your fingers along the tight patterns across her body, teasingly tugging at a select few strands that ran the texture of your ropes against her skin in a delicious friction, so much so that her head flew against your mattress as her toes curled and shook with ecstasy. Oh, and to think that this samurai had yet to be defeated in battle. What would his foes think, seeing him as a woman, crying out for pleasure as her voice cracked beneath a gag, face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. You’d barely even touched her.

“I could keep you like this forever, you know…” you begin to contemplate aloud, finally deciding to crawl towards your truest possession on your hands and knees, your warm body hovering over hers as you continued to tease at her desires and fantasies with a malicious tongue.

“You’d fit in beautifully with every display in my palace, every work of art. I could invite the most revered men and women of the nation, I’d let them see you..” Mizu moans at this, writhing with the desire to hide but unable to move. Shy. Finally, your face is aligned with the samurai’s chest. Unable to hold yourself any longer, your mouth falls against the plush skin, hungrily wrapping your wet lips around the hardened bud with a carnal desire, eagerly running the warm, slick muscle of your tongue against the buds of her roses while her entire body contorted with pleasure.

Mmmmph! , she’d say something, anything at all— but your infatuation was unending. With your opposite hand, you grope and massage the delicate, long-abused tissue, milking out the sweetest, most unheard of noises from her pretty mouth. And to think that the display beneath your face would have been mistreated and hidden away all these years behind rough, ugly binds.

You pull away from her breast with a ludicrous pop noise that communicated only filth before you moved your mouth directly over the other half, unleashing the same cruelty of your mouth. The first little bud, now swollen and wet with spit, was pinched in between your thumb and forefinger, the suddenness and crassness of the action making Mizu grunt and buck her hips with want. As a punishment, reward, and reminder, you gently bite down on her breast until she draws in a sharp, stuttering hiss. You groan against the firm, supple skin of her breast before you pull away to take in the sight you created, the ropes binding around and in between her breasts, accentuating their shape— the swollen, reddened bud of her nipples, slick and shining with spit, all because of you.

Your eyes finally move from her chest to her face, soaking in that flushed, almost embarrassed expression she held in her usual sharp features.

“You want it off, fighter?” You ask teasingly before you quickly move to dispose of the gag in her mouth. She’s earned it, after all, being so good beneath you.

By the time it leaves her mouth, the cloth is wet and heavy with drool and Mizu is gasping for air, chest shuddering as she desperately forces her body to catch up with the racing thoughts in her mind. It’s even better like this, you think, seeing Mizu grit her teeth, bite her lips, and grunt in all attempts to keep her dignity and not moan like the whore you knew she was. These thoughts enrich your psyche like opium, and your hands absently find their way to each breast as you straddle her hips. You are comfortable like this, and Mizu is entirely at your mercy.

“Can you imagine your enemies seeing you like this?” You ask lightly, your hands trailing down from her breasts to the smooth dip in her waist, subtle and firm. “The damned, all powerful, blue-eyed half-breed; moaning in my chambers in my palace...”

“(N-Name…)” she tries to grunt, though it escapes her lips as a whimper. She’s embarrassed, humiliated— in any other context you would have backed away and apologized— but you felt her pussy against your skin, you felt the positively soaking quality of her privates against your sheets. She loved this.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” you say knowingly, making those dazzling blue eyes flutter and turn away from you in shame. This calms her, in a way. Words now seem on the verge of leaving her mouth, though shyness, or perhaps embarrassment bids her silent.

“What do you need, dearest? Go ahead, don’t be scared.” You say, encouraging, one hand now abandoning the possessive hold around her waist to gently cradle her cheek. Unable to keep herself from doing so, she leans into the touch, relaxing.

“Water…” she rasps, and your thumb gently runs along her upper cheek.

Easily, you reach over for a chalice filled to the brim with water, gently ushering her head higher before bringing the rim to her lips as you watched her lips drink up the water.

“Just like that, good job…” you hum, making her relax and sigh beneath you. Finally, she’s had enough, almost having drank the cup empty before you put it aside, now facing her seriously.

“If it ever comes to be too much, use the signal. Understand?” You ask as you adjust Mizu’s legs to sit around either side of your hips, bringing yourself closer until your nakedness was flush with her own. She nods affirmative like the good pet she was, going as far as to spread her legs further to grant you better access, an action that made something molten and possessive coil in your chest and gut. No one else in the world would ever see Mizu like this, pliant, shy, and oh so pretty. The sight of those eyes submissive and watery, those cheeks flushed red and those lips bitten to Hell and back were yours and yours alone.

Your hands move down south before you could stop them, swift and eager as one hand pinned Mizu’s left thigh open and against the cushion while your dominant hand pushed two fingers into her gushing warmth, making her grunt and squirm against her bonds. You laugh something genuine as you feel the sheer quality of her arousal on your hands, pulling away just to show her the arousal that has already coating your palm.

“Look at yourself,” you say, eyes blown and voice rushing with warmth. Before Mizu could fix her lips to say anything, you bring your soaked fingers up to your mouth and place them over your tongue, making Mizu gasp in shock at your actions. Mizu’s wetness floods your tastebuds, makes you groan into your hand before you eagerly continue your efforts of working her open and relaxed. To be used, to be worshiped, to be claimed. You shudder at the thought, easily thrusting your fingers in and out of her while she gasps and moans your name like a prayer. A chant, a hymn. [Name! Name! Name!] for all of Japan to hear in answer to the question of who she belonged to.

“K-keep going! Don’t stop! Don’t…s-stop…!” she whined, almost demanding as her cries rise from the depths of her belly in guttural moans— as if she were in battle. Your fingers slow down, caressing her insides in slow, deliberate, cruel swipes of fingers while your thumb circled her clit.

“Is that anyway to ask for anything?” You scold, pushing your thumb against that swollen little bundle of nerves until she hissed and arches her back, leaving her body in a beautiful display of rope, power, and pleasure.

“[N-Name,] please— don’t stop…” she gasps, twitching as her orgasm inches closer and closer the longer you deny her the friction of your touch against her sweet snatch. You only stare expectantly at the near puppy-like gaze she shoots at you, and you begin to understand why people call her a dog. Good dogs listen, good dogs obey. Good dogs get their rewards.

“Beg.” You say, and she sees that your eyes are swarming with a raging storm of lust with her at sail in the dead center. Your hands only slow down to a near stop, and she could’ve sobbed at the loss. She was losing her mind, on the verge of fainting. Despite this, her hands were free, the signal in a moments reach. If she needed to stop, all she had to do was snap her finger and you’d cut her loose, rope be damned. But her hands only shook with desperation as she opened her trembling lips, voice cracking.

“Please, please…please,” she begged, voice breaking as she emphasized the final syllable, to which you easily obliged, attacking her cunt with a ferocity only shown in battle that made her cry out in shock and pleasure. It was an exquisite sight to behold, one that would forever be ingrained in your memory. Here in your bed by your hands, the strongest and bravest swordsman in all of Japan lay moaning like a whore as her orgasm washed over her body and loins in a wave of fire. Yes, she had her blade, her strength, those eyes—But you had your ropes, your tongue, and your wit.

So far, you remain completely undefeated.

[fkbcorrector]

I love ftm girls post op because their cunts get wet when I run my fingers through their scars and squeeze them as if their tits were still there but I'm a man of specific preferance and pre op ftm girls just make me the hardest.

Stand next to me and we'll see who's the real man, as soon as you open that stupid mouth and say "but I'm a boy" I'll just tug on your tits and ask "did you say something?" and the more you fight back saying "thats harassment and transphobia!!" the more I grope them, pin you down and tie you with your tits hanging out from your binder

"stop" = pinch her nipples

"no" = suck her tits

"im a man" = grope her tits

"im dysphoric" = slap her tits

And from that point on no matter what she says her swollen dripping pussy is the proof that she's a woman begging to be abused

[mockerycrow]

Undercover III (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist — previous | next

Summary: After your undercover op has been exposed, Soap has to record an interview of your account of everything, along with any sensitive information you’ve learned. You begin to sort through memories that drag you into a dark hole.

A/N: there is usage of scottish slang, such as bonnie. bonnie is a gender neutral term, i know it’s often used in fem! fics, but please note it’s not feminine specific. also, thank you so much for the love on this!! also i’m lowkey making this a slow burn on accident, my bad—

[WARNINGS: angst, flashbacks, panic attack, very vague unintentional self-harm, violence, vague descriptions of corpses - gore.]

“It is not the bruises on the body that hurt. It is the wounds of the heart and the scars on the mind.” -Aisha Mirza.

I keep my eyes on the pillow that’s across my torso and lap, feeling like if I move my eyes to anywhere else, my heart will fucking crawl out of my goddamn throat. I hear Soap shift in his seat ever so slightly, and I think he’s leaning forward because his breathing sounds ever so slightly closer than before. “We had six weeks to prepare our new lives, six weeks to adjust to our government assigned personalities, six weeks to move some personal belongings to different areas of Russia, six weeks to brush up on our Russian, as well as our Ukrainian.” My voice is quiet because I’m afraid if I talk any louder, it’ll tremble.

I have a hard time swallowing whatever spit has accumulated in my mouth, the entrance to my throat fluttering. “I.. I got on the next flight to Russia, said goodbye to my old unit. In the United States, I temporarily, well.. no longer existed. They had to make it look like I never existed in the first place.” I pause for a moment, remembering how much of a pain in the ass it will be to officially exist as a U.S. citizen again after living as a Russian one for a couple of years.

“I was no longer [Name] [Last Name], I was Zhenya Antonenko.” I take a deep breath and decide to risk it; I look over at Soap and he looks.. intrigued, troubled even. His finger twitches over the pause button before deciding against pressing it. “Was’it difficult to get into Makarov’s organization?” He asks, his left eyebrow eyebrow furrowing inwards like he’s hearing something he doesn’t want to—or maybe he feels bad. God. The last thing I want from anyone is pity. “A bit,” I glance at my fingernails to keep myself preoccupied. “He did, heh, ‘loyalty tests’.” My tone is a sneer, and my gut tightens at the memory of what I had to do to show my loyalty to the cause. There’s a heaviness to the air, the tension so thick you would need a meat cleaver and hack at it a couple of times to get through it. Soap is quiet and I reluctantly make eye contact with him, and we both know the unsaid question. ‘What did I do?’ I scan his face, his posture, his body language. Anything to tell me what he’s thinking.

Soap is certainly.. conflicted, like he knows he needs this information but he’s uncertain if it’s right to even ask. I close my eyes for a moment to regain my composure, but that was surely a big fuckin’ mistake because as soon as my eyelids closed, I see the blood of an innocent person spilled, dripping onto the floor, painting a horrifying picture behind my eyes of the different bodies—the different families I’ve torn apart and mangled. I jolt and my eyelids snap open as my heart skips a beat and settles into an unsteady rhythm underneath my rib cage, my heart monitor following along to the inconsistency. Fuck, fuck, why can I smell it?— that mortifying, dreadful smell of metal, licking at my nostrils. I phase out the beeping of the machines, fuck, my chest—it hurts, can’t breathe, I’m sorry, I had to, don’t you fucking understand?? I had to kill them, the world’s fate was on my fucking shoulders!!-

I grab at my chest as my lips part for air, my need for air following into an unsettling similar, inconsistent rhythm like my heart rate. Fuck. I have the sudden need to bolt, so I yank my handcuffed hand, and I barely feel the sharp pain of the metal digging into my palmaris longus muscle, the way it’s slicing through my skin, fucking unlock it, please, just—“Let me gO!”

Warm and callused hands on me—don’t touch me—I think I yell, but I can’t tell, numb, numbnumbnumbnumb—gunpowder, shit-

I form a fist with my free hand and I use all of the strength I can muster—I don’t punch, but I use that strength in my forearm to push them away, hopefully making them stagger. Just fucking leave me alone, please—!

“…amin’ bloody hell, bonnie, breathe!”

Soap’s voice manages to cut through the sheer panic that’s overflowing everywhere around me—his hands are on my face?? Why is he touching my face, don’t fUcking touch my—One of his hands leaves my face and returns with something fucking ICE COLD, sending a shock through my system. “wHa-“ I cough and try to push him away again but I hear a muffled, soft apology before the cold thing moves from my face to the back of my neck. The shock.. feels like my system got reset in a way. I blink rapidly as I pant, my vision flooding back to me, along with my hearing. I have this fucking ugly, heavy feeling deep in my stomach.

My eyes remain unfocused as I look at the man next to me and his proximity makes me jolt; Soap is right up next to my bed but on the other side this time, one hand holding my handcuffed arm and the other holding.. I think an ice cold hand towel? His face comes in and out of focus, and I catch glimpses of worry and concern. “Back wit’me now?” Soap’s voice is a low, raspy murmur as he speaks, like I’ll bolt any second. I nod and shakily take a deep breath to control my breathing completely, and he nods in response. “Good, there ya are.. Take another one, yeah?” I follow his instructions and repeat my last deep breath, the oxygen flooding my lungs, flooding my veins.. Now that my chest no longer aches, or at least ache in the way it does when you have a panic attack there’s this.. stinging pain lining my wrist. I wince with a hiss and look down and the metal ring of the cuff around my wrist is lined with blood, dripping down onto the blanket. “Goddamnit.” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I go to turn my wrist to see if I’m able to view how much I fucked up my skin and joint, but Soap’s hold on my arm tightens and he makes a quick tsk sound. “Don’t’cha move that, maybe it’s a better idea t’let the nurse take a look.” I mumble “maybe” and I try to rest my wrist, but I can’t. No matter what I do, it fucking hurts. Soap stands up which makes me look at him and he reaches over to a button pad near my pillows and presses the big red button, a soft alarm going off down the hall. He situates himself back in his seat.

I make eye contact with him and his gaze is so.. intense. So many questions, his eyes searching mine for.. something. I don’t know what that ‘something’ is though, and it’s bothering me. “We can continue the report tomorrow,” Soap’s hand gently lets go of my arm—which I completely forgot he was holding—but he keeps his other hand holding the small hand towel to the back of my neck to keep me calm and grounded. “I honestly dinnae ken ta’reason why they’ve decided to do this shite so early.” I blink as I try to make out what he’s saying because his accent is thick, but luckily I’ve spent some time around some Scots in my lifetime to give me a head start. “Early?” I repeat back to him in a question. Too early to.. get the report?? Of course they’re going to want the information as soon as possible, it’s fucking Makarov! “Early.” Soap confirms back to me. “You’ve barely been awake enough to properly process this.” My eyebrows furrow together; why is this random guy concerned about that? His only job is to literally make sure I don’t try to do some stupid shit before my evaluation. Like kill myself or someone else, something like that. Before I’m able to retaliate what I’m able to sense in his voice, a middle aged man wearing this green scrub outfit. He gives me a wide and fake, polite smile. I fucking hate this. “Hi, I’m Mr. Sutton, one of your nurses for the day. What is going on?” His tone is laced with faux-politeness, and I can see the corners of his smile are tight, like there’s strings pulling his lips into something that isn’t a snarl. I feel my muscles tense and suddenly I feel lighter—but my heart rate monitor picks up a skipped heartbeat and I can’t feel my fingertips again.

Oh.

Sutton immediately eyes my monitor and furrows his eyebrows, looking back at me. “Are you feeling alright?”

I don’t answer, I can’t.

It’s like I’m fucking stuck in that godforsaken chair again, waiting for Makarov to come up with a new attempt to beat the fucking shit out of me, to wring out my plans.

The adrenaline.

Soap calls me by my name but I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes trained on Sutton.

Fuck, I can barely think.

Why am I suddenly like this? Why is it this particular nurse?

“Maybe it’s best if a different nurse treats ‘em.” Soap suggests to Sutton, his tone laced with a warning.

Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious, captain.

My eyelids flutter open and I stare at the ceiling as I wake up—my wrist was disinfected bandaged, and handcuffed one again. There’s no noise besides the faint beeping of my machines. I was given medicine so I could sleep, I really wish they hadn’t given me that stuff because now I’m laying here with the image of a mutilated body burned into my memory. Her name was Anya Kozlova. She didn’t do anything, yet Makarov had me slaughter her and leave her remains out like I was a poacher. My fingers twitch as I feel discomfort around my abdomen, which is where some of my surgery stitches are, so my pain medicine is probably wearing off. I stare at the fluorescent lights of my room until I can feel the dull pain of looking at a bright light source for too long settling in my eyes. I blink harshly to “reset” my eyes, my free hand coming up to rub my eyes gently, then going up to my eyebrow muscles and apply pressure, rubbing in slow, firm circles to relax the muscle. I freeze for a moment because this is a habit that developed after I successfully got into the organization—a clear sign of stress.

My thought process is interrupted by a loud snore, making my skeleton nearly fucking jump out of my skin. I quickly look to my right side and.. It’s Soap?? He’s still here??

He’s leaned back into the chair in a position that cannot be comfortable—these are the chairs that have squishy padding as a seat until you sit in it for ten minutes and then your ass goes numb. His legs are spread out in front of him in a manspreading kind of way, one of his hands on his chest and other on his lap which is holding a.. book of some kind? Maybe a sketchbook? Looks like it. His head is limp and is resting against his left shoulder, his lips parted with a line of drool, soaking into his shirt. The corner of my mouth twitches. I notice a pencil behind his ear, which he must’ve been using for his notebook, er sketchbook… Maybe. I feel my muscles slowly untense and honestly, I barely noticed how tense I was a few moments ago, how paranoid I felt when I thought I was alone. I glance at the door and then back at Soap’s his snore dying down into a soft rhythm as he adjusts his head’s position in his sleep. I wonder about the story surrounding that chin scar? The scar runs deep into the skin there, so it must’ve been something nasty. My eyes trace the way his nose is shaped, how the beginning of his eyebrows are furrowed inwards. His long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly which I take as my cue to look away, dragging my eyes across the room to scan for anything new, which of course there isn’t.

This is the reason why I hate being stuck in one room for a long time. Of course, the familiarity is somewhat comforting, you don’t have to stare frantically search for something that may be different, a weapon, a bomb, something, but at the same time? It gets me antsy. I’d much rather be able to get up and leave this room, but one, I don’t think anyone would let me—even if I managed to get myself out of these cuffs—and two, I’m not sure if I can stand. Fuck. My chest tightens at that thought; I’m not sure if I can stand. I can’t help but think back to Makarov and what he did to me, how he found out I was not born Russian. A part of me wants to resent Soap and whoever the fuck was in that room, and trust me, a little part of me does because they did a piss poor job at basically slapping a couple of bandaids on my wounds and then decided to try to waterboard information out of me?? If I didn’t say anything to Makarov, what did these fucks think they’d get out of me? I take a deep breath, feeling my chest expand as my lungs fight to make room for the oxygen. I hold it for a couple of seconds and slowly exhale through my lips. I need to calm down.

The door swings open to my room, making my heart rate spike again, my fingers instinctively grabbing the pillow on my front. Dr. Erikson and Mutton-Chops enter the room, and I don’t feel any better. Their eyes land on me and I can see the surprise stretched across their faces, at the fact that I’m awake, but I have a hard stare and I keep it. My shoulders ache as my muscles lock up once again. The door opening jolted Soap awake, my eyes flickering to him once I hear his sharp inhale from being startled. His head is turned and his eyes are also on whoever entered the room—scanned the room like a soldier. I hold back a quiet chuckle because of fucking course he woke up from that, he is a soldier. “You’re awake, [Name].” Dr. Erikson points out as he walks over, holding a clipboard. I don’t respond; my throat feels tight. He pauses at the fact that I don’t respond and he glances at Soap, then Mutton-Chops, then back at me. Dr. Erikson’s hand gestures to Mutton-Chops. “This is Captain John Price. We know you are having some trouble.. recounting what happened on your end, so Hudson thought it might be helpful for Price for catch you up to speed on his, considering you both have similar goals.”

Soap’s groggy yet loud voice cuts in. “What?” His tone is incredulous as he properly sits up in his chair, closing the notebook sketchbook thing in his lap. Mutton-Chops—the man who now has a proper name, Price—shoots Soap a look, like it holds so many words unsaid. Whatever his look said is enough to get Soap to quiet down. My fingers grip the pillowcase again because the silent, unspoken communication causes this weird fucking anxiety to flare up in my stomach. I don’t like it. I don’t respond again. Dr. Erikson approaches the IV machine—an infusion pump I think it’s called?—and presses a few buttons. I panic and I grab his wrist and yank it away because what if he’s sent by Makarov to finish me off, what if—“He’s just adjustin’ yer meds, bonnie.” Soap’s voice is low but close and I don’t bother to look at him, but I slowly let go of the doctor’s wrist. Dr. Erikson’s face has a troubled expression before he writes something down and takes his leave through the swinging door he came through in. That leads me to look at Price, as I’m left alone with him and Soap. He comes over to the other side, opposite of where Soap is sitting. I keep eye contact with the man and I must be unintentionally glaring at him because he’s looking back down at me with a challenging gaze. Gaze that screams ‘you have a couple of loose screws, don’t you?’

I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not anymore, especially when he finally speaks. Price’s voice is rough, like gravel, yet incredibly soft. Which I hate because I feel like he’s treating me like a ‘civ.

“We need to get your head on straight.”

🏷️; @glitterypirateduck @darling006 @elowynnlane @hardnutpost @boycigs @wolfyland07

[blood-grove]

Werewolf Bites

Masterlist

nausea -> next stage of infection

tws; sickness , injuries , vomiting , violence, no use of y/n

parings: gaz x male reader (established relationship)

-> c/n - call sign

-> n/n - nickname

a/n: hehehe im excited for this. also idk how military shit works im winging it your here for gaz no complete accuracy

Why did it have to be you.

You had missed a room while clearing out this corridor of the building this mission was supposed to be a easy co-op with you and Gaz.

But now your were trying to claw off this big fucking dog from ripping your throat out your gun somewhere dropped in surprised of getting lunged at.

It sunk its fangs deep into your shoulder dangerously close to your neck as blood spewed and your cried out in agony you finally got a hold of your combat knife sinking it into the dogs body repeatedly till it slumped over dead.

Shoving the corpse off you, You bit your tongue as burning pain flared up in your shoulder Gaz's crackly voice over your radio finally audible now with the lack of your cries of pain and dog growls.

"c/n? c/n how copy?"

You swallowed back the bile building in your throat as you heaved grabbing your radio flicking it on shakily as tried to focus with the searing pain in your shoulder.

"c/n here— fuck" You hissed as you pushed yourself up with your good arm.

"c/n? give me a sitrep you went silent on me."

"..Fuckin' dog got me- I opened up a room and the fucker pounced huge fuckin' thing." You looked over at your wound grimacing at the sight of bruising blooming as blood trickled down your arm near excessively.

"Shit..Can you make it back to the main entrance?..I got the files ill radio for exfil."

"I..I can"

"c/n."

"I can"

"Alright."

You flicked your radio off as you trudged your way back where you came.

"Bloody hell c/n you gotta be more careful."

Gaz gently chided as you huffed wincing.

"Your lucky the fucker didn't rip your throat out.."

You grumbled looking aside the future rabies shots were not going to be a pleasant thing to be welcomed with when you both reached back at base.

"You alright..? Looking a bit pale."

"M'fine..Just..A bit woozy."

"Mm..exfil is a another hour or two out still don't go all rabies on me before then how about that."

You chuckled dryly as you blearing blinked as you leaned over dry heaving before puking your guts out catching Gaz off guard as he steadied you so wouldn't fall over into your own bile gently rubbing your back.

"Fuck..It's okay..Christ."

Coughing and gagging the unpleasant taste of bile lingering in your mouth as Gaz helped you sit down away from your mess.

"Just..Just sit down and rest..When we get home they'll fix you right up no? You'll have a killer scar after this all."

You got hummed coughing as Gaz wiped your face clean despite how you mumbled how gross it was as he kissed your forehead shushing your incoherent ramble.

You hadn't gotten any better and the exfil wasn't that far away now Gaz updated you as he held you close you were sweating bullets managing to keep down the water from your canteen.

He assured and updated on the helis time frame to reach you both, You could tell he was nervous never the best at hiding his emotions from you even in this fever ridden mess you were.

"There gonna be here soon love, Mm? Gonna get you back in shape..Hows the shoulder?."

You mumbled swallowing thickly as you shifted in his arms.

"You gotta speak up for me Lovie tell me how you are?"

"M'all sticky.."

"Well I'd guess so your sweating buckets..They'll be here soon okay?"

He sighed as he rana hand threw your near damp hair eventually giving you a few more sips of water as you both waited.

Exfil was quick a another solider helping you up into the heli a medic waiting along inside that went to work on you as you were laid onto the floor.

But all you remembered was falling asleep and awaking on the warm earth.

Running your hands threw the soft soil as you sat up a chill still rattling your bones.

"Gaz?"

You called out as you looked around cautiously your hand drifted too your holster to find it gone along with all other gear gone.

You felt bare exposed like a nerve the flicker and twitch of muscle felt like tremors in the earth as you looked around you saw nothing but forest.

"Kyle?"

Still nothing.

You frowned as you looked around you felt so warm you guessed it was the sun beaming down on you.

You hadn't been walking long till you reached a river bed the sudden parched feeling in your thought becoming know as you greedily gulped down water.

What was even going on?

You felt like you hadn't drank in days.

When you looked up you flinched at the sight of the dog that attacked you.

Or at least you thought it was a dog at the time.

It just stared at you, Yellow eyes staring you down as foam dripped down from his maw the foam slowly bubbling up into a pinkish tinge as blood dripped from its mouth .

It probably had rabies.

You did too.

You hoped.

[cookie-crumblr]

Lucky

Shy M!Reader x F!Yandere OC

Part 2~

Her Info: 🪓

Part 1

<<<Previous Part _ Next Part>>>

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: M! Reader, Reader has a penis, Reader referred to as he/him, psychological horror/trauma, reader is on meds for night terrors, blood, bdsm, collar use, petnames for reader(good boy, bad boy), pet play, bondage, non con(reader goes along with it but doesn’t actually consent), Lucy has SH scars/wounds, overstim, multiple orgasms scissors ✂️ masochist reader

Anything in red reader isn’t aware of.

Lucy passes you a folded pink piece of paper, her eyes locked onto the board as the professor is teaching.

You unfold it: ty <3

is all it says along with a ton of hearts doodled all over the stationary.

Your face feels hot. She sucked your dick and is now thanking you for it… What do you even think?

What are you supposed to think? or even feel?

~

You get up at the end of class to leave, but Lucy grabs the hem of your shirt. She looks zoned out, so you say, “Lucy?” to try and get her attention.

“Ope! sorry! um, C-can I c-come over, Y/N?”

You don’t see why not, you have nothing left to do today… “Sure!” you hate to fantasize already… But if she did that in public, imagine what she’ll do later.

The walk to your place is quick and easy, but Lucy stops you, her stomach growling loudly.

“You wanna get some food first? I don’t really have anything at home…” You tell her sheepishly.

She nods excitedly and grabs your hand. You don’t pull it away, and she tugs you along after her.

She’s grinning as she leads you, her hips swaying back and forth… You can’t help but stare just at her. Her skirt swishing over her—

Don’t keep staring at her ass.

DONT STARE AT HER ASS.

…

You’re staring at her ass.

You can’t help it, it’s mesmerizing. Her long orange hair is down right to her tailbone, adding to the allure. She has long white socks on that squish her thick thighs just below her skirt, the rims of the socks are frilly.

Lucy leads you to a cute tea cafe, the awning is pink and white, the inside is filled with regal looking chairs, the fancy ones with the carved wood along the backs. The upholstery is all pale pink velvet, and the tables instead of cloths have doilies and each table has a candle warmer for teapots.

She orders food from every section of the menu and you worry she’ll make you pay… Your heart pounds and you’re sweating bullets, there’s no way you can afford this much food! the worst part: the menu didn’t even have prices!

“I-um, I can pay, i-if that’s okay!” She looks away blushing. You remember that she’s a trust fund baby, and sigh in relief.

“Oh thank gods, Lucy, you just scared the shit outta me! hah!” You laugh.

“Really!?” Her eyes light up as if that’s a good thing, she looks excited.

All you can do is laugh a little.

When her food arrives all the platters take up the entire table and they have to bring a stand for the rest.

She eats really adorably, every bite she takes, she looks more and more excited, and each one is complemented by a cute “mm!” It’s infectious, and she shares her favorites, holding out her fork for you to take bites.

“Here! try this!” She holds her arm out to you, a powder sugar and fruit covered french toast bite. “And this one!” the food is still in your mouth when she hands you another bite of something, her eyes alight with joy, as you try to finish fast and accept the new bite.

She’s loving how obedient you’re being…

You have plenty of dishes to choose from, and she seems to hone in on the things you favor over the others, making sure you get the biggest portion of the things you like.

Once your both stuffed with possibly the best literal feast that you’ve had in months, she asks the waite staff for a bag to carry everything in. You never saw the receipt, and you’re happy not to.

“Do you normally do this kinda thing? with all the food?”

“Nope! hehe!” She giggles.

~

You fill your previously empty fridge with enough leftovers to eat for DAYS. and with real cafe food! not cheap ramen!! She made sure you’d be eating decently, rather than your typical cheap ramen.

“Hey Lu—” the second you turn away from the fridge she’s on you.

Lips crashing upon you, her body’s hot against yours. She’s grabbing at your hands and trying to pin them behind you. You aren’t fighting her. You feel her knee pressing against your bulge.

She bites your lip not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to send a pang of lovely pleasure through your bloodstream and into your growing member. You sigh into her mouth which she happily swallows up with a little moan.

She lets go of your hands but you keep them folded behind you, before you hear the sound of a jingling metal buckle.

She slips something thick around your neck and with a *clink* She pulls away, holding a leash that’s attached to your neck.

“Lu-Lucy! What is this??” You lift up a heavy, and very old looking ornate iron lock that’s connected to your collar.

You go to the bathroom and she follows you like an owner walking their dog. In the mirror you see that it’s a thick black leather, with a shiny rose gold buckle. “Lucy! Do you have the key?? G-Give it to me!” Your voice cracks, you didn’t agree to this!

“No can do~ Now be a good boy and get on the bed.”

You gulp as your dick twitches at her words… “Wh-what!?”

“I said: on the bed. Now, Y/N.”

You don’t know why, but you obey her, sitting on the edge of your mattress nervously.

“Good boy~,” she smiles and pats your head.

“Lucy-”

“Puppies don’t talk.”

“Wha-! Lucy I’m not—!!”

She yanks the leash wrapping the leather around and around her hand, and drags you back off the bed. The back of your neck burns as she does.

“Bad Boy.”

You swallow painfully and rub at your neck.

“Are you ready to be a good boy again now?”

You nod.

Lucy ties your leash around the leg of your bed, where you are, it’s taught so your only option is to get back on the bed, or stay on the wood floor. She pulls out a large pair of scissors, “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you new clothes Y/N!” her voice is chipper and it makes you more nervous.

She starts cutting off your clothes slowly, you feel the cool metal occasionally grazing you, and it makes you shudder.

You aren’t sure anymore how you got to this point.

Soon you’re in nothing but your underwear and she makes you get back on the bed. She retrieves another leather strip from her bag and returns to you, using it to tie your wrists together above your head.

“Such a good boy! I’m so proud of you!! And good boys get rewarded!” giddily she climbs over you on the bed, scissors back in hand.

*sniiiiiip*

Slowly, the last article of clothing is removed from you, and you’re left completely bare to her. It’s a little bit humiliating like this.

Her eyes are dark, not at all what you’re used to, yeah you’ve seen it before, but you never thought she’d be like this secretly!? But… Are you into it? Your dick is certainly saying you are. Wait… Didn’t you just read or watch something just like this?

Now that your cock is freed and cold, she gets over you and puts her hot, clothed pussy just against your head, you groan from the sudden shift in temperature, oh my gods, your dick wants to get inside and warm up so badly. It twitches under her. You’re eyes had closed and without you paying attention you hear the shears open again…

There’s no clothes left to cut—

“L-Lucy!?” The twin blades sit at the base of your cock, the metal presses up against your underside. “Lucy, please—”

“Be a good boy, and you won’t get hurt.”

“Lucy this isn’t funny!”

She presses the metal harder against you, indenting your sensitive skin. You struggle against the binds, but she tied them really tight!

“I’ll give you your reward still for being such a good boy today, and prove to you that you enjoy this.”

“Wha-” You start as she slips her panties out of the way and lowers herself, just your cock head entering her and that’s it. She holds herself there and struggles to breathe for a second, before shuddering over you.

You feel her pussy contracting trying to milk something that’s not even fully inside her yet. The scissors are still at your base otherwise you might’ve bucked up into her, but you remain laying still. She starts rotating her hips, teasing just your head longer. You whine and try to pull your wrists free, but they burn against the tightly wrapped leather.

She shimmies down a little at a time, gasping as she does, and once your fully inside her, she lifts her skirt for you to see her puffy blushing lips spread, and flat against your body. Your cock is swallowed up inside of her, it’s enough to— Wait, Her thighs, they’re covered in raised scars and pink bandages…

“Lucy…” You want to ask, or hug her… Or something. She reaches behind her and squeezes the scissors slightly pinching your cock’s skin, “Lucy!!” You gasp and this time, harshly buck up into her, knocking her around and she lets the scissors fall to the floor.

“Ahh!!” Her voice is strained, and your dick throbs inside her.

You take a breath, all the relief that instantly floods your body is so dizzying.

Her insides pulse around you, you know she’s cumming again, and you can’t take the sensation and cum yourself, thrusting your hips up as high as you can, “Ahhhhh!!!” She yells out as your load shoots deep inside of her.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!! thankyouthankyouthankuouuuu!!!!” she moves her hips around as her insides keep milking you, driving you mad!

Your struggling against your bindings again whining and writhing as she continues to torture you. “Lucy!! Lucy!!” You beg but to her it sounds like a chant of praise.

She goes harder, lifting and dropping herself onto you. your body feels tired now. She leans back holding herself up with your legs and at this angle you can actually see the base of your somehow still hard cock stretching her open, she’s whimpering and you can feel that she’s about to come again.

The sweat slicked to your skin finally allows you to slip free from the strap around your wrist, your hands are burning and bruised, you sit up as far as the leash allows and grab onto her.

You push her down onto you and force yourself up as hard as you can. You cum together, and spend a while just catching your breath.

[professional-benaddict]

part 19 of the omegaverse au🖤 and previous part by @winterspiderpurrs in the reblog here

everything is being posted on AO3 so follow the story here 🖤

“All right, let’s get started. Calling Doctor Stephen Strange to the witness stand.”

The doctor in question stood up and straightened his suit as he headed up to the wooden witness stand.

Tony had mostly spent the day at court keeping his head down a bit. His lawyers adviced him to try and seem as non-threatning as possible. Luckily, the judge wouldn’t cave into OPS’ lawyers demands to have Tony handcuffed, so he was free to move around.

The shaved patch on Tony’s head had started to grow again, and his scar was mostly covered by hair now, but still a bit pink and soft. He had gotten to shave his facial hair before the trial, so he was back in his beloved goatee. He felt more like himself, but not entirely. He didn’t have much of an appetite, so the suit that Ben and Harley had brought him from home sat a little more loosely on his frame.

The Alphas hands, and whole body frankly, ached for the feeling of having his Omega close. Peter’s scent from behind him gave him some comfort, and hope. As did the fact that Stephen was going up there to defend him. Even if he had a bruised jaw which he could have used to get Tony in prison, easily.

Tony’s lips twitched upwards in a shaky smile as he met Stephen’s eyes from where he now sat on the stand.

The judge had the doctor go through the formalities, stating his oath to speak the truth, then his full name and profession. And, his relation to Tony.

“Tony’s a good friend, an old friend, and now very recently he was also a patient of mine.”

“How did you first meet the defendant?”

“Oh… At a party, when we were in college. Then we started hanging out more and more. We were friends for many years before he even met Peter, and have been ever since. I love their three kids as if they were my own.”

“And then he was your patient?”

“Yes. Tony started showing strange symptoms, changes to his behaviour.”

“What kind of changes?”

Stephen paused a little, looking over at Tony, and the man nodded a little.

“Increased aggression. And protectiveness towards his Omega.”

“And you, Doctor Strange, you were a victim of his aggression, correct? The defendant attacked you, in the hospital.”

Tony nodded towards Stephen again. It pained the doctor to say these things, even if they had all talked it through with the lawyers.

“Yes, your Honor. Peter was having surgery, and there were some complications, so Tony and the boys weren’t getting updates for a while. I went to find out what was going on and came back to tell Tony that Peter was okay, but- but he became upset. He punched me. I didn’t press charges, and I won’t- I told the police and the OPS, because Tony was sick.”

The OPS lawyer, Samson or something, stood up.

“Your Honor, we have Doctor Strange’s statement from that incident, as well as the nurses who were on call. They told us that the defendant had threatened them multiple times, yelling and harrassing them. Even if altercations between Alphas are not our concern, we cannot ignore how the defendant harrassed and threatened the Omega nurses. Who knows how many other Omegas the defendant could hurt if he goes unpunished?”

Tony swallowed thickly and turned to look at Peter behind him. The Omega gave him a sad little smile. He mouthed “it’s okay” and the Alpha felt a bit better.

The lawyers argued back and forth for a bit longer until the judge grew tired of it. He told them to sit down again, and directed another question at Stephen.

“Doctor, I have all the paperwork from the hospital that the defendant shared, as does the jury. We will have time to read through them thoroughly concerning the defendant’s health. But, in your professional opinion, was the defendant sick and does it explain his behaviour?”

“Yes, Tony was sick. The tumor in his brain was releasing excess adrenalin and also messing with his hormones. Tony’s testosterone levels were off the charts, which explains his aggression. But, once I removed the tumor a month ago, Tony has shown no signs of that aggression. He is back to his normal self.” Stephen paused a little, looking over at Peter and the boys on the first row of benches behind Tony and the lawyers.

“A loving father and husband. An Alpha who will protect and love his family and friends, but he would never hurt someone.”

The judge hummed a little, and all eyes were on him.

“Thank you, Doctor. The court will be on break for an hour. Dismissed.”

[heavenlyakin]

Blossoming Love Event : 20 & Crocodile

Warnings: fem!reader, flirting, college AU, jokes about hanging, my first time writing for OP so be nice or else!

--

You open your eyes, blinking a few times as you realize you’re still in the lecture hall. Your dark-haired professor still talks about World War II, his voice monotone and boring. No wonder it put you to sleep. 

Looking at your phone, you see this lecture is almost over. This class is only once a week, so it lasts three hours and it’s always so hard to get through. The last few times, you’ve fallen asleep. You haven’t even been tired but with a voice like that… you can’t help it. 

“Excuse me,” the student to your right gets your attention. You look over and recognize his face, the scar across it a notable marking. 

“Yeah?” You look up and see he’s holding out a note. Raising your eyebrows, you take it and open it. 

I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours?

You laugh, covering your mouth when you see your professor look up at the loud noise. He goes back to reading from his slide. 

Is that really the best line you got? You write back, handing it back to him. 

He hands you another piece of paper. 

Not really, but with the way this lecture is going I either want to hang myself or take you out for coffee.

You smile, realizing he must be horrible at flirting and pick-up lines. Honestly, though, the first one got your attention whether you like to admit it or not.  

Let’s go then.

You hand him the note as you gather your bag, walking out of the lecture hall through the back door. Your heart beats with excitement as you hear his footsteps following you

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Your plushie gift headcannon was adorable, can I get the same thing for the entire team 404

(GFL) AR Team and Squad 404's S/O making a plushie of them

(AR Team) M4A1, ST AR-15, M4 SOPMOD II, M16A1, RO635

(Squad 404) UMP45, UMP9, G11, and HK416

I desperately wish for plushies of the T-Dolls IRL.

M4 smiles delightfully upon seeing the stuffed T-Doll, failing to contain her giggle.

(M4A1) "This is adorable, S/O!"

The green strands of cloth stood out among the darker colors, the face expressing a soft smile, much like her own.

(S/O) "Do you like it?"

(M4A1) "I love it, what's the occasion?"

(S/O) "Just...a charm I guess, for good luck. If I made you anything to take out in the field, it'd probably get damaged, so I figured I could make something in your dorm!"

(M4A1) "I'll make sure to take good care of it!"

M4 has the plushie in between a picture of her and S/O and one of the AR Team.

STAR chuckles when S/O hands her a plushie of herself, noting how comfortable it felt in her hands. Well, her sensors anyway.

There was something endearing about human handmade items rather than factory produced.

(ST AR-15) "Quite the striking resemblance."

STAR remarks in an amused tone as soon as she notices the plushie with a very annoyed look.

(S/O) "Had to stare at my reference quite a bit."

(ST AR-15) "Heh, so I've noticed. I'll make sure it doesn't get dusty."

STAR hides the plushie under her blanket, not wanting to get teased by the rest of the AR Team, specifically by M16A1 or SOPMOD.

SOPMOD squeals upon seeing her plushie, squeezing it tightly and then admiring the little details.

Her face was possibly the most expressive she had seen, the eyes were giant white circles, and the mouth was a smug squiggle.

(S/O) "Like it?"

(SOPMOD) "LOVE IT! It's soooo cute!"

She quickly takes S/O into a hug, one that threatened to be spine shattering with how hard she held them.

(SOPMOD) "I wish I could take it with me into battle, but it'll watch over me when I go to sleep!"

SOPMOD holds onto it when she sleeps with zero shame in whoever sees it, bragging about S/O's craftsmanship to any T-Doll or human personnel who asks about it.

M16's eye goes wide as she sees what S/O has given to her.

The plushie was lovingly recreated, the scar and eyepatch were there, so was her case, and a tiny bottle of jack daniel's in its hand.

Though the facial expression made her look drunk, which wasn't entirely inaccurate.

(M16A1) "Do I really look like that when I drink?"

(S/O) "Eh, not really. Figured I'd take some artistic liberties, so to speak."

(M16A1) "I think it made the end result better."

She laughs and kisses her S/O on the cheek.

(M16A1) "Little me is cute, thanks S/O!"

The plushie sits next to M16's pillow in the dorm, showing it off to M4A1 and excitedly talking about how awesome it was to her.

RO is immediately flustered when S/O presents a tinier version of herself.

(RO635) "W-What is this?"

(S/O) "It's a tinier you!"

She admires how much of her features transferred over to such a small stuffed toy, but she can't help but be a bit shy as well.

That meant that was a lot of time staring at her when she didn't realize and other T-Dolls certainly have.

She bashfully accepts the gift and making sure to smile. RO was genuinely happy to receive something so thoughtful, and it made her start thinking of how to pay S/O back immediately.

(RO635) "I'll treasure it always, S/O. J-Just, please don't mention this to the rest of the AR Team, okay?"

RO makes sure to hide where only she can see it and no one else can ever find it. She would not be able to live down M16 seeing her with something so..."cutesy", as M16 would say.

45 starts laughing the moment S/O presents a miniature version of herself.

A whole plushie of herself kind of defeats the point of being in a Black Ops Unit, seeing as she wasn't supposed to exist in any capacity.

But, she's willing to make an exception.

(UMP45) "Heh, even the plush looks smug."

(S/O) "I wonder where it got that from?"

(UMP45) "Couldn't say.~"

She makes sure to take care of the plush whenever she's back in her dorm, finding herself staring at it with a soft smile more than once.

UMP9 gasps in excitement the moment she lays her eyes on the plush, inspecting it with great enthusiasm as she made sure to stand close to S/O.

(UMP9) "Oh, you even got my hair right! And the smile is really cute too!"

(S/O) "I had to make sure to get the most important details, after all!"

She gives S/O a big hug as she continues to admire the plush.

(UMP9) "I love it! Now, how about I try to make a plushie of you? That way tiny me can have her lover too?"

(S/O) "You know how to make plush dolls?"

(UMP9) "Hm...Not really, but I'm sure I can do it if I tried hard enough!"

Upon making a quite scuffed version of S/O, she has it sit lovingly next to her own plush. Both of them always remain without a single speck of dust.

(G11) "Hm...S/O, why did you wake me u-?"

11's drowsy eyes suddenly become wide awake the moment she sees a miniature version of herself.

Slowly grabbing it and examining it, the details begin to make themselves known as she slowly wakes herself up.

(S/O) "I thought your body pillow could use a bit of company!"

(G11) "...I like it a lot."

Her voice was still very quiet, but the smile on her face was very noticeable.

(G11) "If that was it, I'll sleep with the plushie right now."

Whenever she sleeps (which was extremely often), she hugs onto the plushie, as well as her body pillow. Sometimes S/O too, if there was space.

416 says nothing as her expression quietly beams upon seeing the miniature version of herself.

Seeing how much detail was put into it, it made her quite happy. After all, a perfect T-Doll such as herself should look good in any capacity.

(S/O) "Do you like it?"

(HK416) "It is almost perfect, but there is one thing holding it back. Why is the plushie so angry looking?"

S/O just smiled at her teasingly.

(HK416) "Hey, just what exactly are you implying?"

Seeing S/O laugh at her reaction makes her pout.

(HK416) "Fine, keep your secrets then. I'll make sure your effort is not gone to waste."

The soft smile on her face as she stares at S/O's handiwork tells them what her true feelings were.

No Soul or T-Doll will ever see the plushie. If they do and bring it up to her, they'll regret it.

[blckbrrybasket]

Falling, Fallen .2

gaz x gn!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: drinking

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k

← previous, next →

It had been hours since you had met Kyle and you couldn’t seem to get him off your mind. Almost immediately you wished you had given him your number, but you had to be mysterious. At least he seemed hooked. You hoped so. Your thoughts dissipated quickly though when your friend, Aisling, asked for your opinion on her outfit. You turned your head a little too slow before nodding and smiling. “Yeah, no, it’s good. You look great.”

She grinned and turned back to the mirror. “Oi ‘ope so. Tryin’ ta score tenite.” Aisling laughs and looks back at you finishing your outfit. “Ready?” You smooth your outfit down and stand up from the bed, “Mhm!” You had definitely spent time on your outfit. There was no chance you were looking to take anyone home (someone else was on your mind). Though, you definitely wanted to dress up to feel good about yourself.

Aisling slides an arm around yours and pulls you along quickly out of her complex. The weather was nice enough. Clouds took up the expanse of the sky, but it surprisingly hadn’t rained today. Rain sounded nice except for when you were walking to a bar with the sun setting. A sneaking thought popped into your head. Did Kyle like rain?

You shook your head, trying to physically pry Kyle from your thoughts. After work you had gone straight to Aisling’s flat which was the original plan. Getting ready and taking the short walk to the pub didn’t leave you much time to tell her about Kyle. “Sooo…ya lookin’ fer anyone tenite?” She side-eyed you with a grin. Perfect timing.

You shook your head, cheeks heating up when she opened the door. “No- no. Definitely not.” She made a noise alluding to her suspicion. A sigh pulled from your lips and you looked at her. “I met a guy today. His name’s Kyle.” Aisling’s squeal almost deafened you when the two of you entered the lively pub. “Tell everythin.’” You laughed and scanned for a place to sit before deciding to head to the bar first, letting Aisling trail after you.

“Come awn! Ya ‘ave ta tell me, ‘m yer best friend!” Your hand raised to wave her off dismissively. “God, okay let me get a drink first,” you teased light heartedly. And if you had walked forward five steps and glanced to the right you would have caught a pair of familiar eyes, the subject of your conversation.

***

As soon as Kyle had left the bookshop he had texted Soap who promptly brought it into the groupchat. Sure he had other friends, but spending most of his days around the 141 caused him to grow closer to them than most people he had in his life. As soon as Soap entered the group chat he went on and on about how “Gaz met someone today (probably love at first sight).” It didn’t take long for Soap to declare that this was in need of a celebration, a trip to the pub. Kyle agreed while Ghost adamantly said it was not needed until Soap bribed him like usual. Price came to support Kyle, and have a pint or two. They didn’t often get chances to hang out outside of work.

A few hours later when the sun was beginning to creep down away from the sky the 141 found themselves at the pub. Soap wasted no time begging for details and Kyle couldn’t find it in himself to leave a single one out. After explaining the entire encounter word for word Soap paused, “Sooo…ye didnae get their name?” Kyle opened his mouth quickly to defend himself, “I-“ He let out a loud sigh and dropped his head to the wooden table. “Fuck.”

Price smiled and placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Don’t stress on it Gaz. If it’s meant to be you’ll run into them again.” He looked up and gave an encouraging nod to Soap. Ghost lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and let it drop. “Or you could go visit the shop again and get their name.” He looked down at his glass pressing it to his scarred lips again and took a sip.

Soap beamed and clapped Ghost’s shoulder, making the latter grunt. “Ah! Ghost aye has the best ideas!” Kyle glanced up at Soap, “You only say that cause-“ Kyle quickly cut off his own statement with wide eyes. “Shit, that’s them!” Kyle ducked a little while Soap stood up from his seat to obviously swivel his head around. Ghost pulled Soap down while Kyle faced him with a scowl, ready to chew him out.

And chew him out he would, if he hadn’t caught your eye. Amidst the crowd, he caught a glimpse of the topic of his conversation—you. Kyle immediately straightened up and grinned at you, a hidden mix of nervousness and excitement in his eyes. Catching sight of Kyle your heart fluttered and you waved over at him.

Needing no question Price slid out of the booth to let Kyle go to you. “Now's your chance. Go on, lad,” Price encouraged. Multiple passing ‘thank you’s’ came from Kyle as he left to reach you. On your side Aisling caught your eye watching Kyle walk over. Her eyes widened putting two and two together after you had described every detail about him, down to the two scars on his cheek.

Aisling grinned and squeezed your arm before quickly making herself scarce (going down the bar to watch and make sure Kyle wasn’t a creep). With Kyle walking towards you Price raised a hand to greet you before sitting down again. You raised a hand back not dwelling on who or why he was waving at you. He was probably just being polite. Kyle couldn’t have told his friends about you.

Kyle had left the table in such a rush he didn’t even realize or mind that he left his pint back on the table. His heart raced with anticipation as he made his way over to the bar, his gaze locked on you. He approached, trying to stifle his joy and appear casual. When he reached the bar, Kyle went to lean on the counter, but second guessed himself and ended up standing in front of you.

"Hey there, fancy seeing you here," he greeted you with a warm smile, "Mind a bit of company?”

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