#johnny is MELTING UNDER THE ATTENTION

[juststayquiete]

cozy morning with your platonic soulmate

[domnamewoman]

MK1 Characters React To: Being Pinned To The Wall By Their Crush To Hide On A Mission

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

Liu Kang’s first priority is making sure that you both are safe and undetectable by the enemy. It isn’t until after he confirms your safety that he realizes just how close you are. So close that he can feel your breath brushing over him on every exhale. Despite enjoying the proximity he doesn’t want to risk you feeling uncomfortable so he backs off.

“I think we are in the clear now. Let’s find our way back to the exit.”

Raiden is overthinking everything from the moment you press up against him. Should he hold his breath because breathing in your face is rude, right? Should he close his eyes because him staring at you just has to be making you feel awkward, isn’t it? So caught up in his head he doesn’t even realize that you moved back until you ask if he is okay.

“What… Oh, y-yes I’m okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Kung Lao uses this opportunity to appreciate your features up close. The way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks. The little mole on your chin that he never noticed before. Your smell… It’s simply intoxicating. He would be so focused on memorizing every detail that he didn’t notice the enemy left until you cleared your throat to get his attention.

“I’m sorry, I was just… never mind, let’s get going.”

Johnny Cage takes full advantage of the situation and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. Can you blame him? The cart you’re hiding behind is too small so you have to be as close as possible not to be spotted, obviously. That’s also the reason he has to lean his head against your shoulder. He’s just too tall! It’s definitely not because he wants to nuzzle into you, his lips brushed against your neck completely by accident. Really.

“I think I still hear someone walking around. Let’s stay here for a bit longer.”

Kenshi Takahashi is cursing his heightened senses right now. He is hyper-focused on you and only you. Your addicting scent, the warmth seeping into him from every point your bodies are connected. It takes all of his willpower not to just melt into you. Once you pull away he takes a calming breath and tries to get his brain to focus back on why you both are even here.

“Right, the mission… Let’s uh, let’s head that way.”

Kitana is only worried about the mission getting ruined if you both get caught. That is why she is surprised when she notices her hand over your mouth keeping you from making a sound and the tight grip she has on your shirt, holding you against the wall. This is not how she pictured finally getting this close to you going. She blinks as she releases you and takes a step back.

“My apologies… We just, we can’t get caught.”

Mileena smiles as you press up against her, happy with the turn of events. She knows that you like her just as much as she likes you. She uses this time to tease you by pushing her chest into you and blowing her warm breath against your neck. Her thigh finds its way between your legs. It amuses her to see you try to remain quiet and unbothered by her actions.

“We should try this another time… under different circumstances.”

Tanya tries to remain calm as your bodies are pressed against each other. She can’t believe that you both are in this situation right now… but she doesn’t exactly hate it. You smell so good and your body is so warm. It’s better than what she’d imagined being pressed against you would feel like. The only downfall is that you both were hiding in enemy territory. Oh right… the mission.

“I think we’re all clear. Let’s find a way out of here.”

Bi-Han can’t help grabbing onto your hips as you push him against the wall. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the feeling of your bodies pressing against each other. He only wished it was happening under different circumstances than hiding from the enemy. Maybe after you both get what you came here for, he will finally make a move and make his intentions clear.

“Come, let’s finish up and head back home.”

Kuai Liang would try and create as much distance between you as he could, which would be futile. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Even though all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and hold you tightly, he would contain himself. He respects you and your personal space and all he can do is hope that someday you would want him in it.

“They’re gone. Sorry about that… We can go now.”

Tomas doesn’t know what to do with himself. He keeps his arms down to his sides, hands gripping his pants legs. That is the only thing he can do to keep himself from reaching out and embracing you. Something that he has longed to do since shortly after meeting you. Why can’t he think of anything besides how stunning you look, even now?

“Do you, uh… Do you think they left? We should probably get going.”

Syzoth’s brain is malfunctioning. He can’t control the way his body reacts to having you in his personal space. He tries to stop the low rumble of a purr-like growl forming in his chest because one, how embarrassing, and two, he doesn’t want to give away your location. You two were hiding from the enemy for goodness sake! This definitely wasn’t the time.

“Um, can we… Maybe we can sneak around the corner.”

Baraka was surprised that you didn’t mind being this close to him. Ever since being affected with Tarkat, nobody wanted to be even a few feet away from him, much less in physical contact. Being this close to you just reminded him of how much he missed physical affection. He hopes that since you aren’t afraid of touching him, his affection for you won’t be rejected.

“Come on, I will fight our way out of here if I must. You don’t have to worry.”

Shang Tsung believes that this is right where you both belong, in each other’s arms. He desires nothing more, not even power or influence (although they’re pretty close), than he desires to be able to hold you close to him daily. He will stop at nothing to convince you that you belong with him. He’ll start by showing you how capable he is by protecting you.

“These imbeciles are no match for my magic. We’ll be out of here shortly.”

Zeffeero bit his lip trying to ignore your thigh pressed against his crotch. You seemed oblivious to your position and just how hard you were making it for him to hold on to his last strands of self-control. How did you not know how you affected him? He thought he was being pretty forward with his flirting but you never seemed to get the hint. Maybe he should talk to that Johnny guy? Later, you two needed to get out of here first.

“Let’s sneak attack him once he turns around. Get ready… Now!”

[lushrue]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 2!

part 2 of this au finally! i'm so glad people like it! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist, already planning pt 3 so there will be more where this came from 💗

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

your name was announced through the loudspeaker as you skated onto the ice, all covered in sequins and polyester. you’d always thought it was a little bit silly, the conventions around figure skating costumes. that fit that Margot Robbie threw in I, Tonya about the ridiculousness of it? yeah, you’d had a moment like that once or twice. the rough fabric scratched your arms, the glint of the sequins drew focus away from your expressions. but you still felt elegant as you set your mark at center ice, hitting your starting pose in the silence before the music began.

breathe in, breathe out. focus. momentum is everything, remember your character, focus going into your jumps.

in the moment before your routine started, you flicked your eyes up and scanned the crowd. it was something that you’d done ever since your first routine that you took to competition. usually, you were looking for your parents, their smiling faces and the flash of your mom’s digital camera. now, though, it became more curiosity, finding a spot to let your eyes settle when you weren’t looking at the judges’ table. it was then that you saw them. four big, brutish hockey players sat shoulder to shoulder in the stands. the one with the mohawk (soap, you remembered) lifted his hand to wave at you, only for the man beside him (kyle, you guessed from this distance) to swat it down.

the shock must have played out on your face, because you saw price smirk as your music began playing. you let the sound seep into your bones and just like that, it all melted away and you skated.

…

the four of them watched pretty intently for the first few seconds of your routine. price was focused on the placement of your body, how you kept your center of gravity in the middle at all times. he had to admire how precise you were in your movements, like you knew the physics behind all of it. for all he knew, you did. he could tell you were skilled and he liked that about you. talent recognizes talent, or however the saying goes.

kyle was simply admiring your choice of music. Moonlight Sonata, though basic, was like black coffee, he thought. a classic choice that never really got old, but so many things could be added to it to make it new and exciting. and watching you skate to it, he felt like he’d never heard it before. he watched your face more than anything else. you were so expressive, a story playing out in your eyes, and he soaked it all up. it was like reading a novel, and this one was a page-turner.

ghost was watching the lines of your body. it was like you were painting the air as you moved, each flick of the wrist and lift of the leg deliberate and purposeful. it all served to make a pretty picture. every now and again, he’d look at the thin lines your skates left on the ice, the swirls and curves detailing everywhere you’d been. much prettier than the harsh notches he left behind when he stepped out of the rink, he thought. just like you, they were delicate.

soap was far less interested in the artistry or skill of it and more focused on you. the way your hair moved as you spun on the ice, the way your costume clung to your skin. he couldn’t even act as if he wasn’t watching disrespectfully, thinking of what your body might look like under the spandex and sparkles. you lifted your leg and began spinning, and soap thought he might keel over right then and there. ghost nudged him as he adjusted himself on the bench, a silent gesture that told him to behave.

johnny gestured to price behind kyle’s back, getting his attention. “didn’t i tell ya, cap? a right beaut, that one,” he said, earning himself a flick to the head from ghost. price chuckled, turning his attention back to where you were winding up for a jump. two turns in the air and you landed perfectly. he knew you would, you talented thing. “yeah. a beaut,” price responded, a small smile curving his lips.

...

you skated remarkably, in your opinion. it was a relatively simple routine, but with every completed skate, regardless of skill level, came a sense of accomplishment. as you hit your ending pose, you made eye contact with your hockey players in the stands again. ghost’s face was unreadable from this distance, but you caught the pleased expressions of the other three as they clapped for you. soap had a glint in his eyes that spelled mischief and made something in your stomach tighten. kyle was looking at you like the artist you perceived yourself to be, almost how you imagined someone would look at their favorite painting. and price’s face had pride written all over it. you caught an almost imperceptible nod from him, as if to say well done.

you bowed to both sides of the rink and skated off the ice, a performer’s smile on your lips. it wasn’t entirely fake, not like it had been at some competitions. this time, it was born of the idea that four of the men you’d been watching, nay, pining after for a month were finally turning their attentions to you. for the first time in a while, you wondered what someone besides the judges thought of your routine. the worst part was, you needed them to like it. you felt the intense need to please them, keep them coming back for more.

the four of them found you in line for the concessions, grabbing a hot chocolate to soothe your cold bones in between programs. your free skate was coming up next and you knew you’d need a little pick-me-up before then. as you thanked the high schooler who’d poured your drink, you turned to walk away and almost collided with a wall of solid muscle. price, you’d realize as you looked up. “told ya we wanted to see ya, bonnie!” soap’s voice chirped from behind the broad shoulders of the team captain.

you glanced around him, noticing kyle and ghost stood off to the side. kyle was all polite smiles and ghost looked as though he was aware of how much space he was taking up, supremely uncomfortable as people brushed past him. soap was stood off to the other side of price, arms crossed over his chest. then your eyes turned up to the captain himself, feeling a sense of pride radiating off of him. you weren’t sure why; this was a man who barely knew you. but it made your stomach flutter all the same. “good performance you put on out there, love,” he said, the rumble of his baritone voice more compelling when it was directed at you. you’d seen the boys scramble to follow his orders before during a game, but you’d thought it was just his rank on the team. no, you realized, it was definitely the voice.

“thank you,” you replied sheepishly, clutching the warm styrofoam cup in your icy fingers. “i’m glad you all liked it.” kyle spoke up, stepping a bit closer to where you stood. “liked it? i loved it! you’ll have to tell me more about how you choreographed it, the musicality was insane!” “easy, garrick,” ghost’s voice rumbled from where he stood, a bit muffled by the black surgical mask. “don’t wan’ to scare off our pretty bird.” oh, you could get used to that. you spoke up, your eyes flicking between the four of them. “actually, i still have another program to skate.” you hesitated, almost worried you were being too forward. but then you continued. why not live a little, take some risks? “if you all wanted to stay, that is.”

you didn’t have to tell them twice.

taglist: @cadotoast

[callme-holly]

pls pls pls something about dally and reader dating but the gang doesn’t know about them yet and they get caught making out or smth like that

love your work btw!! 🫶🏻

𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧: does anyone know how the hell i can get my images to stay in the same row?? 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dallas being a little handsy in the start, but whats new

The radio crackles softly in the background, the tune familiar, but something you're not paying all too much attention to, too focused on the way Dallas' fingers run through your hair, tugging on the strands as his lips move against yours. It’s slow and languid, the two of you entirely caught up in one another as you both lean over the centre consol, oblivious to the fact that it’s digging into your lower stomach uncomfortably. 

You're meant to be home by now; you'd told Darry you were at a friend's house, helping them with something but you'd be back before 6. However, it's now long past 7, and the sun had gone now at least an hour ago. 

Dallas pulls away momentarily, drawing in a quick, shallow breath as his eyes roam over your features, a smirk tugging as his lips. “You're drivin' me insane, you know that?” He mutters under his breath, dipping his head once more to trail kisses down your throat. “Most I've seen ya all week, dollface....”

You let out a weak, breathy chuckle, trying to pull him away before he can get anymore carried away. “You know why you haven't been able to see me, Dal.” You remind him, moving to push his shoulders off of you, but Dallas is having none of it, grabbing ahold of your wrists and pulling you closer. “My brothers would skin you if they saw us right now.”

Dallas grunts in response, his words muffled against your skin. “Which is why we're in my car and not in your room.” His hands trail further south, resting against the small of your back, and you find yourself melting into him. 

“We're parked in the middle of the street.” You point out, though you do nothing to stop him as he  leans down to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps forming along your arms in reaction. 

“It's late. Aint no one out here.” He says between kisses, moving his mouth from your neck back to your lips, silencing any further arguments.

You're about to relent, give into him, when a sharp knock sounds on the window, causing both of you to spring apart sharply.  Dallas curses lowly under his breath, and there, standing at the window, is none other than Johnny and Pony. It seems they havent noticed you yet, Dallas blocking you as he rolls down the window.

“What?” He snaps.

Johnny flinches momentarily, before straightening up a little, clearing his throat. “You said you were busy, Dal.” His voice is suprisingly steady and Dallas scoffs, gesturing to you. 

“I am busy, aint I?”

Pony looks past him, eye widening slightly, and you feel your breath hitch. Shit. 

“Y/N?” He asks, and you can practically hear the disbelief in his voice. 

You can feel the blood leave your face, your pulse racing as you force yourself to sit up slowly and try to ignore the way Dallas stiffens next to you. “Hey,” You respond weakly, not knowing what else to say.

“You told Darry you were with a friend.” Pony accuses, his tone a little flat, and he sounds almost disappointed. Your cheeks flush and you swallow thickly. scrambling for an excuse, but it's too late, there's no denying what you and Dallas had been doing: your lips are swollen, and a few stray bruises on your neck. 

“I am with a friend,” You begin, but Dallas cuts you off, blowing all chances of diffusing the situation out the window. 

“Friend? That's what we're callin' this?” His grin is teasing, and you glare at him, even as your blush deepens. He’s enjoying this far too much.

Both Pony and Johnny stare blankly at you, their expressions unreadable, and for a moment you wish that you could disappear from existence entirely. 

“You're together?” Johnny finally asks, and there's a note of surprise in his voice as you nod silently, averting your gaze and biting the inside of your cheek in frustration.

“Since when?” Pony demands, clearly wanting an explanation, and your mind scrambles desperately for one, anything to keep you and Dallas out of trouble. You open your mouth, the words dying on your tongue, and you don't quite know what to say, so instead you just shrug weakly, unable to look at either of them in the eyes. 

Pony scoffs, shaking his head as he turns to run in the general direction of the house, Johnny trailing right after him. “Just wait until Darry and Soda hear about this!” he calls over his shoulder, and you let your head fall back against the seat, sighing heavily.  You knew that was coming. Of course it was. 

Dallas lets out a snort beside you, his hand brushing down your thigh. “Secrets out, huh?” He smirks slyly, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

“Thanks to you.”

He shakes his head, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, driving you the short distance back home. No doubt the other two boys have already made it, and the news has most likely already been spread. “You know, you dont have to take me back yet…” you try, knowing full well that you're going to get your ear chewed off the moment you step through the door. 

Dallas glances over at you briefly, a knowing smile curling around his lips. “I know. But I reckon your brothers are waitin' for ya, and I'm respectable enough to not leave 'em hangin'.” 

You laugh lightly, shaking your head in exasperation. Respectable is one way of putting it. Dallas Winston doesn't have a respectable bone in his body; he just wants to see you get into trouble, but you love him, and although he doesn't say it back, you know he loves you too.

[allllium]

I Think This is a Red Flag

~ This is really short but I think it's adorable, especially the thoughts Simon has about reader 🤭

~ Fluff, Johnny being a meanie, WC: 656

~ readers throws things at johnny and Simon falls even more in love

"Don't make me beat your ass Mactavish!" Your voice booms though the small apartment. Simon sighs, hearing your words as he walks into your shared home.

"No! This is assault!" Johnny yells back, his voice comically high pitched. Simon doesn't even have his boots off before a semi quiet bang hits the wall.

"Do I need to intervene?" Your boyfriend asks, leaning on the door frame of your bedroom. You and Johnny are standing on opposite sides of the room but he can clearly see the plastic cup on the floor that you threw at Johnny moments before. You're standing with your hands on your hips, while Johnny has his arms up in defense.

"No we're good, baby." You smile at him, discreetly moving your hand to grab another throwable item from the dresser next to you. Johnny begins shaking his head in disagreement.

"Tell them to stop trying to kill me!" The scot demands. You give Simon a very clear look that screams "stay out of it."

"Love, why are you throwing things at Mactavish?" He asks, and quickly adds, "Not that I disagree with this course of action."

You throw something else at Johnny as Simon is talking. Not even looking to see what it is before launching it across the room. "Why don't you tell him, buddy." You offer to Johnny.

"But then he'll throw stuff at me too." Johnny practically whines. Simon happens to have a much better aim than you. Simon watches in amusement as the people closest to him act like toddlers.

"What'd you do, Mate?" He asks quietly, not really wanting to know the answer. He really doesn't want to be labeled your accomplice when you inevitably kill the man.

"I threw a bug." Johnny mutters under his breath. Quiet enough that Simon couldn't hear but loud enough to remind you to throw your next item.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask him to clarify in an angry voice.

"I threw a bug at 'em." He says again, his head hanging down. Simon has to resist the urge to laugh. Johnny can do dumb things, yes but something as dumb as this? Not even Simon saw this coming.

"Well, why'd you do that then?" Simon bursts, still trying his absolute hardest to keep in his laughter. The last thing he wants is your current wrath focused on him.

"I don't know," he brings his voice back to a mutter, "Thought it'd be funny."

It's almost humorous how he looks like a kicked puppy.

Almost.

Certainly not enough to stop you from your present revenge.

"And was it Johnny? Was it funny?" You aggressively question. From Simon's standpoint it almost looks like tears are forming in your eyes. He must admit you look gorgeous when you're so angry.

"No it was not." He responds, it reminds Simon of a child being scolded. His eyes dart up to meet Simon's.

"Help me." His eyes beg. Simon quickly looks away.

"I don't know, this seems like a fair revenge plan." He shrugs, more than happy to keep watching you.

A disgraceful sound comes from Johnny as he realizes he has no way out. Not with Simon in the doorway or the anger radiating off you.

"Thank you, Sweetie." You gleam at him. Simon can feel his heart melt in his chest at the sight of your happy face. He'd let you throw things at him too if you got this happy about it. Obviously you've been wanting an excuse to do this for a while.

Johnny lets out an overly dramatic sigh as you and Simon stare at each other. He's awfully emotional about this considering you've missed him over the half the times you've thrown something.

Simon watches as your attention turns back on Johnny and the smile leaves your face. He can make out the faint "Traitor" you mouth at him. You really are perfect for me. Simon thinks to himself.

[countcvnt]

Experiment

[Chapter Three: Safe House]

[Poly!Task Force 141/Fem!Reader]

[Ch. One] [Ch. Two]

Summary: When you are finally comfortable enough to nap, memories still come back. This time... you're left more sad than in pain. Warnings: Sadness, mentions of torture. Also, as always, this isn't really beta'd so there may be mistakes! Word Count: 3.3k A/N: COVID Brain Go BRRR! I know Ghostie baby has been the center of attention.... BUT IT'S SAD AND IMPORTANT.

“Ghost,” You look up at the beast of a man, “You can go shower if that’s what you wanted to do.” He turns slightly, looking at you over his shoulder. “I mean, why else would you walk into the showers? I can handle myself.”

Ghost blinks. He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

You immediately pick up on what that means. ‘I would rather stay with you.’ You don’t question it further. You stick by Ghost as the two of you finally reach the cafeteria and the sound of people inside sends you into a panic. You freeze. You look at all the people and your chest is tightening.

“You good?” Ghost turns and notices your fear.

“Uh,” You can’t look at him. Your eyes are jumping from person to person. “I haven’t been around this many people in… a while.”

“Look at me,” He steps in front of you, careful to not touch you. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna let-”

You interrupt him. “I know-” Your eyes move to him and you freeze. Your stomach turns. Suddenly you feel like your brain is running at hyper speed. He was so close to you… The sounds around you are being drowned out and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you.

“Hey,” His voice is low. His hand gently touches your shoulder, “Are you alright?”

“Simon-” Your heart jumps into your throat. Your head is spinning. “Your name…”

You can feel his grip on you tighten. His eyes widen, only momentarily, but you catch it. You hear him exhale like he’s just been punched, and see his mouth upturn slightly under his mask. The smile drops fast. You wonder why, but you’re too torn up to ask about it. You pinch the bridge of your nose and flinch at the sudden bustle around you again.

“Let’s get some food and get you out of here.”

You nod. You trail behind Simon as he grabs you some food. Other soldiers are staring, but you notice when Simon stares back, the soldiers are suddenly very interested in their food. The both of you walk from the cafeteria to the room you were at earlier.

Simon opens the door, lets you in, and you walk towards one of the chairs. You sit. Simon brings over your food and gently sits in front of you. You thank him quietly.

“Everything alright?” John asks. His eyes watch you closely.

“My head hurts.” You pick at the food, “I remembered Simon’s name.”

John looks proud. “Good!” He’s enthusiastic, but his voice is low. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

“I guess.” You nod. You can’t help sound defeated.

“How come dae ye sound sae dowie?”

Your face contorts. “What?”

“Why are you sad?” Gaz asks you. “It’s good you’re remembering.”

You sigh, picking at a granola bar. You scrunch your face up and look at Gaz. “My brain has been fucking picked apart and put back together. You four seem to adore me- Or what used to be me… And I can barely remember your names! Soap- I don’t remember your name! And,” You point at Price, “you had to tell me yours.”

Soap walks over to you, “Johnny. Name’s Johnny.” He gives you a soft smile. You’re melting. You look up at him, scraping through your brain. It hurts to even think. You want so badly to know him. To know all of them. But you don’t. Not anymore.

“What was it I did here?” You ask them. Price goes to open his mouth, “And don't-” you put your finger up, “ask me what I remember. Because all I know is Laswell hand picked me-”

“You remember Laswell?”

You nod. “Well, yeah. I remember her hand picking me for… something. After that it's a little fuzzy. I think- Actually I know I was a computer gal. But that's about it. What did I do here?”

“Exactly what you think you did. You never really had to be on the field, you were behind the scenes. Helping us get in and out of places.” John informs you.

“Do you-” You stop yourself. “I don't know what happened. To me. Like,” you bite the inside of your lip as Simon tenses, “do you know how it happened?”

“You were in the safe house—”

Simon immediately excuses himself. Your heart sinks. A feeling of nausea washes over you. The door slams as he leaves and you flinch. Gaz places a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes shut tight.

A hand is wrapped around your forearm. You are being dragged down a hallway. Screams rip from your throat, pleading, begging. You claw at the masked guard pulling you towards the unknown.

“I promise!” You're sobbing, “I'll be good! I won't fight anymore!” It’s ironic, really.

The bright lights of the facility are blinding. The guard reaches a large double door and walks in, tossing you inside. You slide across the floor, a loud cry escaping you.

“Hook her up.” The guard is blunt. Done with you. Done with your bullshit.

“Hook me- hook me up?”

A female scientist walks out from a secluded booth. She says nothing to you. She pulls you up, and the guard points a gun at you, with intent to get you to cooperate. You do. She leads you to a chair and sits you down. You look up at her with tears in your eyes, your cheeks soaked from the tears that previously fell. She doesn't lock eyes with you.

“Please,” you whisper, “please help me.”

She does not.

The scientist begins to hook you up to a monitor. She quietly asks you to open your mouth, and you do so. She places a guard in between your teeth and you clamp down. Your bottom lip quivers.

The woman walks back into the booth. The guard exits the room, the door slamming behind him. You flinch.

“Ye okay?” Soap asks you.

You pull back, harshly. You’re standing up in a matter of seconds, tears threatening to spill. You turn to look back at the door that had slammed and you want to scream. You look back at Soap, Gaz, and John, pouting. Your bottom lip quivers and you want to hide. You want to go back to your room. But you don’t want to be alone. You can’t.

“You need to rest.”

“No.” You huff. “I can’t be alone.” You admit it out loud. It doesn’t make it any better.

“One of us can stay with you.” You’re tired of Price’s reassuring tone. It’s no longer reassuring you.

“I’d hate to keep you from your work, I- I just need to eat or something. Need to calm down.” When you get knowing looks from Soap, Gaz, and John you groan. “Fine. I need rest. Um,” you look at Price, “will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” He gives you a soft smile. “You two know what to do.”

The way John says it, it’s like he doesn’t want you to know what it is. Or, doesn’t want to worry you with it. You go with the second option. John’s hand presses to the small of your back, and you feel yourself relaxing. The two of you leave the room and begin heading towards what you can only assume is John’s room.

“Is Simon mad at me?” The words fall from your lips, you aren’t thinking. 

“He’s not mad, love,” Goosebumps rise on your skin as Price says ‘love’. ‘There that word is again…’ “Not at you.”

“But he is mad?”

Price falters. “He just needs space right now.”

You don't push it further. You only nod. You understand to a certain extent. You want to understand more though. You want to know what has him so upset. It has something to do with you, and that's all you know. You get to John’s room and he opens the door for you, motions for you to walk in. He doesn't grab for you, he doesn't push you. You're thankful for that.

“I'll be here, you lay down and rest.” John sits down in a chair in the room and you stand there awkwardly.

“Okay.” You walk towards the bed and lie down. You close your eyes and huff. Your eyes open back up and look towards John. He's watching you. “This is weird.” You admit. “It feels too familiar.” John shifts in his seat. “Can you like, I don't know? Maybe just lay down too?”

“On the floor?” He asks you.

Your expression drops, you give him a deadpan stare. “No, over here silly. It'll be okay.”

You, as he gets up and walks over to you, realize you haven't been in an intimate situation for at least four months. You aren't sure what kind of situations you were in before the facility, but you are sure you didn't do anything in there.

You scoot over slightly for Price. The bed shifts and he lays beside you. He seems the most comfortable around you since your arrival back. You can't tell if he's acting or not. You aren't sure how you would react to someone in your situation, so you don't think too hard about it. Instead, you lie in bed, your eyes shutting.

“Y’know,” your voice is soft, “I forgot how nice and warm people are.”

John lets out a quiet laugh (you can't tell if he's nervous). He pats you on the back as you roll onto your side. “Go to sleep.”

You don't fight it. You know John is going to keep you safe.

“You can take that off.”

Simon huffs at you. “No.”

You roll your eyes. “We're stuck here, for God knows how long, and you're going to keep your mask on? Simon, I startle easily, don't come at me when I wake up to you wearing that and attack you.”

Simon lets out a breathy laugh. It isn't forced. “Who the hell said we are sleeping in the same room?”

You are hurt, momentarily. “Well—” You pause. “Whatever.” You cross your arms and begin to walk towards the kitchen. “I'm making myself some food.”

Simon stands up and walks behind you. “Hey,” he walks in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you want to sleep in the same room?”

Your arms fall to your sides. You nod. “I know there are several rooms here. But, I’d feel more comfortable with you in the room. I can handle myself.” You put your hands up, eyes widening, “but I feel better with you by my side.”

Simon nods. “Okay.”

“So you’ll need to take that off.” Simon stiffens as you point at his face. “Not now,” you laugh, “but definitely before we sleep. Anyway, it’s probably all sweaty.”

You walk past Simon and towards the small kitchen. You begin to scour for food. Anything. There isn’t too much, but when you find some rice canned vegetables, you go with it. You begin to heat everything up and ask Simon if he’s hungry. He answers with a ‘hm’. You groan, looking at him.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“I nodded.”

“Can’t hear that brain rattle.” You smile at him. Your stomach flips as he smiles under his mask. You focus back on the food and once it’s heated up you bring it to the small table. You grab a couple of bowls and place them on the table. Simon grabs one. You open your mouth without thinking. “Sorry, it’s not the best… It’s all we had.”

“Beats MREs.” Simon pats you on the back and sits down. You sit across from him and look at the empty chairs. Simon watches you closely. “What are ya thinkin’ about?”

“Nothing.” You wave your hand in the air. “It’s silly.”

“It’s probably not.”

You sigh. “Just thinking about John, Kyle, and Johnny. What if we weren’t in this situation? What if we were all… home? Together?”

“Together?” Simon pulls the bottom of his mask up, revealing his mouth. Shivers run down your spine. “Is that how ya want it to be?”

You nod. “All of us. Yeah. But—” You scrunch your nose, “It can’t be that way.”

Simon doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t respond. The both of you finish your food and he pulls his mask back down. Simon picks your bowl and walks it to the sink. “You’ve had a long day. You should sleep.”

“You have too, Simon. We should both sleep.” You stand up from the table. You turn to him and stare. Simon looks back at you, and you assume he realizes you aren’t going to bed without him, and he sighs.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

You smile at him. You find the room with the biggest bed and decide that would be the best room. You look at the neatly made bed and then at yourself. You’re sweaty, a little bloody, and definitely dirty. Simon sees you examining the bed and hums. You look up at him. “We have no pajamas.”

Simon, “Guess we sleep—”

“Sleep in our clothes.” You nod at him. He smirks. “What?” Your stomach is flipping.

“You, sleep in that nice bed, in your dirty clothes?” Simon laughs, “You’d rather sleep on the floor, I know you better than that, Ace.”

You roll your eyes and pretend you aren’t dying over how he said that. “Fine.” You cross your arms. “We’ll make a deal.” You look up at Simon, “I’ll just sleep in my underwear, but you have to take—”

“Wait,” Simon puts a finger up, “so I’ll be in my underwear too?”

“Well yeah, I’ll feel the dirt specks from your clothes if you sleep in those.” You cross your arms. Simon groans. “I’ll, like, close my eyes or something—”

“I trust you,” Simon interrupts you.

Your world is rocked. You nod. “I trust you too.” It is true. You trust all of them. Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, though. There has always been trust there, in yours and Simon’s relationship. Hearing him say it; it leaves you breathless.

You take a step back from Simon and begin to undress. He tenses. “What are you—”

“Getting ready for bed.” You strip down to your underwear and walk over to the bed. Your whole body burns, in a good way. You pull the covers back and lay down. Simon follows your suit. You feel back watching him, so you look at the ceiling. You hear him stifle a low laugh as he realizes what you’re doing. You look at him, with an angry face, only for heat to bristle across your cheeks.

Simon, with his balaclava still on, was stripped to his underwear now. He’s big. In more ways than one. You cross your arms and try to look just angry, while not seeming sexually frustrated at all. Simon makes his way towards the bed and his hand goes towards the bottom of his mask. He grabs it and you are hit with anticipation.

“Oh, you’re gonna watch me now?” He asks, smug.

“Well, yeah, you—” You are struggling. Simon is enjoying it. “I’m just going to sleep!” You yell, frustrated. You grab the covers and pull them up and huff. Simon laughs, briefly, before there is silence filling the room. The bed shifts and the covers move.

You peek over your shoulder to find big eyes, blond lashes, and smeared black face paint staring back at you. Your heart is in your throat. “Holy shit,” You whisper, “you’re so…” You are awestruck. You roll over onto your back, Simon’s face is inches from yours. He’s holding himself up with his forearm. You keep from kissing him. You’re trying to be professional.

“So what?” He asks, curiously. Still smug.

Angelic? Heavenly? Other worldly? You feel weird calling him those things. “Handsome.” You can’t help but look hungry for him. Simon smiles. He lays down and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t help but stare at him.

“You’re staring.” He closes his eyes.

You look up at the ceiling. Your eyes are wide and you aren’t sleepy anymore. You’re gripping the covers tightly, heart pounding in your chest.

“Simon?” You whisper to him. He immediately answers with a grunt. “Um, this is going to sound crazy…” You trail off. Simon looks at you, urging you to continue. “I sleep with a body pillow most of the time… I’m very comfortable with uh, cuddling. I wanna say now, that I may latch onto you in the middle of the night.”

“We can nip that in the bud now?” Simon cocks his head.

“I can cuddle you?”

“Opposite, actually.” His movements are quick for someone so large. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s pulling himself into your space. You don’t mind. Your skin is on fire again. “This okay?” He asks you.

“Perfect.”

Simon rests his head on your chest and you stop breathing momentarily. You are unsure what to do with your hands. Simon is resting peacefully on your chest and you aren’t even sure what to do with your hands.

You do the first thing that comes to mind. One of your hands finds his hair, and plays with it.  Your fingers gently pull at the short blond strands, and your fingernails run over his scalp. Simon groans. The both of you freeze.

“I can stop.” You sound more embarrassed than you had tended to.

“Don’t.” Simon doesn’t look up at you, he doesn't move. “Please don’t.”

You smile to yourself. You begin to hum softly. Simon has you locked in a death grip. You aren’t getting out anytime soon. And you don’t mind. You fall asleep on your back, you and Simon holding each other as close as possible.

You have no clue of what’s to come.

The calling of your name brings you back out of slumber. The franticness of the voice wakes you up abruptly. Your eyes shoot open and you feel tears smeared on your face. You look beside you and find John Price.

“You’re okay. I’m here.” He soothes you.

“Simon—” You want to vomit. “I need to see Simon!”

“Whoa, whoa!” John doesn’t grab for you as you get up, but he does follow you.

“Please!” You turn towards John with tears in your eyes. “I need to see him. Now.” John grabs his radio and radios Simon. No response. You turn towards Price’s door and swing it open. Price is sure you almost ripped it off the hinges. “Where could he be?”

“He’s probably blowing off some steam—”

You don’t let him finish. The gym. It’s your first thought. You had seen it earlier. You take off running towards the gym. You slide to a halt when you reach the gym doors and intentionally keep yourself from ripping the door off. You spot Simon doing pushups and take off running once more.

“Ghost!” Your voice cracks. He stops. He stands up when he sees how frantic you look. As soon as he’s on his feet you launch yourself towards him. Simon catches you, easily. He’s knocked back slightly.

You mumble something into his chest. “What?” He questions you. Price enters the gym and spots the both of you. Simon looks at Price with confusion, he shrugs back, a look of shock on his face.

You pull back and look up at him with tears in your eyes and wet cheeks. “I remembered… The safe house…” Simon immediately tenses. “Me and you— It was me and you.”

You bury your face back in his chest and try to keep from crushing his ribs. You don’t want to squeeze him too tight. Simon lets you hug him. You feel him hug back and you relax into his arms. A soft sob escapes you.

“It was me and you…”

Everything is slowly coming together. Simon was with you, that night in the safe house. But they took you… Simon was obviously the better option considering how fucking big he is. But they hand picked you.

You try to not think about it. Instead, you just hold Simon tighter.

_____________________

Taglist: @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes (let me know if i happened to miss you, or you want to be added!)

Divider by: @cafekitsune

[doki-doki-imagines]

Can you please do all the earth realm men in MK1 reacting to receiving a slap in the butt and by chance their fellow kombatants were around when it happened? 🤭 And it was a loud smack too

Johnny Cage: -"Oh you don't love me anymore. You used to do that with much more passion." Groans leave everybody mouths. -Shameless, even more than you for doing that in public. -Johnny will never let this go, teasing you often. -Wouldn't mind if you did that again…

Kenshi Takahashi: -With his highlighted senses, not only he feels better the slap, but also the breaths being sucked in by his fellow combatants. -He becomes as red as his blindfold. "Don't you dare do it ever again!" Kenshi shouts at you, everyone stuck, not a word coming out. -Yeah, it was really embarrassing for him.

Raiden: -Maybe he just imagined the slap. Maybe he is just tired, and his mind , starts playing tricks on him. -Raiden keeps talking, not knowledging what happened, some of the combatants are smiling. -He will bring up this when you are in your bedroom, preparing to sleep. -"Did you slap my ass today?" "Why?" "It's not nice to reply to a question with another question." "We both know I'm not the well-educated one of the couple." -Raiden will never know the truth.

Kung Lao: -He doesn't mind. Like at all. -Mostly because Lao will also slap your ass .01 seconds later you did. -Everyone have wide eyes, but nobody says a word on what happened. -"Why are you acting shy? Isn't this cute between lovers?" -Get ready. It won't be the last time.

Liu Kang: -He stays still. Time seems to stop. -"Are you fine, Lord Liu Kang?" He doesn't reply back. -Liu Kang is more than fine. He loved this. A giggle almost escapes his mouth. -So you wanted to touch him so much that you didn't care to be in public, right? -He'll ask you not to do it in front of all the other combatants, he needs to keep his reputation. -Try to be more sneaky next time…

Geras: -He doesn't appreciate it. At all. -Geras won't say a word when you do that, not to catch even more the attention of the other guys. -But he'll talk to you about it in the privacy of your room. -To say the truth, Geras isn't a fan of it even at home, so please don't do it again.

Bi-Han: -Wow. You are insane. -He looks at you, eyes wide and full of killing intent. -Admire the sun and the beautiful landscape in front of you; you probably won't see the next day. -The second you are alone, Bi-Han is on you. -Have you enjoyed playing with your grandmaster? Well, it's time for Bi-Han to have fun. -Hope you are into degradation…

Kuai Liang: -Speechless. -"Did you-" "…Really?" Liang doesn't have the strength to reply to your gesture. -For now. At home he will be like a river in flood. -Don't do that in public ever again. He has a status to keep. There are also nicer ways to flatter him! -Liang already melt under your touch. Don't push your luck.

Tomas Vrbada: -404 error. Tomas not found. -He enjoyed it, but enjoyed less Johnny whistling at you two. Or Bi-Han angry scorn. -But does this mean Tomas can also reciprocate the gesture? He may be embarrassed, but it's a nice discovery… -You'll talk about it at home, it won't be anything serious. -But now his hands are always dangerously close to your backside.

[hearts4golbach]

hiii could you write another johnnie x reader hate fucking thing? the fretting hand was so good i NEED more 🤭

Dancing with Another.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

off topic I'm in love with pierce the veil

not proofread.

warnings:

smut 18+, choking, hair pulling, backshots, semi public, degrading, names like slut and mama

word count:

1.2k.

you pushed through the crowd, making your way with Tara linked to you. you two were hunting down Sam and Colby, or that's what you said. you were truthfully avoiding your ex, Johnnie Guilbert. the two of you broke up 2 weeks ago and you needed a rebound.

you eventually found the two sitting in the couch. the screen door opening caught your eye. you glanced over, making eye contact with Johnnie as he came inside.

you rolled your eyes, turning back to colby. you felt johnnies eyes burning into the back of your head.

"it's good to see you, y/n!" Colby exclaimed, wrapping an arm around you.

you returned the gesture, saying hi to him as well as sam. "y/n!" Tara called. you turned towards her and she waved you over. in the distance behind her, Johnnie stood there drinking.

your heart raced. he held eye contact, setting his drink down and making his way into the crowd.

"let's go dance! grab colby!" Tara yelled over the music.

you whipped around, grabbing Colbys attention.you gripped his bicep tight. "do you wanna come dance with me and Tara? I think Sam is going too." you hollered over the loud music.

he yelled yeah in response. you stood close to him, gripping onto his arm as you walked through the crowd together. you eventually found Tara. she sang along to whatever pop song was playing while sam laughed and danced along with her. you looked at colby and laughed.

you took a second to look for Johnnie. he was somewhere to the left of you having a conversation with Carrington. you turned your attention back to colby. you stepped closer to him, leaning in so he could hear you. how close you two were caught Johnnies attention, and he wasn't too happy.

"this shit is so packed." you made small talk with colby.

"right? when did Jake get so many friends?" Colby laughed, his hand rested on your arm. you leaned into his touch.

Johnnie couldn't take anymore. he ended the conversation with Carrington quickly, promising he'd explain later. he pushed through people as he made his way towards you. he made eye contact with Colby as he approached.

"can i talk to y/n for a second?" Johnnie spoke, staring at you intently.

"yeah, of course." colby responded, moving away from you.

you turned to face Johnnie. your face heated up as his eyes slowly trailed over your body. "let's go," he took your hand and dragged you outside.

"what do you want?" you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall behind you. "you're wasting my time."

he rolled his eyes. "you know what you're doing."

"i'm not doing anything." he stared at you unamused. "what? because i was talking to colby? we broke up, i can talk to whoever i want."

"i don't really care what you think, you're still mine." Johnnie stepped closer to you. he gripped your hips tight and pulled you closer. "you know that mama."

"oh, fuck you." you protested, even though he was right. the longer he looked at you, the harder it was to keep your composure. his blue eyes made you nervous. you shifted your legs, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable.

"you have." his finger tips dug into your hips as he kissed your cheek, trailing down to your neck. "you're so fucking irresistible." he bit down on your neck.

"fuck," you moaned out, melting under his touch. "i hate you," you spoke through your teeth.

his hands began to pull up your dress as he sucked dark hickeys on your breasts. "you know you love me." he groaned against your neck as you pressed yourself against his clothed member. he lifted you up so you were sitting on the counter. "can't blame colby for wanting a piece of you, ma."

you used your hands to hold yourself up on the counter. his hand slid up to your throat, gripping it tight. he pulled you in to a needy kiss as his other hand massaged your thigh. "i wasn't doing anything with colby."

"do i need to fuck the truth out of you or are you going to admit it?" he pulled you closer by your neck. a whimper escaped your lips at the thought. you shook your head, denying the allegations about colby. "get the fuck up."

you followed his instructions sliding off the counter. your hands found their way to his chest as he pressed his lips against yours. he gripped your waist and turned you around. you gasped as he gently pushed you so you were bending over the counter.

he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled your head back. he leaned over your body and muttered in your ear, "you're so fucking annoying. 'm gonna fuck some sense into that pretty little mind of yours."

he made quick work with you. your panties were pulled down around your ankles. his pants were pulled down immediately after. the tip of his cock teased your entrance. "fuck, please, Johnnie." you whispered, attempting to press back into him.

his hand met your ass cheek, causing a slap to ring through the bathroom. you cried out, the sting sending a wave of pain and pleasure through your body. "so fucking needy. i knew all you wanted was my cock." he scolded as he thrusted inside of you.

your back arched as you felt him fill you up. his hands gripped your hip sight as he spoke to you. "you wanna admit it now? you wanna tell me what's going on with colby?"

you shook your head no, "fuck you." you spat out, preventing a smile from forming.

his hand wrapped around your neck tight. your moans became hoarse as he used your neck as leverage. "this pussy is mine." he growled, forcing his cock deeper inside of you. "all fucking mine."

"fuck yes," you agreed. "gimme more."

he slowed his pace. "i'll give you everything you want and more when you tell me." he smirked.

you grinder back onto him, which earned a slap on your other ass cheek. you let out a moan. "it was just to make you jealous." you admitted.

he hummed, picking up the pace again. "you're such a fucking whore." he replied, gripping your hair while his other hand dug into your waist. "doing anything you can just to bring me back."

he pounded into you, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. "fuck, you're so tight."  he leaned over you and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "let this whole party know who's fucking you this good."

a raspy moan escaped your mouth. Johnnies name slipped out of your mouth as you cursed. "'m close, fuck." you choked out.

Johnnies hand wrapped around your neck once more. his ruthless thrusts sent you over the edge. your legs shook as you took him. "c'mon, babe." he grunted as he felt his own release approaching.

you moaned out his name as you came. your walls milked his cock as he released inside of you. he bottomed out inside of you as you rode out your high. "fuck," he mumbled as he pulled out of you. "you're going to walk around the rest of the party like this, then you're coming home with me."

you agreed, making him smile. he helped you pull up your panties before delivering a slap on your ass. "let's see how many stares we get."

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 |

TW: smut, daddykink, afab anatomy, degradation, enemies to lovers context.

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

⭑BI HAN⭒

He wouldn't like your boldness from the moment you greeted him, calling him "ice head". You were extremely annoying at first for Bi Han to deal with your jokes while you passed the information via communicator and you smiled mischievously on the other end of the line, even with the man literally fighting to the death against the enemy force. He would come back from the mission extremely pissed off with you going full steam towards him, ripping you out of your chair and then grabbing your collar. He would say how irresponsible and annoying you were, he would look you in the eyes while you smiled saying that he was exaggerating too much, the fight would draw everyone's attention, including Liu Kang, saying that you were a good team and that you shouldn't have fights, making the grand master release his collar and walk away. After that, you two were sent on a mission. Bi Han even forgot what happened - in fact he was pretending so as not to throw you off the cliff closest to you-

You were wearing the costumes of the Lin Kuei clan now, according to your grandmaster Bi Han, he was going to make you look better in the enemy environment, he had never really noticed you, your face and body completely matching the uniform and slightly squeezing your breasts, leaving the man was confused by the feeling there, since according to himself, if he had permission he wouldn't even help you return to the earthly plane with him, but that disappeared from the moment he saw you smile at him after you eliminated the last one target, leaving the shadowy position he was in, laughing satisfied with his work while giving his hand to the man to shake as a synonym for "making peace", soon Bi Han realized that he was staring at you, making your small figure recoil and apologize because of what happened last time between the two of you, the big man would melt inside, but not even he knew why, making a quick nod of his head, then his deep voice would tell the two of you to go meet Liu Kang again. The great anger between the two of you towards each other would soon disappear - especially on Bi Han's part since you just found him a pain in the ass and annoying - the two of you began to slowly get closer, going from enemies to friends, soon with the great and feared Bi Han laughing at his jokes under his sub zero mask. He would never admit it but he loved having you fill everyone's patience and play silly pranks to pass the time. He would only really realize that he was in love with you when he saw you talking to someone else and smiling so sweetly like only you knew how to do. In his head you were teasing him - and you really were, you were also in love with your grandmaster and wanted to know how far that man would go in being teased by you - and he hated being teased. He would trap you in the closest corridor where the two of you were alone and grab his face hard, making you surprised by the impact of the wall on your back. "-I really don't understand, teasing me like that? You want to open your legs for anyone? I have a fucking dick that throbs every time you open that annoying mouth of yours, you should use it to suck my dick you little whore shit." -Bi Han spoke while pressing the erection in his pants against your ass, while your face was against the wall, you smiled mischievously as you tried to turn around and look into the eyes of the man who would trap you again while the sound of a zipper being opened filled the air of the corridor. "-I'll teach you to never play with my feelings and luck again, little boy/girl."

⭑JOHNNY CAGE⭒

You were one of the monks and he would soon notice your mischievous looks, Johnny Cage likes to joke but you were too much for him, too sassy, ​​too funny and too sexy and this combo ended up turning into the man's dislike for you. Every time Cage tried to talk a little seriously with you he was received with irony and sarcasm and this tired him to the point of asking for his removal from Liu Kang's team of fighters, which was obviously denied. However, everything changes with an interception mission, where Johnny was in charge of going with you to get some information for the fire god, but a serious communication error occurred that could lead to the entire mission ending and several dead civilians from exo-terra. You two had been called by Liu Kang and you took all the blame taking the weight off the man's shoulders, soon after you two left he would thank you and his anger towards you would soon disappear, trying to get closer and you two would soon become an unbeatable duo - and also unbearable for everyone - The two of you always completed each other's sentences without meaning to, your connection grew every day until the two of you always had the right to eat at the same table, away from everyone and smiling at each other. Needless to say, he was already in love with you - and you knew it - but neither of you would speak until the other spoke first. Until one day Johnny saw you flirting with another fighter while running your fingers over his chest, making poor Johnny, he felt sad but full of hatred, immediately going towards you, grabbing your wrist and pushing the other person who was confused by it all, he would tell the man to stay away from you and then drag you to an empty room outside. You were thrown hard against the wall, then you looked up as Johnny took off his belt, you knew what was going to happen and you were loving every second of it. "-What did I do, Mr. Cage?" You spoke as you watched the man's huge cock pop out of his pulsing underwear, the tip glistening. "-Are you a fucking little slut, wanting to give your fucking pussy to another man? You have me, you know I like you, don't you Y/N? Will you learn to never defy me like that again?" -Him he spoke while watching you push his cock into your mouth, everyone would surely hear your moans.

⭑LIU KANG⭒

You were going to know him because he was a Lin Kuei ninja, you were sitting with your feet up on the table next to your grand master and he would soon make eye contact with you and kindly ask you to get ready for the meeting since there were going to be other combatants there. You would smile roguishly and look at Liu Kang with disdain, but you would do what he was saying followed by: "-Are you satisfied, my old man?"- Which would leave him in complete shock, looking at your posture while you smiled and the rest of the fighters would arrive, but he couldn't stop looking at you and you the same as him. Liu Kang really didn't know how to act around you, He tried to understand why you were so annoying and beautiful at the same time - even if he was the one who raised you lol - Whenever you two had to do a mission he would have to deal with with you calling him "Daddy" or just "old man" while he said that his name was just Lord Liu Kang fur and smiled slightly as he heard your laugh of amusement. On this list, I think Liu Kang is the only one who really hid his passion with dislike, he never really disliked you, but he needed to protect himself for several reasons. So he gets closer to you, even liking the nickname you gave him. He would invite you to have tea after a Shaolin training session. Until one day Liu Kang sees you sitting on a ninja's lap while he runs his hand down your back and towards your butt, he immediately goes towards the two of you saying that he needs to talk to you alone, he soon He would notice his mischievous smile and give him a kiss on the cheek, going with Liu Kang to their room. Within minutes you were already being fucked by him on the table while your breasts bounced as Liu Kang fucked your tight pussy. "-See you, moaning like a whore under me... Is that because of my dick?" -He spoke while thrusting even harder, his crotch and cock were soaked with liquids from your pussy but he didn't care how sensitive you were, he would continue. You moaned desperately calling him Daddy as you felt another orgasm come over you. "-My little whore... I love it when you call me that... I want you to moan loudly so everyone can hear that this pussy has an owner."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[neocitylights]

LOVERS ROCK — a rockstar galaxy short story

“Our story is more complicated than this, I was basically crushing on you before even knowing who you were.” GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 2.5k

NOTES: A little follow-up on our favorite neighbors! Can be read as a standalone but it references a few things from the main story. Please let me know what you think, it’s gonna make my day!

Pushing the shop’s door open, you’re immediately greeted by the rich, strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the comforting warmth of the cozy place, momentarily shielding you from a chilly late afternoon.

An easy glance at the counter is more than enough for you to quickly spot Mark. Even through his back, the little details are unmistakable—the dark blue cap backwards, his beloved wired earphones around his neck and the out-of-place Sonny Angel keyring you’d put on his bag months ago making him stand out.

Grateful that the faculty meeting had ended earlier than expected, you decided to crash his plans. 

Every other Friday, you and Mark take turns buying dinner for each other, spending most of your nights as neighbors paying a visit next-door. Today, as it was his turn, you’d specifically mentioned craving the peanut butter cup cookies from your favorite coffee shop instead, Mark immediately taking the mission of buying them for you.

After taking a wild guess at his schedule—with a little help from Johnny—you hoped to catch him just in time to accompany him home as he’s done a million times for you.

Holding a giggle at your usual barista’s surprised eyes, you finally approach Mark, furtively slipping your arms around his waist before reaching over to rest your chin on his shoulder. 

As you feel him tense under your touch, visibly startled, the laugh escapes before you can stop it. “Baby, it’s me!”

He immediately whips his head around, the frown on his face melting to a softer expression upon seeing you. “Oh my God,” Mark starts, a groan escaping from his lips as his body immediately relaxes. “You scared the shit out of me just now.”

Still laughing, you squeeze him tighter, pressing a kiss his shoulder. “Are you surprised?”

“Jisung looked so shocked out of a sudden, I thought it was a creep or something,” he says, rolling his eyes in a mix of exasperation and confusion. “Damn, my heart’s beating so fast.”

At his words, you step around to face him and press a hand to Mark’s chest. “I just wanted to surprise you,” you say half-heartedly, amused at his rapid heartbeat. “It’s good to know I still have an effect on you, though.”

“You’ve always had it, baby.” Mark chuckles fondly, finally greeting you with his usual kiss to your cheek. “What’s up? Did you skip your work meeting today?”

“I’m a responsible faculty member now, I would never do that,” you argue, shooting him a playful eye-roll. “It just started a little earlier than usual, that’s all.”

As he pulls you against his side, Mark’s attention turns back to the shop’s menu again. “You’re just in time, I was just about to order,” he explains, scanning the list of drinks. “Jisung says the peanut butter cookies are coming out in a bit.”

No longer sidetracked by your boyfriend’s reaction, you glance over the counter just in time to spot Jisung now approaching with a fresh tray of your cookies, the barista looking nothing but amused at the way your face lights up at it. 

“Jisungie! Sorry for ignoring you!” you apologize, immediately extending a hand for a high-five. “Thank you for being my partner in crime just now, by the way.”

The boy laughs, reciprocating your motion with a satisfied nod. “That was really funny. I’ve never seen someone so scared over a hug before.”

“What about you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as Jisung frowns in confusion, pointing at himself for a second. “Did you ask that girl out already or what?”

Mark gasps at your side, a smile instantly growing on his face as he looks between you and Jisung. “What the—? Jisung likes someone? How come you’ve never told me? Who is it?”

“A girl from his class,” you explain to Mark, side-eyeing the boy with a giddy chuckle. “She’s really pretty and I’m 100% sure that she likes him back.”

“How do you know?”

“—I don’t think she does.”

As Mark and Jisung speak at the same time, you can’t help a laugh, the pair exchanging shocked glances with each other. 

“He showed me some of her texts,” you clarify, giving the blushing boy a pointed look. “I know the signs of an interested girl because I’ve been one too, you know. She definitely likes him too.”

Your boyfriend frowns, offering you a hesitant look. “I... don’t think I realized you were interested in me through your texts, though.”

“Our story is more complicated than this, I was basically crushing on you before even knowing who you were,” you counter, rolling your eyes at the grin growing on Mark’s face. “Besides, you haven’t seen the way she looks at him, baby.”

Looking nothing but betrayed, Mark feigns a pained look. “ You’ve already met her and I’m only hearing about this now?”

“It was an accident,” Jisung interrupts rushedly, offering an apologetic look at your boyfriend. “It wasn’t really a meeting, she was just around studying for her test—”

“Studying for her test here, instead of the university’s library,” you point out, grinning as the barista groans, having heard your argument a million times by now. “It’s not a coincidence she chose to study here out of all places after you specifically told her you worked here, Ji.”

Mark suddenly whistles after a second, both you and Jisung turning to him. 

As he raises an eyebrow at the boy, your boyfriend nods solemnly, almost as if he’s had a sudden epiphany. “Damn. She likes you, dude.”

The sound of the door interrupts the conversation, startling Jisung into work mode again as a couple of clients enter the shop. 

Watching in amusement as the barista knowingly prepares your favorite cookies to-go before rushing around between the drinks and taking Mark’s card, soon enough you’re bidding him goodbye, under his shy promise of asking his girl out until your next visit.

Outside, Mark immediately holds his hand out as he falls into step beside you. “Hey, I forgot to ask you how’d you know I was here.”

“Johnny,” you answer, chuckling at the look of realization that settles on his face. “I called him earlier, said that I wanted to surprise you but didn’t know the time you’d leave work.”

“So that’s why he was being so weird today,” he says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “He kept asking me when I was leaving, I almost thought he was mad at me or something.”

“Sorry.” You grimace, giving him a half-hearted grin before squeezing his hand. “I’ll ask Hyuck next time, then.”

Mark rolls his eyes, still smiling. “That’s just worse for both of us, you’re better off with Johnny.”

At the mention of his friends, he shares a few tidbits of work while you walk home—the girl Johnny accidentally ended up scooping at a bar is doing wonders as their newest artist, Jaehyun’s concert at a big venue in California sold-out in a few hours, and Haechan’s just... doing Haechan things, apparently having roped his girlfriend into an impromptu trip to Las Vegas.

Everything feels like second nature when you finally step into the building. At the elevator, Mark presses the button for his floor without a second thought, too occupied with the way you’re cozied up against his side. 

Now that you’re more than familiar with his apartment, you feel welcomed almost as if it’s your own.

Sometimes, it’s funny to think that the place was a mystery to you once, holding the very secret that ultimately led Mark into your life. Very few things have changed since then—his vinyls and CDs are still filling every inch of the shelves, instruments propped at every corner, a few figurines here and there. 

A little guilty for leaving your own stuff around too, your boyfriend might now also have piles of books in addition to his albums, too much make-up products in his vanity and a pair or two of heels now forgotten somewhere between his sneakers.

As Mark unlocks the door, holding it open as you step into the hallway, a soft laugh escapes from his lips. “We were matching today.”

Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you pause mid-step inside. “What?”

He gestures down at your feet, toeing his own shoes off with a playful look on his face. “Our shoes were matching today.”

Following Mark’s eyes, your confusion immediately shifts to amusement at the sight of your identical Converses, earning a laugh from you. “Are we becoming one of those couples?”

“I mean, we could,” he teases, settling his shoes neatly at the rack before a grin tugs at his lips. “Are we going full outfits next time?”

You snort playfully, taking his hand for balance while slipping out of your own shoes. ”Please, that would be just you copying me, baby.”

Mark nods, sighing to hold back a smile when you coo at his pouty, sulky expression. “Alright, I see how it is.”

As you pull him into the living room, shoes and jackets properly settled, something else catches your attention before you can tease Mark again—on the coffee table, rests a copy of your latest read, the book’s familiar cover unmistakable to your eyes as you reach for it.

Your eyebrows knit together while you flick through the pages for a moment. “I could’ve sworn this book was at my place?” you say, looking up at your boyfriend in doubt. “Did I leave it here?”

A timid smile pulls at his lips, Mark quickly tossing the keys onto the counter alongside the café’s bag before approaching you. “You didn’t leave it here.”

“I don’t get it.” You frown confusedly, blinking at him. “Are you sure I didn’t leave it here? There’s so many of my books around here now—”

He shakes his head, interrupting gently. “I bought this one, actually.”

“You bought it?” you repeat, a little too dazed at the missing dots. “Why? I could’ve given you mine, if you wanted.”

“We were kinda reading at the same time?” Mark starts, chuckling sheepishly at the way your face changes at his explanation. “You were so excited about it the other day, so I thought I could... you know, read it so I can know what you’re talking about.”

You blink, fingers tightening around the book as warmth spreads through your chest. “Mark...” you mutter, voice softer. “Are you serious?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugs lightly. “It’s no big deal, I just thought it’d be fun to see what’s got you so hooked.”

Caught in between amusement and endearment at his attentiveness, you give Mark a look before fisting his t-shirt, pulling him closer to press a kiss to his lips. With his arms closed around your waist, you resist pulling away for a moment, a sound of protest escaping from your lips once Mark breaks away for a breath.

As he exhales, a flustered chuckle slips through. “Man, you’re definitely killing me one of these days.”

You burst into laughter at his unexpected reaction, escaping from his hold before heading off to the kitchen with a grin at his direction. “I’m hungry now! What are we choosing for dinner?”

Bending the Friday rules over your sudden request, the scent of take-out soon fills the living-room as Mark sets the bags on the coffee table. With the cookies saved for later, both of you settle on the couch, sharing bites of each other’s choices between bits of conversation.

With both of you sharing an unconscious routine, it doesn’t take long until the TV is playing the latest episode of a show you’re currently watching together, Mark indulging your cookies whenever you feed him one in between sips of your lukewarm coffees after dinner.

In the brief pause between the episodes, you suddenly turn around to look at him, almost pouting when pulling back from his arms holding you close. “Why are you so quiet out of a sudden?” 

Seemingly surprised, Mark’s eyes widen for a second before he chuckles awkwardly. “Am I?”

“You’re not even reacting to my little comments,” you start, voice somewhere between confusion and curiosity. “You haven’t laughed at all during the last episode. What’s wrong, baby?”

As he smiles at the nickname, fingers tenderly brushing your cheek, Mark exhales. “I was just thinking... we could talk for a bit?”

The words are all you need to turn off the TV, focusing on him as you sit up. “I’m all ears, Mark Lee.”

He can’t help laughing at the way you say it, reaching for your hand before pressing a kiss to it. “You’re such a dork, sometimes,” Mark teases, shaking his head. “It’s nothing crazy... I think.”

“Well, now I’m curious,” you answer, frowning despite your amusement. “I hope you’re not breaking up with me right now. Are you?”

Though there’s not a single doubt about Mark’s commitment to your relationship in your mind, the quip is mostly to break your boyfriend out of his own mind. Johnny always says he’s come a long way from being an absolute overthinker, but being the naturally sensible, critical person that he is, Mark still hangs onto his thoughts every now and then. 

His face falls for a second at your words, eyes widening in panic. “Fuck no, baby, no way,” he counters, squeezing your hand harder with a pleading look. “I’m not breaking up with you, sorry if I gave you that impression.”

You smile at his puppy eyes, resisting the urge to kiss him by intertwining your fingers instead. “If you’re not planning to break up with me, then...”

“You move in with me,” Mark says, a hint of concern briefly flashing in his eyes over your expression, a mix of shock and something else he doesn’t seem to catch on. “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“Mark, I want to,” you interrupt right away, not resisting pressing a quick kiss to his lips over the endearing relief on his face. “Obviously I want to... but are you sure about it?”

“I’m sure, baby.” He nods firmly, huffing a quiet laugh before taking a look around the living room. “It doesn’t need to be my apartment, though. I can bring my stuff down to yours, if you want.”

“We can decide that with a Halli Galli match,” you joke, laughing at his groan before glancing knowingly at him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

With a chuckle, Mark runs a hand through his hair,  looking a little taken aback. “A few months, give or take,” he answers, a sigh following. “You’ve been leaving some of your stuff around whenever you sleep over and I... didn’t mind it. It actually felt like I was coming home to you even when you weren’t here, you know?”

There’s nothing that can stop you from jumping on him, your lips kissing every inch of his face as Mark laughs, wrapping his arms around you before falling on his back against the couch. Between a few kisses to his mouth and a few more to his face, you might’ve struggled a little bit to pull back from him.

As both of you sit up again, your arms wrap his shoulders in final a hug. “You belong in a love song, Mark.” 

“That’s a yes, right?” Mark suddenly asks, hands immediately cupping your face as soon you pull away from the embrace, his cheeks still flushed from your words. “Are we really doing this?”

The familiarity isn’t lost on you, a smile growing on your face. With your heart still full and completely assured, there’s no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

[codfishing]

Part 2 of this

Pairings: ghoap x single mom!reader

TW: cavity-inducing fluff, Christmas

“We goin’ to see Simon n’ Johnny?” Your daughter’s voice asked excitedly from the backseat of your car, causing you to smile.

“Yes, sweetie; we’re going to see Simon and Johnny,” You answered, buckling up and putting the car in drive, your stomach a bundle of nerves as you pulled out of your parking spot.

It was one thing to be taken out for dinner by the two men (both with and without your daughter), but it was another thing entirely to be asked to spend Christmas Eve at their house overnight so that you could celebrate Christmas morning with them as well. And you couldn’t deny the excited feeling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of spending the night at their place for the first time.

Your daughter chatted absentmindedly the entire car ride there, singing ABC’s and Jingle Bells (which you had no idea she knew and smiled at the thought of Simon and Johnny melting once they heard her singing it). Soon you were pulling up to their house and your daughter was gasping and pointing when she saw her two favorite men waiting in the driveway.

You had just barely parked before Simon was opening up the back door to get your daughter out of the car seat while Johnny was a gentleman and opened your own door, something you always teased them for but secretly loved.

“There’s our girls,” Johnny said affectionately, helping you out of the car and pulling you in for a hug that you happily reciprocated.

“Hi Johnny,” You beamed, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before pulling away just in time for Simon to lift your daughter out of the car with a playful grunt of effort that was drowned out by your daughter’s squeal of laughter as he lifted her up into the air.

“How’s my best girl doin’?” Simon asked as he brought her back into his arms. “You behavin’ at daycare?”

Your daughter nodded, completely unfazed by his black balaclava and started chattering about the new animals she had learned about while he listened with rapt attention, slinging her bag over his shoulder and shutting the door.

“Sounds like she’s had a busy week,” Johnny mused, watching as you opened the trunk and reaching for your overnight bag before you could.

“She has,” You laughed, knowing better than to argue and simply grabbing the bag of presents you had brought. “They were learning about the north pole this week.”

He made a noise of understanding, eyeing the gifts you brought. “Ya better not’ve spent a lot on us, bonnie.”

You simply grinned, not answering him as you followed Simon into the house. Their house was always warm and inviting every time you had come over (which was surprisingly often in the past month after the first couple of dates they had taken you and your daughter on). Johnny immediately shut the door behind him and made a detour through the kitchen to drop a kiss on your daughter’s cheek before disappearing down the hall with your bag, where you assumed he was putting it in the guest room.

“Dinner should be ready in thirty,” Simon said over his shoulder between your daughter’s conversation. “She likes turkey, right?”

“She did the last time I gave it to her,” You said with a doubtful laugh as you went to the tree to start putting your gifts down under it.

You paused when you realized just how many they had bought not only for your daughter, but for you as well.

“Those better not be for us,” Simon called out, making you jump slightly.

His tone was light and you could tell by now when his scowl was playful instead of serious (mostly because he rarely had a serious scowl around you).

“Are you going to say no to presents from her?” You teased, raising an eyebrow as you continued placing gifts.

Simon simply huffed before your daughter wriggled out of his arms, wanting to get down.

“Course not,” He grumbled as he set her down, leaning against the counter and watching her run towards the tree with sharp eyes.

“Only look, don’t touch,” You warned gently as she stared up at the tree before giving her an insane amount of trust and walking away towards the kitchen.

Simon held out an arm for a hug and you happily obliged, molding into his side and returning the hug.

“And how’s my other best girl?” He asked fondly, pressing a kiss against the top of your head through his mask and making your heart flutter.

“A little tired,” You admitted with a sigh, leaning up into the affectionate gesture. “Work’s always busier around the holidays so I don’t get much of a break.”

He hummed thoughtfully at that as he rubbed your arm before Johnny emerged from the hallway and joined you and Simon in the kitchen.

“Pack-n-play’s set up,” He announced with a grin.

You blinked. “But…it’s still in the car?”

Johnny looked back at you and waved you off. “We got it taken care of, bonnie.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at him but he didn’t seem to notice as he focused on going to get a hug from your daughter, leaving you to look up at Simon questioningly.

With a deep chuckle he explained, “We thought it would be good to have one here. Just in case, y’know?”

You stared at him speechless but he simply smiled behind his mask and rubbed your arm again, looking out at Johnny play-fighting with your daughter as her peals of laughter filled the house.

Dinner was the usual affair; your daughter decided that she actually didn’t like turkey at all and the only thing she would touch was the rolls, much to your chagrin. Johnny and Simon didn’t bat an eye however, with Simon calmly talking her down from her near-tantrum while Johnny quickly fixed up some mac n’cheese (you caught a glimpse of a few boxes in the pantry that weren’t there before and felt something you weren’t quite sure what to call, but it made your heart ache with affection). And when Johnny returned with a small bowl of the eagerly accepted food, he refilled your glass of wine while dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

The rest of the evening went much more smoothly, consisting of old timey Christmas movies that your daughter loved followed by getting her ready for bed (which was mostly her showing off her new onesie to the two men who fawned over her), followed by setting out milk and cookies for Santa Claus and was finished up with reading a book before bed.

In the middle of her favorite book, a sudden thumping from the roof made you tense as you looked up at Simon and Johnny in the doorway, panic coursing through you. But that was quickly doused by their mock-surprised faces as they looked at your daughter.

“Who’s that now?” Johnny asked her, his voice light with a hint of excitement.

Your daughter of course didn’t know, but she happily took Simon’s hand as he offered to go check with her and you curiously followed, giving Johnny a playfully suspicious look as he grinned at you.

“What are you two doing?” You asked Johnny in a hushed voice as you followed Simon and your daughter.

Johnny chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Just wait.”

A sudden excited gasp from your daughter caught your attention and you stopped in the entryway to see another large man dressed in a red suit and an obvious military sack on his back. He had a white beard, but upon further notice it looked almost more like muttonchops.

Your daughter didn’t notice though as she squealed and jumped up and down, pointing excitedly towards ‘Santy!’

The man chuckled and knelt down, beckoning her forward with a gloved hand. You tensed slightly but Simon and Johnny obviously knew this man, and Johnny’s hand rubbed up and down your back reassuringly.

“I’ve heard you’ve been a very good girl this year,” The man dressed as Santa said in a deep voice, causing your daughter to giggle and nod excitedly.

He led your daughter to the couch and sat her up on his knee, asking her what she wanted for Christmas. Your daughter shyly said something about a babydoll, and Santa chuckled before reaching into his bag and pulling out a brand new babydoll, the exact one that she had been wanting.

You stared as she squealed and took the doll, your mouth dropping as your gaze flicked to Johnny and Simon, who simply returned a pair of smug grins.

“Now,” Santa started, smiling down at your little girl. “Off to bed, little one. Make sure to be good for your mother, and for Simon and Johnny, alright?”

“Okay,” Your daughter nodded happily before giving him a hug and hopping off his knee, eagerly running to show you her new doll.

You responded just as excitedly about her new toy and started to take her back into the guest room, but much to your surprise she insisted on Simon being the one to tuck her in.

Simon was gracious about it and promised it was alright when you asked, that he was happy to do it and he took your daughter’s hand as he led her back to the guest room, humming with intrigue when she babbled about her new doll.

As soon as they were out of sight you turned to Johnny and ‘Santa’, who was pushing himself up off the couch with a grin as he shed the coat to reveal a simple white shirt and chiseled arms tatted up in a strange geometric pattern.

“I think ya’ve found your look, Cap,” Johnny teased, his hand still in the small of your back.

“Watch it, Soap,” The man warned with a laugh, pointing to Johnny. “You’re lucky I’m about to shave it all off anyway.”

He then reached out a hand to you with a warm smile. “Name’s John Price, but you can just call me Price; I’m the captain of your two muppets.”

You laughed at that as you shook his hand in return, glancing affectionately at Johnny who simply shook his head and returned your fond look.

The door opened again and another man walked in, this one about Johnny’s age and just as handsome.

“Did it work?” He asked eagerly, mostly to Johnny and Price.

“Like a charm,” Johnny grinned. “Could’na done it without ya, Gaz; you’ve always been great at making noise.”

“Gaz?” You asked, looking to the new man curiously as Johnny slowly led you into the kitchen as Price followed.

“Kyle,” He corrected with a warm smile as he followed the three of you into the kitchen. “Gaz is my callsign.”

“Ahh, that makes more sense,” You laughed quietly, watching as Johnny opened the fridge.

“Would our resident Santa Claus like some eggnog?” Johnny asked teasingly as he pulled out a container followed by two glasses from the cabinet.

Price scowled, leaning back against the counter as Kyle stood next to him. “Nah, but I’ll take a bourbon if you’ve got one.”

Johnny shook his head with a sigh as Simon rejoined your little group in the kitchen.

“I’ll have some of that, Johnny,” He said, nodding towards the eggnog that Johnny was pouring out before nodding towards Price. “Nice beard, Price; you bleach it?”

“Figured paint would be too obvious for a smart kid,” Price shrugged with a grin, crossing his arms against his chest.

Simon took one of the glasses of eggnog and said, “At least you get a preview of what you’ll look like here in a few years.”

Price only scoffed at that while Kyle said, “I happen to like how it looks; though it does cover up the silver hair I’ve grown fond of.”

“Listen here, brat,” Price warned playfully, nudging Kyle with a scowl while Simon and Johnny chuckled.

You could only giggle before taking the freshly-filled wine glass that Johnny offered you, returning his smile before looking back at Kyle and Price.

“That was really wonderful of you two, doing that for her,” You said gratefully. “She’s been ranting about Santa coming to visit for the past couple of weeks now.”

Price waved you off with a fond smile before saying, “It was nothing at all.”

“Hell, you might’ve found the job for him for after he retires,” Kyle teased, earning him another playful scowl from Price that he returned by crinkling his nose up playfully at the older man.

“Oh that would be a riot; we’ll be sure to visit for a team holiday card,” Johnny laughed, which Simon agreed with and Price only gave an exasperated sigh.

The five of you hung out in the kitchen for a little while before Price and Kyle left, both of them giving you a warm hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving.

After the door shut, you turned to scowl playfully at Simon and Johnny.

“How long had you two been planning this?” You demanded with a smile.

Johnny grinned at that and you heard Simon chuckle before answering, “Since you agreed to come spend the night with us for Christmas Eve; We figured the little one would love it.”

“She definitely did,” You laughed, taking a drink from your wine. “You guys set the bar high for future Christmases.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to top it next year,” Johnny said then with a wink, making your heart flutter at the thought and the subtle promise woven into his words.

The next morning was filled with excited squeals and giggles with every present your daughter opened, her favorite surprisingly being a little tea set that she convinced Simon and Johnny into using with her (which led to some wonderful pictures that you knew Price and Kyle would love). Your own presents were beautiful, and the men were delighted with what you had gotten them, though they were still insistent that you didn’t need to get them anything.

It was a warm feeling that filled your chest as you sat there, watching as Simon and Johnny had tea with your daughter. For the first time in a while, everything felt right in the world, and you couldn’t have imagined a better gift than the sight in front of you.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, discussion of past trauma, psychological torture, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Part Twenty-Seven of Ink & Needle

Walsh invites Simon to dinner. Task Force 141 lays in wait. A rivalry finally comes to a close.

Chapter Twenty-Six // Chapter Twenty-Eight

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

A flood. A river.

Water rushing—swallowing Simon whole. Drowning.

He is cold. So...cold.

Dunked. Forced. Reaching and clawing for fresh air as his lungs fill to bursting.

Bravo whines, tapping Simon's leg with his paw, trying to capture his attention. Simon absently scratches under the dog's chin, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Around him in a circle are sketches. Charcoal on white paper.

They were meant for you—for you to browse and enjoy. Only a few months ago, Simon believed that you would eventually pick one, and from that selection, he'd design the perfect tattoo, and you'd do him the honor of inking your skin with his art.

Fuck, how things have changed. Shifted.

The stars are no longer aligned. Everything is off—and all the planets, moons, and comets are close to colliding.

Shattering. Simon is shattering.

Bravo whines again, this time with a hint of a growl in it, as if his patience is thin. That one change clicks something into place, pushing Simon toward the present moment.

"Need out of my head," mutters Simon. Leaning to the side, Simon playfully scratches at Bravo's belly until the German Shepherd collapses onto his back, tongue lolling out in contented bliss. "Up for a jog?"

Bravo is up in an instant, his claws tap tap tapping against the wood floor as he fetches his leash. Simon's gaze lingers on the sketches. A buzzing numbness begins to creep in, chilling his blood.

Two weeks since Kit Walsh walked through the door of 141 Ink. Two weeks and no letter in the post. No word. Not from him. Not from Price or Gaz or Johnny. A brief spark of shame ignites in Simon's chest. He hasn't spoken to Amelia or Evie either. They've reached out. They try all the time. Amelia even convinced Ben from Dancing Faun and a few older patrons to come check in on him.

But not bringing you back is a failure.

Simon can't face them. Can’t face fucking anyone. Can't begin to explain how all of this is entirely his fault. Kit doesn't care about you. He cares about Simon—about making him suffer.

And it's working. It's bloody fucking working.

Bravo dumps the leash in Simon's lap. A bit of drool bleeds into Simon's joggers, and he can't help but chuckle.

"Let's go," groans Simon, his bad leg acting up as he stands.

Warming up and heading out for a mile helps with the soreness in Simon's limbs but not his heart. Before heading home, Simon stops for a coffee and croissant at the bakery, giving Bravo the drier portions.

As Simon slips the key into the lock of the exterior door, he almost doesn't notice the small white envelope on the floor. Bravo steps right over it, charging upstairs to the flat as Simon releases his hold on the leash.

The buttery, flakey piece of croissant becomes ash in Simon’s mouth.

He knows that handwriting. That familiar scrawl.

And it’s Sunday. The post is never delivered on Sunday. But of course, it wouldn’t arrive in the actual fucking mail.

Walsh likes to hand deliver.

Makes it more personal. Especially when Walsh believes that someone has personally wronged him.

Simon has seen it before, back when Walsh believed Simon was on his side. Sometimes it was Simon who pulled the trigger on Walsh’s order. Not that any of those wankers were good people, but Walsh takes great joy in the one-on-one.

Simon bends at the knees, lifting the small white envelope off the ground. His greasy fingers leave behind a blemish. Bravo whines and Simon ascends the stairs, clutching the envelope tightly as if it will melt away like snow under a blazing sun.

Even as Simon enters his flat, he does not open it. He places his coffee and half-eaten croissant on the kitchen table, unlatching Bravo's leash and returning it to the holder by the front door. It isn't until Simon has the phone in his hand—the one he’s only ever used twice—while dialing the one person he knows will answer, that he flips the envelop over with shaking fingers, breaking the seal.

"Lt."

"Johnny."

Simon almost doesn't recognize himself. He sounds...broken. Rotten like forgotten food in a hoarder’s fridge. Johnny immediately notices the distress in Simon’s voice.

“What’s wrong? Did that fucker come into your shop again?"

"No," says Simon quickly, because it’s true. Walsh didn’t enter his shop. Didn’t even enter his home this time. "Not exactly."

“Simon. What’s happened?”

Slowly, Simon slides the flimsy bit of paper out of the envelope. It’s not folded. Just a once crisp piece of plain paper that Simon scrunched in his fist.

“It’s happening, Johnny. The end. I think this is it.”

“The end?” asks Soap.

Flipping it over, letters and numbers are revealed. And then words.

An address.

"Johnny,” he exhales, almost gasping as the air is ripped right out of his lungs. Simon’s thundering heart becomes silent.

"What do you need from me, Lt?"

There are words below the address. A quote, perhaps. A message.

Do this in remembrance of me.

Tears form in Simon’s eyes. "I'm not doing this alone."

"You won't be."

"You shouldn't go in alone."

Captain Price's voice crackles through the earpiece. It's a small thing, no larger than a pea pod. It sits snugly in Simon's right ear.

"I have to,” replies Simon, determined to fucking end this.

This isn't for them to decide, and it certainly isn't their responsibility. Walsh's death belongs to Simon.

He craves it. Needs it.

Lifeblood for lifeblood.

A soft static comes over the earpiece followed by Price’s voice. “We’re in position. Give the word. And we’ll enter.”

"Thank you, Captain."

Simon is dressed for dinner. It’s no suit and tie, but Walsh doesn’t really deserve the curtesy. Simon carries a pistol and a blade, but it’ll likely be confiscated. Walsh might enjoy a good game but he doesn't play fair.

What Simon did not expect, was for Walsh to bring him home. To bring him here. Of all places.

He knows this street, though it’s changed a bit over the years. He would walk home from school and stop two doors down to pet the neighbor’s dog before heading home. His mum would spend her weekends lingering out front tending her flowers. This home flourished when he was small and his little brother was nothing more but cells in his mother's womb.

It's different now. Dark.

Simon hasn't touched his childhood home in years. Not since their deaths. He couldn't bring himself to sell it, and he sure as shit couldn't bring himself to get rid of anything. He's owned it since then, and it simply exists. Empty.

But there's a light on. A small one.

The table lamp beside the window is illuminated, the one his mum liked to turn on after she put Simon and his brother to bed. The one she’d read her book by before heading to bed herself.

But that was before everything happened. Back when they were a happy family and his father was sober.

"I can come with you, Lt."

Johnny this time.

"No,” replies Simon. “It needs to be me."

It takes all of ten steps to approach the front door. Simon tries the doorknob, and finds it unlocked.

Slowly, Simon eases the door open, revealing a home that hasn’t changed. Everything is in its place, and as he steps inside, he notices the dust. Glancing down at the floor, he is greeted with the bloodstains that never came out of the carpet no matter how hard he scrubbed.

While the hall is dark, the door to his left stands open, revealing the living room. Simon can see the lit lamp and his mother’s favorite chair from where he stands in the hall. As he shifts in that direction, moving toward the light, the rest of the room comes into view.

Just inside, all the furniture has been pushed against the walls, opening up the middle of the room. There is a table, or what appears to be a table. It’s low to the ground with a bulky base that’s longer that it is wide. There are no chairs but it wouldn’t work with the table. Simon and Walsh will have to sit on the floor.

On the tabletop is a feast. An entire Sunday roast dinner. It sends Simon right back to those early days of his youth when he’d look forward to this meal. Nothing is unaccounted for. There’s the carved roast meat, roasted potatoes, an array of vegetables, Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, gravy, and all sorts of sauces. It is far fancier than anything Simon’s mum ever prepared.

It’s fresh, too. Small wafts of steam drift upward. Not only that, but the table is set for two.

“You came.”

Simon’s head snaps around, only to find Kit Walsh standing in front of the kitchen door. Simon didn’t even hear him.

“Didn’t have much of an option.”

Walsh shrugs. “True.”

“Where is she, Kit?” asks Simon.

This is Walsh’s only chance. He’ll ask nicely—politely, even. But that’s fucking it. Fuck this dinner. Fuck talking.

Walsh extends a hand, gesturing at the makeshift table. “Have a seat.”

“Kit,” growls Simon, taking a step toward the man. “Where is she?”

The corner of Walsh’s mouth twitches but his demeanor reveals nothing. He’s completely calm, and that scares Simon. Walsh is at his worse when he appears perfectly apathetic.

“Food is going cold,” replies Walsh, and the chilly blandness in his voice sends Simon over the edge. “Never known you to pass up a Sunday roast.”

The pistol is in Simon’s hand, the firing end of the barrel pressed to Walsh’s forward in a matter of seconds.

“I won’t ask again, Kit. Where is she?”

Walsh’s sigh is like that of an annoyed parent. “Sit down, Simon. Eat.”

Simon adds pressure behind his grip, pushing the barrel harder against Walsh’s skin, forcing his head backward. The man doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away either. Walsh stares Simon in face, unblinking.

“You fucking done?” he asks.

“No,” snaps Simon. His fingers curls around the trigger. “You tell me where she is, Kit. I’m not fucking around.”

“Then be done with it, mate. Put some lead in me. Make me bleed.” His smile is slightly off, like he’s begging for Simon to do it.

And Simon wants to. Badly.

“I won’t hesitate.”

“I know you won’t, Riley. You’ve always been a great shot.”

Slowly, Simon eases the gun away from Walsh’s head. It leaves behind a round mark in the middle of Walsh’s forehead.

“Have a seat,” coaxes Walsh. “Let’s talk.”

Simon is sick of talking. It’s all they ever do. Back and forth and back again until everything is twisted and torn and wrong.

“You’ll talk out of your ass the whole time,” says Simon, backing away from Walsh. The gun is still clutched in his hand, but it’s lowered.

“You can keep the gun,” sighs Walsh, heading for the nearest table setting. He takes a seat at the makeshift table, crossing his legs.

It reminds Simon of primary school. And that only makes it hurt all the more.

He wants to resist, but instead, Simon goes to the opposite end of the table, taking a seat. Playing Walsh’s game is his only chance, even if Simon doesn’t want to participate. He prefers things clean. Recon. A quick shot to the head.

But all that old violence didn’t involve someone Simon cares about. Killing Walsh now may end any chance of you returning to him.

Simon places the gun on the table next to his plate. He stares out at the feast, not wanting to take anything.

“It’s not poisoned,” says Walsh, already reaching for the food. He grabs a large slice of roast before dishing himself up one of everything else. When Simon doesn’t move to put food on his plate, Walsh chuckles. “Do I need to eat some first? Would that convince you?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Walsh shrugs. “Shame.” He cuts off a piece of the roast and dunks it in the gravy before popping it into his mouth. He points at the roast with his fork. “Missing out.”

With each bite Walsh takes, Simon continually grows uneasy. There’s no quickness in the way Walsh eats. He savors everything, complimenting the flavor, attempting to make small talk with Simon whose plate remains empty.

“I just want to know where she is, Kit. I don’t fucking care about anything else.”

Walsh shakes his head. “That’s a bloody lie. You fucking hate me.”

“Didn’t say that I didn’t.”

“You should really try this, Simon.” Walsh slowly chews a potato. “Banging meal. Missing out.”

“Fucking shut up.”

Walsh glances up, the middle of his brow curved in. “Fucking eat it, Simon. I’m not asking.” When Simon doesn’t move, Walsh sets down his silverware. “You want your woman back? Then fucking eat.”

Simon’s fists are clenched in his lap. It takes everything in him to unfold those fingers—to relax the muscles enough to move. Like a robot with a singular purpose, Simon starts filling his plate. He can smell it all. The food is fragrant and luscious. His stomach growls yet there is no meal that could fill that hole that sits in Simon’s stomach.

As Simon returns his plate to the table, Walsh returns to his own meal.

“This is our last supper,” sighs Walsh. “Sad to end it here.”

Simon stares down at his plate. Part of him wants to eat it, to remember the nostalgia of sitting at the dining table on Sunday afternoons. “One of us isn’t leaving here.”

Walsh frowns. “Suppose that’s true.”

Simon answers immediately. “It’ll be you.”

“Will it?” Walsh glances around. “This is your childhood home. Your mum died just out there.” Walsh gestures toward the entrance. “Didn’t your father bash her head in?”

He asks the question like the death of his family is polite dinner conversation.

“Don’t talk about my mum, Kit.”

Walsh tuts. “And then to off your baby brother like he did?” He pauses to chew a piece of roast. “All while you were on your first deployment? Fucking mental that one. Bet you’re glad he’s dead.”

“They’re all dead. You know that.”

Simon remembers that night like it was yesterday. He came home from his first deployment expecting to be greeted by his mum and baby brother. They weren’t there in London. Simon didn’t understand why until he made his way back to Manchester and walked through the front door.

“How’d it feel killing your father? You enjoy it?”

“Fuck off.” Simon’s voice is cold. Distant.

Taking his plate, Walsh piles on another helping of potatoes and meat. “And for Captain Price to get those charges wiped? Bloody lucky you are, Simon.” He snags another Yorkshire pudding. Adds more gravy to his plate. “I mean—he made you his fucking patsy on that,” Walsh gestures vaguely in the air, “fucking task force. Had you murdering everyone the government deemed a ‘threat.’”

“Should look at yourself, Kit.”

“Why? Because I played the same game?” Walsh shakes his head. “I took their money. I spent it. I made them happy, and then I tossed them in the fucking rubbish when I was done with them.”

“And yet, they all still have their heads. For someone who hates the government, you’ve hardly fucking touched them.”

Walsh shrugs. “Most. But not all.”

Simon’s jaw clenches. “Just tell me where she is, Kit. Tell me and let’s be fucking done with this.”

“I don’t think I’m done. And you haven’t touched your food.”

Simon scoffs. This wanker is unbelievable. “You fucking think—”

There’s a thump. It immediately silences Simon and gives Walsh pause. That can’t be the boys. Simon didn’t give them the go ahead.

A lull of silence follows.

“Kit—”

“Don’t fucking start.”

Another thump. This one rattles the table. Coming from—

Simon flattens his hands on the tabletop, starting to rise.

“Don’t fucking move, Simon.” Walsh’s voice is deathly cold. He’s bent forward, hand poised like he’s ready to draw a weapon.

“Where the fuck is she?” growls Simon.

Another thump. This one is louder. Stronger. Shaking the entire table.

Simon is up and raising his gun just as Walsh draws his. The pistol fires, the sound loud. Walsh jerks, his shoulder hitching to the side. Simon keeps his finger on the trigger, each round leaving the chamber a melody to his ears.

Charging forward, Simon lungers for the man.

In is ear, Price’s voice is a pulsing thing, calling his name. Simon is hardly paying attention. Walsh is right there. Within reach.

There is already blood. Bright. Bold. Spreading over the floor.

Simon falls to his knees, uncaring of the pain. “Where is she, Kit?” He fists the front of Kit’s shirt, lifting the man from off the ground.

"Did you not enjoy the meal?" asks Kit, his eyes glassy and distant. "Spent months on it."

A sour dread floods Simon’s stomach. He never took a bite of the food. But the roast…

“Where is she!” screams Simon, shaking him.

Walsh’s head flops about even as he laughs.

"A feast," chuckles Walsh. "Over flesh."

With a raging cry, Simon slams Walsh's head against the wood floor. There's a loud crack, and Walsh's laughter cuts off.

But Simon doesn't notice. He is elsewhere—drifting in blood hunger, wanting only vengeance.

Only wanting marrow. Only wanting dirt.

Simon grasps Walsh by the neck, smashing the back of his head against the floor again.

"You."

Smash.

"Fucking."

Walsh's skull cracks.

Opens up.

"Wanker!"

Busted brain matter mixes with the red, spreading outward.

"Simon!" It's Johnny's voice but it's not in his ear this time. It's just over his shoulder. It is present. It is loud. "Simon!"

Hands are on him. Strong ones. They tug at his shoulders, drawing him away from the gore. From the mess. Simon does not relent. Like a boulder, he collapses, pressing his forehead against the wood floor, sinking further into darkness.

You have to be here. You have to be.

A feast over flesh.

Simon turns his head to the right, staring at the large, makeshift table. It's boxy. Big. More like a storage bin rather than a table.

More like—

Simon flattens his hands, pushing up enough to half-crawl, half-drag himself toward the table. There's something odd about it, the shape. And the thudding. The fucking thudding.

"Simon. Don't—”

Simon knocks Johnny's hands away. With one wide swing of his arm, Simon knocks away the food and tableware. It crashes to the ground.

At first, Simon tries to lift the flattened top, but it doesn't budge. It's been nailed on. This isn't a commercial build. This is custom made. Not a table at all.

"Johnny,” breathes Simon. “Get a crowbar. And a hammer. In the garage."

Johnny doesn’t question. He just goes, disappearing into the house. Distantly, Simon hears the banging of doors and heavy footfalls.

Simon bends forward, examining the underside.

The tabletop is just a piece of large, finished wood nailed onto an open box. When he was standing, he couldn’t tell, but now he sees that it’s not just a box.

It’s a bloody coffin. A nice one. One you’d bury a family member in.

"Johnny!" yells Simon, his voice breaking at the end.

He appears with the crowbar, presenting it to Simon, clutching the hammer in his other hand. The two of them work together, removing nails and breaking away pieces of the wood.

Captain Price enters seconds later with Kyle on his heel. They kick away plates, discarded food, and broken pieces of wood. The rest of the team moves through the rest of the house. Simon can’t see them but he can hear them overhead, shouting from other rooms.

Simon hooks the crowbar under a corner, pulling hard. The wood groans, creaking loudly as it starts to pull away.

"Get those bloody nails up!”

Walsh’s lifeless body is ignored. Left where Simon released him.

Johnny pops out the final nail, the wood bending under Simon’s weighted leverage, lifting away from the base. All four them grab on, guiding it off and away.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Price, staring down at what’s inside.

Simon drops to his knees, hands dipping into the coffin. It's soft, black velvet on the inside. Your head is turned, resting on a small pillow. There is a sickly quality to your skin, but you otherwise appear completely unharmed.

Your eyes are closed. You appear peaceful. You appear...dead.

How long have you been in here? How long have you been trapped?

Simon's hands cradle your face. Though your skin is a bit cold, there is still plenty of warmth. There is no stiffness, just an easy loll that speaks to unconsciousness. Did you hear Simon’s voice? Did you manage enough strength to alert him of your presence?

“He has her fucking drugged.”

Price gently lifts a bag out of the coffin.

“It’s just saline,” says Gaz. “Look at the label.”

It’s marked as such—something standard in every hospital for hydration. But that doesn’t mean Walsh didn’t tamper with it.

“Saline doesn’t do this,” says Price, gesturing at your limp body.

Simon whispers your name, thumb stroking over your cheek.

Price turns into his walkie. “I need medical in here. Now.”

Simon whispers your name again. There's a twitch in your jaw. A quiver in your brow. You're not aware. Not yet. But you're alive, and as far as Simon can tell, you're whole.

But even then, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter if Walsh had taken fingers and toes. If he'd taken an arm. If he'd scarred your body or blinded you. All Simon wants, all he's ever wanted these last three months, is to hold you in arms again.

Your eyelids twitch. Flutter.

As Price holds the bag, Simon slides his arms under your body, lifting you from the coffin and onto the floor beside it. Gaz kneels beside Price, examining the arm where the IV is inserted.

Simon leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, both hands on either side of your face.

"Come back to me," he murmurs, as the others rush and move around him. "Come back to me."

taglist:

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[uknowmesblog]

Ah, ah, I am an awful person for taking so long to write again.

Guilty as charged, I had a hell of week and It's still going strong. Pray for my soul, I have flour in my nose.

!!TW!!

FOUL language, kind off groping/pawing. Soft punisment. Virgin Reader. (I m a sucker for this trope and I won't be sorry)

No minors pls, I can't deal with this.

Also, does anyone know how to do a materialist? I m not the smartest 🤓

Oh what a debriefing it was, hands on you all the time. Small whispers almost passed without a second thought, your pussy literally weeping every time Johnny threw one of his panty-melting smile. You left the space dizzy, barely remembering where is that damned room you we're assigned, your mind a battle ground between hating the situation you are in and enjoying all the attention you could get.

Male attention wasn't a thing in your life, your dad scarring them like he was a rabid dog. No one will touch the daughter of a high military rank man, risking to dissappear like dust in wind out of nowhere.

And when you grew up? Your mind was already made, you would grow old with lots of cats and maybe a parrot just for the effect. Lost was the idea of even a fuck, your virginity now collecting dust figuratively.

Now two men, three if you take in consideration Price who's smirking from time to time, gave you more attention and more touches than you could register in your slow mind. (If you'll have awareness, you would count four.)

"Jesus christ" You sighed, closing your door and resting your forehead against it, cool wood taking the edge off a bit. After diner you had plans, something soft for your first night ready. Nothing scandalous, just taking a break.

═════ ◈ ═════ 

Dinner passed fast, you had some kind chicken and mashed potatoes. Good enough to not starve, you almost had a tantrum over the fact there wasn't dessert but one glare from Ghost had you bite your tongue. His baklava rised over his nose, scarred full lips staying flat as you glared at your food.

You listened as everyone was moving around their rooms until silence enveloped the whole space and you gracefully tiptoed outside, finding a spot concealed in shadows under the full moon.

It's cold, your fingers tightened around the pack of smokes as you seated yourself on some sort of decorative rock. A military base with decorative rocks, making you snort as your lips wrapped around a cigarette. You didn't smoke in a while, deciding is way too expensive and your budget was tight as a nun's ass. But now you had enough to live off a while, maybe two months at best.

Your new salary sounds good on paper, but it is worthy to risk your whole life for extra money? You don't have an answer as you look at the sky, lips puffin a cigarette. Your eyes fall on your phone, distracted by the sound of it, not hearing the silent men with a skull baklava approaching you.

One palm wrapped around your mouth, the other gripping your wrist making you drop your phone on the floor.

"Shh, it's jus' me" He whispered, hot breath fanning against your neck. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold on you. You huffed annoyed, his low and raspy chuckle making you shiver.

"You are such an annoying little doll, aren't you?" His hand leave your mouth, wrapping around your throat. "So mouthy, so bratty" his hand travelled further down, making your breath hitch.

"Now keep it nice and quiet for me luv, your punishment will be easy tonight"

His fingers cupped your cunt over your pants, making you yelp and trash. He slapped it twice stopping you yelp, stopping all the movements.

"Stay still, you won't want Johnny to hear you, he will be between these pretty thighs s'fast you will cum before even thinking about it."

Your eyes rolled back, his fingers dropping under your waistband and finding your dripping pussy welcoming all hot and bothered.

One finger gingerly rubbing your clit, your breath coming out panting. This is so wrong, deep in your mind you know this is power imbalance and he shouldn't be doing this.

You should stop this, you should cry for help.

But a depraved part in you it's enjoying the way his fingers are working you higher and higher, so close to -

"No, not tonight ' He retreated himself so fast, like you are burning and he just got some of it.

"W-what?" You blinked, confused and worked up.

"Good girls receive pleasure, brats receive the punishment. " The audacity of this man, made you open your mouth instantly.

"Isn't like I can touch myself?"

"You could do that and receive a worde punishment " He looked at you with that impassive face, the only thing showing his sick pleasure it's the bulge that was showing off a lil too much.

"And trust me I will now" He grunted, tilting his head.

"You can't be serious, you can't just ban masturbating"

"Watch me, if you want me to finish what I started, you can beg tomorrow on your knees." He turned around, leaving you flustered and confused. Red cheeks, eyes ready to shed tears and a pussy leaking wetness ready to be stuffed.

Your plan just backfired, you need to find something new thats sure!

@brxghtlxghtz @niresenrab @nes-kopi @chickennn-soupp @clear-your-mind-and-dream

Its short ik ik, Don't kill me.

I had some time today at work and I said why not? I need a break from life.

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[2cutie]

blurbs,headcannons bc i cant write one thing at once

Mortal Kombat men x gn!reader(ft. Bi-Han, Johnny Cage, Shang Tsung

If you have requests/etc, shoot them at me!! And if you want me to finish/write something full with these prompts, lemme know <333 These are just short prompts I've had in my mind

BI-HAN

Bi-Han's eyes narrowed when you laughed, his grip on the wound tightening more. He was not amused. He knew you were attempting to hide the pain, and he didn't appreciate the attempts.

His lips curled back into a tight frown, and he nodded his head briefly at your command. With that warning, he pressed down on the wound, applying pressure. The press was not gentle, and he was expecting your cry of pain. Yet the grip around your injury did not falter.

Instead of a yelp or whine, you suprised him with a stream of the most vulgar profanities and insults. His lips almost curled into a proud grin until your leg thrusted against him insctively to kick him back - off your wound - but he did not waver. More so, his pressure got firmer, cold hands gripped into the skin of your hip tighter.

The anger and profanity you spewed sent Bi-Han into a wave of amusement - though he quickly suppressed it. When your words died off and a moment's time passed, his cool grip loosened and he pulled his hands away. He took a step back to give you room, watching closely as you hunched over. Your anger was amusing to watch, though it was a sight he enjoyed in private.

"Watch your tongue." Bi-Han barked out in a commanding tone.

SHANG TSUNG

A/N: og idea is Reader is a shape-shifter (so original woahhh) and first introduced to Shang Tsung when he was a beggar. They approach him in a feline form on the rainy night he sits outside his wagon. OR ya can just be a cat

You watch him from a distance as he sits solemn, unmoving. You were unsure if he was even alive as the rain pooled over his face, dripped off his features, down his nose. But then he blinked, slow and almost lifeless. You approached.

He hadn't noticed you until he felt a wet paw bat his knee. "What?" His voice sounded a little off, as if he was just awakening from a nap.

You mewled, flicking your tail as if asking him to share his thoughts. But his expression only darkened.

"Go. GO." Then, the man was moving. He stood up and picked you up by the scruff of your neck, setting you back 10 feet away from where he was. He sheltered you under a tree but said nothing more when he placed you down and turned back to return to his step.

You don't know what drew you back, but it did. You approached again and instead nuzzled his knee.

The beggar was a bit confused by your display of affection. His expression softened, though he tried to evade it. "What do you want? I don't have any food." His voice was softer, a bit broken.

You didn't like hearing it like that. He was handsome. His voice should sound happier. You pleaded with your eyes, trying to soothe him. You mewled ever so gently.

Shang's heart…melted. You saw it cross over his face and how he tried to hide it. How he had to resist that smile in the corner of his mouth. So you purred and paw him again.

He didn't resist any longer. The smile finally stayed on his bruised and dirty face. He didn't even see to notice just when he began petting you. Damn you.

You chirped happily and licked his palm when he gave in. His hands were soft, kind. He had even picked you up and held in his lap. He didn't care you were dirty, he was no better. It was as if your purrs and sounds were taking away his anguish, the ache in his bones.

This was a new feeling to him. This warm, inviting feeling that blossomed in his chest. Happiness? Pure, unrestrictive delight? It was new. He didn't know what to think of it. The smile on his face couldn't escape him.

You stood on him then and jumped up to his shoulders. The briefest amused chuckle left his lips and you felt pride bubble in your little furry chest. You mewled, but the inside of his wagon suddenly had your attention. A soft, warm light emitted inside and trinkets laid inside. It was dry, warmer than it was inside. You were curious.

The beggar noticed your distraction. He followed your gaze. He stood then and you jumped off him as he creaked the door open further. "Come on then, you can go in. But be careful, some things are fragile."

Your ears perked up curiously. As you walked inside, you cradled your tail around him gently in thanks. Your footsteps were light and gentle as he allowed you inside, and your gaze flitered around. There were bottles of all sizes, sheets and papers atop every open counter. It was messy yet clean, a calculated mess he had in a specific order. You sat on the floor and curled your tail around you as he followed you in, closing the door. The room was already warmer.

"Hmm…What should I call you?"

Your head looked back to him in interest. You tilted your head curiously, and mewled.

He tilted his head back to you. "Do you want a name?" Your meows to him seemed like an approval. After a few seconds of thought, he finally made a decision. After all that had happened, after so many years of pain and loneliness, it only seemed fitting… "Hope."

You liked it. You didn't care that it wasn't quite your name or not. You perked up, tail flicking happily as if approving.

His smile was big, he seemed genuinely delighted that you seemed to understand his name proposal. "You like the name, yes? And you like me, don't you?" He seemed to be compelling the though that something, especially something that was so innocent, could love him. You purred and gave the best expression akin to a smile you could to him.

And now you've done it. You've touched his cold, scheming heart. He was devoted to such a simple creature now, wanted to give it a life he could only dream of. He would make it his goal. He seemed to finally have a purpose.

A/N: Next blurb is Shang meeting ^Hope^ again after becoming the sorcerer.

There was a mindless cat wondering through the destroyed architect in f the tomb of the Dragon Army. It was rather irking to Shang Tsung. He sensed the animal would only bring trouble, do something that would only be derailing to his plans. It also very much irked him that it somehow did not yet notice him despite being in the same room as the sorcerer.

The cat, a stray it seemed, brought back bitter memories. Though he no longer lived in the backwater slums he had been raised in, it wasn't that long ago that he had walked the same streets the cat is. There were many strays who lived there, eating the scraps that the people threw away. The sight of this feline only cemented his belief that his homeland was a horrible place. He hated the very thought of it.

He looked upon the animal with annoyance and disgust. Then his eyes narrowed as he saw that it had yet to notice him. He didn't have much use for this feline but it would still pay to make his presence known. He cleared his throat loudly.

The cat's eyes finally looked to him, big and bright. He felt a sense of satisfaction as the cat looked up to him - only for it to crusade down when the cat completely ignored him and continued, sniffing along.

The sorcerer's lips curled. Well. Who knew a feral animal could offend the greatest damn sorcerer of all time.

He took long strides to go after it. He deserved respect and attention, afterall. He managed to corner it, though the cat seemed indifferent to his movements. He lifted his foot, as if to kick it.

The cat finally looked up to him and mewled, soft and precious. It nuzzled his other leg affectionalitely, its tail curling around him. This cat was apparently dumb.

Shang was not expecting any animal of this town to be quite this tame. This cat was behaving in an incredibly stupid manner. But as much as he was ready to step on it, he stopped himself. He bent down for a closer look at this idiot of an animal. Somehow, it was different than the strays of the slums.

The cat only mewled happily when he bent down to its height and rubbed its small head against his knees. Shang kept his face stern but didn't move away from the filthy thing. No, because as he looked closer, as he observed the markings and colour…

He noticed the cat resembled exactly how his old cat used to look. The one that was there through his roughest days. The cat that brought him… Hope.

A strange feeling welled up in him, a feeling of warmth, an emotion he thought long dead. He couldn't help but smile once he made the connection. Hope… yes, it felt very good to see you here again. He remembered you now. He called out gently.

You instantly jumped up on his knee and nuzzled into his palm, meowing loudly in response. You confirmed it was indeed you.

A smile crept onto Shang's face. He never knew that he would be reunited with his beloved cat once more. He was filled with the odd sense of delight that he hadn't felt for a long time. It was almost overwhelming to have Hope back by his side once more, when so much had changed and he had grown. You were like an old, dear friend to him. In fact, he was beginning to wonder how long it had been since he last saw her. This familiar animal, one who had comforted him so many times over. He brought you into his arms.

He held you closely as you knocked your little head onto his chin and closed your eyes comfortably. You even gave him a small lick of affection. He savored the feeling of his fingers coursing through your fur, the simple comfort of it making him sigh. It was as if he was young once again.

As he walked back into the sunlight, a shine in his hair caught your attention. The sun gleamed off his hairclip and caught your eye. That was new. Curiously, you reached up a furry paw to tap at it as it sat atop his head.

The sorcerer chuckled as you pawed at his ornament. Yes, his new life brought great fortune to him, the ability to have simple lavish things. He was delighted you even seemed to notice such a small change in him and was prideful. He moved you further up in his hold so you could examine it more closely. ”Oh, Hope. I can tell you're quite the lucky cat. Now you will no longer need to eat the dirty scraps that people threw out. You will never need to feel hungry ever again. I will feed you the most delectable food, lavish you with every fine luxury that we only ever dreamed for. You won't need to worry about getting hit by people in this place." He gave you a scratch behind your ear, the spot you had always favored. "This has been the perfect turn of events for you as well as me.*

A/N: now 18+blurb bc submissive men make me go burr

Shang grunted as your teeth bit into his neck. His eyes rolled back as you sucked, then your teeth nibbled his skin. His body shook for a moment as he felt himself losing the battle against you, and he felt his legs start to push you downwards. He wanted and needed to be one with you, needed you to take him or else he was bound to lose control. "I'm all yours," he promised in such a sweet, silky voice. His tone and words were velvet, a decadent promise as his words melted against your ear. "Take all of me."

JOHNNY CAGE

a/n: angsty blurb. but would have good ending angst. I just like to feel my heart bleed sometime.

Ah, Johnny, Johnny.

Yes, Mr. Moviestar Johnathan Cage. Mr. Center of Attention, I Need All Attention On Me…. That was, until he was home, apparently. Until it was just you and him, and suddenly, he was distant. Quiet. Uninterested. Always on his phone. It was such a fulfilling feeling for you(ouchie). Most of the times, it was easy enough to ignore. It allowed you to do your own kind of things, sometimes things were better when his blabber mouth wasn't going ninety miles a minutes with you trying to focus on one thing. But lately, that's just.. how it has been. Like your not even second or third best. Like you're the last thought of things you seemed to care about or take time for.

It was extremely detrimental to know you once called his arms your home but that home seemed no longer comforting. You wondered if it was something you've done or if it was always there and just making itself more known. Would it kill him to give some validation your way? Apparently it would. Because you are literally holding a gun up to the back of his head in the doorway of a separate room. You rolled your eyes and put the gun back on the table.

You, of course, never would do that. But you would think training with Liu Kang would let him realize such level of danger.

So he wouldn't even notice you if you held a gun to his head. That's great.

=======

"Oh, you got something for me, huh?" The tone of his voice was teasing, his eyes looking at you with such adornment that it made your heart ache. "What is it? And you bet your fine ass I got something for you too."

"Yeah, I-" You paused. Your face scrunched for a moment when his words caught up to you. "You got me something? Why?" It wasn't necessarily that you weren't used to receiving gifts from Johnny, you just weren't expecting to hear that.

"You're asking why? Isn't it obvious?" He leaned in close to you, his smirk obnoxious, but oh-so-annoyingly charming. "Because I can't help but give you these little surprises and gifts… And you can't stop me from doing it, because you're just too damn adorable."

"You sound like a sugar daddy." You push him away playfully and roll your eyes. "Well, actually, I guess you kind of are."

Johnny let out a small laugh. "You bet I am," he teased back. "Actually, you know, I think that's not a bad idea. I'll start calling you my 'little sugar baby.' How does that sound?"

"Terrible!" You laughed and pulled out his his arms. You grabbed onto his wrist instead and tugged him into the living room where you bags were to get his gift. "Please don't call me that."

"Well, you gotta admit it's a pretty good name, and it fits perfectly."

"You just want to be called sugar daddy, don't even try to pretend it's for anything else."

You caught him. "You might be right there." He considered for a moment. "You won't seriously deny me calling you my 'sugar baby', will you? I mean, it's too good of a name."

Oh what have you done… You rolled your eyes again as you dug around in your bag. "Only in private," you bargained.

"You got it, sugar baby."

[ceilidho]

prompt: Soap being a funny, goofy flirt with his barista whenever he's on leave back home….super cocky and charming, then a couple months go by …. and he comes back sort of rougher around the edges after Las Almas. less trusting. a bit meaner when he talks to her….. [soap/reader] 2.5k; nsfw (on ao3)

-

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He’s back again. It’s not a usual occurrence, but when it happens your heart kicks into overdrive. He appears like clockwork every couple of months, and then back to back over a quick succession of days. Like he’s in town one week and then gone the next. 

You look up from where you’re organizing the muffins in the display case to find him grinning down at you from the other side. His hair is freshly shorn on both sides, the stripe of hair down the middle likely barely long enough for him to work his thick fingers through it. He’s got a cocksure grin spread across his lips. A fresh cut over his right eyebrow, a butterfly bandage over it. 

“Hi John,” you say. It’s almost a struggle to say the words. Your hands shake a bit where they’re extended out amongst the pastries, fingers pressing into a carrot muffin a bit too hard. It dents beneath your fingers. You pull them out, rest the tongs behind you on the countertop. 

“Hi kitty cat,” he purrs, folding his arms over the pastry case, leaning as close to you as he can. If it were anyone else, you might be tempted to scold them for smudging the glass. It’s you that’ll have to clean that up later. “Not Johnny anymore? Have I been gone for too long?”

Charm like butter spread thick over freshly toasted sourdough, already melting into the bread, dripping onto the plate between the pockets of air. You know he could ruin you if he wanted to, if you let him in. 

You know it won’t be long until you fold. He hasn’t been subtle about it. “Sorry, Johnny, we’re all out of scones.”

“Aw, that’s how you apologize for tossing up my morning?”

You twiddle your thumbs. “Sorry.”

“‘Have to do better than tha’, kitty cat,” Johnny says, lips drawn into a faux pout that has your heart skittering in your chest like it’s been let loose from the stables for once. “I was waiting for those scones for near a month."

“We have cream buns,” you offer. He snorts.

“Not in the mood for anything cream filled just yet.” 

There isn’t a shade of red deep enough to describe your face. “Pardon?”

“Ye fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” Johnny asks instead, evading the question.

You probably look as gobsmacked as you feel. It’s not like you haven’t been asked out on dates before, but Johnny is leagues away from any of the men you’ve dated. He’s cockier, back straight and chest out, flaunting the muscles strapped across his chest and arms. You think it’s reasonable that you’ve chalked his flirting up to habit, something he does with everyone; whatever distance you’ve put between yourself and your inevitable nervous breakdown has been built on assuring yourself that Johnny surely didn’t mean for you to take his flirting seriously.

Apparently, you were wrong. 

“You want to take me out?” you ask, sounding a bit dumb. 

“‘Course I do.” He cocks an eyebrow, leveling you with an obvious look. “Haven’t been shy about it; s’a bit tough when I’m all over the place these days, but I’m in town for the next two weeks, so we’ve got some time. When you getting off today, kitty cat?” 

Johnny leans farther over the countertop, towering over you now that you aren’t standing on the raised platform by the pastry case. Palms spread wide over the granite; when your eyes flit down, you can’t help the way they’re drawn to the dark, livid tattoos crawling up his forearms. Dark ink like they’re new trophies on his skin. 

His attention is always like the sun; your whole body burns under his gaze. There’s something about being stared at so intensely, blue eyes raking down the front of you, that makes you unsure. 

He buys a croissant instead, tenner pressed gently into the palm of your hand. You're tempted to deflect, tell him you aren't interested.

“Seven,” you whisper instead, hands shaking when you hand him his change. 

His hand closes around yours, callused fingers rough against your skin. “Got it. Pick you up seven sharp.”

When he leaves, you barely hear the jingle behind him, the blood pounding in your ears. You have a date. 

Your chest is tight for hours, thinking about your date later that evening. He picks you up after your shift, just as you’re locking up; you thought you’d have a couple minutes to head back to your apartment and freshen up, but you find him waiting outside the coffee shop for you, clad in a black hoodie and the same jeans as earlier. 

He’s as slick and gentlemanly as you might’ve anticipated, walking you to the pub with a hand nestled against your low back. You talk for what seems like hours tucked away in the corner. Johnny makes good conversation, but sometimes it feels a bit like an interrogation. He’s talkative, but there’s a faint edge underlying everything he does; he makes you wait for him at your table while he orders for the two of you at the bar, taking the seat facing you so you’re ensconced in his shadow, hidden from anyone else in the pub.

He insists on walking you back to your place, boots splattering through the puddles accumulating between the cobblestones. He makes sure you walk on the dry side. Every light you pass under sweeps across his face in a golden arc, illuminating the corner edge of his jawline, the plush spread of his lips, the furl of his ear like a nautilus shell. Brows that slope over deep set eyes. 

When he leaves you off at the door, Johnny’s hand curls in the hairs at the back of your neck and tugs you up for a kiss that goes scorching hot. Fingers tangled in your hair, other hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you in place. You feel trapped, helpless against the onslaught of him; a hot tongue flicks into your mouth and he groans, making your head spin. You feel it resonate through you. 

“Johnny—” you mumble when he pulls away for a second, cut off when he leans back in to suckle at your bottom lip. His beard is bristly against the soft skin around your mouth. 

You feel him smirk against your lips. He nips at the lower one. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, a’right, kitty cat?”

Johnny only looks the slightest bit disheveled when he pulls away. A thumb traces your lower lip. He briefly looks regretful, like he wants to bend down again for another one—you feel the intention when he presses his thumb ever so slightly past your lips—but then he pulls back, walking backwards down the street away from you. A hand raised in goodbye.

Then the next day, he’s gone. Vanished into thin air. You glance up whenever the wind chimes over the door jingle, but it’s never him, always someone with a different hat, a different face. 

You thought he promised you two weeks this time. Your chest collapses when the door opens and someone else walks in. Apparently he spoke too soon. 

Two days go by; you’re fighting the desperation to know. It oddly never crosses your mind to think that he’s ghosting you. Maybe it should. You hardly know him outside of the brief interactions you have every other month when he’s back from wherever he works (and you know that it’s all top secret, hush hush, you’ve seen the military tattoos and kept your questions to yourself), but it doesn’t feel—and you think this with no small degree of irony—like something he’d do. 

On the walk home, you often catch yourself looking for the familiar shape of him. Wandering past the shops closing up for the night, people piling into the bars, raucous voices tumbling up into the smoky sky; you stand on your tiptoes on the other side of the street and peer in, looking for the broad shape of his back. 

You never spot him. There is a cold gap in your life that goes unfilled. It smarts at the root of you; you didn’t think you could miss Johnny. You thought you could feel a twinge of regret every now and then for not indulging his flirting a bit more, but you had honestly shelved him higher than you could reach in your desires. Until he took you out and listened to you ramble on, listened deeply with his attention rapt, his cheek pressed into his fist as he leaned against the table towards you. Until he whisked you safely back home and held you in place while he sipped kisses from your mouth until your lips were swollen. 

It’s months later when you hear it. 

“Hi kitty.”

Your blood goes hot at the sound of his voice. When you whip around, Johnny’s on the other side of the counter like he never left. Black shirt that clings to the curve of his biceps, old jeans with fades around the knees and thighs stretched around his thighs. 

When you meet his eyes, they seem charged, steadier than usual. Flat lips turned up just at the corner, one side only. Johnny’s not usually so still, so grounded on his feet; there’s usually a frenetic undercurrent to him, like catching a live wire. You don’t know what he’s like out in the real world, but in your world he looks like he paces and runs to work himself free of all the extra energy. Maybe other forms of cardio.

“Johnny, you’re—” You catch yourself before the words tumble out, before you make it known that you’ve been tossing and turning late at night wondering where he went. Blue eyes sparkle like they hear it anyway, the faint note of desperation seeping into your voice like a hoarseness. 

“Fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” he asks you again. Less of a question this time. 

You feel pulled to him on a string. He doesn’t leave you in peace this time. He waits you out, sits at a table in the coffee shop facing you. Customers you’ve known for years seem entranced by him, and how could they not? They don’t make them like him often—tall and blue eyed, roguish; ruggedly handsome when the mood strikes. Pretty boy until he turns the full weight of his stare on you and you’re forced to contend with the fact that he is, in fact, all man. 

Your amity turns to enmity when someone stares at him for too long. Placated only because Johnny never so much as turns their way. 

Dinner is a long, drawn out affair. His conversation is rougher than usual, punctuated by bouts of silence. His eyes are murky waters. Something’s changed, you think, salad speared on your fork, hovering just in front of your mouth, studying him. Something happened in the months that he was away. Whatever it was, it’s left Johnny a bit more calculating, less trusting. He sits facing the door this time, eyes flicking up whenever it opens on the other side of the restaurant. 

“Sorry, angel, don’t have it in me to be sweet and gentle anymore,” Johnny says when he walks you to your doorstep. “‘Fraid it’s gonna be rough for you from now on.” 

His words make you tremble. 

The kiss at your doorstep doesn’t end there this time. Maybe this is all an extension of that moment months ago, the natural endpoint. You were never going to end up anywhere else but flat on your back under him.

“Pure gaggin' fer it, aren’t ya, kitty?”

Johnny’s voice is rough, barely a rumble over the sound of your own keening. Your whole body slides up the bed every time he ruts into you, thick cock spearing you open. Your hands slip over his shoulders where a layer of sweat has built up; your bodies slide together like you’ve been at it for hours, rather than just the thirty minutes since Johnny bodied his way into your place and made you guide him to the bedroom, shucking his clothes the whole way there.

“No, I would’ve—” You gasp on a particularly rough thrust, teeth clenching together, “—I would’ve w-waited. Oh god, oh god.”

“Haud yer' wheesht, bonnie, quit whining,” he grunts. “Dinnae act like you weren’t asking for a big cock in this cunt. Could hear her purring behind the counter. Needed it for months, didn’t ya?”

You knew this was in him somehow, this penchant for dirty talk. He’s always moved like it was in him. You feel swept away by it, scorching under his hands and tongue and dick. Tightly wound. Only capable of holding on, one hand clenched now in the lowest part of his mohawk while he ducks his head to suck your nipple into his mouth. When he gives it a mean bite, you squirm and cry out.

“Never thought you were s-serious,” you admit, whimpering when he nips again at the tender spot there. 

Johnny draws back onto his haunches, still deep in you. There are scars across his chest that you didn’t notice before. New skin frosted over, deep gouges across his arms; what you think looks like a bullet wound. Your eyes go wide. It’s impossible to think what he must have been through.

He looms over you, hand coming up to curl delicately around your throat. Just enough to let you know that he’s there, that he’s got you right where he wants. Johnny smiles wide, wicked, white teeth stark in the darkness of your room. 

“Oh, I’m very serious, kitty,” he laughs, deep and throaty. He thrusts languidly into your heat now, drawing it out. 

He makes a show of it when he comes, fingers tightening around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat. It strikes you in the moment that you let him in bare, trusted him despite months of absence and no real excuse for it. When he pulls out, you feel it leak from you. Frustration boils under your skin because you haven’t come yet; you feel almost betrayed, a whiplash reaction that has tears welling up in your ears. 

“Don’t worry,” Johnny coos at the sight of your pinched face, “you’ll get yours, bonnie. Gonna treat this kitty real nice.”

You struggle against his hold when he forces your legs wide and slots himself between them, making his way down the bed. He tongues deep into your cunt to lick his own spend out. Your thoughts dribble out of you, head empty; there’s nothing left in you except bone-deep exhaustion and the feel of his bearded cheeks scraping against your inner thighs. 

You flinch like you’ve been shocked when he sucks at your clit, hypersensitive. He laughs when you do, doubling his efforts. His hot mouth on the place where he still drips from you might make you lose it completely. The most wounded sound bubbles out of you. Your hand trembles in his hair, torn between pulling his mouth closer and pushing him away. 

He doesn’t relent until you’ve come twice, your face flush with blood. When his tongue flicks over your clit again, it’s for the pleasure of seeing your legs spasm. 

“Johnny, please—can’t anymore,” you beg, trying to press your foot against his shoulder to push him away. 

His chin glistens with your juices. When he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, plump and swollen, you drag in a harsh breath. Maybe you could go again.

“Kitty, I’ve had a rough couple weeks,” he says, voice light but for where it descends into a memory, deep and dark. “Just let me eat your cunt and we’ll talk about everything later, okay?”

Your fingers tingle like they’ve fallen asleep in his hair. When you give in, it feels inevitable.