#mutt x reader

[undertale-writing-times]

🌷 with Mutt because I love them~ :3

Sure! Here you go. It's been a while since I wrote for Mutt, so this was fun.

Your parents used to be scared. When the big bunch of flowers appeared on the back of your head and never disappeared, but you weren’t. As long as they were there, that meant that your soulmate wasn’t dead! At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that your soulmate was hurting so badly that the flowers never disappeared. Why would they never disappear? They were supposed to disappear when your soulmate's wound healed! That’s the rule! So did that mean that your soulmate never healed? What did that mean?

As the months passed and the flowers never disappeared, you slowly stopped thinking about them. They were there, and as long as they were there, your soulmate wasn’t dead! That was a good thing, at least. You looked it up and found out that the flowers on the back of your head were orange begonias. They used to mean warnings against greed and avarice, but now they mean gratitude and generosity… what a difference! Am I right?

You met your soulmate when you ‘saved’ them from something. You weren’t really sure if that’s how you would say it, but that’s how they would say it. You see, it was a really stormy and rainy day. Thunder was booming, and lightning was streaking against the sky like the claws of an angry beast trying to claw their way out of the heavens. Rain was falling hard too. The only reason that you were out and about was because it started while you were in the park.

As you were running home with an umbrella above your head, you heard what sounded like whimpering coming from an alleyway. You had to pause, turn your head, and frown. What in the world? You pause, thinking for a few moments, then you sigh and step into the alleyway. You see a monster crouched with their arms above their head, trying to block the rain from falling on them, but each time there was thunder or lightning, you saw them jolt. Their tail was whipping back and forth quickly.

Oh, hey, they were a skeleton monster! You’ve only seen, like… two of them. This was one of the two; normally the skeletons were almost always together, so what was this one doing alone? You bite the inside of your cheek and slowly step closer, standing above them so the rain wouldn’t hit either of you. “Hey,” you started, “are you okay? It’s raining pretty hard.”

Their hoodie was soaked, sticking to them, and it made them look pretty small, even if you were pretty sure that they were pretty tall. They were like… 6’5 or something, right? You had no idea; you just knew that they were tall compared to their brother! It was sort of weird seeing them wearing a collar and leash, but you heard from your friend that it was because Mutt—was that their name?—would often wander away and get lost.

They look up at you and blink, turning their head to the side. They had slight glowing tears in their eye sockets, then they smiled and rubbed their eyes with their sleeve, which was still wet. “It happened out of nowhere…” you bite the inside of your cheek and hold out your hand, saying, “Yeah, I know. Hey, why don’t I help you get home? Is it far from here?”

They shake their head and take your hand, slowly standing up from where they had been crouching. They didn’t stand at their full height, messing with their sleeves, and responded, “Not that far.” After saying that, they started to walk, and you followed after. You had to hold their hand when the thunder kept going, as it freaked them out. You thought that they were pretty cute! Friendly and they made a lot of jokes. They told you that their name was, in fact, Mutt, and you told them that your name was Y/n.

They asked you about the flowers that were on the back of your head, and you told them, “I’m not really sure; I think that my soulmate is having some issues… but I’m glad to know that they’re still alive.” That appears to have piqued their interest, but they simply nodded and moved on. 

It took a bit of time—more than you were expecting—but finally you guys got to where they lived! They knocked on the door, and it opened to show a much smaller skeleton, "Mutt! I've told you so many times not to sneak away. What is wrong with you?" He said and pulled them down to look them over, "you're soaked…" he grumbles, but Mutt's tail starts to wag, and they whisper something to him, which makes him look at you. "You helped my idiot of a sibling?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to just leave them there." You say it with a shrug of your shoulders. You didn't think it was that big of a deal. Yeah, some humans still didn't like monsters, but you didn't mind them too much.

Mutt stands up and goes into the house, then looks at you. "You should join us for dinner?" They suggested, and Lord nodded, "I agree," he added. "I have a feeling my sibling is right about something."

It took some talking, but you finally agreed, and while you guys were eating, Mutt brought up the fact they thought they might be your soulmate… they told you that they had some, uh, accident a while ago and it never really healed… and it was on the back of their skull. 

You helped 'save' your soulmate without even meaning to! You couldn't help but find it a little funny.

[yeyinde]

Price lets his team fuck his pretty wife.

it's an open secret, of course. one of those things that everyone knows but doesn't say anything about. theories whispered in the dark of team building, maybe. wifesharing. cuck fantasy. lucky fucking group, eh. where can they apply?

but they're all wrong.

there's nothing poly about this arrangement. no jealousy, either, despite their claims of infighting over you.

Price just sees them as objects for him to use however he likes. something for him to play with when he feels the urge. wants to amuse himself.

to him, letting any of them fuck you is no different than the pretty toys he lets you keep in your bedside drawer. nothing more, nothing less.

(and all his pets know better than to think otherwise.)

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Temporary Fix! || skirt chaser!Johnny

Rating: E Words: 4.1K~ CW: smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who can't keep it in his pants. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @crashtestbunny because I wanted her to be able to read this and not have the previous cheating plot in place.

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time when they're very young, fighting in a war that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection from local women.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish is a grown man, not one of those young lads of 18, recently out basic, who need a whole to bury their cock in or else they'll die. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he's constantly seeking out action on the side.

He goes on and on about how childish those stupid recruits are, about some of his old mates who'd shag anything that walks... Only to then leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A hypocrite, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player... He’s not above calling himself that. But sometimes he just needs to decompress! That's his excuse anyway. Decompressing. Letting out pent-up aggression. Orgasms are great stress-relievers...

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, or a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along. 

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, unlike Johnny, he can actually contain himself. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has a tendency to chase like they owe him money... And he still enables him. He still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care. 

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music. 

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to. 

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks. 

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you. 

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk. 

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get. 

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple. 

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes… 

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do. 

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

yes, this is a repost of the original "Temporary Fix." but without the cheating :)

[bellasfortuna]

Simon and Johnny who, after a particularly horrendous mission, a harder deployment than usual, decide that maybe they'll have a little fun at a bar in town. The doe-eyed girl who shies away from Johnny's unabashed flirting, leaning back and stammering that she has a boyfriend and points to the meanest looking guy in the bar, which happens to be Simon, hoping to deter Johnny. She doesn't notice the amused glance the two share, the pair deciding that maybe tonight will be a little more than just fun, especially when Simon wraps an arm around her and tugs her into his side, playing the part; a small dark part of him enjoying how she relaxes, thinking the danger that is Johnny is now averted. She doesn't know she's walked, stumbled really, into a much larger danger

[nnghhdazai]

dazai’s hands…… and his hand placement

grabbing your face or throat to hold you in place or make you look at him. hands on your waist while he kisses you pulling you against his body. gripping your wrists as he pins you to a wall (or bed)

his hands are huge too, covering most of your face, easily wrapping fully around your throat, or covering the small of your back. he’d hold both wrists with one hand too

[starfxkrinc]

kitten sometimes gets jj so wired he starts acting like a rabid dog… biting nd salivating all over her, pupils dilated nd shaky n twitchy like the mutt he is :3 kittens always brought something very out of body like out of him ever since they were kids, which is why they probably scrapped that much looking back on it (nothings changed), but to him— shes akin to a shiny new bone he cant let go of… (he has a severe case of resource guarding)

— 🦢

OH LETS GET INTO THEIR HISTORY ACTUALLY

cause yeah you're right something about her just well in the words of luke "makes him tweak out" and he never understood why because he doesnt act like this with anyone not even pope. in middle school he would flip from sexually harassing her to trying to fight her in one period. they would have to be separated constantly because all they did was fight and he's bigger than her.

but kitten antagonizes him, always has. she got away with it because she was quiet and sneaky, only the people who knew her knew that she was really fucking hell.

and despite all jj hated when someone had a crush on her. cause he was the one who got to kiss her behind the building after class. he got to push her off the swings, he was the one she split her lunch with and the thought of anyone else having that would set him off bad. like pope and john b used to tell him to chill but here he is getting another ISS for knocking some other boy out during lunch.

this of course evolved into their toxic situationship, by high school they were messing around on and off but jj had to ruin that by absolutely decimating her in bite marks and hickeys. he wasnt a virgin when they first fucked but she was and that made him feel fucking insane. he gave her a stick n poke right on her hip so anyone else who took her clothes off had to see it. so yeah when they got older and they finally started dating forreal this time it was unsurprising to most, but jj figured that feeling would settle but it doesnt. she still tweaks him out. he still finds himself sticking his face in her neck to smell her, and biting down right on her pulse point and scratching and drooling all over her cause like. she's his.

he has something he wants and even he cant fuck that up.

[shellxrls]

JJ eats food out of the palm of your hand tbh!! He won’t even pick it up from your hand, he’ll just eat it directly from your palm most of the time !! At first it was weird but now you find it cute and endearing cuz that’s your man and you’re gonna stick by him!!

i feel like jj likes granola/pretzel mixes a lot, but only specific pieces and so he meticulously weeds out all the dried fruits and nuts so he only gets the chocolate and granola.

and one day you take notice and just gesture him to pass the box over, lazily sorting through the mix and separating it for him since you have nothing better to do.

it eventually ends with him resting his head on your shoulder, and you raising your palm up to his face for him to nibble out of while he focuses on the tv.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 24

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The moment y’all have been waiting for…

Content Warnings - Very descriptive gore, death, injury, lizard mutts

Your body is full of aches and chills as you trudge your way through the capital sewers. You definitely have a fever but there’s not much the squad can do at this point. They’re determined to get to Snow’s mansion.

Luckily, one of the cameramen knows the underground routes of the capital so the group isn’t at risk of getting lost. Every inch of you protests as you walk deeper underground but with no way to contact the rebels, you’re stuck with your squad for the time being.

The group finally decides to take a break and enters a small room that’s out of the water. You slouch down in the corner away from everyone else. Finnick comes to sit near you but you growl at him.

“Get away from me!” you snap, causing the group to look at you. Finnick sits near you anyways but doesn’t make any move to touch you.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. You shake your head no and the movement sends pain up your neck.

“My neck,” you groan. Finnick makes you tilt your head up so he can look.

“It’s spreading,” he sighs. He calls Jackson over to your corner.

“Is there anyway we can get her to medical?” he asks the woman. “It’s up to her neck now.”

“I’m sorry but communications are still down,” she shakes her head.

“I’m getting Katniss,” Finnick tells you. You want to protest but your eyes are really heavy as sleep tugs at you.

“She says it started with the headache,” he tells Katniss as she crouches down to look at the veins on your neck. “It was just on her arm but it’s been spreading. It’s not from a pod.”

“If it was something in the bloodstream it would be spreading faster,” she observes. “I’m thinking whatever it is, it’s not a poison from an external source. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Get away from me!” you sleepily snap at her. She moves and you quickly fall into a fitful sleep.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Katnissss

Tick! Tock!

Tick! Tock!

Katnisssssss

You jolt awake to Finnick shaking your shoulder.

“Mutts,” he tells you. “We have to move now!”

Suddenly full of adrenaline, you bolt through the murky depths of the sewers as the hissing gets louder. The veins seem to be spreading faster now, crawling their way up your neck to your jaw. Your squad mates panic at the sight of you but they all have bigger things to worry about right now.

You find yourself crawling through a small hole in the wall behind Finnick. You both stare as Jackson goes to enter the hole but she’s suddenly attacked by the mutts. At the sight of them, the black veins pulse upwards and start to rapidly spread.

“Come on!” Finnick yells at you. He doesn’t want to touch you but he will if it means pulling you to safety.

The two of you quickly catch up to the rest of the group. Katniss and Gale shoot arrows at the mutts, taking them down in clumps. Finnick makes you stay behind him as he spears the monsters with his trident. He had tried to give you a weapon but you refused it as your hands were in too much pain from the substance spreading inside of you.

The group progresses forward but the mutts don’t stop coming. Finally, someone sees a way out. Pollux motions for the group to climb a ladder but your vision is getting hazy and the sound of a clock pounding in your head blocks out everything around you.

Finnick watches in horror as your bright eyes fill with an inky black substance. You let out a low growl before lunging at one of the mutts and ripping its head off with your bare hands.

You quickly make work of the mutts in the room, ripping off limbs and gouging out eyes. Your squad continues to climb the ladder, leaving only you, Finnick, and Gale left at the bottom. You can’t see them though, you can only focus on your deep primal instinct to kill anything that comes at you.

One of the mutts catches you off guard, hitting you in the head. You cough up blackened blood before sinking your fingers into the creature and ripping out its tongue. It’s teeth graze your hand but you can’t feel anything but the urge to kill.

Finnick has to stop Gale from trying to pull you up the ladder.

“Don’t touch her!” Finnick warns. “She’ll kill you. She can’t recognize any of us.”

Gale quickly backs off and proceeds up the ladder. Finnick, though, had a predicament. How was he supposed to get you out of there without touching you? At this point even him being near you may set you off. He can’t just leave you here.

“Katniss!” he calls up, still fighting off mutts with his trident. “Sedative on an arrow. Now!”

Katniss understands exactly what Finnick wants her to do. She dips the tip of an arrow in sedative and shoots it into your shoulder. Not fatal, but hopefully it would knock you out.

The arrow to your shoulder further fueled your rage. You turn towards the ladder and grin, black foam spilling from your lips like a rabid animal. You go to make a leap towards your assailant when a mutt jumps onto your back, dragging you into the water.

The group watching can’t tell who’s blood is in the water, but there’s a lot of it. Scale covered flesh floats to the surface along with black blood. Finnick wants to help but he can’t see where the mutt is and he doesn’t want to stab you.

What feels like an eternity later, you emerge from the water, holding the spinal cord of the lizard mutt, the rest of its body in pieces around you. The remaining mutts recoil at the sight and slowly back away, fearing your presence.

You let out a deep growl, blood spilling from your mouth as the sound reverberates off the walls. At this, the mutts slither back down the tunnels, leaving you and Finnick alone.

As the adrenaline leaves your body, you begin to feel the excruciating pain of your wounds. Finnick is calling your name but everything is fuzzy. The inky substance flows from your eyes and ears as the soft tick of a clock pulls you under.

Ok but the urge to kill Gale was real lol

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[undertale-writing-times]

🎊 with Mutt~

Aww Mutt :3

When you found out that you were pregnant it was because of something that you tried to eat. For some reason, it made you start to feel sick and you threw it up. Lord checked to see if you were sick while Mutt was worried.

Lord figured that there was nothing wrong with you, and that confused him, but he figured maybe that food just didn't agree with you. He said that you should sit down and try to rest.

Over the next few weeks, Mutt kept checking up on you cause they were worried about you while Lord would ask if you were feeling alright. When you kept throwing up and complaining about your legs Lord told you that you should go in for a check-up.

Mutt got so worried about you! They hugged you and cried asking what was wrong? Were you going to die? They didn't want you to die!

You chuckled and patted at their chest, telling them that you were most likely fine but you'd go in for a check-up at the hospital anyway. Mutt asked you to take Lord along with you so… yeah, you had to tag along with him. How fun…

You didn't dislike Lord, not at all! You really liked spending time with him but you knew that he would most likely bitch and moan about the wait time.

The visit went well, faster than expected, and by the end, you and Lord both found out that you were pregnant with a souling. A hybrid, a very rare thing but can happen. Lord sat beside the bed, pressing his thumbs together looking down so you look at him, frowning.

"Are you mad?" you ask.

He shakes his head, "I'm not mad" he reaches up, rubbing his hands over his face, "I just don't like the idea of my brother doing… things like that" Of course that made you laugh, then he continues, "How are you going to tell them?"

You don't say anything for a few seconds, thinking about it. He's right, how are you going to tell them? How are they going to react? You knew that they weren't really as childish as Lord thought, so maybe you could tell them alone?

Even so, are they going to be okay? Would they be happy that you two were going to have a babybones hybrid?

And that's why you were now standing in front of Mutt, holding out a piece of paper that said that you were pregnant. You didn't really want to say it plus why not do something a little cute?

They look at the paper, reading it a few times then their sockets widen and they look at you their mouth opening then they squeal "Y/n!" They pick you up, hugging you tightly and spins while nuzzling their face against yours. "You're having a baby!"

You giggle at their reaction and hug back, rubbing your datemate's back, "You know that means that you're having a baby too?" You ask them.

They seem to pause before laughing, "You're right…" They sit down on their bed holding you on their lap, starting to kiss and pepper smooches across your face and neck. Slowly they stop since they realized exactly what this meant. They were going to have a babybones…

They let out a huh sound and hide their face into your chest hugging onto you. It might be best to just… let them relax. They were going to have to think about this for a little while.

They were, of course, happy that you weren't sick or anything but now the fact that they're having a child with you they're… they're nervous. They never thought that they would be a dad; hell! Sometimes they couldn't even take care of themselves. They got overwhelmed easily so what if they weren't a good parent?

[glassrowboat]

Vampire hunter AU (1/3)

Chapter 2 here

Summary: Having everything taken from him, there was only one path left to pursue: revenge.

He would follow that path until the end, Diluc promised himself the need to see a head of blue hair separate from its body all consuming, even as he stumbled. His limbs tried to tell him he couldn't go on, not even as he trekked through a forest path trying to put space between the vampire who had left his shoulder dislocated and body bruised as he followed a lone light up ahead- safety, maybe, or his undoing.

Right now, it didn't matter, for there was a path left to pursue, and he would keep marching on until dawn.

Warnings: Blood, gore, character death, divergence from canon

“Well, this just won't do.”

The voice came somewhere above him. They were chiding him, but their words were muffled through the buzzing filling Diluc's ears. At first he could have sworn it was the never ending scream of cicadas as their wings ruffle with every fluttering leaf of the trees they're hiding in, but the wet trail sliding down from his forehead and to the ground as droplets of red fall from his earlobe he was quickly corrected.

Again, the voice spoke, trying to convey something to him. He failed to make it out over his own pained groans.

Whoever this was didn't sound like a Good Samaritan, not with their obvious annoyance at his existence, as once again, he could hear them trying to shout.

The ground right next to his head was stomped on, maybe by this stranger, to signal someone was moving next to him.

Curiously, a pair of eyes peeked down at the battered and bruised body.

Another step was taken, and some animal- clearly not the person- came right up to him and started sniffing around. Whiskers poked at his skin when it nudged Diluc's head, forcing him to turn it to the side and press his cheek to the grass he had crushed when he tumbled down in a useless heap.

It gave the liquid in his ear a chance to pop.

Actually, he was able to hear every sound that filled the forest around him along with that same person scrutinizing him, now distinguished as a female, he could hear her talking. “Yes, he's bleeding. Maybe if you had alerted me sooner, you damn dog, there would be less blood on my front lawn.”

Said dog barked.

“But he clashes with the decor!”

Another bark.

Whatever was going on made Diluc just want to roll over and accept the haze, coaxing him into accepting the lingering tug at the back of his mind to simply fall asleep. At least that would be easier than trying to figure out a conversation this person seemed to be having with a barking dog.

A few seconds, or maybe even minutes, passed before the woman startled Diluc back awake with a huffed out “Fine.”

Clothes ruffled as a shadow passed over him just as a raven cawed in the distance. It was shrill, but like an alarm clock it forced Diluc to open his eyes for just a moment, like he was hoping to find the thing so he could reach over and smack it until the sound turned off. They took a moment to adjust, but that moment barely helped as his vision was blurry regardless; no doubt from the harsh hit he had received at the back of his head.

The one relief Diluc had was his ability to make out the purple fabric of a skirt covered in pleats and lace hanging from a figure who was slowly moving away from him.

So, you were leaving him to die a slow, painful death.

So much for finding some help.

Diluc shifted, all his energy going into trying to sit up with his one good arm to prop him up so he could say- well, he wasn't sure. A good riddance, maybe, or a plea for you to save him. Both options danced on his tongue as you looked back at him.

Maybe you were considering leaving him out here to become food for the birds and the maggots.

“But if you want me to help him, you have to carry him inside.”

Still, you were either talking to someone he couldn't see or the dog, but it hardly mattered when Diluc was trying to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder begging him to lay back down, but he didn't even have the chance to try as the dog seemed to-

He had to be going crazy. Or he had a concussion. There had to be some explanation as to how the fluffy black and white creature with pale blue who only a moment ago had one of its ears up and the other lazily flopped against its head seemed to transform into something else vaguely human and with what could only be called a smirk.

On a dog.

What was it he heard about injury induced hallucinations?

“And he's staying on your cot.” You stated, making it clear there was no room for arguing with your firm tone.

“Stuck with the consequences of my own actions.” Someone said with a chuckle, right before a pair of hands slipped into the crook of Diluc’s armpits and hoisted him up.

The movement jostled him, leaving Diluc's head spinning with pain and nauseousness as the black edges of his vision started to close in again, leaving it spotted and hazy.

With a fluttering of his eyelashes, Diluc caught sight of a beautiful woman holding a painted door, just like the color of your expansive skirts, open for him as you invited him into your home.

Then everything turned black.

By the time the two men had come into your home, one with his feet being dragged across the ground as one boot slipped off as it got caught on a loose floorboard sticking out, you were already holding a bucket full of warm, soapy water with your sleeves rolled up as high as they could go. It sloshed as you set it down, almost getting the blanket hanging off the unmade cot wet with a few droplets. It's not like it would bother someone who's passed out, but you moved the bucket slightly to the right regardless.

“You don't look too pleased about having to take care of this guy.” Your familiar said with amusement clear in his tone even when he groaned at the relieving loss of weight on his arms as he set the bloodied stranger down.

The cot creaked as it welcomed the stranger into its feather stuffed mattress.

“I'm not in the mood for your comments, you mangy mutt.” Taking the washcloth you had tossed into the water earlier, you picked it up and started wringing it out.

“And to think I used to be called ‘Your Grace’.” Trying to lean back against one of the many tables covered in all sorts of jars full of animal organs, knick knacks, and a forgotten plate of sugary pastries as he spoke, it skidded over the floor.

Immediately, your familiar shot back up again with a sheepish grin.

You clicked your tongue. “Well, Your Grace, I need you to go prepare some things for our guest. The usual bundle.”

“Including my clothes? I hate having another man's junk in my pants.”

“Get over it.” Plus, you were lacking other options unless you both wanted to try and stuff this bloodied stranger into a corset.

“Oh, and before I forget-”

He was already halfway up the stairs when you called out to him, trying to get his attention long enough to remind the dog to add a bar of soap for you. There will be a need to restock, then, but the village was only a mile walk from here.

Cutting you off he said: “I know what I'm doing.”

With one last step up those old stairs, you couldn't see him anymore, leaving you with only the man at your side.

He stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

“It's been a few decades since we've had a visitor, but that mutt is as sure of the procedure for this as always.”

You wanted to blame it on his self assuredness, as always, even when you knew it was simply because he had a heart far too large for his own body and an overwhelming need to help passing strays.

Unfortunately.

“Well, it's just you and I then, mister.”

Looking down at the redhead, you took in each cut, each gash in need of treatment and a little TLC as your eyes trailed over his wounded body. He's a toned yet lean man, had those calluses on his hands your familiar pointed out when dragging the guy in implying he at least knew a bit of swordsmanship, and had hints of cute little freckles spotting his nose; surely with a bit of much needed sun they'd stand out even further.

Reaching his rounded cheeks, your scrutinizing eye was stopped short. He was young, still bore a baby face, but had faced something aiming to hurt, if not kill him.

An attempt at his life surely caused his tight expression, even in sleep.

Truly, he should be getting married to some pretty young woman and living the life of any perfect couple instead of laying here in your home.

The redhead muttered, whispering broken utterances that had you reevaluating if he actually was knocked out. Your fingers were already reaching out for a bottle of a homemade sleeping brew when you realized he was simply taking in his sleep.

“Okay, correction: maybe your dreams are with us too.”

Pulling his shirt up to reach the first gash, tearing this stranger's flesh in two, your washcloth - more like a spare rag- met his flesh. You tried not to pay attention to the fact you're wearing one of your nicer dresses as his blood seeped into the cloth and painted your nails red.

As you worked, cleaning him up and stitching the deeper cuts you caught the words vampire, Kaeya, father, and much more as he kept talking and talking with a hand reaching up, almost instinctively, to something hidden under his ruined shirt causing metal object to shine through the ripped bits of fabric.

“Now what is this?” You asked as you watched the redhead continue to toss and turn with a badge clutched to his wildly beating heart.

The sky was overcast, leaving the ground below a greenish gray as the once vibrant grass swayed with the howling winds around him. It whipped at anything within reach. His hair, the tail coats of his jacket, and the pierced skin of Crepus’ flesh right when a pair of sharp fangs pulled out of him.

Blood covered his father's neck, dripping down until it slid into the confines of his clothes.

Shortly after the fabric turned red.

Just like the color of the eyes watching him.

Diluc screamed, but the wind carried it away and towards the path he had been traversing only minutes prior in a carriage, now broken and trampled upon, as Crepus said “Good job. Now, that's my son.”

It was praise for becoming a Paladin in service of the church after all his hard work finally came to fruition. Now, the words felt hollow.

“Is there really a need for the yelling?”

Across from Diluc, Crepus' limp body dropped to the ground as the blue haired creature let him slip from its grasp. The scowl it was wearing as it spoke only showed off its pointed fangs further.

“You!” Diluc exclaimed before charging forward.

His boot hit the ground as Diluc charged forward, barely missing the handle of his once trusty claymore by an inch. He had spent years with it by his side, memorizing both its leathery grip and weight, but he was tumbling to the ground with an empty hand because he missed its hilt.

Quickly, he got up again as the creature called him pathetic.

With the claymore behind him and his unwillingness to let this thing out of his sight Diluc picked up the odd gold and red item embedded into a glove his father had been wielding when he tried to take the creature on himself. For a moment, he could have sworn it winked at him, drawing his attention to the strange mark on its face matching the one on the creature's mask; a perfect copy down to the last dot.

Without the time to stop and contemplate why his father had an item clearly tied to the very thing that killed him, Diluc pulled the glove on.

The minty blue haired man flicked his hand to rid it of the blood he had stolen from Crepus. Like his father meant nothing at all more than a quick snack.

The realization had Diluc's teeth grinding together as his festering anger flared.

A chain burst forth.

Under Diluc's behest, it moved, darting towards the man- or what could only be called a vampire with how it feeds on the ichor of life. Like an eagle, the chain seemed to soar, metal flying across the field they stood in and darted towards its prey with a pointed beak.

It was dodged with ease. Diluc didn't even so much as tear the vampire’s white jacket.

At that realization he tried to call another.

Iron clashed against something he couldn't make out properly, with the vampire’s speed causing sparks to kick up in the air.

If Diluc could overwhelm him.

More chains would help.

They could-

Just as another chain was called from the abyss, Diluc stumbled. His body fell against the wrecked carriage, hitting it on the same side one of the wheels had been torn from its axle during the chaos. Around it lay broken crates with everything they had been storing before now strewn across the ground.

If he could just do more.

More, more, more.

Diluc's hand rose, even through the pain trying to crawl up his spine in an attempt to still his actions. Diluc summoned another chain before he fell to the ground once again.

A cry was heard shouting out the word no. It came out strangled, choked, but Diluc would recognize his father's voice no matter how warbled it may be. The realization Crepus was still alive had the long rope of metal falling away, disappearing as quickly as it came; into nothingness.

“Father?”

Immediately, Diluc turned to look over at him, soaking in the sight of Crepus propped up against a lone tree and trying to hold a hand over his wound. With each passing second Crepus’ arm seemed to be getting weaker, slipping from the bite mark even as he tried to stem the bleeding. Surely, if he delayed too long, it would drop and never move again.

“Tch. Is that the best you can do?”

Stepping over him, the creature pressed a single white shoe over Diluc's hand. He tensed, waiting for the bones to be crushed, but nothing happened.

“You and that fool both had a chance to wound me using what has to be a stolen Evil Eye, but you both ended up being nothing more than disappointments. What a waste of time.”

The blue haired man stared down at him for a moment, eyes narrowed behind his mask, before he lifted his foot and walked away saying “I have better things to be doing than this.”

The last thing Diluc saw of him was the collar of his jacket being straightened.

The vampire could leave both Diluc and his father behind without a second thought while he was stuck there, barely able to gather the strength to stand so he could stumbled over to Crepus.

Diluc's knees hit the ground beneath him, barely registering the way the ground under him was wet despite the lack of a downpour and grabbed Crepus’ shoulders. A single shake didn't seem to stir him. Another only earned him a hanging head tilting to the side with a low groan.

“I'm right here. Please, just-” Shaking Crepus wasn't doing anything besides hiding the trembling of his own hands as Diluc gripped his father harder, refusing to let go as he moved to take over the job his father had been trying to handle.

“Master Crepus?”

Diluc stilled at the new voice, right before Kaeya, his brother, stepped into view. His dark head of blue hair fit the dreary skies well, blending in almost perfectly. In happier moments, he had mocked him for the mullet he was growing, but that joy seemed fainter than the cathedral’s bells ringing as you walked into Mondstadt's front gates.

“He- we-” Diluc shook his head as his explanation came short. Too much happened too fast, and he was still trying to process that on top of trying to keep pressure on his father's wounds to no avail. “We need bandages. The convoy I was escorting doesn't have any medical supplies.”

It wouldn't matter if there was, anyway, not when everything had been destroyed.

“Diluc, he's….”

Kaeya didn't finish his sentence- couldn't- but there was no need to when they both knew what he was going to say.

Diluc wanted to shout that no, his father would make it, despite the obvious truth: all the man could muster as he slowly fades from this world was a twitch of his fingers.

A slow painful death awaited him.

Or…

With a shuddering breath, Diluc pulled his hand from his father and grabbed the knife tucked inside his belt.

A sudden drop of rain came down, splattering on the blade as it plunged into his father's chest, giving him the mercy that the vampire refused to afford.

All as Kaeya watched Diluc cry under a rainless sky.

His own startled gasp was sucked in on instinct, silenced, as Diluc realized he wasn't where he last fell asleep. Even if the place he chose to rest was the dirt.

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to pay attention to his immediate surroundings, but all Diluc could make out was that something was bubbling, forcing him to dare chance a peek at where he was.

Whatever it was popped and sounded like boiling stew as the air trapped inside the swirling liquid rose to the surface, leaving the space around him, smelling of herbs. Diluc couldn't recognize all of them, but he did pick up traces of citrus, ginger root, and rosemary as he came face to face with a giant cauldron right next to his head. So close he could have sworn that had he moved at all during his slumber Diluc’s long hair would have slipped into the fire blazing under the black pot and lost some strands to the flame.

The realization had him pulling away, even as he tensed in expectation of feeling the pain that had been festering under his skin only to find it now soothed. It was still present, but dull compared to the sharp sting it had once been.

“Oh! Look at that, I think our sleeping beauty is awake.”

The same voice- the same woman- spoke, drawing his attention. This time, your figure wasn't warped by his pained delirium, but by the steam climbing up from the odd mix of what he could only hope was a stew and into the cobweb covered rafters above. Hanging from them were bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors filling the room with rainbows casting over every open surface with the light streaming in and catching on the glass. It tinted your head with hints of pinks and blues all the way down to the wrinkled frock you were wearing over your dress.

Diluc tried to croak out a thank you for bringing him inside and lending him the lumpy cot he was currently resting in only for his attempt at gratefulness to come out choked; broken.

You whispered a small “One second” and the stirring of the pot ceased, and the giant wooden spoon you had been using fell to the side of the cauldron's rim with a dull thud. “You were out for a few days, so you're going to need something to drink before you try talking again.”

Your statement caused Diluc to lick over his lips only for him to find them chapped and dry. No doubt they were bloody too, but it was hard to tell when all he could currently taste was iron.

“There's tea besides you, the finest brew I have thanks to someone's insistence.” Your finger pointed to a spot right next to him, causing Diluc to follow where you were directing him to find a small tea set. It was chipped in places, but the pot was waiting to have the contents inside be sipped at. Next to it was his Evil Eye, along with a few tools of his trade set aside in a neat row and shined despite being covered in dirt the last time he used them.

Counting the items in his head, Diluc looked over them only to find one was missing. His mask should have been….Looking around, he found it on the floor next to a bucket of pure red.

“And don't worry about not being able to pick it up. We fixed your dislocated shoulder while you slept. It's so much easier doing it that way. Means I don't have to worry about you tensing up and making your arm worse in the process.”

With the nagging feeling Diluc was supposed to know who you were talking about in your reference to this ‘we’ he picked up the teapot. For a moment, Diluc let himself feel its weight in his hold, testing how his shoulder was doing, and then filled the cup. With narrowed eyes, he watched the liquid amber stream full of small herb tufts he couldn't recognize fall from the spout.

There was no point in you poisoning him after saving him and he was always taught it's rude to deny a gesture of hospitality, but he still couldn't help but eye the flakes of green leaves as they floated around in circles until finally going still.

Only then did Diluc dare to drink.

“So?” You asked, just waiting for him to finally say something after having to fret over a useless lump of man in your home.

“Thank you.” Diluc said, this time without the struggle to get the words out, no matter how much trepidation was weighing down his tone.

“Thank me?” Laughing at him, you shook your head. “No, no, thank the dog.”

Over the rim of his teacup, right through the small split in the porcelain, Diluc’s eyes landed on the…well, he couldn't tell what breed it was besides the fact it was big with white and black fur, and left him feeling slightly uneasy. “Thank him?”

“Well duh!” You exclaimed, hands going up in the air only to quickly go back to your spoon to start stirring the contents of the cauldron again with a muttered string of nope, nope, nope’s.

Clearly, he had distracted you from your task.

“He's a good buddy of mine. An old pal, a compatriot, a comrade. Pick whichever phrase suits you best.”

“They do say a dog is a man's best friend.”

Diluc himself had always prefered owls.

“Though,” you said, right as Diluc was taking another gulp of tea to soothe his throat, “you think for a vampire hunter, you would recognize a hellhound when you see one. Apparently, those aren't important enough to be in Supernatural 101.”

Diluc’s fingers twitched, closing around the handle of the cup that was already precariously attached to it as he repeated the words “vampire hunter" questioningly.

“Don't play coy.” You immediately chastised, clearly not buying his attempt to act dumb. “I saw your hunters badge on your clothes as I was cleaning you up. Maybe you shouldn't wear it in a spot just anyone could see if they're trying to clean a wound or two.”

His ears burned, leaving Diluc thinking his hair did catch a stray ember from the sizzling firewood as his hand shot up to find that distinct metal badge pressed against him. It was broken from his earlier fight but still held fast to his clothing. Clearly, you didn't deem it fit to take in your cleaning.

He wasn't sure what he would have done if you did.

“Most people aren't looking under my shirt to spot it.” Diluc grumbled. “But I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“So you got attacked by a vampire, right?” You pointed the spoon at him, droplets of what you had been stirring falling from the wooden end and back into the mixture. “I mean with your wounds- it's just- I think next time you should let the church handle your pest problem instead of trying to do it yourself. You're clearly new to this line of work.”

“Out of the question.” Diluc's cup clinked as he placed it back down on its mismatched saucer. “I don't need help from that group. They're inefficient at best, weak and conservative at worst.”

“Not a fan of them, I take it?”

“We have different views, is all.”

With a roll of your eyes, you said: “Oh great, this one is prideful as well as mangled.”

The dog- or hellhound- barked, and you laughed in response. Clearly, he was missing something here, but if you were what he thought you were, then you could talk to your good buddy even in this form.

“You must be a witch then?”

“What gives it away? The shapeshifting mutt or the potion brewing.”

“Both, actually, and more.”

It was everything, really. The living in the middle of a forest rumored to be cursed without seemingly any issue certainly didn't hurt, neither did the few glimpses he caught of the outside of your cottage smack dab in the middle of a clearing with floating lights about, dragging a strange man into your house and not even tying them down to ensure your safety (he would of in your shoes, but he's grateful you didn't bother), or the transforming dog. It all stacked up one on top of each other to fill out a giant puzzle picturing one very simple image, even with some pieces still missing.

“Why aren't you living with your coven then if you're a witch?” Diluc asked.

“So you know that at least, huh? But the only coven within miles is the Hexenzirkel and we're-” you paused. “Let's just say I prefer being here.”

Diluc's brow rose as you avoided his question, only causing the unease he was trying to not outwardly show to become more prominent. Ignoring that nagging feeling, Diluc's mouth worked before his mind. “Forgive me, I have yet to meet a witch before now, but aren't you supposed to look different?”

“Oh you're new new to this.” The contents of the cauldron rippled as you dropped the spoon to stir the contents of the cauldron again. “Look, hunter, do you see a face covered in moles before you? And I can assure you that not a single part of me is green.”

You scoffed.

“Honestly you need to stop listening to local gossip so much. People just like to talk, and when they don't have anything to talk about, they make things up.”

“Again, my apologies.” Diluc mumbled, having half a mind to pick the teacup up again so he could occupy himself with taking another sip instead of fumbling over his own words.

“Simply be mindful. Besides that, do you have any other questions for me?”

“I do.”

“Later then, mister. I'm not going to answer you like this, not when you are so clearly in need of a bath. You reek worse than the dog.”

You clearly ignored the hellhound looking up at you as you continued to work, eyes stubbornly set away from his pointed stare.

“Now, the bath is upstairs, the second door on the right, and there's already some clothes and a towel for you.”

“But-” He didn't even know your name despite the fact you surely saved him from making your front lawn his death bed.

“And introductions can wait later.”

Diluc, just like the hellhound, stared up at you as you refused to acknowledge him any further, too. You weren't doing yourself and favors in making him feel like he had to be careful about you, but you surely felt just as cautious of him. This, along with many other reasons, was why he primarily worked alone.

But look where that got him.

Out of his jumbled assortment, Diluc finally picked a query, one he needed to have an answer to before anything else happened.

“I didn't know witches could read minds.”

“I can't, but I know a witch that can. Though, she isn't important right now. Bath.”

He was unhappy about it, but Diluc took the clear hint, shoved right into his face, and got out of the cot to make his way up the stairs.

Once again he caught you talking to the hellhound as it barked leaving the last words Diluc heard right as his feet hit the landing were “No, Wrio, I don't think he didn't drink the tea because it wasn't to his taste. Honestly.”

Then you were muffled by the bathroom door.

It opened with a loud creak, the hinges in clear need of some oil, but otherwise, the room seemed fairly state of the art even with the clawfoot tub in the middle and plants everywhere. One even seemed to reach out for him as he walked past to find the pile of clothing (that looked a little too big for him) you were talking about. On top of it lay a single scrap of paper clearly ripped out from a bigger sheet that read ‘when you're done there will be a potion waiting for you. It's best to drink it, or the witch will have your head.”

Dropping it back down, Diluc's hand once again reached up to the broken badge at his chest. It poked at his skin through the torn shirt he was wearing as he clutched at it, squeezing tightly as he stopped to simply breathe. Taking it all in. Every ache in his body, the bruises he could see reflected in the mirror to his right, and the white bandage wrapped around his head with a single splot of muddied brown in the middle.

He had been so close to the vampire he has been hunting down for all these years since the death of his father and when he finally reached someone related to that damned blood sucker he barely escaped with his life.

Another breath.

A second later, and you might have had a dead body to dispose of and not something you regarded with the same annoyance as children egging your house on Halloween. Despite how little he knew you, he could already see you grabbing their eats and chewing them out for hours.

Diluc quickly realized he'd much rather be listening to your scolding than sitting up here in silence. Right now, there was too much time to think.

His red eyes cast across the room, taking in every bit of decor you had let clutter the place until it was bursting with maximum capacity all the way back down to the note. Whoever wrote this, he could only guess it was the hellhound, had terrible handwriting Diluc thought. Right before his mind drifted back to where he was trying to avoid.

His anger.

How long did he let it control him as Diluc didn't drift but charge from place to place in search of the next vampire to obliterate without support?

It had run him as dry as the leads he chased.

What had that brought him besides isolation, constantly looking over his shoulder, and the glaring realization Diluc still had the same weakness that dragged him down when he first picked up the Evil Eye?

The witch downstairs claimed he was new to this world, and you weren't too far from the truth either. Diluc’s own naivety as a Paladin had been his father's undoing, and he refused to let it claim anyone else.

He’s not the Paladin Crepus wanted him to be and never will.

No, he has to be more.

Diluc looked at himself in the mirror again, spotting his collection of scars and bluish green patches on his skin as he decided one thing: that starts now.

But first, he had to figure out how your tub worked. It always was a challenge trying to fathom someone's else's plumbing.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Met His Match. || Soap MacTavish (Collab)

A collab with @crashtestbunny.

Find us on AO3!

Words: 3.5K~ Pairing: Sex Fiend!Reader x One Night Stand!Soap CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut smut smut, dubcon elements, unprotected piv, oral sex (f!receiving), public handjob (m!receiving), overstimulation, bathroom sex, sadism, dom/sub, rough sex, sub John "Soap" MacTavish, forced ejaculation, semi-public sex, whining, light exhibitionism, power play, dry orgasm. other tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, dating app, hook-up, one night stand, mean reader, exhaustion, walk of shame summary: Johnny gets fucked. a/n: Inspired loosely by my "It's a Match!" fic... but so much fucking worse. P.S. Not beta-read, we die like soap.

Friday night. 6 PM.

You just got home from work and after making yourself a quick meal, you threw yourself on the couch.

Reaching for your phone you click on the Tinder icon on your home screen and immediately begin swiping away at the men that come across your screen.

You're not being too picky. Still a bit picky, but not too much. It doesn't matter that much what they look like... so much as what you feel once you see their picture.

You're not on this app for the romance, after all. No.

You're tired and frustrated from your week and all you want is to fuck a man. In fact, you want to fuck a man so hard he leaves your flat in the morning looking (and feeling) like a cheap whore.

You'll know what kind of man you're in the mood for when you see him.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

That's when a man with the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen comes across your screen. You stop the mindless swiping immediately and just stare at him.

You can already imagine the way those blue eyes would look up at you from between your thighs, and how much better his face will look when they're glassy and he's covered in sweat and drooling down his chin...

Oh yeah, he's what you're looking for alright.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

If that bio is anything to go off of, he's also looking for something casual. After all, he mentions fingering and being ridden in the same paragraph. Perfect.

You Swipe Right on him and your phone immediately buzzes, announcing that you matched. Sweet.

Johnny texts you first. How... cute.

Johnny: hi beautiful x Johnny: how are you doing?

Oh, sweet summer child... what does he think this is? Small talk that'll lead onto a date?

You: doing good. You: how's your night looking?

It takes a minute before his reply comes.

Johnny: very free Johnny: wanna hook up?

There we go, Johnny-boy. That's the spirit.

You: would love that You: do you know that one bar around the corner from the post office? Johnny: of course You: meet there in an hour? Johnny: i'll be there Johnny: i'll be wearing blue

You can't help but chuckle... he won't be wearing much of anything soon enough.

-

Finding him at the bar is extremely easy because the bar is not packed, albeit still pretty busy. But that's not why you picked it. You picked it because it's only a short car ride from your flat.

Johnny is leaning on the bar, as promised, wearing a dark blue t-shirt, dark wash jeans, and a pair of simple black boots.

You approach him from behind, wearing a simple black dress. Not one of those flashy, slinky club types, just a regular dress. You know what you came here to get.

"Hey." You greet him casually and he turns to look at you, his hand wrapped around a lowball glass with some drink inside. It's clear... so either tequilla or vodka.

When he turns you realize three things immediately: 1) He lied about his height. He's definitely not 6ft tall, but 5ft10 at the most; 2) He's built like a brick shithouse, impossibly wide shoulders with large, beefy arms... So he wasn't lying about his 'Athletic' build; and 3) He has a fucking mohawk.

You can already imagine the way he'd look, your legs over his shoulders, as you squeezed his head between your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds... Fuck, you're horny.

"...nice. What are you drinking? I'll buy." You catch the end of what he said, the beginning probably a greeeting, and a compliment, and, now an offer of a drink.

You try to shrug casually and seem unbothered. You decide to humour him. If he wants to play the gentleman part and pretend this is a date, you can play along.

"Whiskey. Neat." You murmur in reply as you slot yourself next to him against the bar, your thigh brushing against his as he orders and pays for your drink.

"So, a soldier, huh? What's that like?" You muse as you take a sip of your drink, watching him take a sip of his, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Oh, how you'd love to wrap a hand around...

"I like it. Always ken I wanted to be one. Tried to sign early and everythin'. I like keepin' active and I'm good at what I do..."

He continued talking, but you tuned him out, eyes locked on his mouth, watching how his lips pushed and pulled for each word, his white teeth in a neat row behind and his wet tongue sometimes peeking out.

He talked a lot. He talked... too much.

"Let me cut you off right there." You interrupted him, causing him to shut his mouth and stare at you. "Care to have this conversation between my legs, gorgeous?"

Johnny stares at you with impossibly wide eyes, like what you just said is the most bizarre thing he's ever heard. His left brow, right below an obvious scar, twitches, a sign he's interested. "...When?" He asks in a murmur.

"Right now." You reply with a head tilt.

The blue-eyed Scot simply nods eagerly and knocks back the contents of his drink into his mouth.

-

"That's it... That's fucking it-" You croon as you buck your hips into his mouth, your back pressed against the wall, the hem of your dress curled up and tucked into the elastic band of your bra.

Johnny's on his knees on the floor of the cubicle, his tongue lapping at your slick cunt like he's a prisoner on death row and that's his last meal request and he insists on enjoying it.

One of his hands grips your right thigh, squeezing it and keeping it steady, the other alternating between rubbing your clit and going around the back of your hip to squeeze one of your arse cheeks, pulling you deeper into his mouth whenever he licks and sucks your clit.

His blue eyes are locked on yours and they look just as good as you had imagined they would as his moist tongue curls to gather some of your slick and swallow it down, to taste as much of it as he can.

He's such a fucking munch, his tongue parting your folds and diving as deep into your hole as he can get it, before sliding back up to meet your clit, giving it a greedy suck.

There's a smug smirk on his lips, even as they're buried in your cunny, and a chuckle falls from them too while he thrashes his head side to side like a dog playing tug-of-war, nearly blowing raspberries on your clit and causing you to squirm against him, more expletives falling from your mouth.

You know what he's thinking. He thinks he's in charge. He thinks he's doing a good job fucking you. Oh, how wrong he is. And you're about to show him that.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, sweetheart." You demand as you push his hands off your body and grab onto his stupid fucking mohawk with both hands like a handle to grind yourself against his face.

His eyes widen, but the sight of you using his mouth, his tongue, to get yourself off, hips bucking and dragging across his chin and tongue, lips and nose is enough to get him riled up.

He can't help himself, his hands finding a spot on the floor and his own legs spreading apart, allowing him to half-grind his clothed cock against the tile.

His head bobs eagerly against you, his nose buried in your mons, the flat of his tongue rubbing over your clit, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, crotch and folds.

Your legs are trembling on either side of his head, but you don't stop riding yourself against his tongue, your head falling back against the tiled wall behind you, the pitch of your voice getting higher and higher.

The way the flat of his tongue presses to your clit causes your whole body to shake, your skin warming up more and more to the touch. The coil in your stomach is getting tighter by the second and your breath, as well as your moans, are ragged and long.

Your hips buck and thrash and your head hangs low suddenly as your climax crashes onto you, leaving you breathing fast and deep, your eyes fluttering a bit as you look down to find Johnny kneeling between your thighs, his tongue still softly sliding upward, spreading your folds open and swallowing your come deep into his mouth.

"That's it, drink up, I'm not giving you water anytime soon, sweetheart." You tell him, noticing how his eyes have gone glassy, a wet spot having formed in his dark jeans.

Filthy mutt got off on having you fuck yourself on his tongue...

-

Having pulled Johnny off you and fixed your dress back into place, you called an Uber and then dragged the bulky man out of the bar by the hand, marching ahead of him toward the pavement, under a street lamp, to wait for your ride.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you guided your mouth up Johnny's chin toward his mouth, locking lips with him, your tongue seeking his out.

His beard and mouth are both still soaked with your come, he smells of it, and tastes of it too, and with each push and pull of your tongues as you seek each other out, you get more of a taste of yourself.

You only broke the kiss once the Uber arrived, your phone having pinged with a warning, and a car having pulled to the side of the road not far from the two of you.

You and Johnny piled in together and while he scooted all the way across the backseat toward the other door, you slid up next to him as you two greeted the driver.

You didn't bother with a seatbelt (neither did Johnny) and since the driver didn't seem too keen on chit-chat, you allowed yourself to drape a leg across Johnny's lap, while his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your fingers slid over his thigh toward the darkened patch of denim on his crotch, and, with your leg (and the music playing from the speakers) as cover, you slowly undid the fly and button.

"What are ye-" Johnny murmured as he glanced at you with raised brows and wide eyes, like an innocent little puppy.

"Sh-shh..." You hissed as you kissed his cheek, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, or an overly affectionate date, for your driver's sake, you slowly slid your fingers through the open zipper, fishing for his cock amidst the wet fabric of his boxer briefs.

The pretty boy was already at half-mast again, even after having already come once, and your hand quickly wrapped around it as you began stroking it.

Johnny thighs trembled and his legs kicked out a bit as he felt your warm hand wrap around his sensitive member, and he looked away, out of the window, eyelids fluttering, eyebrows scrunched, and a hard bite on his bottom lip.

His cock began steadily throbbing in your hand, hardening and growing more with each languid stroke of your hand around him. He's thick. Much thicker than you expected him to be. You can feel your fingers struggling to fully wrap around him.

Sliding your palm up, you slowly rub over the hooded tip, which draws a squeak from the back of his throat, his chest heaving, and his stomach being sucked in.

"Control yourself..." You whispered in his ear which, making sure to shoot a glance forward at the Uber driver, who seemed focus on the road.

In response, you received yet another soft groan and a hiss through clenched teeth, Johnny's head lulling toward you, his forehead leaning against your temple. "Feels... fuck... I can't... you're... ah-"

"Feels good?" You murmur in his ear as you kiss his bearded jaw lightly, feeling him buck a bit against your hand, causing your thigh to bounce on his lap.

"Hm... Mhm..." Johnny grunted. "Fuck... Steamin' Jesus..." He whined brokenly as your hand kept stroking his length fully, up and down, at a slow, languid pace.

You'd draw back the foreskin, exposing the bulbous head, before drawing it up again as your hand climbed up to rub against the tip for a moment, only to roll back down once more.

Whenever the car would drive past a street lamp, the yellow-toned light would flutter briefly over Johnny's exposed cock, and draw your attention right to his pink, bulbous tip, overstimulated and angry, leaking shiny beads of pre-cum.

"Sh-Shh..." You cooed at him again, enjoying the broken sounds of pleasure he'd let out through clenched teeth, the way his cock would throb and twitch in your hand, and how the muscular man next to you vibrated with tension.

Oh, how you loved to make men break under your hand, and, even more so, how much you loved to make men like him break. A soldier, a strong man, used to dominating... How silly of him to think he had any power here...

It takes little time for Johnny to suddenly twitch and thrash next to you, his breath picking up and becoming ragged and wet, like he's struggling to control himself into being quiet...

You look up at him just in time, finding the way his head falls back on the headrest of his seat, while he grunted under his breath and hissed through his teeth, again, and again, his eyes fluttering shut as he experienced a dry orgasm, only the tiniest beads of cum slipping down to your fingers right below the head.

Just in time too, because the Uber pulled over less than a minute later, the Uber driver looking back at you and Johnny. "We're here, Miss." He told you politely.

"Thank you, Jared. I'll be sure to leave you a 5-star rating and a good tip." You replied to the driver as you slipped your leg off Johnny's lap and scooted closer to the other door.

After opening the door, you turned again and grabbed Johnny by his shirt collar, your fingers hooking themselves onto the inside of it and grazing his dog tags hanging around his neck.

Smirking, you slip them from the confines of the shirt and then twirl the ball chain around your forefinger like a lead, pulling it taut, which causes Johnny to audibly whine.

"C'mon, Johnny." You ordered as you tugged him forward, causing him to scoot forward, ducking his head to follow you out of the car, his movements languid and slow, his head still cloudy from the recent orgasm.

-

"Fuck, yes! Fuck!" You whine, your head falling back, your hair sticking to your forehead and your nape.

"Steamin' fuckin' Jesus... Fuck..." Johnny groans, his own head rolling back on the mattress of your bed.

"Yes... Yes..." You grunt as you fix your grip on the bottom of his thighs, right before his knees, bouncing your ass off his lap.

Johnny's mouth is hanging open, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he lies on a puddle of his own sweat, every inch of his exposed, hairy torso glistening under the light of your bedside lamp.

You're both exhausted, your hands slippery on his sweaty thighs, your own sometimes shaking as you bounce on him again, and again.

Your pace is starting to become uncoordinated and sloppy because your legs are tired, your knees struggling to keep up and causing you to stutter atop him, driving his cock harder into you and deep against your cervix twice in a row.

It drives a desperate moan out of you both and you go still for a moment, feeling the sweat trickle down your brow.

"Fuck... C'mon..." Johnny whines and grabs you by the hip, attempting to rock his hips up against the cleft of your ass, helping pound into you...

Only for you to bounce up with him and then throw all your weight down onto him, causing his ass to be pinned back down onto the bed, and drawing a loud yowl of surprise as his cock barrels right against your cervix, sending a sting of pain up your spine.

Johnny looks up at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, seemingly horrified and confused.

Finding his eyes, you lean forward, pressing your hands onto his chest, before murmuring "Stay fucking still. This isn't about you."

"Sorry?" Johnny murmurs, whether in confusion or genuinely apology, you don't know.

"You're nothing more than a toy right now. And good toys don't talk." You warn him.

"I-" He stuttered, not fast enough to protest before you were moving atop him again, the new angle and slight pause having provided you with an extra burst of energy.

You rocked against him, keeping him buried down to the hilt and rubbing your sensitive clit against the bush at the base of his cock.

It makes you croon in delight, keeping up the same angle but becoming more and more frantic, rubbing yourself against his bush while keeping his shaft sheathed nice and deep in your weeping cunny.

Something about the warm wetness enveloping his already oversensitive cock, the sight of your face contorting in pleasure atop him, so close and yet so far, your hands pushing against his chest so he doesn't try to reach for you.

It drives him over the edge and he finds himself losing it, his big blue eyes fluttering and rolling, his jaw dropping and his every muscle straining as his head falls back, causing him to stiffen beneath you.

Out of breath, you lean your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of your release coming in the aftermath of his own, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you being the final nail in the coffin.

Johnny doesn't dare move as he feels your warm cunt squeeze around him, draining every last drop from his already reduced third orgasm, simply lying there, beneath you.

His mouth is hanging open, drier than the Sahara, every inch of him is slick with sweat and he's out of breath and his entire body is trembling ever so slightly as he closes his eyes in pure bliss.

Only for his eyes to shoot open again as he feels you start up again, your ass carefully bouncing off his sore thighs.

-

Johnny stumbles his way into the training room. It's 6 a.m. and he has not caught a fucking wink of sleep.

Unlike his normal hook-ups, after which he reports to base with a pep in his step and a smirk on his lips that no amount of push-ups, sit-ups and mile runs can wipe off...

This time, he's limping, every muscle of his feeling sore and stiff, his thighs feel like they're going to bruise up, his cock burns from how oversensitive it is...

He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't drunk water... and the closest thing to a shower he got was when you tossed him some wet wipes in the morning.

Unlike him, you had gotten up in the morning (aka after a 1.5 hour power nap) perfectly energized and like you hadn't spent half of the night riding him like a stallion you were trying to break...

Gaz is the first to notice Johnny's state as the Scot falls into formation with the rest of the unit, his eyes still sort of glassy. But he doesn't say anything... he simply raises a brow and smirks in amusement.

Ghost is standing by Price on the sidelines and notices next and, unlike Gaz, he chuckles at it and calls Price's attention to it. The Captain turns to look at Soap and has to contain the look of amused disappointment from showing on his face.

"Soap!" The Captain calls out, causing Soap to look over, nearly languidly and then approach, with Gaz following behind him, despite not having been called. He just... wanted in on the fun.

"The fuck happened to you, son? Did you get in a fight?" Price asks with a cocked brow, watching how the younger sergeant squirms and his tanned face grows warmer.

"N-No sir." Johnny replies and shakes his head, which causes him to wince, feeling light-headed.

"I think 'assaulted' would be a better word for it, Cap'n." Gaz chides, causing the Scot to huff and turn his head in frustration and embarrassment.

"Shut it, Garrick..." Soap murmurs, which earns a light chuckle from all the men, Ghost included.

"Go shower and take a nap. You're excused for this morning." Price tells the sergeant, causing the lad to nod thankfully and wander off, limping once more.

As he gets back to his barracks, he grabs his phone, typing out a quick message for you, thankful you insisted on giving him your number and taking his... Johnny secretly hoped that meant you wanted a repeat.

"Hope you're happy... Made me embarrass myself in the state I showed up to training in."

The reply he earned, however, was the most cold-hearted one he could've received... One he never even saw coming.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

Read Bunny's Work HERE

[coryosbaby]

Will Graham’s sweet lil bimbo gf def calls him teddy Graham/graham Cracker btw

[nnghhdazai]

is dazai using his bandages to tie you up too far or should i write it…..

[mostlyghostlyy]

I can't stop thinking about Dale Kobble desperately dry humping my leg while I stare down at him with a repulsed sneer on my face.

[trashy-tries-writing]

Hii there's absolutely no pressure but I love your writing and thought: what about Ravine working with the 141 on a mission where drugs are related and they need to find them (or something of that sort, I'm no expert in military stuff) and they bring a k-9 with them that is known for being aggressive and attacking if not treated with utmost precision, only for it to warm up to Ravine and snuggle up to him even tho he's the scary and "mean" one?

Pictures: Cooper with Ravine VS Cooper with anyone else

Dear Anon, I love your magnificent brain for coming up with this scenario!!! And thank you so much!🤗 Also no worries I don’t know anything about the military either :’)) I hope I wrote this how you imagined, do let me know 🙌

Warning: Mentions of drugs, PTSD, amputation, transplant- Probably wrong military name usages and stuff. Maybe OOC?💧

Let me know if you want a part 2 of this, where they chase down the drugs with Cooper 😀

Drug mission with an aggressive K-9 who only turns putty for the "mean” Ravine. The boys are conflicted about who to feel jealous of- Cooper or Ravine, both who usually don't let themselves be touched.

Ravine, who just finished his massacre, was sent to 141’s base once their mission to get intel turned into a drug chase. Along with the confiscated information, they found a hidden stash of high class heroin on the boat, therefore they wanted the soldier to join them.

Laswell had tracked the owner later: Caro Edgar, a well known drug lord that has been long enough on the wanted list. Price decided it was time they get the man behind bars- or dead.

Someone from the DATR (Defence Animal Training Regiment) was delivering their best narcotic detection dog to the squad per Price’s request. Some of the boys were ecstatic to have a little furry friend with them…

Until the dog actually came into the base.

The K-9, Cooper was a menace to deal with.

He bared his fangs at the men in front of him once his cage was open. Gaz, who was excited to greet their four-legged friend, took a sudden step and Cooper was already in his face, mouth ajar to bite his head off, if it weren’t for the chain being pulled back by the dog handler.

Soap flinched back from the sudden hostility and that owned him a bunch of barkings while saliva flew from the K-9’s mouth.

Safe to say, both men backed off and used Ghost as a human shield. Said man glared at the canine, his shoulders tensed. Price on the other hand looked at the soldier with a questioned look, who lent them the aggressive canine.

“I apologize but he is the only one qualified with the mission, the others aren’t ready or already on duty.”

 For the past two days, they tried to get along with the aggressive K-9 but it wasn’t getting any better.

If they moved too fast, he barked.

Breathed wrong? He growled.

Too close and shifting wrong? Cooper jumped them if it weren’t for the chain stopping him. They had to fill his bowl and slide it over from a distance due to Ghost almost losing his hand the first time he tried to fill his plate.

Price was 100% certain that Soap was having nightmares of the dog ripping him to shreds while he slept. Gaz refused to come near the devil spawn and walked along the edge while pressing his back to the wall. His eyes never left the four-legged demon when he passed around it.

Ghost? He and Cooper had a glaring contest every single time the dog started barking and growling like a feral animal when they came across each other.

 On the third day, Ravine finally reached the base and the dog hadn't lessened his bullshit which made the Task Force slowly lose it. Cooper made noises throughout the night when he felt like they didn’t suffer enough trying to take care of him.

The dog trainer admitted that she was a little afraid of the Belgian Malinois herself. The previous owner died on the mission so the dog was passed down to her. Cooper was one of the best K-9 they had so they had to keep him even if he was being hostile to the other dogs. They had to separate him into solo training with a group of supervisors to get the K-9 under control.

They were all currently all out in the open, trying to make Cooper listen to their commands. They couldn’t keep waiting due to the risk of Caro Edgar shipping a whole warehouse of drugs underground.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!”

Soap jumps back, close to losing his footing when Cooper jumps up to meet the man face to face.

“This isn’t going anywhere! We need a new dog damn it!”

Price sighs and opens his mouth to agree but notices the collar ripping from the sideline.

“Get away from him, NOW!!”

*Snap*

Cooper wastes no time to attack, Gaz who he seems to be running to, screams in fear and throws his body to the side. Only to reveal Ravine appearing from behind him, the men panic at the soldier staring at the report in his hands.

“RAVINE DUCK!”

Their hearts skip a beat when the dog comes slamming down onto him from above. Papers flew through the air as Ravine couldn’t even finish registering what Ghost was screaming about until a blur of black and brown came into his sight.

They run towards the fallen soldier, expecting blood to pour from his shoulders or any part Cooper decided to bite into.

But Ravine laid on the ground unharmed with a hand holding the front legs and the other grabbing tightly on the dog’s mouth like a muzzle as he proceeded to get the K-9’s face further away from his.

“That was close. You good mate?” Soap warily inches closer but stops when Cooper starts growling again.

“Aye.”

Ravine sits on the dirt for a moment before casting the dog to the side. As if the squad felt the change in their newcomer, they huddled together on the sideline with the dog trainer holding a brand new collar in her hands.

Cooper shakes his fur, his fangs out, ready to pounce at the threat in front of him. Ravine on the other hand stood calmly on his feet, his height casting a shadow on the dog as it came flying towards him.

“Sit.”

The dog flinches at his voice, hesitates for a split second then prepares to pounce, his jaw open-

“Sit.”

What some humans didn’t know was the highly sensitivity of a dog to pheromones. Cooper feels it, the malice from the stranger standing before him seems to grow and expand to an immeasurable size, all pointed at him and him only. Cooper was lost inside, alone, hunted down like a prey. If he didn’t listen now- he knew he was actually going to perish.

So he sat down, lowering as far as his body allowed.

 Gaz glances between Ravine and the dog in worry. “He doesn’t actually think this is going to work, is it?” His hands feel sweaty as he wiped them down on his clothes, his eyes peeking at Ghost and Soap. “He wasn’t here to see how dangerous it is.”

“I don’t think he’s dumb to believe that.” replies L.T. with crossed arms, the thought of shooting the little menace crossing his mind if the mutt decided to take a bite out of him.

“Sit.”

They suddenly find themselves on the ground before they hear Price cackle loudly on the bench. Soap’s legs felt like jelly when Ravine ordered them- the dog with a tone he hadn’t heard him use before.

Ravine stared at the quartet on the ground and Price on the bench, curious what the Captain found so funny at him getting the dog to lay down. He might never know because they avoided looking into his general direction.

Soap laid on his back, his face in his palms, Gaz pushed his hat down to hide his expression and Ghost was lucky to have his mask on as he grabbed his arms while turning away, the dog trainer pushed her head into her knees that were pulled towards her chest.

And lucky Price, who was already sitting, continued to crack up towards the squad with the occasional whines being let out from Cooper in the background.

Ravine thought the Captain told a joke that made the others react so strongly and didn’t bother questioning it, to their relief. When everyone calmed their hearts, they mentally agreed to never talk about this situation ever again but they knew Price would never let them live this down.

 They decided the little demon was Ravine’s responsibility now.

And at first they were glad to not have to risk their limbs anymore.

Cooper listened to every word Ravine spoke and slowly throughout the day, the dog started to waddle around without having to be leashed although he would still snap at the other’s who weren't Ravine.

What started out as an aggressive attack dog, turned in half a day into a puppy longing for affection and attention.

 On the fourth day, 141 was slowly getting fed up.

At one point they were jealous that Ravine gets to be on the menaces' good side. He gets to ruffle the dogs fur, pet it while they get a face full of teeth and saliva. Along with Cooper sitting on his lap, his thighs making it look really cozy to touch, the K-9 performed tricks and wagged his tail like a love-sick puppy yearning for cuddles from the man.

As if the four-legged demon didn’t plan to give Gaz a nose transplant, a hand amputation for Ghost and PTSD for Soap.

Then they couldn’t approach Ravine without Cooper getting in between them.

They weren’t allowed to be near him and had to stay at least a good few feet away. They couldn’t even hand him things over without the damn dog scaring them, so Cooper could bring the stuff to Ravine like some newspaper.

At the meeting to track down Caro Edgar, Cooper decided to interrupt by going in between his legs and standing up to put his front legs on Ravine’s chest. He wouldn’t stop bouncing until his human put an arm around him, his hand laying on top of his head for scratchies.

Price’s content that Ravine was a help to get the dog under control. They couldn’t risk flunking the mission caused by a misbehaving K-9. He lets his eyes linger on the duo, a smile spreading on his lips when the faceless man doesn't repulse from the physical affection.

He wanted to go back to the report but noticed that no one was really paying attention anymore besides Ravine, who was looking at the documents on the desk.

Gaz is tempted to pull at its tail beneath the desk so the K-9 would stop bothering Ravine so much. He snaps his eyes away from it when Cooper looks directly at him. The menace threw his attention back to the man petting him when the smell of fear slowly radiated off of Gaz.

Beside Ravine sat Soap as he wondered if one day the slouching male would give him a hug too. For a while he stared at the demon disappearing and replaced by a puppy in Ravine’s embrace.

Ghost gawks at the mutt in irritation. He fed him and got his limp nearly bitten off and now the same mutt is squeezing his teammate’s chest like some paw toy. He knows that Cooper was given him side eyes and showing his sharp fangs to mock him. Ravine looks down to check on the K-9 and there it goes acting all innocent.

‘Cunt.’

 On the sixth day, the dog trainer already left while the team wanted to get the mission done and over with, so they could immediately return the K-9 back to her.

Soap’s mind wanders around until he thinks aloud, his eyes following the dog wagging his tail at the tall man trying to train in peace. He grimaces at it for stealing his chance to bond with Ravine all to itself.

“Do you think that brat sleeps in the same bed as him?”

“I’m sure it does-” Gaz sips loudly from his bottle, his eyes glaring down at Cooper when the K-9 gets to snuggle closer to his chest before being pushed to the side, “Look at it! The dog gets to hug him before I even get the chance for Ravine to let me touch his shoulder!”

“I don’t even get a high five from him.”

“Me neither.”

Both turn their heads towards Ghost, silently edging him to answer the question. He sighs under his breath. “Negative.”

They all turn back to watching their friend from afar, occasionally cursing the dog under their breaths when they see how physical Cooper was getting with the man who was known to back away from people who wanted to touch him.

Even Ghost wasn’t that stingy.

Hell breaks loose when Cooper starts to put his paws on the man’s ass.

“ThaT’S IT-”

“Wait Soap, don’t dO THAT-!”

“JOHNNY DON’T-”

Terrified screams could be heard through the base along with a string of curses and a dog’s vicious barking. It ended with Ravine ordering Cooper to back off from his friends with a slight edge to his voice which scared the dog into laying on the ground shamefully.

On the other hand Gaz and Soap grin victoriously and pull faces at the dog behind the safety of the soldier’s back. Ghost silently curses the mutt for acting inappropriately while Price is hiding in the back, recording the whole situation to send to some people.

[shellxrls]

i love rafe with my whole heart but JJ eats pussy better. i can just tell

the difference between the both is jj eats pussy like he's starving and is fully able to nut just by having is face in your legs, but rafe eats pussy like he's proving something, asserting some sadomasochistic control over the way he can reduce you to tears and pleas with just his mouth.