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oceantornadoo · 5 months ago

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dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.” like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 4 months ago

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Neighborly

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: Implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

You didn’t know hate until Johnny MacTavish.

He bought the only house within half a mile, the one you expected to stay silent and empty ‘til death did you part. So, you had reason to dislike him from the start. But you were raised right, and you pushed down the snarling hermit in your soul to be a good, friendly neighbor.

The first meeting was fine, even if he was a boombox of a human being.

“Neighbor? Oh, aye! The hermit? Sorry. Heard about you when I toured the place last month.” His eye lands on the plate of cookies you’ve brought to welcome him. “Those all for me?”

You made small talk at the door, swapped names, and set the groundwork for a reliable, limited relationship as polite people who just happened to live in close proximity.

Then the first snow fell.

You spied him outside, shoveling the shared drive that led up the hill. He cleared it all, which was kind, if a little stupid. The weather system promised another two inches by midafternoon, so everything would be solid white again before sunset. Still, not your problem.

But. He was shirtless. Ripped as fuck and shirtless.

As the wind flung each shovelful of snow back in his face, the powdery flakes stuck and melted on steaming skin. Muscles flexed as he made a spectacle of himself, and your thoughts turned to strategy and available resources.

You wrapped your palms around your ugly, handmade mug and sighed, sipping hot chocolate and wishing you’d gotten a neighbor with at least two scoops of common sense.

When he didn’t appear with his shovel the next morning, you knew your foreboding prophecy had come to pass.

You brought out the stock pot, fished out packs of frozen produce harvested from your garden, and sacrificed your last bag of chicken breasts. The skeleton saved from an old rotisserie bird joined the ingredient army. Might as well go all-in. A man with that many muscles needed bone broth to recover.

Since you didn’t know if he was a picky eater, you minced the garlic and onions small, even when your eyes burned to the point you had to stop for a break. You let the aromatics brown, added celery, carrots, potatoes, and fistfuls of fresh herbs. The precious seasonings survived the winter under grow lights and protective sheeting on your dining room table.

You doubted your neighbor would appreciate this gift for everything it was, but whatever he did as an idiot neighbor would be leagues better than the presence of a rowdy ghost.

When the chicken was tender and the broth tasted like home, you poured it into individual portions and packed them in a canvas bag with a loaf of bread, a box of tea, a jar of local honey, and a thermometer. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but the cold froze your fingers through your gloves. Your hand was cramping by the time MacTavish answered the door, red-nosed, pale, and bleary-eyed.

He let you in, mumbling a scratchy-voiced welcome, and if you’d known what that conversation would incite, you would’ve let him waste away like the families you failed playing Oregon Trail.

“Eat one now and keep the rest in the fridge.” You stack the single-serve containers in the fridge as you speak, sure he won’t remember the minutiae of your instructions. The last you pop in his microwave. He’s staring at you with feverish eyes, confused and helpless like a sick dog left on the side of the road.

Everything comes out of the bag, lining his counter so he can see them – and hopefully remember he has them. The thermometer comes out last.

“If your fever is over 104 in the morning, call the doctor. I’ll drive you if you need me to.”

That glassy stare isn’t shifting. The man doesn’t even blink.

“Did you get all that?”

He clears his throat. The action and sound are both strangely slow in his exhausted state, and you’re determined not to feel bad for him.

“Aye.” Finally, he blinks. “Eat the soup. Watch for 104.”

Good enough.

“Okay.”

The microwave beeps, you pull out the soup, leaving him to fetch a spoon from wherever the hell he keeps them. You don’t wait for him to show you out. “Take care of yourself.”

He didn’t call for help, and you took your turn shoveling the drive with proper protection after the last wave of flurries passed.

The next time he saw you in passing – you were returning home and he was just leaving – he let you know your soup was delicious, that the bread was amazing, and the honey did wonders for his throat. He never returned your containers.

Ah, well. They were replaceable.

Then the next snow came, and the dumb bitch went shoveling shirtless again.

It wasn’t as much snow, and it didn’t take him half as long, but you steamed, glaring from the safety of your kitchen window. You refused to replace your meal prep supplies again. And local honey was expensive. The brat could freeze and die. Something about taking a horse to water and all that shit.

You drank your coffee black that morning, just to make a point to no one in particular.

The man didn’t know how to take care of himself, and he had no idea how to winter-proof his home.

His pipes froze. You brought buckets, old towels, bottled water, and the number of an excellent plumber. Then you explained why he should pay attention to the forecast and let faucets drip to keep the water moving. You told him to open the cabinets under sinks so heat could combat the chill along exterior walls.

His truck’s battery succumbed to the cold. You gave him a jump and escorted him to town to make sure he didn’t get himself stranded.

When he didn’t keep things stocked and tried to panic-shop before a big storm, discovering that small town shelves couldn’t meet demand, you shared staples from your pantry.

He didn’t have more than two cheap blankets in his living space, so when the holidays rolled around you gave him your latest assemblage of granny-squares. And a scarf.

He gave you burnt cookies – “Biscuits” – in return.

(And a half-empty bottle of whiskey.)

He never remembered to drag his trash down to the main road.

And gods help you if the power went out, because the man had no generator, very little in his pantry, and rarely more than a quarter tank of gas in his ride.

He was careless. Clueless. Nearly helpless.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave him to his fate. It was unneighborly and inhumane.

He made you angry. But you didn’t hate him until his friend moved in.

A few months into his residence, you went to Johnny’s door to ask if he needed anything from town before the next storm shadowed the forecast, and a stranger came to the door.

A hulking monster with a skull painted over his balaclava.

The doorway shrank around his broad shoulders, and he ducked when he stepped out. You weren’t sure if he entirely needed to, but you understood the urge – like an adult stepping out of a child’s playhouse. Scarred knuckles wrapped around the doorknob, and you knew his grip would swallow you whole by the way it engulfed the brass handle.

Animal instinct jarred you. Every hair from the base of your skull to the end of your spine stood on end as you tried to smell the air, listen to the wind, spot the predator’s intent before it was too late.

You didn’t have a problem with people balaclavas. You’d worn one the other day when you were shoveling the drive, but this looked less like protection and more like a threat.

Was he robbing your neighbor? Had a serial killer come to town? Oh, fuck.

You took a step back, reaching for your phone because you didn’t carry a weapon, especially not on a grocery run, and it was the closest thing you had to help.

“You the neighbor?”

He asked so casually, vaguely irritated, but relaxed. It wasn’t the voice of a man who’d just been caught committing a felony, and you took a second to look beyond the stranger’s mask (and size). There was a mug in his hand, and he wore a t-shirt with sweats. His socked feet lingered on the front step, just shy of the blue road salt and crisped ice. Not robbery gear. More like a… houseguest?

Your neighbor never had guests before.

It caught you so off guard your brain short circuited. He had always been a lone, helpless figure. Made sense he’d have friends, though. You couldn’t imagine he’d survive anywhere long without someone looking out for him.

You were still a little irritated that your neighbor had invited his own friend to his own house on his own property without informing you, but that was just the recluse inside snarling at a new face. Or half of one.

And – well – manners.

Holding out a mittened hand, you introduced yourself, adding, “I stopped to see if Johnny needed anyth-”

“No.” He shut you down so fast you reeled another step back. “Don’t need anything.”

He closed the door and that was that.

Sun glittered on the season’s collection of snow, a frozen fairyland that wouldn’t entirely melt until spring. Then there would be roads washed out, and mud, and you’d need to teach Johnny flash flood safety and…

It didn’t compute. Johnny was still home, so surely he’d pop out with an explanation.

You waited.

But he didn’t.

The absolute fuck?

Your spinning thoughts kept you trapped in your head for a solid minute, processing what had happened, what was implied, and what that meant for your neighborly relationship. Even when you managed to move, drive to town, and run your errands, the interaction prickled in your mind like a splinter.

You must’ve done something wrong.

Aged fluorescent lights strobed out of time with your cart’s shrieking wheels. You discovered your list wasn’t in your pocket. It waited at home, next to a pen to add Johnny’s requests. You’d already added things you doubted he’d think to ask for, and it would take time to pick apart your needs. The list wouldn’t have saved you, even if you’d remembered it.

Three bags of flour went into your cart. That was fine. They’d keep, and baking was a good way to combat cabin fever (it warmed the house as a bonus).

Two gallons of milk.

Wait.

No.

You put one back, self-conscious. A young mother with her baby stood just behind you, and an old woman was reviewing her coupons across the aisle. You refused to make eye contact, convinced you’d catch them watching. Did they see? Were they worried about your germs on the product you put back? Did they think you were too broke to buy what you needed? Maybe they thought you’d just broken up with your boyfriend or something.

You counted the squares in the linoleum as you marched away from the refrigerators’ humming. One less source of white noise. It didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. The real buzzing roared inside your skull.

Johnny was a pain in the ass, but at least he was friendly. He wasn’t considerate, but he always thanked you. His friend was a whole different beast. Unfriendly. With a spare set of teeth snarling at the world.

The stranger hadn’t even introduced himself. Was he staying long? Moving in? What was he to Johnny? That question alone would answer so many others.

Because you’d never seen him interact beyond basic business with the mechanic, you realized you had no idea of his sexual orientation. Was he gay? Bi? Pan?

His shirtless shoveling shenanigans annoyed you, yes, but you’d unconsciously granted him a little leeway, assuming it had to do with misguided masculine showmanship. The rooster strutting where the hen could see. The dumbass alpha male proving he was a good, strong provider who was also quite nice to look at.

Clearly you were wrong, and in retrospect, you couldn’t see him as anything but a narcistic dipshit in need of training wheels.

You’d thought, maybe, he even liked you. As a friend? A comrade against the cold? As something.

But you were just a stop-gap. Useful.

Convenient.

Until his real friend joined him.

You found your attention unraveling like a cheap sweater. No matter how hard to you dried to darn the holes, you couldn’t keep up with the loose thread undoing all your conscious measures. It was quickly becoming one of those days when you convinced yourself your therapist had lied about everything.

When you messed up, even in your head, everyone knew.

If they didn’t say otherwise, you were annoying everyone in the room. If they did say otherwise, they were just being polite.

You weren’t likeable, not loveable, and the minute you weren’t useful you should make yourself scarce. Otherwise, things would get awkward, and no one wanted that. You could be the adult. You could hack off a limb and smile about it.

It didn’t hurt, and even if it did, it shouldn’t, because you didn’t have a right to that feeling.

Alright. Fine.

You realized, just as you joined the line for the cashier, that you’d forgotten matches and sugar. They’d been on your list. But someone joined the line behind you, and unspoken social rules that probably didn’t exist shackled you in place. Too late. You’d look stupid. You’d bother someone. Oh well. You’d just have to make another trip. Soon. But not too soon. Now there were two sets of eyes watching you from the connecting drive, and you didn’t want to give them reason to gossip and laugh and assume…

Your pile of groceries looked too small on the conveyor belt. Roughly half what they’d been lately. Would the cashier notice? You were sure she did. The way she recited your total sounded disappointed. Was she counting on you buying more? Were you hurting the employees’ holiday bonus? Shit. Fuck.

The bags felt too heavy. Too light. You forgot your reusable sacks at home, and the plastic dug guilt and accusations into the crease of your palms. On top of everything else, you were killing the planet.

You drove home.

Along the river. Through the trees. Up the hills to your corrupted sanctuary.

At least you didn’t need to make a second trip to bring in all the shopping. Your haul landed on the counter, you threw the damned milk in the fridge, and you realized, as you opened the pantry, that you already had four bags of flour. Two all-purpose, two for bread. Because you’d planned to bake for two.

The flour hadn’t been on your list.

And there was no room for it.

Your lip wobbled, and you bit it ferociously, chewing it until the texture changed and bits of skin started peeling.

It wasn’t a problem. You liked being prepared. You’d dump it in one of the emergency storage totes you kept in the hall closet and be ready when something went wrong.

You did just that, popping open the plastic lid and layering the flour over dry lentils, black beans, and shelf-stable cartons of broth. You decided to add more baking supplies to the list. Even if the power went out you could use the wood-burning stove in the living room to make griddle cakes. Maybe even soda bread.

There. Yeah. That wasn’t so bad. A silver lining.

As you returned to the kitchen, brainstorming ways to atone for the plastic bags you’d used, the scent of coffee wafted down the hall. Which was strange. Because you hadn’t put the moka pot on. You rushed in, frowning.

The old drip machine you only used for company burbled in the corner, and the groceries sat precariously on the corner, shoved aside by the beast who’d wandered through your unlocked door.

A tall, mohawked figure groped, shoulder-deep, in your cabinets.

MacTavish.

The Scottish mumbling would’ve tipped you off even if you weren’t so familiar with his figure (and hair, and limited wardrobe).

Your angst tasted bitter as you swallowed it down. You needed space for the feelings popping like firecrackers in your chest.

Relief. Hope. Dread.

He was in your space without invitation, and with the morning you’d just had, you felt anything but comfortable. Either you’d jumped the gun, or he was bringing a delayed apology for his friend.

“Johnny? What are you doing here?”

He smiled over his shoulder as he pulled two cups down from the shelf. One with your college logo and your prized ugly mug.

“Hello, neighbor!” He cackled, laughing at his own joke. “Wanted to give you a heads up and have a chat. My friend’s come to stay with me.”

Friend? What flavor of friend?

“I know. We met this morning.”

“Aye. Real barrel o’ sunshine, isn’ he?”

“If you say so.”

You wanted to be nice. You wanted to be his friend, too. But you weren’t, and you’d worked so hard to be a good, reliable person he could depend on in a new town – you were drained.

“His name’s Ghost.”

Most people grew out of their edgelord status by their early twenties. Ghost –with his skull balaclava and gruff voice – seemed better fit for the emo table of a suburban high school cafeteria than the adult world.

Johnny kept prattling, making an introduction for someone who wasn’t even there. “Told him all about you! He was impressed. Smacked me over the head about the pipes and said we’d go into town for a generator before the next big snow.”

“Hard to predict the next big snow.”

“Aye. He said that, too.”

If Ghost could keep your insights out of his mouth, you would appreciate it. It felt like he was stealing something from you, and you found yourself shifting from foot to foot, arms crossed, waiting for something terrible to happen.

And it did.

Gesturing as he described his old buddy and new housemate, his elbows danced around your kitchen like battering rams. First, he struck a cabinet, which hurt him more than the wood. He laughed it off. Kept talking. You didn’t need to say a word. By that point, you probably couldn’t even if he left space to speak.

For the life of you, you couldn’t riddle out what his visit was for. It was exhausting. He never chattered so much when you brought food or showed him how to keep his home in one piece. Ghost must make him very happy. His joy made you anxious.

His arm wide, indicating the views he’d fallen for and not the practical considerations of living in the goddamn woods on a goddamn mountain, and you watched in slow motion as his forearm caught your ugly mug’s handle.

It spun, wobbling to the edge of the counter, and before you could move, it plummeted.

A bad day instantly became your worst in years.

It must’ve made a sound when it hit, but you didn’t hear it. Or didn’t remember it. You didn’t remember going to the floor after it, either.

Your mug was in pieces, and when you pulled them to safety, wrapped tight in your fist, the glazed edges cut deep. It was such an ugly little thing. Your ugly little thing. You’d made it in one of those sip-and-spin pottery classes with your pals before you stopped going to see people face-to-face.

The mug wasn’t a friend. It was all of your friends. It was the fun you, the one who went out and did things, and moved through life like a real, entire person.

It practically exploded when it hit the tile. Some pieces were bigger than others, but there were dozens of them. Glittering chips and flecks that you knew you’d be finding with your feet through the rest of the winter.

There was no fixing it. It hurt. You were bleeding. Red oozed up between your knuckles and snaked down your wrist.

“Oh, shite! Shite, shite, shite. Are you alright? Here, let me –”

You didn’t want him to touch it again. Didn’t want him to touch you and act like he gave a fuck. This was a big, ugly feeling bubbling up inside, and if he didn’t dislike you yet, he would when he saw all the tears and snot.

A pretty crier you were not.

And no one wanted to see that, or deal with it, or cope with someone else’s messy emotions.

“It’s fine. I’m okay.” You grit your teeth and smiled through them. “But I need to clean this up, and I still have groceries to put away. How about you get your friend settled and we can talk another time, okay?”

“Are you sure?” His attention was fixed on the blood. Bright red was such an alarming color. You could understand.

“Yeah. Just a little scratch. Promise. But I can’t play host and clean myself up.”

His neck went stiff, and his eyes flicked from your face to the floor. Several times. Like he was having an argument with himself. But in the end, he listened, nodded, and got back on his feet from where he’d knelt in front of you.

“If you insist. But we’re right over there if you need anything, aye?”

“I know.”

Finally, he left.

You got up and locked the door behind him. If you’d taken time to do that before you put away the groceries none of this would’ve happened. You would still have your mug and you wouldn’t be on the floor, crying and cradling the remains of something that mattered to you.

-----------------------

He kept coming over when he needed things. Usually after Ghost’s truck rumbled down the drive. Sometimes he wanted advice. Sometimes he needed help. Usually he took tools and supplies he should’ve bought for himself.

You put your curtains to good work. You couldn’t remember a time you drew them so often. If he knocked, you’d answer, but the curtains were a good deterrent. Not foolproof, but something that gave you a little more power over your privacy.

Long jaunts into town have become escapes from your own home. Better the eyes of strangers – fleetingly painful – than the paranoia of sitting under glass where your neighbors might read your habits and foibles by the way the lights turn on and off through the night, might judge your messy hair through the kitchen window as you wash the dishes. Might, might, might. There were terrible possibilities in all that potential.

They were always there. One ready to freeze you out, the other hanging on your apron strings like a teenager who just got his first place. The conflict rubbed over your nerves like a match on a boot heel. Too much, too fast, and you’d combust.

So you found a lot of reasons to go into town. You remembered how much you liked the library, the joy of a cinnamon roll someone else baked, and hot coffee that didn’t come with a side of flashbacks.

The forecast predicted heavy snow overnight, and you made a day of grocery shopping, collecting novels from the library, and avoiding your neighbor’s last-minute requests.

You barely noticed the teens rushing out of the parking lot as you left your final stop, canvas bag loaded with enough media to keep you entertained through the storm of the century. No windows were broken. No key marks scuffed the paint. If they committed any mischief, it was minor.

Gas theft didn’t cross your mind until your engine quietly gave out and your car rolled to a stop between Nowhere and Nothing.

Understanding dawned with grudging revulsion. Like looking at the toilet and realizing it wouldn’t flush.

The little shits had siphoned your tank.

You smacked the steering wheel, cursing.

So much for the benefit of the doubt. You couldn’t escape. Everyone everywhere just wanted to use you.

But it was fine. Everything would be fine. You were always prepared in case someone fucked you over. Your wellbeing was your responsibility, after all.

Climbing out of the warm cabin, you headed to the back and pulled out the emergency gas can.

The red plastic was shockingly light. You didn’t realize until you’d already thrown your weight into the yank. Unbalanced, you tottered, and your heel skidded over ice.

The snow cushioned your fall, and you stared blankly into the white limned branches overhead as you tried to process the last five seconds. Things like this happened to idiots. They did not happen to you. Careful, cautious you with your backup plans and reserves.

You had simply made a mistake. Somewhere. Somehow. You’d find an explanation.

When you sat up, still in a state of shock, you examined the can, expecting signs of a mouse, or a crack, or…

An I.O.U. was taped to the back.

You knew the handwriting all too well.

That shitting little…

The snow arrived. Silence swallowed the mountain, and the gloaming snuffed the last of the sun’s warmth.

You sat alone on the side of the road, well aware that no one would come up this way for hours. Days maybe.

You had made a mistake.

You made your neighbor chicken soup.

Your nose burned, and you sniffed. Hot tears rolled down your face, burning as they went, and you wiped at them furiously. The wool of your mittens chafed your cheek. Your lip wobbled, and you hurled the empty can into the woods.

Fuck Johnny MacTavish.

Fuck Ghost.

Fuck your life.

#fic: neighborly #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #soap x ghost

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missdynamighttt · 4 months ago

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doing the "a boy who's jacked and kind" trend with bf! katsuki bakugo.

you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through tiktok. a mischievous grin crept onto your face when you come across a video. you glanced at your boyfriend, katsuki, who was nuzzling your neck with his arms wrapped around you, looking as grumpy as ever.

“katsukiii,” you called sweetly, holding up your phone.

katsuki sighs, pulling away from your neck that he declared his haven, looking at you with a deadpanned look. "yes, sweets?”

“seen this yet?" you turn the screen toward him. the video showed a guy easily picking up his girlfriend and carrying her over his shoulders.

katsuki eyes the screen before shaking his head. “no. what about it?”

“so… think you could do it? or are these muscles just for show?” you reach out to squeeze his bicep appreciatively.

his crimson eyes narrowed at you. he did not live to train his ass off and survive a war just for you to say this. “you think i can’t pick up your ass?”

“oh, i don’t know. can you?" you look at him with a grin. "i mean, i’m not exactly light. you might not be strong enough."

his glare deepened, and he stood up, standing across from you. “you’re really asking for it, sweets.”

you giggled, leaning back against the couch. “i’m just saying! might be too much for the great bakugo katsuki to—”

but before you could finish, katsuki reached down, gripping your waist with one arm and hooking his other arm under your knees. in one swift motion, he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing, planting your lap on his shoulders.

you let out a startled squeal, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. “katsuki!”

“what was it you said again?” he asked, smirking as he wrapped an arm around your legs, squeezing your thigh. “not strong enough?”

you stared down at him with flushing cheeks, laughing. “ohmygod, okay, fine! you can lift me, big deal!”

“oh, sweets. you're so cute," he said, his smirk widening. he shifted your weight, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "but we’re not done yet."

you let out an indignant laugh, pounding lightly on his back. “katsuki! put me down, you caveman!”

“nah,” katsuki said, carrying you to your shared bedroom. “not until you admit i'm the strongest guy you’ve ever met.”

"never!” you declared, still laughing.

he stopped abruptly, spinning you around so you were cradled in his arms like a newly-wed couple. his face was smug as he raised an eyebrow at her. “still doubting me, sweets?”

you huffed, trying to keep a straight face. “okay, okay," you reach to kiss his cheek. "you’re the strongest man i know. okay? hottest one at that, too.”

"hmph. you know other men?"

"katsuki!"

he grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “next time, sweets, think twice before talking shit.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “so cocky.”

he scoffs, carrying you across the room and dropped you onto the bed, your laughter turning into a surprised yelp as you landed among the pillows.

katsuki leaned over you, his hand planted on your waist, the other on the side of your head, his smirk growing. “still think i can’t handle it?”

you smile at him, shaking your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. "you can handle it just fine."

“damn right i do,” he said, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

youe fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him back, the playful energy between them simmering into something deeper, more heated. while you might have started the teasing, katsuki always had the last word, and the last kiss.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ LISTEN. HE CAN DO IT, OKAY? HE SUCCESFULLY CARRIED 118KG ADULT PRO HERO ENDEAVOR WITHOUT FAIL. WHEN HE WAS A TEEN!! HES MORE CAPABLE NOW THATS HES A PRO HERO, OBVIOUSLY. SELF-INDULGENT BECAUSE IM A PLUS-SIZED GIRLIE. I LOVE MY MAN SM 💜💜

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago

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Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages.

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it.

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS.

A few minutes later, it provides:

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total.

I'm only thirteen.

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles?

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it.

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift.

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts.

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed.

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert.

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life.

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine.

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes.

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words.

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks.

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face.

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder.

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that.

Right, I say.

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable.

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it.

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared.

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football.

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn.

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

#i've been reading some cormac mccarthy lately and i decided to try my hand at present tense #it was pretty rough but a fun experiment #kind of like writing with my left hand instead of my right #been thinking about my grandpa lately #miss him #wild world out there #babylon-lore

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emacrow · 2 months ago

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Flash had been noticing he was being stalked by two kids

Especially if the kids is uno reverse Bruce Wayne bait.

These two kids literally stopped him from running back through the time 13th times in a roll by doing something distracting that completely took his attention alongside this them saving the day before Flash went back to fix it.

Scary accurate, too, after the last time he was tackled and manhandled by a giant glowing green dog when the kids play hot potato and threw a purple dog toy at him saying fetch cujo.

This little brats has some type of vendetta over him that they keeps stopping him from time running.

The 'We will break your kneecaps' on the watchtower in glowing green marker is new to him.. in the middle of a meeting with the Justice league.

You know, for the fastest man in the world, he didn't expect to get stalked and unabled to catch the stalkers even at last speed 13 times in a roll.

Especially with a group of heroes and Batman staring down at Flash for him to explain what had happened.

That two little kids were stalking the fastest man in the world to stop him from running sounds ridiculous, but it was true that even his team investigating can't seem to find anything or nothing on the database about this two children.

As if they didn't exist in the first place...

....

All danny wanted to do was go home after a lesson about being the Infinite Prince and its duty from Clockwork, but yet he couldn't seem to find the home portal, not even Vlad’s was opened which was very odd.

He did catch Ellie zooming around the ghost realm, who was panicking as well about the missing portals, but thankfully, Johnny and Kitty helped them find a natural portal to their home dimension.. Danny is going to have a stern talking with them about that later, but right now, he wanted to go home now.

Only.. there was no home to go to because Amity Park had disappeared.

If it weren't for Clockwork's sticky notes all over a stump trunk that used to be Amity Park's welcome sign that saved Danny from having a total meltdown and psychic break in his core with how small he and ellie became slipping out of the natural portal.

Apparently, some Jackass Time Speeder changed the timeline too many times in which Amity Park, the world greatest ghost town, ceased to existence.

Thankfully, Clockwork left them a little gift that were time watches to help located the dirty bastard that basically ruined Danny's timeline in exchange of punishment for all the timelines clockwork had to fix due to this man.

Danny and Ellie would gladly accept beating up this wannabe timeline ruining bastard, and they'll be creative at it, too.

Part 2 -> here

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #dcxdp #danny is the ghost king #de aged danny #Flash accidentally saved someone from back in the past that ruined Danny fenton’s timeline #Danny and Ellie just wanted to talk #and break your kneecaps Flash #danny just wanted a nap #now he got no home but apparently Super heroes are real now #he could've owed Tucker 10 bucks if this havent happened #Flash believed he was being stalked #but he can't catch these kids

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henneseyhoe · 4 months ago

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Lights, Camera, Action.

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: light smacking, fingering, brief PinV, unprotected (wrap it uhp!), daddy kink, sir kink, squirting, head (m receiving), Pornstar!Terry, dirty talk, slightly unedited, short. i think das it.

SUMMARY: The camera loooves you, and Terry gets all your good sides.

✮✮✮✮

If it wasn’t for the cameras, she probably would have fell in love with the man.

“Look real pretty for the cameras, baby. They ain’t watching for nothing” He whispered into her ear softly while pushing into her. The mic most likely didn’t catch it, but she caught all of it. Every dirty, nasty thing he spoke into her ear, guiding her with how to look, what to do, how to feel. He did it so well she almost forgot this was just work, he made her feel like a rookie in just this thirty minutes of filming.

She turned her head to the professional camera pointed at her face, her moans only heightening as he folded her legs closer to the beds sheets, her heels pointed to the ceiling and toes curling when he bottomed out. “Now smile. Show them how much you love getting fucked like a complete slut.”

Fuck…

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck as she stared into the camera lens, the reflection of her looking back and showing how much of a complete mess she was, most of her lipstick smudged across her lips. He wouldn’t even allow her to wipe her face. The messier, the better, he said.

“You gonna cum on daddies dick?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes what?” His hips pressed against hers, skin flushed against each other as he well groomed pubic area met her clit.

“Yes, Sir!”

He had gotten so deep that she could feel every twitch from him inside of her stomach, the movement teetering her off the edge of her orgasm just a little more than before. He wasn’t far behind either. With every clench, he prepared himself mentally for having to do another take because he came too early, leaving the director to instruct him to get himself up again after the overstimulation period had subsided.

“Cut!”

✮✮✮✮

“Such a good girl. You can take it just a little deeper”

Terry held the back of her head with a steady hand, sure to push her head back down whenever he felt her attempting to come up for air. She heard the cue from behind the camera to give them a good shot, making her open her eyes and look for the recording lens.

A camera snapped pictures, close ups of her mouth wrapped around his thick dick, her pussy dripping with arousal, and her erect clit peaking from underneath her clitoral hood kept to be stored in a harddrive later and uploaded to a dirty site with premium content.

The flash showed all of the glistening sweat on her body and the outline of his dick deep down her throat. It was hard for her to even lift her head with more than enough inches down her throat and him standing above her wasn’t helping. The constant sensation to gag poked at her reflexes until she couldn’t refuse anymore.

Popping off of him with a gasp, spit fell from her chin and onto the hardwood floor that had her wishing she put a pillow down for her knees. He chuckles darkly, pleased with her attempt to keep all of him down.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Using that mouth for something so much better than running it. Fuck, you look so pretty like this” He praised as his hand lightly taps on her wet cheek, smudging the blush she applied earlier.

He wanted so badly to just shove his fingers down her throat and make her gag again, but they had already gone off script enough for that day. He’d just have to get her number for a more private session.

“Good girls get prizes, don’t they?”

“Yes, Sir” She nods.

“You wanna cum don’t you?”

“Yes, please”

Without another question, he lifts her by the waist and effortlessly tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the heels she wore clicking together as she settled across his broad shoulder.

With him now sat on a couch, she bent over his knee like he told her to and lifts her own skirt while Terry gestures the camera towards him.

“Look at that…” He slides his fingers between her lips and spreads them for the camera to see, her clit jumping at the feeling.

“Wet ass pussy” A loud smack sounded off in the room, her back arching in before quickly regaining its original form before she earned herself a harder smack.

Her ass bounced back like waves against his hand, one of them squishing her cheeks as his other hand slide further between her legs, the pads of his fingers teasing at her clit before he sunk two fingers into her.

Off bat, he started with no easy pace, his fingers curling up to her gspot as a long string of moans left her pretty little mouth. The moans were broken up into sections, sounding as if someone was shaking her by the shoulders; it was really just the effect of his wrist colliding with her ass.

“Wanna cum- Can I please?” She whined helplessly, trying so hard not to let her thighs close of him or for her to roll right off of his lap. She couldn’t even begin care about the cameras anymore.

“Wet it up, baby” He demanded a response from her body as his fingers pressed up against her favorite spot, wiggling until she clenched so hard he no longer had room to move. Her legs shook violently and her thighs finally locked together, gushing of her wetness soaking his entire lap and the couch.

“Uh-huh, look at you still following orders” He smirked and pried her thighs apart again, laying smacks on her clip to beckon a stronger orgasm to her, which she got. As his hand made contact, water splashed up from her middle.

“Look at that mess you made, baby”

Her upper body slumped down onto the couches cushions. He was proud of his work, fixing her up to sit properly in his lap after pulling his fingers out of her and bringing them to her lips.

“Now open, look into the camera, and clean me up”

✮✮✮✮

💌-IM BACK 😜 this was originally supposed to be for lewis but fuck it we ball am i right????

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honeyshiddendesire · 27 days ago

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Worst Generation + Shared Kinks

Warnings: degradation, pussy drunk men, public sex, deep throating, dirty talk, pet names and teasing, doms, captian kink duh!!

Characters: Eustass Kidd, Luffy & Law

*masterlist* *banner*

Call Me Captain

Eustass Kidd fucking lovessss when you call him captain, this man don’t even care how you’re saying it. You could yell at him “Fuck off Captain.” or “Sure thing Captain.” And the man is gonna fold like some laundry. Will scoop you up over his shoulders like a bag of potatoes and immediately take you to his room for the ride of your life. Those strong hips of his would thrust into you with a force that would leave you sore for days, face scrunched up in pleasure as he encouraged you on. “Fuck- call me captain again baby, lemme hear it. Sounds so pretty coming from you.” If there’s anything you ever want best believe all you have to do is say that word for him and it’s yours. “Hell yeah I gotcha ya baby, that’s what your Captain’s for.”

Luffy when he heard you moan out the word Captain during sex instantly made him freeze, head tilting like the cute little puppy he is. You’re fucked out beyond belief to register the gears tearing in his head, his chest rising and falling faster as he suddenly had a newfound passion. Would totally want you to say it again…like alot. “Hey Y/N call me Captain again. I like it. Keep saying it for me okay?” Luffy would fuck into you like a beast that you’ve never seen before, hips snapping into you like a monster, grin so wide you practically saw your reflection in his teeth. “Say Captain- yeah just like that.”

Law is a tricky one because it wouldn’t take the both of you fucking to make his head spin hearing that word leave your mouth. It would be the moment you entered onto the crew that the feelings would harbor. Using that damn word as fuel for the way he fists his cock when he’s all alone. Picturing the way you would sound moaning it out for him as he bounces you on his cock, your expression wrecked as he pushes you down to take more of his length. “Fuck- please call me captain again.” Law would quietly mumble into the hand that he had over his own mouth. The day you too finally fuck is when you walk in saying the exact word he needed to hear in order to cum. “Hey Captain!” Yeah the man was done for but so was your pussy after he was done with you. (totally gotta write this out lol)

✨ They get called Captain all day but when it leaves your pretty lips it never sounded sweeter ✨

Public Sex

Eustass Kidd has no boundaries unless you set them. So if you don’t stop the man he would have no problem bending you over the deck and pounding into your squishy pussy till she cries perfectly for him. He wouldn’t care if you’re loud or if you’re biting your own fingers off in order to not make a sound. “Pretty pussy, just gotta have it no matter where we are.” Eustass would fuck you in an alley after hitting up a bar too, strong arms lifting you up like you weigh nothing cause to a man like him you definitely don’t. “Dammit pipsqueak, this pussy is gonna be the fucking death of me you know that right? Ugh the shit that you fucking do to me.”

Luffy also has no boundaries because that’s just who he is to be honest. Like the man genuinely has no shame in the things that he does, so he would fuck you right on the head of the Sunny. Stretchy limbs wrapped around you like ropes that keep you in place, “Damn you feel so good I don’t think I’ll be able to stop even if someone comes over. Shishishi!” To say you’re worried is an understatement but everyone would be able to spot the sex eyes that Luffy gives you and knows to stay away. Luffy would fuck you on rough tops, using his arms to slingshot you both up there for a fun rough fuck. Also in alleyways after a good meal but unlike Eustass he would do it in broad daylight, at least Eustass has some decency to wait till the sun is down. “Oh who cares who sees, we’re pirates afterall.”

Law wouldn’t know he had a public sex kink until he was fucking you in his office and the door opened up from a whale pumping into the Polar Tang. No damage would be done to the submarine but the door being unlocked would cause it to pop open. Suddenly he couldn’t help but get turned on to the taboo topic of someone passing by to see your lewd figure bent over his desk. His large cock filling up your pussy with an intense stretch as you clawed at his desk with a moan of his name that made his chest swell. The idea of someone catching your usually put together self being absolutely wrecked into a cock drunk mess made him fuck into you harder and faster. Both of you just getting drunk on the feel of each other. “Damn, would you look at that? Seems like the door opened up love. Hopefully no one sees how desperate you get for my cock.”

✨ It’s their ship and they’ll show everyone that sails the sea just who you belong to ✨

Wear Their Gear

Eustass Kidd would love love love how good you look completely naked except for his signature red fur coat draped over your shoulders. When he’s fucking your pussy in the alley he’ll use it as a shield from any prying eyes that could be lurking for a little peak of his girl. Even when you’re cold and he drapes it over his shoulders he can’t help his thoughts from drifting into the gutter. Always picturing the way you look laid out on his coat as he folds you into a mating press or ass up face down with your cheek pressed into the plush fur. “Can’t have my pretty slut getting rug burn so I'll lay my coat down for you doll.” Doesn’t like people touching his shit but you’re definitely the exception because you look so good riding his dick with his coat on. “Looking so good and cozy with my cock in you and my coat on. Shit I gotta buy you your own cause you look hot as fuck right now kitten.”

Luffy only gives his hat to important people so when he places it on your head as you bounce on his cock the man can’t help the huge grin that paints his face. “You always look good with my hat on.” Luffy would plant his feet down and fuck into you harder just to watch the hat bounce on your head forcing you to keep a hand on it. “Don’t let it fall okay.” Sometimes he would even put his hat on your head as you suck his dick, standing above you with his intense gaze that you match. Hat tipped as you suck on his stretchy cock that he pushed you further down on, his hand holding the hat in place as he thrusts his hips till you choke a bit. “Swallow every bit so you don’t mess up my hat okay?”

Law would also place his hat on your head while you suck on his cock, a smirk playing on his lips as he rests his head against his hand to relax a bit. Pushing your hair back and placing his hat on you to keep your hair out of your face. “You don’t mind holding my hat huh princess?” You wouldn’t be able to answer as he would only fuck into your throat harder making you choke on his length. “Awe I thought you liked my hat baby?” Law would taunt as your brows would furrow, gaze growing teary as you stare up at the man. His other hand would stroke your cheek lovingly, but his hips were anything but nice. “I’m sorry princess I just love seeing you in my stuff, it makes me get a little carried away.”

✨ They were picky when it came to their things, but when it’s you they don’t mind one bit ✨

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disgustingtwitches · 8 months ago

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MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141!(Part 5)

The shithead owner decides that he needs to sign up for a "restaurant renovation" show. Chaos ensues.

"A fucking TV show?"

Gaz frowns while polishing glasses.

"Told him it was a bad idea."

Price shrugs, lighting a cigar. You are horrified, being on the screen for millions of people to see was nerve wracking. And it'll be the first time you meet the owner.

"Restaurant renovation... Lik' he gives twa fucks aboot renovating this shitehole."

Johnny ashes his smoke and passes it to you. You take a deep drag and sigh, this is gonna be a disaster.

Cameras are set up everywhere, everyone's mic'd up, there are too many people in too small of a space. Some obnoxiously loud man introduces himself. He seems to be an amalgamation of every TV host you've ever seen, wearing too much cologne and too much hair gel. He puts a hand on your shoulder,

"The place looks terrible but at least they got something nice to look at here."

He flashes a smile, cheap veneer blindingly white. You awkwardly laugh while Price steps in, introducing himself. You scurry away to the back where the rest of the boys are,

"I want everyone to be on their best behavior today. No fucking around. Don't make me look bad."

The owner is a bland man, average height and weight, with a shitty haircut and wearing an ugly flashy shirt. He turns around and briefly introduces himself, he already smells like liquor. Great. He gets waved over to get interviewed by the host. You and the guys watch from the other end of the restaurant. It's quite embarrassing, the host pointing out how run down the place looks, the menu is confusing and overwhelming, and then asks if he's drunk,

"I can smell the alcohol from here Carl... it's only 11am buddy."

The owner stutters and blinks,

"I- just uh, just a crazy night is all."

The host stares, unconvinced. Carl shifts awkwardly in his chair. The next segment was ordering food apparently, so you were up. You walk up to the table as the host asks you a barrage of questions,

"How would you say the fish is here? Is everything fresh? What do you think of the steak? Do you have any recommendations?"

When you say you only ate the fries from here and he laughs loudly,

"That is not a good sign folks!"

He stares at the camera, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth before you walk off and punch in the order. There's a cameraman recording John and Simon cooking,

"Steak and potatoes."

John reads the slip out loud, they move around the kitchen while the owner watches. For such a simple dish there's a lot of chaos, Carl is yelling at them to move faster and cook properly, John is busy arguing with Carl and burns the steak, Simon plates up the food and hands it off to you. You place the plate down in front of the host,

"Oh...oh my God..."

You keep a straight face, hands behind your back. The host looks back up at you,

"Does the food usually come out like this?"

There's a tone of disgust and concern, his eyebrows turned up, you shrug. He stares back down at the filet and cuts into it,

"It's very impressive that one is able to overcook such a large piece of meat. That takes...skill."

You watch concertedly as he picks up a piece and puts it into his mouth, it looks like he wants to cry.

He goes on to complain about the quality of the food to the camera as he walks to the kitchen,

"At least it's clean back here. I've seen kitchens in wors- is that a fucking pigeon?"

Sure enough, there is. How the fuck did it get in here?

"Oh! I just left the door open to let some fresh air in..."

Carl awkwardly tries to catch the bird while the boys watch amusedly, even the camera crew stifle a laugh.

"Christ Almighty, what is wrong with you man?"

The host shakes his head, watching the whole scene in disbelief. Eventually, the bird is out of the building and the sweep of the kitchen continues.

"Food is not expired, everything is stored properly, it's all very well organized. I was honestly expecting worse."

The host walks up to the bar next, plucking up bottles and examining them,

"So, Kyle is it? How long have you been working here for?"

"Just a little over five years."

Gaz leans against the bar. There's a gasp and the host waves the camera over,

"Look at this shit,"

He points at the label,

"Expired in August,"

You look over at Gaz and Soap, they look like they're about to piss themselves, holding back laughs.

"Of 2012!"

The host looks disgusted,

"Why didn't you throw this away?"

"Carl told me to not toss anything."

Kyle shrugged. Soap is almost in tears, shaking, trying to bite back a howl of laughter.

The next two days are like this, you don't know why Carl hasn't pulled the plug on this fiasco yet,

"I think he's getting drunker as the days go by."

Johnny says, ashing his cigarette. There's a nod from Simon,

"I think he enjoys being embarrassed, seems like the type to get off on that."

'The big finale' as the host calls it, means getting a new menu, refreshing the cooks(John's) skills, and cleaning out the bar. The place is opened and there's a line out of the door. It's overwhelming, the customers are putting on a show, acting like dickheads and sending everything back even when there's nothing wrong with the food. Simon and John are on top of everything, putting out food as fast as possible, Carl is shitting himself running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. The night goes by fast and everyone is at the bar,

"So the cooks are for the most part competent, the waitress is amazing, and the bartender is well... The man can do no wrong. The problem here is you,"

The host points at Carl who is fucking sloshed swaying back and forth,

"I genuinely think this restaurant would be better off without you."

Carl starts bawling. The host is visibly uncomfortable. The boys and you are looking at each other. Then when all the cameras and lights are gone, it's all back to normal. Carl is looking for reassurance from anyone and you and the boys just pack up and head home, Price patting him on the back,

"You'll be alright."

A few months later, you're all sat on the couch watching the TV. Johnny's over the moon pointing at the screen,

"Look thare A am! See hou sexy A look?"

He's smiling and waving at the camera in the background of the scene where Carl is crying his eyes out. That gets a laugh out of Gaz,

"You're a sick bastard, Soap."

Once the episode dropped, the restaurant got busy for a few months. Most of the customers are horny women ogling at Kyle. On occasion you get the request to bring out "the scary looking one" and you just laugh it off.

"You're so lucky working with all these guys, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself,"

A particularly drunk woman said to you one day. You just smile while Kyle winks at you over his shoulder.

#this one was rushed sorry!!!#next one will have sex i promise!!#just wanted a little fun one #141 x reader #poly 141 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #ghost x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john price x you #price x you #john price x reader #price x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

Text

well behaved

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, married life, wife!reader, husband!price, (house) wife kink, dresses, missionary position & mating press, misogyny, darker themes

price ran his team tightly. he had to. it was life or death, and the manner in which he ran his team, he saw great success. so it was only natural for price to run his home the same way. while it wasn't like a military task force, it was still ran with set roles and tasks for all members. he was the husband and you the wife.

and being the wife of john price meant tasks steeped in tradition. price wanted a proper woman to be his wife and expected only the best from you.

"don't touch those, john." you smacked price's hand away lightly, "they're for dinner, silly." then leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

"ah, sorry, lovie. couldn't help myself." he replied, "you know how much i love watchin' ya cook dinner. even the carrots." he leaned over and pinched your behind as he watched you continue to cook for a moment longer. his gaze lingered for a moment before he went back to the living room to watch the same.

that was your task, to take care of the home. you cooked price's meals and served it to him. he loved your cooking, to him you cooked like a proper chef and you were all his!

you got the roast out of the oven and asked in your sweet tone, "honey, do you want to eat at the table or in front of the television?"

"table's good, petal." he replied before he got up with a slight huff from the couch and with his beer headed to the table. he watched you serve dinner and when you finally sat down, you had your own plate of dinner. the missus gotta eat too!

price eyes the roast,but then eyed you across the table. in the dress you wore. you often wore dresses and fine jewellery. you had to look like a respectable wife after all! not the slags who called themselves 'barrack bunnies' that mactavish brought him. you were price's good girl.

before you could start your meal, price gestured for you to come to him for a moment. you obeyed and price pulled you onto his lap. he kept a strong arm around you. "my missus made this all for me, huh?" he pulled you a little closer. he got some of the mashed potatoes on the fork and fed it to you.

you replied, "no, you eat!"

"oh, don't worry. if i'm still hungry. i'll just have you." he said as his thick fingers touched your inner thigh. "pretty thing." he cooed as he played with your soft skin as he ate. in the process he fed you parts of his dinner.

price's task of the unit was to work and take care of you. you took care of the home and he made sure you wanted for nothing. if the rock on your finger was anything to go by, you were well taken care of.

"mmm, john. honey."

he chuckled beofre he kissed your cheek, "gotta take care of the wife. can't have an unhappy home." he continued to eat, only pulling his hand away from you when he had to cut the meat with a steak knife.

but even your amazing roast was nothing compared to your sweet cunt. that of course meant that you couldn't even finish cleaning up the dishes before your husband had you hoisted into his arms and headed to the bedroom.

price loved to keep you up. only right for a husband to feel up his wife. he loved his big, calloused hands on your round behind or your soft hips. he groped you as he unzipped your dress once he finally put you down on the bed. he then got you out of your string of pearls. you really did live a fairly charmed life.

your husband continued to strip you free of your clothes and he licked his lips at the sight of you when you were in only your push-up bra. he then got you out of it then felt up your bare breasts. he toyed with your nipples using his thumbs.

"my woman." he said, "nabbed yourself an older man who loved to make a mess of your pretty pussy. your love men who are bigger, hairier and who can fold you in half to ruin your cunt." he eyed you up and down, "i bet she misses me, huh?"

you blushed even more and you ended up splayed out in bed under your husband. he rubbed your hefty cock up against you. you swallowed when you felt the blunt head right up against you.

"my beautiful wife. so perfect for me. from the meals you cook to the cunt that keeps my boys safe. no need to masturbate when i got myself a wife to fuck every night. making me food, keepin' my house clean. you have no need to think too hard when you have a husband to do it for you." he sank into you and he watched your back arch. your cunt tight around him as he started to fuck you.

mrs. price's cunt was heaven on earth.

"mmm, john!" you whined loudly. the blunt head of your husband's cock hit deep inside of you. it felt like he was past your cervix and you knew very well that john price was a womb bruiser.

he continued to move against you, he eyed you as he thrusts. he admired your soft breasts. they moved as price rocked into you. it left him hypnotized. price kept his weight onto you, he kept you pinned to the bed. you were his wife and you'd take every inch he gave you. you whined under him and he admired you. every curve you held. the softness of your body. you were a heavenly, beautiful goddess. price's loving wife.

he bullied his cock inside of you. your burly, string husband who could melt you with the warmth of his love. while your marriage was a little more traditional and a little unconventional but, you felt more loved and adored than with any other man you could ever love. your older, strong husband would always love you. he'd die for you. so it was only fair you kept him satisfied

and that wasn't hard given how obsessed he was with your pretty little cunt. no other way to die than between the legs of his missus. "you're beautiful under me, lovie. you look like heaven under me. takin' me like no one else." he chuckled, "that's my petal, takin' your husband beautifully."

you moaned a little louder as he continued to fuck your soaked cunt. this was everything. price didn't need a woman with a forty hour work week. no, he needed a wife to care for the home. to care for him. you spoiled him with love and he spoiled you with whatever you desired. whatever you craved.

that was what a proper man did for his wife, he made sure you were taken care of. he loved the sight of you as he fucked you. your knees were hiked up and his cock pushed into your further given the new angle. price knew he was a bruiser and he loved it when his pretty little wife's pussy took him. the sweet thing he got to make a mess of every night.

he moved further and laid heavy kisses on you. he couldn't get enough of you. you drove him mad. no wonder he did everything to make sure you were taken care of.

he was addicted to his wife, his little housewife.

"ah, honey." you moaned a little louder, the pleasure was realy working through you. right up to your core. price's heavy thrusts sent shocks through your blood and your achy core yearned for him. he was a good husband. a traditional one, but he loved you and you loved him. you tensed up at the hot feeling in your gut. everything felt alive in your body was you needed him. you relied on your husband, even for things like orgasms.

"ah, please!" you whined loudly. you sounded almost desperate as price fucked you faster. you felt the fire in your belly as he nudged his cock up against you.

price's pace lost focus and the man was relying on instinct to get you both to climax. you felt the immense heat take you over as the older man roughly fucked you. your sweet moans sounded whorish as he made you finish.

"beautiful petal. you know how to drive me crazy." he laugh, a little out of breath as he worked your achy pussy through climax. the stimulation made your mind go blank for a moment. he loved you, he loved your cunt. loved it so much that he didn't last much longer. it was like you had him under a spell. anything you want, you got.

price fucked you through his climax and made sure every drop of him was safe in your gummy soft pussy. he pressed his forehead against yours when he slowed to a stop. he kissed you lazily with a lot of tongue as he pressed his softening cock as deep as i would go. you made the ideal wife for him.

and in return price did anything for his missus <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x female reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty smut #john price x reader #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x female reader #john price #captain price #price cod

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shinningdance · 3 months ago

Text

Taste tasting

Roommate au because @beloveds-embrace captured my heart with this au q(≧▽≦q)

warnings: none!! Pure fluff!

The Kitchen was a mess, to put it nicely. It actually looked like a bomb hit. Multiple Pans on the stove, cake icing on the counter - slowly dripping down to the floor, egg shells next to a big pile of flour.

The oven is on, finishing the cake you've been working on for the last 2 hours, the cupcakes are already cooling down by the dinning table. Very carefully you transfer the steak from the pan to a plate, where perfectly cooked potatoes are decorating one half of the plate. Finishing off the meat, you sprinkle a bit of sea salt on top.

You do this two more times, having bought too much meat and not wanting to waste it, it leads to this mess. You only wanted a small piece for yourself, after all you need to practice.

That's what got you into this situation, a cooking competition. Now, why would you waste your time on some silly work competition? Easy, the winner gets two days paid time off. In those two days you can catch up on your series, sleep late, enjoy life until work calls again.

The front door opens and a soft "Hello" was heard, looks like your Guinea pig arrived.

"Perfect timing!" You call back and make your way to the door, meeting Kyle halfway there. He's still wearing his jacket and scarf, good to keep warm in such a weather.

"Perfect timing for what?" He smiles down at you, obviously a bit confused, and maybe a tiny bit scared.

"I need a lab rat" You reply, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen table.

Kyle doesn't even try to fight back or ask, he simply follows as you pull him along. A small huff leaves his lips as you hurry him towards a chair, forcing him to sit down, only then does he dare to removes the scarf and winter jacket.

"I'm scared to ask but..how am i lab rat?" He mumbles and lays the clothes over the chair next to him.

"Easy.." You start talking while grabbing a full plate of a juicy cooked steak with a perfect sear, paired with golden, crispy potatoes, seasoned to perfection. "You have to taste test everything i made today."

At the mere sight of the fresh food his mouth began to water, eyes scanning the masterpiece.

After a short moment of silence he forces his eyes away, looking at you with a cheeky smile. "Everything? There's more?" He asks as he grabs a knife and a fork, immediately digging in.

You bite back a small laugh, nodding your head as you watch him eat. "I made cake..i just need to wait for it too cool down and decorate it, also, i made cupcakes." You smile and walk to the oven, checking on said cake. Finding it perfectly cooked you turn the oven off and grab oven mittens.

As you move the cake from the heat to the counter you hear the sluttiest groan ever. "That good, huh?" You chuckle and look over your shoulder, seeing Kyles eyes closed as he enjoys the steak.

"That has to be the best steak I've ever had..." The steak is so good he forgot his table manners, talking with food in his mouth. "I can't wait to brag about being your first ever taste tester when you start your famous cooking career."

"That's a no for me." You correct, grabbing the icing you made earlier, along with freshly cut strawberry's. "I just want to win a cooking competition to win 2 days paid time off."

"Oh you're winning, don't worry about that." He mumbles and brings another piece of a steak to his lips.

"What's that lovely smell?" A deeper voice comes from the entrance, standing there is John, snow on his hat and shoulders.

"Birdie cooked the best food ever." Kyle calls out before you can explain yourself. A bit of head rushes to your cheeks at the complement.

"I made way too much, so i hope you're hungry." You smile and walk back to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and putting the same food on there as before.

John doesn't even hesitate as he sits down next to the younger man, waiting for you to pass the plate. Just like Kyle, his mouth starts to water at the sight of the steak with the potatoes.

"This looks magnificent." He remarks as you hand him a knife and a fork.

"Taste it first, then you can give me feedback." You smile and get back to the cake, finishing up the icing as you hear another groan from the table. "Don't eat too much, there are two rounds of deserts."

"Two rounds? You're spoiling us, dove" John claims as he continuous to devour his food.

"Not complaining though." Kyle mumbles as he finishes his plate, quickly getting up to put it in the dishwasher. As he gets closer he sees the now finished cake, strawberry's on the top. He smiles and cleans his plate. "Good luck with that cake, it's Johnnys favorite, I'm giving him till midnight until it's fully gone."

"Speaking off, where is he? and Simon?" You question as you cut off two pieces of the cake, putting them on smaller plates and walking back to the table with Kyle.

"Last minute shopping for Tuesday, we have to leave again, remember?" The older man answers as he too finishes his plate, already looking at he cake.

Right. Sometimes you forget they actually have a job when they're at home for more than a week.

"I did forget." You hum and put the two cakes down, watching as both men immediately grab for one.

Like before, both of them groan as they swallow, apparently you're a really good cook. A small yawn escapes your lips, causing both men to look up.

"Getting tired? How long were you in the kitchen for?" Kyle asks, eyes on the clock on the wall.

"A while." You answer, making your way to the couch.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, your sleep schedule is already bad." John calls out as he watches you lay down and pull a blanket over your body.

"Just a few minutes" The words are mumbles, face pressed against a pillow.

The couch sinks near your head, a soft hand landing on your cheek. You've never fallen asleep faster.

"Be quiet." John calls out softly the moment the two missing house members enter through the front door.

Both man freeze mid step. Johnny holding his phone while Simon carries two bags. Not long after do they realize why.

You're asleep, blanket over your body, legs on Johns lap and head resting in Kyles lap, his hand stroking your hair softly.

"Aww.. look at 'er!" Johnny calls out, getting shushed by both men on the couch.

"Foods in the kitchen, she made steak, cupcakes and your favorite cake." John answers and watches the Scot almost run to the kitchen.

"Any special reason why?" Simon asks as he sets down the bags by the the table, quickly sitting down next to Kyle, who rests his head on his shoulder.

"Practicing for a cooking competition at work." Kyle answers and watches as Johnny walks back in with a piece of cake.

"She ruined me foe Military food." he claims, shoving another large bite down his throat.

a/n: not proofread...kinda gave up at the end...＞﹏＜

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #poly!141 #cod #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #john price #poly 141 #johnny mactavish #simon riley #kyle garrick

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iceunhie · 9 months ago

Text

— phaethetically in love !

premise. belle thinks her brother is the most oblivious person in sixth street. the reason? one: because his (super obvious) crush on you is practically the worst kept secret in new eridu, and two: because he can't even see that said crush is reciprocated! good thing he has one (1) amazing, wonderful, nosy sister to help him out, yeah?

or, belle thinks the two of you are a prime example of an s tier romance movie; and she really wants to skip to the final arc already.

pairing. wise x gn!reader.

warnings: kinda ooc wise (i just started the game), wise is a loser (lovingly), belle is an instigator (proudly), comedy, facepalm moments.

a/n: for @vxnuslogy and @milksnake-tea bc yes wise kissers yes

MY (rlly cool btw 🥺) MASTERLIST || INBOX !

“you're in love with [name], aren't you?”

like all siblings in the world—or what's left of it, belle schemes.

(against wise, of course. obviously.)

her brother bursts into a mess immediately, nearly spilling his cup ramen all over his new shirt, chopsticks sticking out. laughing nervously. general chop would not be proud. “who told you that? i mean— haha, who said that, belle?”

his sister rolls her eyes. “me, myself. i.” she emphasizes, leaning her elbows against the table and putting her palms together; the grin she wears right now is so serene, but not in the angelic, nice way. belle smiles and wise finally thinks, oh. my sister may need to book herself to the closest self-help guru in new eridu.

“i have reason to believe that you, my dearest brother, are in love with [name].”

her voice goes up an octave at the last bit, leading wise to stuff her mouth with potato chips. already, heads have turned. “mff.”

“keep your voice down! and stop broadcasting it to everyone here-”

“what, i am right, aren't i? they clearly like you back, so why haven't you confessed yet?”

“keep. your. voice. down.” wise says, and belle's shit eating grin only widens as she sees her brother's ears tinged with pink. “and... how did you even know that?” he asks, mortified.

“well, one: because it's obvious—like, have you seen how obvious you are?” belle huffs, taking a bite of the potato chip with force (personal grudges are involved). “and two, because they like you back, dummy!”

because when belle sees the two of you together, it's like wise focuses on no one else. you are the center of his world—and he is just being pulled to bask in your light. his eyes soften like they melt only for you, and wise looks like all he is is, all he wants to be, is to belong with you.

(and, wise likes to stare at you for ungodly amounts of time. belle even caught him staring when you were petting a cat by the street and decided to name the stray ‘wise’; courtesy of him, apparently. the cat literally just had grey fur.

“wise.”

“hm?”

“you're practically spawning heart eyes now.”)

it's sickening. (in a oh my god my brother is in love kind of way, mind you.)

“so!” belle says, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. “allow your dearest sister to help you out, 'kay?”

wise nearly coughs up blood.

“what?!”

so at present, belle compiles her (hastily written) list of romantic moments you and wise have shared. she's not surprised—the number can be counted on one hand. diabolical, disappointing, world-ending! she resists the urge to cough up blood.

first, a coff cafe date with tin man's help: a fail. tin man's wingman capabilities were very superb, but she never heard the end of it when wise was lecturing her about how tin man kept sending over heart shaped desserts and little fortune cookies. the fortune cookies in question which said ‘you can do it!’ and a latte with art of caricature tin man making a heart. (you were very confused). belle thought it was motivating. wise thought it was mortifying.

next, even instilling help from fairy to calculate statistics about what event would you two be likely to be together. fairy said, and belle quotes: “probably never. that kind of pining's for the long run, with the other master's current experience. give it a year or six, master.”

so, she's currently face-palming.

did her brother really have zero game? why were the two of you just dancing around each other?! she's tried everything—from letting you two spend more time with each other in commissions, her inviting you over more to leave you to chat with her brother, and even the entirety of sixth street has lent their aid! how were you two not dating yet?!

“didn't they go on an arcade date at random play yesterday?” belle mutters. “that should've increased your progress by a long mile, bro! even general chop said you two were really, really close in the noodle shop....”

just what was she going to do now? at this rate, her brother would be relationshipless in no time! in fairy's words again, it would be phaethetic. and that would be a phaethal blow on her pride.

“...master, i said no such thing.”

“well, now you did.”

“The Ethereal Reckoning,” there's a pep in your step, the boxes full of movie DVDs in your arms as you walk back to the movie store. it was heavy, but at least you got to walk with the grey-haired proxy beside you. “That movie was great! Thanks for recommending it to me.”

Sporting a dopey, lovesick grin in response, wise nods at that, content to listen to your voice. it was actually belle's idea to let you lend movies you like over so the two of you could talk about it back and forth. wise would need to (begrudgingly) treat her to a bowl of ramen later on.... she saved him—he probably wouldn't even be talking to you for this long at this point, let alone hang out with you without her. for someone so nosy, he guesses his sister was a pretty good wingwoman.

“the main character was pretty similar to billy, you know?” you ramble on as wise listens. “i mean, because they were an android too, and...”

he finds that he's content to listen to anything you say, really. (right now he doesn't really know what you're saying, something about a horror ethereal movie, but you could just tell him anything and he would listen).

“i feel like the heroine's death was unnecessary, though.” you sigh, “too much tension just for it to end like that? how anticlimactic.”

your voice was so nice, so warm and easy to listen to, and wise can't even say anything to retort, simply staring with a growing (lovesick) smile on his face. talking to people was hard work, and talking to you? it might just make him combust.

“...ise? wise?”

“ah, huh?” he snaps out of his trance, only to find you mere inches away from his face, the only thing keeping you apart the boxes full of movies he's carrying. “...!”

“are you listening?” you furrow, and someone really might be out to get him right now because in that moment, wise flinches from the proximity, bumping into you.

then, because the universe thinks his life couldn't get more dramatic than it already was—you stagger, about to fall forward.

he moves before he thinks. “watch out!”

and wise.... practically astral-projects to another plane when he feels you fall into his arms, his hands on your waist. he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, the flustered look on your face. (he feels like he's going to die).

the two of you lock eyes for a moment, and wise feels like he's about to so something very stupid and his hands are still on your waist—

“....”

“.....”

someone save him.

“ah...”

“sorry!” you recover first, hurriedly letting yourself pull away from him (much to his disappointment). “i wasn't looking, and i- are you okay, wise?”

“no, no, it's fine.... i-i'm fine....” he hopes his voice isn't as small as it is, he couldn't be smooth to save his life; and wise helps you gather your bearings, his hands brushing against yours, blood rushing to his ears. sheepishly rubbing at his nape. “sorry, i was distracted.”

perhaps in the mood to lift the atmosphere, you sputter out, “no worries! it's fine! besides, you listened to me all this time.... i really enjoyed the movie, really.”

“of course i'll listen.” and before wise can think to stop his traitor of a mouth, the words spill out of his lips like it always wanted to be.

“you're worth paying attention to.”

it's automatic—your face heats up, warming like the sun on a hot day in new eridu, and god, he is such an idiot-

“you think so?” wise gulps. you looked bashful, and were way too adorable right now, and his face felt like it was on fire.... wait, that's not the point! he has to answer you, at least. this is a chance to make progress!

“y-yeah. definitely. i enjoyed... watching the movie with you.” he says. did his voice just crack just now? “we can hang out more often too, even without belle.”

he feels bad for throwing his sister under the bus like that, but—wait, did he just ask you out on a date? (accidentally)

well, it didn't matter because wise feels like he won the lottery right now, because you brighten up immediately. “really?”

then you cough and compose yourself. “i mean, sure! i'm sure it'll be fun, haha...”

awkward silence ensues. uh oh, did he say something wrong? was he too forward? he wants to say something, but something is lodged in his throat, and wise can't bring up a response. (his heart was beating like crazy right now, though).

“uh...”

“....”

then, something soft brushes against the side of his cheek. as fast as it was felt, wise felt the sensation leave just as easily. did you just-?

you just kissed him. on the cheek.

“thanks for hanging out with me, wise.”

“you're welcome- wha- huh?!” he nearly drops the stack of dvd's he was holding. you pull away, an enigmatic smile on your face. face flushed.

before he can even respond, the two of you finally arrive at the movie store. damn it, gods of the world. why did his luck run out now?

“i guess this is your stop.” he blinks, your voice coming back to him. “and, wise?”

“ah, uh, yeah?”

“it's a date, then?” your eyes sparkle and shine a light through his heart. super effective!

is this really happening? is he really going on a date with you—oh, he's so thrilled he could actually burst into song and kick his feet, but belle would tease him ruthlessly after. nosy sisters were so much work....

“yes!” he almost yells it out, but because he didn't want to look uncool in front of you, wise composes himself. play it cool, play it cool. don't mess up this chance! “yes, definitely. it's... it's a date.”

you put down the other stack of dvd's down the table, flashing him a dizzying, lovely smile smile. wise swears he falls even harder for you.

“then it's a date.”

BONUS.

“seriously?! you're going on a date with them?!” belle shouts, so unceremoniously that wise slaps a hand on her mouth.

“not so loud! but, yeah.” he says, face heating up. “your plan worked, sis.”

“yes! yes! finally!” his sister practically cheers, “i can finally be free of your sickening heart eyes... and finally, our street's most anticipated couple is here!”

wise can't help but sigh in fond exasperation. he guesses he'll let her have this one today.

“also, belle?”

“what?”

“you didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”

...

“uhh....”

(on the day of the date, wise receives an abnormal amount of good luck posters. he also gets a disturbing amount of thumbs up from the neighbors.

the last straw? tin man, giving him a baked cake with the words ‘rooting for you!’ covered in pink heart sprinkles.

he facepalms. belle...!)

a/n: d d do you guys get it..... phaethetically...... phaethon..... wise is phaethon and he's awkward in love lol hahahahaha (💀)

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #wise x reader #zenless zone zero wise x reader #zzz wise x reader #zenless zone zero #zzzero #zzz #self insert #x yn #copied illu's tags for this i love u user milksnake-tea (milk 😼)

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thanksbutno98 · 2 months ago

Text

Foxes

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price has to break out his military training to keep his property safe from foxes hunting his chickens; and maybe something else hunting his wife.

Warnings: Guns, allusions to stalking, stalking, PTSD, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of gun violence, hunting, animal deaths, sexual themes, swearing, not edited.

——————

Your music was blasting and feeling as good as you did you were belting out the words this warm summer day. It didn’t matter if you sounded good, you loved this song. And everyone in the neighborhood was going to know it. With the open windows and backdoor your sweet tunes were bound to be carried on the brisk summer breeze.

Dancing around your kitchen in your bare feet, athletic shorts and a baby blue t-shirt you continued to sing while you cooked lunch. A nice and easy air fried fish fingers, chips, and a summer salad was on the menu as requested by John. Taking the metal tongs for the air fryer you used them as a microphone and tried to moonwalk horribly. You were quite the sight to see. Making an absolute fool of yourself in the privacy of your home.

If John were inside instead of tending to the chickens he would be showing you how to actually moonwalk. He surprisingly was a great dancer and had a decent singing voice. Jj got John’s ability to sing, the young boy was quite talented musically.

“You’re so weird!” Jj, your son walked into the kitchen and then stared at you in horror. All he wanted to know was when lunch would be ready, not witness his mother dancing like a fool.

His judgmental stare didn’t stop you. It simply made you dance in his direction and wave him over to join you. At twelve years old you would think he would have a sense of humor; but alas you were no longer funny. With a look of disgust he backed away from you.

“C’mon sing, dance with me.” You tried to grab him to dance with you and he practically jumped away from you.

“Ew! Stop! You’re so embarrassing!” The way he purposefully deepened his voice only egged you on.

“C’mon Jj, don’t be a spoil sport.” Evelyn your ten year old daughter slid into the kitchen on her lime green socked feet.

She then immediately broke out into the running man. She too looked just as awkward as you but was having a good time. Waving your son off, a duet between you and your daughter broke out in the kitchen. You both sounded horrible singing at the tops of your lungs and having a dance battle.

That was until the sound of gunshots rang out.

All three of you screamed. You had both your children by the collars of their shirts and yanked them to the floor with you. Jj banged his knee against the tile while Evelyn dropped like a sack of potato’s. The fancy speaker your husband John Price had gotten you for your birthday continued on. That song you loved so much coming to an end and rolling into an equally good one.

Your mind played tricks on you for a split second. It felt like sweltering heat of the desert sun, dry air, and smelling of your vanilla perfume and burnt coffee. The memory of the day you were kidnapped at a dig sight almost paralyzed you but the need to protect your children out weighed the flashback.

“Get in the basement, don’t make a sound. Go into my office and lock the door. I’m going to get Lily, do not open that door for anyone but me or your father.” You ordered your children. Your words left no room for discussion.

Putting your children behind your back you walked them to the basement door trying to shield them from the large open glass double doors that lead to your back yard. Your eyes scanned the area trying to see if anyone was there. The shots were so close it was clear to you they came from the woods in the distance of your property.

“Molly mum.” Jj softly whispered to you.

Your motherly instincts were in full swing as you rushed your children down the basement stairs. You could see Evelyn was so terrified she was shaking and you expected that from any child. Only your son was calm and collected, taking his sister’s hand and doing exactly what you said.

Sprinting upstairs you found your daughter still asleep in her bed for her nap. Thankfully your dog Molly was asleep with her. You grabbed Lily and her blanket, then clasped Molly by the collar and ran back downstairs. Halfway down the stairs you heard another gunshot ring out. This one was significantly closer to your home, sounding as if it came from the tree line of the nearby forest in your back yard. It made the air around you still, becoming suffocating and silence sounding deafening.

Lily was disoriented and struggled for you to put her down but you didn’t. You cooed and soothed her to the best of your ability. After a long moment of silence you then ran for the basement door at the back of the house.

The basement consisted of two rooms that were separated by a foundational wall that bisected your home. The first room was John’s office and home gym. The office with his mahogany desk, book shelves, and Cheshire couch were to the left of the stairs. Past that toward the back of the house was where his weights and other workout machinery was.

At the bottom of the stairs and straight ahead was the door to your office. It was a beautiful juniper green that had become weathered over time. Your office was rectangular like John’s but had much more space since it encompassed the front portion of your home. You had rugs from your travels laid out, the old dining room set, old living room couch, your desk, book cases, and other supplies so you could work from home.

On your decent into the basement, Molly brushed by you causing your foot to slip off that one stair that had a knack for taking you down. Your ass collided hard with the old wooden stair and you slid down the latter half of the stairs on your back. You kept Lily secure to your chest and ignored the pain of having fallen down the stairs.

Back on your feet and breathing heavily you were at the juniper green door that lead into your office. Knocking quietly you heard a squeak and something shuffle.

“It’s me. Open up.” You whispered. The lock clicked and the door opened soon after.

Jj looked at you with an expression you were accustom to seeing on his father’s face. Stoic, calm, under complete control of his emotions. Which was stranger for a twelve year old but he was his father’s son. You handed Jj Lily and he had to wrap both arms around her so her legs were dangling while you corralled Molly into your office. Jj took his youngest sister and brought her to the corner of your office where Evelyn was sitting with a large blanket.

Your children huddled together as your violently shaking hands took a chair and angled it under the door knob. You were then quietly searching the utility closet for something to wield in case you needed a weapon. After searching frantically you found your old baseball bat and stared at it for a moment.

Your breathing began to pick up as you looked at the light wood of the bat with scratches and chips in the laminate coating. Chest heaving, head pounding, and sweaty hands, you began to nod at the blunt object. You were preparing yourself to have to use this if someone broke in. Because no matter how terrified you felt in this moment you had to protect your children.

“Darling!” Your husband’s gruff voice called from upstairs. It was such a relief to hear him that you didn’t pick up on his jovial tone.

“Thank god.” The words tumbled out.

Leaning against the cool stone wall, that suffocating feeling began to dissipate gradually because John was here to protect you; more importantly protect your children. You knew nothing would hurt you or your children as long as John was here. You were so confident of that, you would bet your life on it. John being in the house had to mean he dealt with the gun shots from whoever was crazy enough to go on a shooting spree.

You took a centering breath so John wouldn’t judge you for how frantic you were. It was important to you that he was confident in your ability to keep your children safe. He had set so many precautions and you followed this one flawlessly; besides grabbing a gun from his safe. But the biggest caveat was, you were to stay calm at all times so you could be clear headed; and that wasn’t part of your nature. Opening the door once you felt a little more steady, you called up to John.

“Is it safe to come out?” You asked, voice still shaky.

There was a beat of silence as the basement door opened allowing a stream of warm afternoon light to flow down the old rickety stairs.

“Safe?” John’s boots loudly thudded against the stairs as he came halfway down. Ducking his head so he could see the room clearly he had a quizzical look on his face as you emerged from your office.

“Yeah. Did you not hear all that? Some lunatic was shooting in the forest behind the house.” You were completely exasperated with John for not knowing what you were talking about.

He was out there for Christ sake. For someone who was in the military you thought gun shots would be pretty distinctive. Or maybe he was so use to them he hardly noticed.

John stared at you blankly.

“Uh, that was me. Finally killed those damn foxes going after the chickens.” The words were raspy and unsure.

John hadn’t taken into consideration your reaction to hearing gunshots. He was much more concerned on keeping the chickens safe.

Another beat of silence.

“What is WRONG with you!?” You yelled so loud you made Lily shriek behind you.

“What? They killed another chicken this morning, making it three total.” John looked utterly perplexed by your outburst. You told him to keep the chickens safe, and now that he was you were mad at him.

“Go on you three. Everything’s fine. Your dad was the one shooting a GUN that close to the house.” Jj was snickering at his dad getting scolded by you. Meanwhile your girls were shaken up.

“Wicked dad. Can I come next time?” Jj was the first to emerge, all sparkly eyed and looking to his father.

“Of course you can. Not sure if your mum will string me up by the ankles for it.” The snarky comment had you doubling down.

“I told you to keep the chickens safe, not start killing wild animals trying to survive!” You half shrieked being unbelievably upset with John’s lack of gun safety with children around. John didn’t seem to take much notice to your outburst and went back upstairs with Jj.

“I think dad and Jj have gone mad.” Evelyn whispered to you and you agreed.

Lily was tugging on your shirt so you would picked her back up so you did. You crouched down and hugged your girls. It seemed like you three were the only ones reacting like human beings to this. After a good hug and some calming breaths you made sure they were both okay and headed upstairs. Once upstairs John tried to give you a kiss which you dodged. You went back to the kitchen and checked on lunch.

“Darling, I know you grew up in the city but huntings normal around here.” John chuckled at you.

He loved when you got like this; pouty and ready to give him a hard time. Seeing you all riled up over something he deemed as innocuous tickled him. You found John condescending in moments like this because he found you so utterly endearing that it dismissed your frustration with him.

“You’re a lunatic.” You said matter of factly.

“Not my fault you Americans have such shite gun laws you panic at the sound.” You did not appreciate John’s dig.

He was completely right though. If you weren’t from the States you wondered if you would have freaked out so intensely. To you, guns going off meant hide for cover because someone was trying to make the news.

“Put the gun away.” You ordered your husband who was still chuckling at you. He walked over to take his plate for lunch but you snatched it and took it away from him.

“Away. Now.” You demanded. Holding his food hostage seemed to do the trick because after an incredulous eye roll John went downstairs to put his gun in the safe.

“Where are the foxes?” Jj asked you as he took his plate off the counter.

“How would I know.” You gave Jj a flat look which made him grin.

Now he was teasing you and you did not appreciate his father’s influence on him. John was grinning as he came up the stairs, having heard Jj giving you a hard time. After ruffling the boys hair John spoke.

“On the patio.” John motioned to four dead foxes getting blood all over the stone.

“Ew.” Lily wiggled to be put down and ran to the open back door.

She stared at the foxes quietly. One of her hands was playing with her left pigtail while the other reached out aimlessly for anyone’s hand to hold. You were expecting a much larger reaction from her. Lily was soft and sweet, dead animals normally upset her. She cried for an hour once when there was a dead pigeon at the park. Yet seeing dead foxes didn’t seem to bother her.

“Which chicken did they get?” Evelyn asked now standing next to Lily and taking her hand, the two of them staring at the dead foxes.

“Why are none of you reacting to dead animals!? Am I in the twilight zone!?” Throwing your hands in the air you felt crazy.

Even Evelyn had no reaction. You were expecting her to go start poking them with a stick or asking a million questions. But none of your children were upset, they treated this like an ordinary thing. As if you told them about the weather and you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you.

“Pepper.” John’s response made Lily shriek at the top of her lungs. It had everyone but John jumping.

“NOT PEPPER!” Falling to her knees Lily started to hysterically cry while also screaming dramatically.

It looked as if she were melting into a puddle with her fingers laced in her hair and sapphire eyes streaming with tears. It was quite the performance, she was putting Leonardo DiCaprio to shame with this meltdown.

Pepper was Lily’s favorite chicken, so this was going to be tough. The reaction you expected for the dead foxes came in full swing at the news you all lost Pepper. Lily was shrill and inconsolable as Evelyn kneeled on the floor with her little sister and hugged her.

“You can handle all that.” You took your hand and motioned to Lily’s utter histrionics as your doorbell rang.

You had a sinking feeling one of your neighbors were here to ask what the hell was wrong with your husband. But when you opened the door it was so much worse.

“Hello ma’am. I’m Officer Parker.” The police officer at your front door seemed unamused to be here.

He was tall like John, but not as handsome. It was definitely a ‘type’ kind of thing because the man was still good looking. Officer Parker had dark silver hair and five o’clock shadow. Despite his hair color he couldn’t be older than John, he even looked a few years younger. The sharp jawline, thick eyebrows, and peachy skin paired well together. His hazel eyes were stern and serious like a man of the militaries would be; not what you assumed a police officer was like. He was slender with an athletic physique with muscles not as large as Johns but they were still prevalent in his uniform.

“Hi, Y/N Price.” You felt like you looked guilty and you did.

Lily’s screams echoed down the hallway making the officer look over your head trying to asses if everything was okay. Gun shots and a screaming child wasn’t a good look for your family.

“Gotten some reports of gun shots. Been told the man who lives here is military and wanted to make sure everything’s all right.” The officer sounded like he was already accusing you of something.

But then his hazel eyes softened for a second seeing you go from nervous to defeated. That’s when he noticed you were quite beautiful. There was a sweetness that naturally exuded off of you and those eyes of yours were almost as bright as the summer sun.

“John! Police are here for you.” You half yelled for your husband to come deal with this.

Hearing you call for a man had the officer feeling somewhat deflated. He knew a man in the military lived here but was hoping he was of no relation to you. There was a small hope you were a guest of this home, not the mother of that screaming child and wife to the oaf shooting a gun for god knows why.

As you turned and waited for the man you called, Officer Parker took in your appearance. You were dressed in cute little black athletic shorts that ended just after the plump roundness of your bum. Your baby blue t-shirt was loose everywhere but your chest, fitting nicely over the curve of your breasts. With your hair tied back he could see the slender curve of your neck and that even from behind you were utterly gorgeous.

John appeared walking down the hallway towards the front door. Officer Parker wanted to roll his eyes at the sight of Captain Price. Of course this man had to be big, bold, and British. He looked like the type of rugged man that would have a woman like you swooning over him.

“She’s gonna need to cry it out.” John nodded his head towards Lily who could now be seen at the end of the hallway next to the kitchen, lying on her back. She was crying up at the ceiling with her small hands over her face.

“Pepper.” The guttural cries continued to echo down the hall as Lily called for her deceased chicken.

“She okay?” Officer Parker asked you.

“Yeah. Her favorite chicken got eaten by some foxes and she taking the news pretty hard.” Scratching the back of your head you gave the officer an apologetic smile.

God, he found you beautiful. Few words were exchanged but you were endearing and kind; that was obvious. There was something about you that was magnetic and had him enamored although no one could tell.

“How can we help you?” John was picking up on a strange vibe but wasn’t sure what it was. The officer at his door was as stoic as himself and John wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Hello sir. Reports of gunshots, know anything about it?” Without missing a beat officer Parker was back to the task at hand.

“Shot a couple foxes that were killing my chickens.” John spoke matter of factly, not knowing why that warranted police to show up.

“DADDY!!! PEPPER!!” Lily screamed in John’s direction but John ignored her. You couldn’t get yourself to respond either. Lily needed to work this one out since you and John were busy.

“Do you have a license.” The officer lightly chuckled at the little girl having an absolute meltdown over a chicken.

“Here.” Reaching into his back pocket John grabbed his wallet and handed over his hunting license.

Looking it over carefully, Officer Parker then leaned to the side to look between you and John. Down the hall he now saw two older children trying to console their hysterical little sister. The older little girl grabbed her smaller sister’s ankles while the boy grabbed her arms. They picked her up like a rag doll and carried her out of sight.

“No more shooting. Got it?” Keeping his eyes cast down the hall Officer Parker then saw the pile of dead foxes on your patio. Now with the story corroborated he handed John his hunting license back.

“Why!?” John’s strong reaction made your jaw drop.

What did he mean ‘why’?

“It’s a residential area. There are families and children around. Don’t do it again.” Officer Parker spoke evenly but you could tell he didn’t see why he even had to explain this.

“So the next time foxes are killing my chickens I just let them?” John was indignant and heating up to argue with the officer.

“Build a taller fence.” The response was short and to the point.

It was a fair response that had you nodding in agreeance. John didn’t respond but shut the door in the officers face. The abrupt reaction made you gasp.

“That was rude.” You were shocked at John’s curt behavior. John ignored you and locked the door. The look on his face was mean with his eyebrows knit together and lips fixed in a tight line.

“You know, for someone who’s a Captain in the military you’ve got a real problem with authority.” Challenging your husband didn’t seem to affect him as he moved to go check on the crying that was now off in the distance for some reason.

“I should be able to shoot on my own damn property.” John threw the comment over his shoulder.

“You have to know how ridiculous you sound.” You laughed in disbelief.

Opening the front door back up you saw the officer heading back to his car.

“Sorry about him! It won’t happen again!” You called to the man and waved goodbye.

That seemed to tickle Officer Parker because he smiled and laughed. The seriousness from before seemed to fade in your presence. He looked handsome with a smile and not so stern. There was a charming nature about him, one that was disarming and alluring.

“Keep him in line. I’d hate to come out here again.” The joke felt a bit flirtatious but you ignored that and waved goodbye.

You weren’t sure he’d hate having to stop by again from the way he spoke. A little flirting was a good ego boost especially in a harmless moment like this. It’s not like you’d ever see the man again.

Turning back, John had his eyes cut at you. You thought he would’ve been in the kitchen at this point but he clearly was suspicious of you.

“And you have an inclination for men of authority.” There was an accusation in those words that you decided to ignore.

“I do. But apparently I like gun wielding lunatics.” The cheeky comment got you a firm smack to the ass that made you yelp in surprise.

“As you should.” John’s flirtation was a lot more successful than the officers. It left you giving him a kiss and then ordering him to build a taller fence.

“Build a taller fence and please don’t do that again. Our neighbors probably hate us.” As you spoke John nudged you with his shoulder which had you instantly wrapping yourself around his muscular arm.

“Darling, I have a gun. They’re too scared to hate us.” The joke had you rolling your eyes. John chucked and kissed the top of your head sweetly.

Walking into your kitchen you saw your two oldest children sitting at the kitchen table eating their lunch. They were chatting about who would take the dead foxes, Ghost or Soap. You could faintly hear Lily crying but she was no where in sight.

“Where’s your sister?” John asked, he didn’t seem too worried as he started eating his own lunch while he brought it to the table.

“Laundry room.” Evelyn pointed at the shut laundry room door at the corner of the kitchen next to the pantry.

“What!?” You dashed for the laundry room to find your four year old lying in a basket of clean towels, hugging one to her chest and lightly sobbing while she whispered Pepper’s name.

“We couldn’t enjoy our lunch with her screaming like that.”

——————

“Hello, Mrs. Price.” The same officer as last time was at your door again.

He had a charming smile, seemingly amused to see you. The summer day was a lot hotter than the last. This left you trying anything to beat the heat. You had just slipped your two piece bathing suit on under your crop top and bicycle shorts. A dip in the pond would be nice and you promised Lily she could swim with you.

“I’m so sorry.” You sighed heavily already knowing why he was here.

“Where is he?” The officer also seemed annoyed by John but not by you.

It was a surprise to Officer Parker to be back at your house not even two days later. Normally he’d hate having to have a repeat visit, but not with you. The fact you seemed so displeased with your husband would hopefully bode well for him; because he wanted to make a pass before he left here today. He wanted to see if the stereotype of military wives being lonely and unsatisfied was true.

“I don’t think he’ll be coming to the door.” You spoke meekly.

John made it crystal clear last night that those foxes killing the chickens had it coming. You bent his ear about gun safety but it clearly didn’t get through to him. He ended up shutting you up with some groveling on his knees and mouth between your thighs.

“Well I need to speak to him.” By the way the officer spoke you could tell he would rather not, but unfortunately he had to do his job.

“He’s around back.” You stepped out onto the porch and motioned with your hand.

You did not want to deal with this. John got himself into this mess and he could deal with it on his own.

“A woman like you’s okay with him shooting while you have young children around?” The officer seemed to be trying to get you on his side.

You agreed with him but there was a twinkle in his eye you caught on to. He fancied you, and you could tell. Although you had no interest and were clearly married that didn’t stop the subtle flirting.

You were flattered but weren’t going to give him anymore attention than necessary. It was funny to you because he reminded you of Soap, in that charming lovable kind of way. And like Soap, Officer Parker seemed capable of getting laid by any other woman who wasn’t you.

“No, but they think it’s cool. We’ve got one chicken left standing and they want their dad to protect Nancy at all cost.” You shrugged not sure what else to say. You’d lost this battle with John as soon as the children took his side.

“Nancy?” He asked with a snort.

“My middle named her.” You smiled softly.

“And the others?” The officer was intrigued what other names your chickens had.

“Well they’re all dead now. But it was Pepper, Match Box, Dinner, and Pancake.” Leaning against the front door frame you gave into having a chat instead of doing some proofreading for work.

“Dinner?” The officer let out a loud laugh. He was hoping you were the one to come up with that name. It would mean you were funny and gorgeous.

“Yeah, that was my husband.” You snickered.

Officer Parker’s laughter died down, no longer finding the name funny.

“Speaking of, going to give him a last warning.” Taking a step back Officer Parker was about to head around your house to scold your husband.

“Good luck with that.” You meant it, John had his heels dug in on this one.

“Think he’ll listen.” With a smirk the officer asked you. The look slowly slid off his face at your lack of response.

You stared at him, mulling over his question. The officer watched your eyes glaze over for a moment as if you were lost in a memory. You stayed like that, spaced out, until he cleared his throat and you seemingly snapped back into reality.

“What was the question?” You asked.

You had been searching your brain for a time John listened to someone willingly, who wasn’t you. John didn’t like being told what to do unless he agreed with what it was. Still he could be obstinate if rubbed the wrong way but usually came around when it was you asking. And even then he tended to do what he thought best and ignored you when he wanted to. John didn’t take well to rules or orders which was surprising that he wound up in the military.

“Never mind. Fine if I go around back.” Pointing toward your yard Officer Parker began to jog down the front stairs.

“Yeah, go ahead.” With a heavy sigh you went to shut your front door.

“Oh, and ma’am I completely forgot to mention. I saw a young man in his mid twenties rummaging through your mail box. He said he was family.” Officer Parker walked back to the bottom of your staircase as he told you.

“What’d he look like? Got a Mohawk?” You were taken aback and stepped back out on your front porch.

“No, Mohawk. Black hair, nondescript, buggy looking eyes. He seemed a bit off, barely blinked- which was odd.” He told you casually. It was assumed you would know exactly who he was talking about.

“No. Doesn’t sound like any family of mine. My husband’s the better person to ask.” Finding this out had your forehead creasing from stress.

The last thing you needed was some creep sniffing around your children. John would go ballistic and definitely threaten someone with his gun if not blow their brains out.

“Said his last name was- ah bloody hell I can’t remember. It just wasn’t Price.” Running his finger through his hair Officer Parker tried to remember the last name he was given.

“Was it Y/L/N?” You asked.

“Yes, it was.” With a snap of his fingers Parker pointed to you.

“Fuck, that’s my maiden name. I don’t get any mail with that name anymore so I don’t know how anyone would know that.” This was officially creeping you out. No one here knew your maiden name besides the people at work.

“Strange. Keep an eye out. I will too.” The fact officer Parker didn’t seem too worried didn’t help you.

If anything you would want the police worried about a strange man going through people’s mailboxes in a neighborhood with a lot of children. Especially since your maiden name was used, it meant this person was looking for you or your children. Nothing like this had ever happened around here before. So you made a mental note to text a few of your neighbors to give them a heads up. You just hoped they didn’t call you out for the gun shots.

“Thank you.” You tried to sound calm although you felt a tightness in your chest.

“Of course, ma’am.” Giving you a cordial smile Parker went to go confront your husband.

The walk to the far right corner of your property was much farther than Officer Parker realized. Your property was huge now that he had a better look. Your red farm house sat atop a hill far from the street. To the right was your driveway and a sloping hill your kids would sled down in the winter. Once at the back of your house there were acres of land including a pond and forest.

The forest ran from the front of your property and surrounded it on all sides. The land behind your house was about the size of three soccer fields until it reached the pond that was to the far left and down a slight slope. There was even land around the pond but it was surrounded by tall grass in those areas showing how your family and children tended to not go over there.

In the far right corner near the edge of the woods was the chicken coop surrounded by a low estate styled fence. It was no wonder the chickens were being picked off by foxes with the coop being that close to the forest. Once over there Officer Parker got a better view of John Price and his three children around the coop. There was an old beat up truck a few yards away with the bed opened and a bunch of empty crates. A man with a Mohawk was taking the dead fox and tossing them into the bed and closing things up.

“Captain Price, there’s been another complaint about guns going off.” Officer Parker called from a distance away as he approached.

John looked up from the center of the fenced in area around the coop where he had just placed a white chicken down. John was dressed in dirty jeans that had a layer of dust and dirt on them. His white long sleeve matched the dirt of his jeans along with his brown work gloves. There was a faded beige boonie hat that sat atop his head that Officer Parker thought looked ridiculous.

“Why are you on my property?” John half demanded to know. He knew why but was not about to admit to it.

John’s two little girls stared intently at the police officer. Meanwhile Jj was spreading feed for the new chickens not paying him any mind. This was the first good look Officer Parker was getting at your children. The boy was a spitting image of his father while your middle was your mini me. The youngest who was pretending like he didn’t exist was a good mix of you and your husband. She looked like John in the eyes and nose but had your lips, hair type, and shorter stature. She also seemed more like you than either of her siblings, there was a natural sweetness to her. Whereas the two older seemed a lot like their father purely based off the way they sized Officer Parker up a he got closer. This only proved the Officer knew very little about you. Your kids could be spitfires, clever, and cheeky which they had inherited from you.

“OoOoooO, you’re in trouble.” Evelyn teased her father.

“I wanna name that one Salt!” Lily was pointing at the all white hen John had bought to replace her favorite one who died; Pepper. Her hand was stuck through a hole in the chicken wire and she quickly pulled it back when one of the chickens tried to peck her.

“No, Nancy! You have to behave.” Lily scolded the tawny brown chicken who then stared her down.

“Daddy. Nancy’s looking at me funny.” Lily whined which made her father chuckle.

“Don’t mess with her Lily. She’ll take your fingers off if given the chance.” The teasing tone put a frown on the little girl face. Soon enough she was hiding behind her big sister who was beaming like the sun.

“She’s my favorite.” Evelyn pointed to Nancy as she spoke to Officer Parker.

“The mean one’s your favorite?” Soap asked with a boisterous laugh. Evelyn shook her head proudly.

“Of course she is Suds!” Evelyn giggled while she bounced up and down.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. You three better get in to as much trouble as you can while I’m gone.” Soap pointed at the Price children who all gave him giant smiles.

“Tell Leena we say hello. Oh, and stop sleeping with Y/N friends, I think she’s getting ready to murder you.” John chuckled as he tried to convince Soap of something you had been on his case about.

With a laugh Soap waved Price off and got into his truck. The Price children yelled their goodbyes and Soap honked a few times as he drove off. Lily started to tear up at Soaps departure since he was one of her favorite people.

“Why are you here?” John asked the officer again but his focus was on the sniffling four year old. John walked over and whispered something to her that seemed to cheer her up.

“Your wife told me you were back here.” Officer Parker spoke to John but had his attention stolen as Lily ran to the back pack Soap left behind and fished through it.

“Traitor.” John mumbled under his breath. A second later Lily was running back with candy bars. She stopped and meekly offered a Milky bar to the police officer. That one was her least favorite but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Please don’t be cross with my daddy.” She whispered so quietly it was barely audible and then ran off back to her big sister. They tore into the different candy bars while Officer Parker slid the sweet into his back pocket for later.

“Have you seen anyone lurking around your property, Captain Price?” The question had John perking up.

“No.” John didn’t break eye contact.

There was no way someone would be lurking around John’s property without him knowing. Normally it would never happen but it was especially true now with how vigilant John had been due to the foxes.

“Any of you see anyone you don’t know? Or even a neighbor who doesn’t usually stop by hanging around?” Looking at the young children’s faces they were clearly searching their memories for anything like that.

“When I took Molly for a walk this morning I saw Mr. Patterson at the mailbox. Mum said he wrote us a nasty note yesterday so I thought he was leaving another and avoided him like you told me to.” Jj looked at John and recounted this to the officer.

John was shocked by that. He didn’t know about any nasty note or that Jj had seen their neighbor at the house. Mr. Patterson was not a fan of your family, in fact John would go as far as to say the man hated you all. He was an older man whose nephew lived with him and took care of him and his property.

You told John that the nephew gave you the creeps. It was to the point you and John advised your children to steer clear of him. That they were never to stop and chat or go near that house. Nothing had truly ever happened but even John saw what you were talking about. The young man was odd and John didn’t like the way he stared at Evelyn one time when John and her went for a walk around the neighborhood.

“I told your wife but a young man in his mid to early twenties who was going through your mailbox. Claimed to be related to your wife.” Officer Parker reiterated.

“Dark hair, looks like he could be anybody, and crazy fucking eyes?” John asked. He used his pointer and middle finger to aggressively gesture to his own eyes.

“I see you know exactly who I’m talking about.” The men shared a knowing look as if to say they agreed that this man had to be trouble.

“Patterson’s nephew. You probably want to keep an eye on him.” John told him. Officer Parker nodded in understating.

“I saw him too.” Lily spoke quietly.

That was a lot more alarming to John than Jj seeing anything. Lily was four and you two hardly let her out of your sight. How on earth did she see the nephew and John and you hadn’t?

“Where?” John asked trying not to sound forceful so Lily wouldn’t clam up.

“The shop! Mummy was talking to Siobhan’s mummy about uncle Soap never calling her back. I think they had a sleepover or something. Siobhan’s mummy was really sad about it. I think she-“ John cut Lily’s tangent off.

“What did Patterson’s nephew do?” It was hard not to laugh at all the unnecessary details Lily offered up.

“He waved at me.” Lily recounted the memory at the shop from a few days ago.

“What did you do?” John had to push down the anger building up knowing, that creep had waved to his daughter.

“Cried.” Lily spoke matter of factly as she took another bite of her sweet.

That checked out. John remembered you saying Lily had a meltdown at the shop because someone looked at her funny. It must’ve been the neighbor.

“Dad can we name that one Patrick.” Evelyn interrupted and pointed to a brown hen while snacking on a chocolate bar.

“Hens are girls.” The officer informed her.

“So?” She cocked her head to the side confused.

“Hey!” Lily whined when John took a sneaky bite of her candy.

“Salt and Patrick it is. That one will be Butter.” John spoke with his mouth full and pointed to a honey colored hen. He thought it best to move on so his children wouldn’t get spooked. You and him could talk about this later.

“Butter?” The officer looked at John wondering where that name came from.

“Butter chicken.” Jj started laughing until he was bent over and trying to catch his breath.

“Jj you get to name the last one.” Nodding his head toward the last white hen John waited for Jj’s name for it.

“Mum wanted to name hers Pudding.” With a smile Jj offered some feed in his hand to Pudding.

“Okay, we have Salt, Patrick, Butter, and Pudding.” John pointed in order of chickens and their names.

It was comical watching how your family behaved. As serious and unfriendly as John was he was very accommodating and sweet to his children. It was night and day how he treated Officer Parker versus you and your children. It was a horrible example on how to treat police but John wasn’t the biggest fan anyway.

“Gonna have to ask you to stop with shooting foxes.” Finally getting to the point Officer Parker was stern in the way he spoke.

“Okay.” Waving the man off John grabbed Jj and placed him on the other side of the fence by his sisters.

“What!? Do you want our chickens dead?” Evelyn turned to the officer in shock. She went from looking sweet to ready to murder.

“Noooo daddy has to protect Salt!” Lily shrieked.

“Gimmie the sweet back!” Lily demanded with her hand outstretched, as if this punishment would change the man’s mind.

“I don’t want to come out here again.” Officer Parker warned John while handing the candy bar back.

“We can agree on that.” John’s snarkiness was hard to not push back against.

“No shooting.” Pointing his finger at John, Officer Parker ordered him.

“I shot this one.” Jj smiled cheerily thinking that would get the officer off his father’s back.

“Say that again.” Turning slowly the officer looked mortified.

In no universe did he expect that as a response. What on earth would posses a parent to put a gun in their child’s hands. No wonder you were so fed up with your husband; he had to be crazy.

“Lads just taking the piss. I wouldn’t be irresponsible enough to put a gun in the hands of a child.” John reassured the man as he lied.

Jj took that fox out in two shots, the first one missing completely and the second being right on target. John made Jj swear to secrecy to never tell you or they’d end up like those foxes when you found out.

There was a long pause. The officer couldn’t quite tell if this was sarcasm or honesty. John was unreadable.

“Alright. This will go a lot differently if I have to come out here again.” Another warning fell on deaf ears.

“Do you want some eggs? We can give you as many as you want if you let our dad take care of those nasty foxes. If you don’t there will be no eggs to give you Mister Police man.” Evelyn spoke oh so sweetly.

“Are you bribing a police officer?” The question was forceful and Evelyn immediately felt like she was in trouble. So she hummed and pretend to not hear him and went back to eating her chocolate bar.

“My kids have a cheeky sense of humor.” John chortled, trying to deflect. He found them hilarious but knew their humor wouldn’t be appreciated right now.

“Your wife seems to be the only sensible one out of you lot. No shooting, no bribing, and for the love of god don’t make me come back here.” Officer Parker got louder as he spoke until he was almost shouting.

“Okay.” John gave the man a contemptuous nod.

“Bloody ridiculous.” The officer mumbled as he walked away.

On his way to leave the officer saw you on your back patio. You were hosing something off. The distance allowed him to admire you for a few moments longer. You were barefoot in black bicycle shorts today with a cropped white t-shirt with the AC/DC logo on the front. It showed off just above your bellybutton and part of your ribs. He was noticing that you had tattoos which he seemed to miss the last time he saw you. That fact had you going from gorgeous to sexy in a flash.

“Howd it go?” You asked as the officer passed by the patio

“Your children take after him? One claimed to have shot that fox and the other tried to bribe me.” The frustrating encounter was shared in a lighthearted way.

“Made it out lucky. Usually the little one takes a bite out of people.” It felt good to hear someone speak fondly of your children. They had the unfortunate effect of rubbing people the wrong way a lot of the time.

“You’ve got quiet the family.” The brightness coming off of him was more from having a conversation with you. His words did not match the sentiment of how he felt towards your family; which was detached.

“They keep it interesting.” Speaking sweetly, you took his words at face value. Thinking that he admired your children and you could tell in turn he admired you.

Officer Parker, who had been thinking of you often now had the chance he’d been craving. With a charming smirk and running his fingers through his thick hair he geared up to attempt to sweet talk you. He knew he was handsome and charming so he planned on using those to his advantage. You were far from the first married woman he had seduced.

“I dont mean to overstep. I can see how unpleasant your husband is, if you ever want a little less stress in your life I’d love to take y-“ You waved your hand assertively for the officer to stop.

“Don’t. I’m happily married.” You instantly knew where this was going and nipped it in the bud. You couldn’t help the sour expression that took over.

There was no way you were crossing that line and if John found out, he would kill him. You were instantly upset. You thought you had made a friend, but unfortunately, this police officer was making a pass at you. The unfortunate fact was, men tended to disappoint you in this way, instead of looking for friendship they looked for a shag.

“Of course. My apologies.” Officer Parker felt himself flush with embarrassment. Leaving quickly was the best plan of action. So he nodded and went on his way.

“Lucky bastard. John would’ve hunted his ass down if he heard that.” Shaking your head you made your way over to the chicken coop. You were contemplating on whether you told your husband or not. You decided against it, John already hated the man enough.

——————

“Mrs. Price I can’t believe I’m here again.”

“I swear he wasn’t shooting this time.” You gave the same officer a meek smile.

You were absolutely fed up with this situation. You hadn’t heard any gun shots so now you were starting to think one of your neighbors was out to get you. Or that this officer couldn’t take the hint that you weren’t interested.

With the look Officer Parker was giving you, you thought it was the latter. You were in a floral blue sundress since it was just you and John home today. The waist was cinched, accenting your curves while the skirt was loose and flowed down to mid thigh. It was your subtle attempt of getting John all over you with these thin straps and low cut neckline. You weren’t expecting any interruption but this didn’t count since John hadn’t caught sight of you yet.

The officer seemed to notice your outfit and how your hair was tied back neatly to show off your neck and shoulders. It was also to keep your hair out of your face in case John had you on your knees. You felt gross at the officers flickering eyes down to your exposed legs and then cleavage.

Crossing your arms over your chest and letting out an annoyed huff the officer seemed to snap out of it. He was embarrassed to have been caught staring especially after being rejected the last time he was here. His ogling was fast and if you hadn’t been standing face to face you doubt you would have noticed. He was still kicking himself for even asking you out and how unprofessional he acted. After the last time he was here and the pass he made at you, you no longer liked him and he could tell. So he decided to stop treating you special and went back to acting like he normally did toward any civilian.

“I don’t believe you. Your family is becoming a real pain in my ass.” The coarse remark had your hackles raising. It was a large shift from his wandering eyes admiring you to then insulting you and your family.

“Fine.” You spoke with evenness yet there was an undertone of frustration.

You weren’t some soft docile house wife this man clearly thought you were. So you shut the door in the officers face. You didn’t need him being so rude to you when you had been nothing but accommodating. It wasn’t your fault your husband wouldn’t listen. If you could have things your way you’d kick this guy off your property and then drag John upstairs because you’d much rather have his gorgeous blues on you.

The doorbell rang several times before you opened it again. Swinging the door open you greeted him with a cheery smile as if this was the first time he’d ever knocked on your door. Officer Parker held on to that indignant look then rolled his eyes as you played pretend nice.

“Hi. Wanna try that again?” You felt like a brat right now, speaking oh so sweetly, but you were honestly sick of this guy showing up and your husband wielding a gun.

“I’m going to have to bring him in.” The officer told you which made you snort.

“Good luck with that.” You joked then went to shut the door again. His large hand smacked against the thick wood stoping you from ending the conversation.

“Ma’am, are you eluding to the fact your husband is going to resist arrest?” Peering at you through his eyebrows he asked seriously.

This guy was a piece of work and you wanted to give him as hard of a time as you felt he was giving you.

“Ever heard of a joke?” With a monotone tone you volleyed back his retort.

Silence took over as you both held eye contact. Officer Parker didn’t know what to say without getting a smart ass remark from you and you were prepared to be a little shit. If he thought John was difficult he had no idea who he was dealing with now.

“This family seems to be full of them. Now where is he?” The officer demanded.

He wasn’t wrong there. Your family were a bunch of smart asses who didn’t shy away from giving people a hard time. It wasn’t just John who resisted authority, it was you too. Thinking anyone could boss you around or show up at your door demanding things was comical. Once upon a time you would’ve teamed up with this guy to get your husband to stop with the guns. But now? Absolutely not, you’d cover for John in every possible way purely because you didn’t like this guy.

“Go on. He’s around back.” You motioned with your hand.

Making a point to wave your hand to put the large rock on your ring finger in this man’s face. Officer Parker grunted in reply, catching on to your dismissal of his advances. He stomped down your stairs and went to make his way to the back of your home.

“Oh, and again. . .” You waited for the officer to turn around and look at you from the bottom of the stairs of your front porch.

“He wasn’t shooting this time. The man would be signing divorce papers if that were the case. And he’s not that stubborn.” Before you could hear a response you shut the front door and then ran like hell to the back patio.

John was standing at the picnic table dressed in dirty old jeans, an army green t-shirt with a half burnt cigar tucked between his teeth. He had thrown a burlap tarp over the table and laid out a bunch of tools used to fix his cherry red convertible. Jumping down the two steps to the patio you ran straight into John. It was like colliding with a brick wall the way he didn’t budge and was made of stone. He chuckled deeply at your urgency, his chest rumbling at how endearing he found you.

“John give me that- that cops here and said he was going to arrest you.” You immediately started groping your husband trying to find the gun on his waist.

Going as far as shoving your hand down the back of his jeans to check for a gun. John jumped at your wandering hand in his trousers and had to grab you by the wrists to get you to stop grabbing at him.

“Victoria backfired, love. I didn’t shoot anything.” John started belly laughing. His deep voice sounded lower as he spoke with the cigar still tightly between his teeth.

“oh.” You visibly relaxed.

“Plus, I’ve learned to use a silencer now and you haven’t caught on so theres no way that prick has either.” Letting you go John went back to searching through his tools that were neatly laid out.

He paused, it looked like a lightbulb buzzed to life above his head, something had just occurred to him. Looking back at you with a pensive expression, you expected John to tell you something important; but he didn’t. John’s large hand came over to you and tugged at the neckline of your dress and pulled it toward him so he could peak down at your breasts.

“John!” Your jaw dropped and again your husband’s burly chest rumbled with laughter.

“No bra? Trying to tell me something, darling?” That charming smirk had you sputtering like an idiot; he was right on the money.

This outfit was indeed a statement. You still had trouble handling how hot John was when he flirted with you like this. That cocky confidence could get whatever he wanted out of you.

“Captain Price, I told you I didn’t want to be back h- holy shit is that an Aston Martin?” The officer stopped in the middle of your driveway realizing the car that sat at the end with the hood popped was in fact a 1965 Aston Martin. John removed his hand from your dress and left you with a firm squeeze to your left breast. The officer was too distracted to notice.

“No.” John lied as he grabbed some tool you would never be able to identify. All you could tell was it was metal, shiny, and round on the end.

“Piss off, that is-“

“Why are you on my property? To gawk at my car and chat up my wife? Or maybe gawk at my wife and chat ‘bout my car.” Taking a long drag from his cigar John stared down the officer.

That seemed to instantly piss the officer off. You didn’t have to tell John that you had caught this man’s eye. John noticed it from the very start. So now it was John’s opportunity to flex and show off just how lucky of a man he was.

“I’ll have to take you in for shooting a gun in a residential area. I tried to warn you-“

John had walked over to his car and turned the key in the ignition. A loud bang echoed through the open air that sounded like a gun shot. It was now occurring to the officer that the call that came about a single gun shot was in fact this car back firing.

All Officer Parker could think was how this prick John Price was a lucky bastard.

“Fixing my car. That a crime?” John was enjoying himself way too much.

Smoking his cigar with his signature hat and looking smug suited him. Sexy didn’t begin to describe how attractive you found your husband in this moment. That smudge of grease on his neck only added to the rugged man he was. Bulging biceps, chiseled frame, tanned skin from working in the yard; you wanted to mount that smug smirk.

“Are you armed right now?” Officer Parker stepped on to your patio his eyes wandering to the cherry red convertible for a moment.

With a quirked eyebrow John looked at you and then to the officer.

“You can frisk me if ya’d like.” Throwing his arms out John motioned for the officer to come over.

“Yes, please-“ You slapped your hand over your own mouth for saying that.

Both men turned and gave you surprised looks.

“I’m sorry- I- wasn’t suppose to say that out loud.” Your entire body flushed with embarrassment for having no filter. You blamed John for this. You weren’t sure how it was his fault but you’d figure that out later.

“Later, darling.” John shot you and wink. He had you feeling like a teenager gushing over her crush. If he blew a kiss at you it would’ve knocked you over.

The cheeky comment had you stifling a laugh while the officer kept a cool demeanor. Watching you and your husband flirt was not on his agenda today. In fact he was suppose to be looking into the man who was going through mailboxes since he was in the neighborhood.

“Well, the call was a mistake. I’ll be on my way. let me know if you seen anything suspicious about the man lurking around.” With a nod officer Parker made a move to leave but once again was distracted by John’s car.

“Who’s been making the complaints.” John asked while pulling his cigar from his teeth and asking.

“I can’t disclose that.” The officer gave John a sharp look for the question. He continued on his way not wanting to deal with either of you anymore.

“Not even for a ride.” John nodded at his car.

“Do anything for a ride.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself. John didn’t catch it but the officer glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Is this where your daughter learned to bribe an officer!?” He turned back around and barked.

“He’s joking. Right, John?” Your pushing had John raising his hands by his shoulder, chuckling deeply then taking a drag of his cigar.

“‘Course I am. We know it’s the Patterson’s. You keeping an eye on the nephew like you said? ” The lack of response to John spoke volumes.

“Good day.” The officer forcefully spoke before leaving.

John chuckled as the officer left and then slammed the hood of the car back in place. Glancing over his shoulder John caught sight of you giving him big innocent eyes and a shy smile. Your arms were behind your back leaving John’s eyes to wander to your cleavage in that little sundress that drove him mad.

The prospect of having some privacy had you pouncing at the opportunity. Now it was your time to shine and get the attention you craved from your husband. So you flirted like a slag and decided some role play would be fun. John the mechanic and you some damsel who forgot her wallet.

“Thank you for fixing my car, sir. I don’t have any money but I’m willing to repay you in other ways.” You flirted shamelessly with John.

A thick eyebrow quirked and his lips turned skyward at your forward advances. The thick hair of his mutton chops looked tantalizing in the afternoon sunlight. You were drinking him in like a cool glass of tea on this hot summer day.

“I’ll take payment in full.” That deep British accent made you weak in the knees.

You let out a yelp as John grabbed you and man handled you. He had you perched on the hood of his car with his hands under your skirt and dragging your panties down. His hands were rough against your soft skin and that confidence from before only grew and surrounded you. It felt like he was going to eat you alive and savor every bite.

“John the officer hasn’t left.” The sound of your quiet squeal was muffled by the officers car door thudding shut.

“Just want him to know how good I’ve got it. A house, family, classic car, and a wife who’ll let me fuck her on the hood of said car.” John all but purred against your neck as he laid open mouth kisses over the shallow teeth marks he left behind.

“John, you’re gonna get us in trouble. And I’m not going to let you fuck me on the hood of the car. Not with some creep wandering around the neighborhood?” You giggled when he snapped the band of your panties against your thighs where he had dragged them halfway down.

A tingling sensation ran up your spine but it wasn’t from your excitement. In a flash you felt watched, like two eye were boring into you. It was a visceral reaction that you instantly felt like prey. Looking to your left you stared into the forest. It no longer looked like it always did but had this darkness seeping out from it. And for a second you swore you saw something shift behind a tree. Blinking a few times you decided your eyes were playing tricks on you. No way would someone be watching you with John here and a cop sitting in your driveway.

Both men were too distracted by you to notice your eyes locked on something in the forest. All the officer could see was John’s broad shoulders and back. That and the exposed skin of your knees and shins on either side of the massive frame of your husband. It wasn’t lewd from this angle but it was clear what John was saying without words.

She’s Mine

“C’mon darling, we won’t get caught. You know he thinks you’re pretty. Especially in this little dress. Let me rub it in.” There was a dark chuckle that followed John’s sultry words.

He pulled down the strap of your dress so it hung limply off your shoulder and exposed how you weren’t wearing a bra. The action had that sinking feeling in your gut intensifying. John wasn’t the only man looking at you right now. There was no way to prove it, you could just feel it. You gulped down the rock in your throat not wanting to make a big deal on what you were chalking up to anxiety.

Turning to look at the officer, John and him shared an intense look. It was one of pride for John and jealousy on the officers end. John smiled like the smug bastard he was and waved goodbye. The officer didn’t look away as he started his engine and you hid behind John, feeling utterly embarrassed by your husband’s audacity. He was waving you around like some prize he won.

You made eye contact for only a brief moment over John’s shoulder when he dipped down to pick you up and bring you inside. There was no doubt Officer Parker officially hated the Price family but in the second your eyes met he saw your fear. He wondered why all of a sudden you looked like that and if your husband was someone who scared you. This made him hate your husband for being so arrogant. It was clear John was about to bed you and have his way, which was only insult to injury for the officer. But now he wondered if something else was going on.

You just hoped the next time John started shooting foxes it would scare off whoever had been lurking around the neighborhood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter: Secret Admirer

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