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mariasont · 7 months ago

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Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

part two here!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe.

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet.

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly.

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment.

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?"

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door.

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought.

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside.

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet.

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content.

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it.

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office.

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough.

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest.

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl.

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch.

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?"

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away.

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa hotchner #agent hotchner #cm #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #Spotify

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chaos-in-deepspace · 3 months ago

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LADS Zayne: Dirty Shave | 18+

This fic took me a solid week and a half to write. It was so much fun though. This is dedicated to my little meow meow because I'm waiting patiently for him to finish writing an Omega Zayne fic. Based off Hidden Motive however I started writing this before the card released so really it's just MC shaving his face and then fucking him. It doesn't follow the plot of the card so you can read it without needing to see the original.

For an easier time reading this, I put it on AO3 as well! I prefer reading long fics on there in case tumblr refreshes while I'm trying to finish.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Overstimulation, Showers, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Riding, Facial Shaving, Caught having sex on the phone, Teasing, Jealous Reader, AFAB Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Top Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: You and Zayne were just relaxing in the shower together when you felt the stubble on his face. An innocent request to shave his face results in you sitting on his lap, teasing him until he's desperate and needy. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 15k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Dirty Shave

The music seemed to gently caress your ears as you swayed to the beat, enjoying the acoustics that the shower so willingly provided. It bounced wonderfully off the walls of the shower at the resort you had found yourself in with your beloved Zayne.

The man whom you held in such high regard was currently rinsing out shampoo from his hair, his back turned to you as you hummed the melody and watched. The water dripped off those raven locks and you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned up against his back, relaxing into him. Zayne stopped for a moment, turning his head to look down at you.

“Having fun?” His voice echoed out in the warm shower and you let out another content hum as you looked up at him. You had no idea how, but under the lights in the bathroom he looked even more breathtaking than usual.

“Yup, just enjoying this. Think we can renovate the shower at your place to be this big?” you asked and looked up. The shower had a wonderful waterfall feature, meaning both of you were under the spray of the showerhead and weren’t left in the cold. It was one of the few reasons you two didn’t often shower together in the mornings. You two had certainly tried, but Zayne always felt guilty when it was his turn under the sprayer and you were left almost shivering. You honestly had never minded since it was the perfect time to admire his form outside of sexual contexts.

“I can certainly look into it once we’re back,” he said, turning around so he was facing you properly. You shouldn’t have been surprised with how easily he accepted that, he had always been one to go with your whims. If you asked him for something he would make it happen within a few weeks normally. Renovating an entire room in his house? Of course he’d readily agree if it meant he could hold you in his arms like this. That and you could see he was clearly enjoying the feature judging by how this was the third time you’d showered together since you guys had come to this town for his medical convention.

“Come here,” his hand reached for your hip, pulling you closer. You felt your heart speed up for a second at the proximity before your eyes followed his hands. After you were closer he trailed his hands upwards with a gentle glide on your body that had a small shiver wrack down your spine. He reached over and got some shampoo and put a generous dollop into his hands. He then was running those large hands in your hair, scrubbing away anything that might’ve been in there.

His hands worked deftly as he massaged your scalp, applying the right pressure right where you needed it. You were absolutely melting into his grasp, closing your eyes and just letting him do whatever he wanted. His hands always felt amazing and now was certainly no exception to the rule. You swore if he kept this up then you’d find yourself falling asleep standing in the shower. Zayne smiled to himself as he saw how your head leaned into his touch out of habit; you always leaned into his touch like a small kitten the moment you had become more comfortable around him.

He then went and dipped your head back, letting the suds of the soap run down into the drain as he worked his hands a little more, tangled in your locks and then the base of your scalp. He was working you thoroughly and you let out a small, happy moan at the attention. Your hands reached up to gently hold onto his forearms, fingers gently tracing over a few of the scars.

You could hear him chuckling as he then leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You finally opened your eyes, staring into his hazel ones that always seemed to drink you in. The way he looked at you sometimes made your heart stop, the absolute love and affection was more than you could ever hope to find in a partner. You were certain that the look you gave him was similar since you were utterly in love with the man and everything he did.

No words were spoken as he worked the conditioner through your hair in a similar way, instead you just placed your hands on his chest and leaned closer to him. As he rinsed you off for a second time he tilted your chin up for a kick, chaste kiss. You giggled against his lips, leaning forward to capture his mouth again and savoring the feeling of him. He took good care of himself thankfully, and his body was the physical embodiment of that. You couldn’t help but drag your fingers over his chest, feeling how the muscles tensed slightly from the sudden contact. Even his lips were soft and plush against your own as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss for just a moment longer.

“Something I can do for you?” You murmured against his lips as he placed his hands on your hips. You felt him swaying you to the beat of the music that still echoed in the shower. The moment was sweet and serene and you briefly wondered when you could have this every day. Your hands reached up to wrap around his shoulders as you allowed him to move you however he wished.

His forehead pressed against your own and he closed his eyes, “Just stay here with me, it’s all I need,” you felt yourself blushing at his words, but you wouldn’t deny him. Just as he could hardly say no to you, you were also whipped. He said the word and you’d come crawling to him and doing whatever it was he asked of you.

“I think I can handle that,” you smiled, your eyes also closing. For just a moment it was the two of you in your own little world, swaying to music with the gentle fall of water surrounding you. You smiled at the scene you two were surly creating, wondering which book you read that had this exact moment. The man you called your boyfriend, hopefully one day husband, was one of the most romantic men you had ever met.

Most people would never assume that the Dr. Li could be the romantic type, but moments like these always proved the world wrong. The way he held you like you would slip from his fingers if he so much as let up his grip made you feel so damn secure.

You reached up to cup his cheek, intent on bringing him down for another sweet kiss before you two left the shower. Then you felt it. The slight prickly feeling of stubble on Zayne’s face. The man was meticulous about shaving his face, and thankfully it didn’t grow very fast. He’d normally shave every other night to clean up anything that had attempted to grow, and it appeared that tonight was one such night.

The thought occurred to you in just a second as you opened your eyes. You watched as Zayne was leaning into your touch and it reminded you of a sweet and cuddly cat. You then cleared your throat and got his attention, those soft eyes peering down at you.

“Zayne…you have stubble,” you started and Zayne raised an eyebrow in question. He took the hand that was cupping his face and turned his head, kissing the palm of your hand as he spoke.

“I am a man,” he reminded you, “It’s only normal that I have stubble at the end of the day,” he pressed another kiss to your palm before letting your hand drop. You placed it on his chest and looked up at him. Despite how it had grown, it was barely noticeable unless you looked closely. You guessed in a sense Zayne was lucky in that regard since he seemed to dislike the hair anyway.

“Can I shave your face tonight?” you asked, wanting to reach up and touch his face again. Your fingers twitched against his chest as you looked up at him curiously.

Zayne’s eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to think over the idea. Probably debating if it would be a good idea or not. He cleared his throat, “I don’t think that’s necessary, I’m capable of doing it myself,” he said and you frowned at his response.

“Just because you can do it yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” You reminded him, “I can wash my own hair, but it’s way more enjoyable when you do it,” besides you really wanted to try it not, being able to move his face around without any complaints from him seemed intriguing.

Zayne nodded, “That’s true, but the situation is a bit…different,” he began and you clearly weren’t entertained by his excuses, “Razors are sharp and dangerous. If you don’t know how to use it correctly it can lead to cuts which can later evolve into possible infection,” it was almost like he forgot you were a hunter and knew all the dangers of untreated cuts, as well as how sharp objects could actually harm someone if you weren’t careful.

“I know how to use a razor, Zayne,” you huffed, “I’ve shaved my legs before, you know,” you reasoned with him, now batting your eyelashes.

“Using a safety razor and using a straight razor are very different,” he attempted once more to reason with you, but alas it was going nowhere. You had an idea in your mind and you wanted to follow through with it. You knew it would only be a matter of time before he gave in…besides you weren’t totally clueless on how to use a straight razor.

You had seen it lying around in his bathroom, watched him shave his face, and once upon a time was really bored and decided to shave a single arm with it to see how it was done. You hadn’t even cut yourself when you did it. It wasn’t even that hard to use since the blade was so sharp; you were confident you could shave his face without nicking him.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said and you could see it, you could physically see his resolve melting under your gaze. You decided to finish him by sticking out your lip into a small pout and that was really all it took. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at you.

“Alright, fine…” he began, “but only the sides and chin. I’ll handle the detail work,” he said and honestly that was fine by you. The thought of shaving his upper lip was perhaps out of your comfort zone. If you cut his perfect lips you’d probably cry for a week. Not to mention if you saw him flinching whenever you kissed him you might as well dig your own grave and toss yourself in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling, “Thank you, babe,” you coo as you swayed a little with him. He sighed, shaking his head as he reached behind him to turn off the shower. The stream of water died down as soon as he did so and the steam from how hot you had kept the water managed to keep you warm for the time being.

“I’m happy you seem so excited, but first we need to get out of the shower,” he reminded you with a gentle smile directed at you. He began walking you backwards and out of the shower, one hand never leaving your hip as you went along with him. It was clear you had no intention of leaving his embrace anytime soon; his arms were your safe space at the end of the day.

In response to your clinginess you felt Zayne’s hands cupping under your thighs. Your grip around him tightened as he lifted you with ease, walking you over to the towels and grabbing a few of the fluffy white ones the resort had. He worked one of them around your body then sat you down on the counter. You watched with interest as he then grabbed one and loosely wrapped it around his own waist, his eyes glancing up at your obvious staring.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked as he grabbed another white towel from nearby and brought it over to you. You were about to say a smartass comment when the towel was thrown over your face. You let out a small, unamused noise as he worked the towel over your hair, soaking up a bulk of the water from your shower.

When he moved the towel off to reveal your face he leaned in, cupping your cheek and dragging you in for a proper kiss. Despite how much you wanted to get back at him you found yourself melting against him, closing your eyes and enjoying how he led the kiss.

His hands weaved through your hair, his tongue gently prodding at your mouth and you easily opened up, allowing his tongue to press against your own before it began exploring. You moaned at the taste of him, the subtle taste of chocolate macaroons lingered on him from your dessert after dinner and it made him only more decadent than normal. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you let out a gentle moan into his mouth. You didn’t know when he got so good at kissing you; you still recalled your first kiss and how uncertain he had been. Now he dove in and took your breath away every single time, lips pressing against your own perfectly with that tongue that knew exactly how to get you worked up.

You were disappointed when he finally let off, leaning back with his thumb swiping your lower lip to clean off the small trail of saliva. Your heart was thrumming in your chest as you frowned for a moment, “Why’d you stop?” you didn’t mean for it to come out almost whiny, but it did get a smirk out of Zayne. You were about five seconds from grabbing the back of his head and dragging him back down to continue making out with you when he decided to speak up.

“Shaving should be done right after a shower,” he stated simply, “Unless you wanted to skip that over,” the way he leaned against you, pressing himself against your thigh had you swallowing the lump in your throat. You could feel his cock pressed against you, only slightly hard which was unsurprising judging by how he always seemed to pop a boner the moment tongue was involved. So that was his angle, trying to distract you so you’d drop your quest in shaving his face.

Too bad you weren’t a complete dumbass.

Instead of replying you just grabbed one of the many towels he brought over and tossed one around his neck and used it to pull him down. He let out a small surprised gasp as he quickly grabbed the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs. You took the towel and put it over his head and began drying his hair with a hum.

“You’re so right, Dr. Li, we should probably hurry up here so we can make sure your face is nice and smooth for your conferences tomorrow morning,” you said and watched the small glimmer of mischief in his eyes dim a little bit as he realized his plan was failing horribly. You held back the smirk that threatened to give away that you had caught him red handed.

You two work together toweling off and making yourself relatively dry. You chuckle as Zayne once again picks you up and places you down on the ground. It felt like ice with how cold the tile was on your bare feet and you noticed how amused Zayne was at your small flinch. You shot a small frown his way to let him know how unamused you were at this. If he had just kept holding you then you’d be content, but apparently that wasn’t an option at this time.

He grabbed the silk robes the resort provided and handed you the smaller size, helping you wrap it around your body and tie the knot in the front. You were very entertained with how he seemed to secure yours so well, covering everything you had as though he had never seen you naked in his life. You then watched as he put his own on and noticed how it was so loose around him. The chest was wide open on it, it barely covered his nipples. He was trying to be enticing whether he knew it or not.

He rummaged around the bathroom and grabbed a few things you’d need for shaving his face, “That’s not as much as I was expecting,” you comment as you see the shaving cream, razor, a bowl of water, and aftershave in his hands. Not to mention two small hand towels that he had draped over his forearm.

“I normally need less than this, however I assume it would be more comfortable for you to shave my face on the couch rather than balancing on the counter,” he said, his tone was calm and neutral, but you could tell he was teasing you about your height. It wasn’t your fault that the man decided to be born overly tall and broad. Besides, at least with your height you had the perfect vantage point to squishing your head in his chest anytime you hugged him.

“Well then come on, mister,” you said and grabbed some of the things from his hands, but noticed how he kept the straight razor. You two made your way to the large living space and you looked around. The couch had a perfect side table where you could set down all your supplies and still be able to reach them whenever you needed to.

“How’d you like to do this?” Zayne had leaned down so his breath ghosted right over your ear. An involuntary shiver went down your spine as your head whipped back at him. Zayne had his normal lack of expression on his face and if you didn’t know him so well you’d think he was innocent. Still you had learned to look in his eyes since they always told exactly what he was thinking. He definitely knew what he was doing, from kissing you in the bathroom to how he wore his robe, and even now. He was seducing you right now and it was working, but probably not in the way he was hoping.

“Sit on the couch, Dr. Li,” you instructed him, motioning with your head where you wanted him to sit. Zayne did as instructed, adjusting himself on the couch as he looked up at you. His eyes were now sharp as he took in your every movement and it was almost nerve wracking as you set the supplies down on the table next to him. Still you were schooling your expression and pretending you hadn’t noticed what he was doing, acting as though you weren’t currently turned on from his antics. As long as you kept your cool he would assume his hints didn’t work and it would be easier to tease him later on.

“It won’t be good for your back if you bend down for this,” Zayne commented as he realized the current angle you were at. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you had to force it down, wanting to seem like you held all the authority at the moment.

“And how do you suggest I do this then?” you begin, your voice almost a purr, “If I’m not mistaken I’m the one in charge here, aren’t I?” you could see the shift in his demeanor at that exact moment. How his posture seemed to straighten up a little and he looked at you with a small challenge in his eyes. He was normally submissive for you, a perfect boy, but that was only after all the teasing was over. You had to work to get him into that state, and honestly you adored every second of it.

“What are you then?” he asked, “The Chief Surgeon?” oh so that’s how he wanted to play it for the evening? If so, you’d happily indulge him as you tilted your head and smirked. You did notice how he deliberately didn’t give you a solution though, but in the back of your mind you had a feeling you knew what he wanted to suggest.

“That’s correct, and tonight you’re my dear patient,” you went to cup his chin and forced his head up to look at you, “And the operation will begin very shortly. I’ll need to begin preparations and I would very much like it if my patient was compliant during this part.” you watched how he squirmed at your words.

It was teasing, sure, but you knew deep down he loved this way more than he was willing to admit. He thought he had been coy about it in the past, but it was clear as day he had a thing for medical roleplay. What amused you was the fact that he really preferred it when you were the one in charge and he was just a bystander. It was honestly cute how willingly he gave away his power and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

“Of course, I’d be an idiot to not follow a Dr’s orders,” oh that was a jab and you knew it. Especially with how your smirk fell into a frown at the same time Zayne’s own lips twitched in a knowing look. You huffed as you grabbed hold of the shaving cream and got some on your hands then wet them in the bowl of water he had grabbed. As you worked it into a lather in your own hands you turned to your ‘patient’. You were now standing between his legs as you peered down at the man.

“Tilt your head back a little bit,” you said, watching as he did just as you asked without any smart remarks. Your hands went to cup his cheeks, working the lather into his skin. Your hands massaging his cheeks and just enjoying the fact that you got to touch him all over his face for once without him complaining.

Your thumb swiped right underneath his bottom lip as you looked between his mouth to his eyes. He seemed to almost be waiting for you to give in and kiss him, but you held back. There was too much shaving cream at the moment and you were fairly certain it would taste horrible. Instead you opted to grab hold of the towel next to you and began wiping your hands off.

Once they were clean you grabbed hold of the straight razor. You could feel Zayne tense from your stance between his legs; it was adorable how he both trusted you to do this, but was also terrified of you having such a sharp object close to his neck. You did see what he was talking about earlier with the angle not being the best, and you decided to quickly fix the situation at hand.

You used your knees to make Zayne put his legs together and then threw one of your own over his waist. You adjusted yourself on his lap, making sure to be more centered on his thighs rather than his crotch. You didn’t want to reward his bad behavior of teasing you by sitting directly on it, and from this angle you’d be able to see the effect you had on him.

“So this is your solution?” he finally said as you adjusted the razor once more in your hand, opening it up to reveal the glint of the sharp blade in the light. His eyes went between your position on his lap then over to the dangerous object in your hands.

You looked at him with a questioning gaze, “Are you going to lie and tell me this isn’t what you had in mind when you commented about how this wouldn’t be good for my back if I had to bend?” your voice was almost mocking and he looked at you with narrowed eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, you never pass up an opportunity to have me using you as a chair,” the innuendo was there, but you wondered if he’d even notice with how his eyes were transfixed on the razor you held.

“I was thinking you could come behind the couch and lay my head back, or perhaps pull up a chair,” he said calmly and you rolled your eyes. The way his eyes shifted slightly was the only indicator you needed to tell he was lying. After knowing him for so long you knew his tells; generally you didn’t press him about these things, but in situations like this you didn’t mind calling him out.

“I’m sure you were thinking that, weren’t you?” you said, tone still mocking, “However I am the Chief Surgeon, Mr. Li. You have to understand that my methods might be unorthodox, however they yield good results,” you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for being able to say that without needing to stutter or think over your wording. All those hours of watching horrible medical dramas were finally paying off it would seem.

“I’m just surprised you haven’t received any malpractice suits for how you treat your patients,” he said as you finally grabbed hold of his chin. You moved his face to the side to get a good angle and looked at him with an entertained gaze.

“I have very good lawyers, sir,” you began and slowly brought the razor up to his face, “Now for this part I need you to be absolutely still, and no smart remarks,” it was clear he wanted to say something more, but he was tense under you as the razor finally met his skin.

It was a simple swipe, getting the small bit of stubble off as well as a lump of the shaving cream. The towel you had previously used for your hand was now resting on his shoulder for you to wipe the razor clean on. You used one hand to stretch the skin and did another swipe, following by a third in quick succession. Being a hunter did mean you had to have a lot of skills with weapons, and in your mind you were thinking of the razor like you would a dagger, applying just the right amount of pressure to get rid of the hair without cutting into someone.

You wiped the razor clean again and smirked, running your thumb over the now shaved part of his cheek, “There we go, so far so good,” you cooed, looking at Zayne. He seemed to have relaxed a lot after the first swipe, realizing that you weren’t about to filet his face with the razor.

“I’m curious, have you ever shaved someone’s face before,” he said as you adjusted your angle once more, letting the razor glide gently across his cheek. His eyes met yours briefly as he asked this, seeing how concentrated you were, however, your body was also completely relaxed.

“Would you be surprised if I said this was my first time performing this procedure on a patient?” you teased, a playful smile on your lips as you quickly swiped another section and finished that side of his cheek.

“You’re doing an outstanding job so far, so I thought you might be experienced at least with the tool,” he was implying something, but like hell you’d rise to the bait. Did he know you played with his razor before…no there was no way he would’ve figured that one out. Playing dumb seemed to be the best solution as you took in a deep, calming breath.

“Sir, I need to remind you to be still for me,” you said as your gaze met his. You noticed a subtle glint of something in his eyes and you forced down the smirk threatening to break your professional demeanor. He was definitely starting to get off with the powerplay that was happening and you wondered how much you could tease him while doing this.

“Understood, I won’t move,” he said as he glanced at you then turned his gaze elsewhere. It was enough for you to relax as you moved his head so you could begin on the other side of his face. For a moment he was being good, letting you move his face however you needed him. His eyes were closed as you worked the razor on him and shaved his face so it would be smooth once again.

When you were wiping the razor clean for the umpteenth time he deemed it necessary to open his mouth, “Is this your exclusive service?” He tried teasing you, but it was clear what the brat was currently doing. Obviously defying what you had just said to see the reaction he could get from you.

“Mr Li…” you began, your voice soft and gentle. The grip on his chin right now was anything but as you looked down at him with a sneer, “Don’t,” you moved his face more to the side, “Move,” you finished as you pressed the razor against his skin.

You had to wait a second as you saw a shiver going down Zayne’s spin and you smirked. His breath had hitched at the tone of your voice you had used and you licked your lips at his reaction. Thankfully he was now looking away from you, probably trying to process his own thoughts, and didn’t catch the lustful gaze you had as your eyes raked up and down his body.

You watched as his cock literally twitched, the movement not subtle in the slightest when the only thing separating you was the silky robe. He clearly was hard underneath it, but from the looks of it he was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Going back to work in cleaning him off, you work on his chin. Your face was now close to him as you made sure you got everything and he was clearly trying to avoid looking at you. You were currently leaning a little more into him, but not touching where he clearly needed some stimulation. You then felt your body shifting a little as he tried to adjust without actually touching you.

You let him, noticing how he was trying to adjust so you couldn’t see how obvious his erection was. You decided to keep stern and cleared your throat, “You’re moving again,” it was hard keeping your tone cold as you said this. He froze, his eyes darting to you like a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He cleared his throat, “My apologies,” he murmured as he looked away from you again. He went back to being still, but you just stared at him for a moment, wondering exactly what was going through his head. You knew he was getting all hot and bothered, but normally he wasn’t trying to hide it from you. Then it dawned on you as a grin grew on your face.

One thing that never got tiring was how Zayne got turned on so easily when it came to you. You knew that before you had gotten together he hadn’t slept with anyone, and the poor man had seldom even touched himself. That meant at the start he was getting hard just by staring at you for a little too long. It was a cute quirk of his, at least you thought so.

Zayne however didn’t think it was all that amusing and often had to hide his erection because they would happen at the worst times. He also sucked at noticing when you were trying to get him hard on purpose, even in the most obvious of settings like this one. You were literally sitting on his lap, using a stern voice, and playing into his medical kink slightly…and the man probably was thinking he shouldn’t be getting this hot and bothered right now.

Or perhaps it was due to the fact that he didn’t want to accidentally grind into you while you had a razor to his neck…it could be either or. All you knew for a fact was how cute he looked right now with the most subtle blush on his cheeks as he tried his hardest to pretend like he wasn’t bricked up just by you sitting on his thighs and shaving his face.

You couldn’t help yourself, adjusting yourself to find a better angle and making sure to grind your ass along his length. You watched his throat bob as he held back a moan, getting a nice reaction out of him from the most subtle stimulation. You did it again, allowing it to be a little less subtle as Zayne’s hands went to clamp down on your thighs, making you stop. His eyes frantically found your own as he went to open his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“Zayne?” you asked, leaning your body back enough to get a good look at him. He went back to avoiding your gaze, looking off to the side with flushed cheeks that you were tempted to pinch, “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?” you said next, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek and running your thumb over the smooth skin.

“I…no you didn’t,” his voice came out a little hoarse from his aroused state, his own hand grabbing yours and holding it against his face. He finally looked at you and you noticed how far gone he already was. If the twitch of his cock underneath your ass wasn’t telling enough, the way his pupils seemed to swallow a lot of the hazel in his eyes was your sign that he was losing his composure.

“Then why did you move? I’m almost done,” you said, leaning back in, “Just tip your head back and be a good boy for a little longer,” you breath now fanning over his cheek. A shiver went down his spine as he did so, leaning his head back as you worked the razor against it. After the cheek was finished you began in the underside of his neck which was probably the easiest part.

You slowly finished dragging the razor and then wiped it on the towel, “There we go…” you trailed off as you looked around. You sat up on your knees and leaned over Zayne to grab the towel next to him, your chest brushing against his face. The hands he had kept on your thighs squeezing as you grabbed what you needed.

You soon sat yourself back down, this time your ass now directly over his straining erection. He let out a sharp exhale of breath at the sensation and stared at you. He knew very well that you could feel him at this point, and with how you shifted on his lap to get comfortable he was groaning against you, attempting not to roll his own hips into you.

“Babe, you need to be good, we’re not done yet,” you scolded as you took the towel in your hand and began wiping off any excess cream on his face. You could see with the way his eyes narrowed that he had a small pout on his face, not that he’d ever admit to such a childish thing. It did have you smirking as you finished up and grabbed the next item on the list.

“What else needs to be done,” his fingers were twitching along your plush thighs, the robe you wore didn’t do much as it had ridden up to reveal most of your skin. Even the opening of your robe had fallen open to show some of your chest, the cool air of it making you shiver as you looked Zayne up and down. He wasn’t faring any better really with how he never even bothered tying his robe properly. The slightest shift could unravel the entire thing.

You took the tube of aftershave in hand and applied some to your hand, “Aftershave, of course,” you smirked as you adjusted once more. He gasped out a moan, closing his eyes as your ass continued teasing his hardened length. You held back your own noises as you felt some wetness on your thigh from how his cock was leaking through the silk robes. Your hands made contact with his jaw and cheeks as you caressed his face and smoothed the after shave onto him.

“You seem distracted, Zayne,” you comment as you shift again. Every subtle movement sent a spike of arousal through Zayne as he tried focusing on your hands instead. The way they trailed so delicately over his face and the slightest sting from the aftershave balm you were applying. Your thigh brushed more onto his leaking erection as you felt just how wet he was getting and you relished in knowing it was all because of you.

He grit his teeth and took in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, “I’m not distracted in the slightest,” he said. He knew you could feel him with your movements, it was kind of hard not to. Zayne was well endowed and even in a pair of baggier pants it could be seen when he got riled up. Sitting directly on top of it with nothing more than two flimsy silk robes meant you could feel every single vein along his shaft.

“You sure?” you teased, adjusting once more and hearing him unable to hold back a moan which made you chuckle. It’s like it finally clicked in his mind that this entire time you have purposefully been teasing him. He was too adorable for words sometimes, especially with how he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. Seeing that mental click in his brain as he looked at you with his eyes widened had you rewarding him with another drag of your hips against him.

Your hands went back to gingerly rub in the aftershave and he was looking at you with knowing eyes, almost calculating your next move, “You’ve been teasing me this entire time,” it was a statement rather than a question.

“How nice of you to finally notice, my love,” you said, pinching his cheeks slightly. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick kiss while holding him in place, “Don’t forget you were the one teasing me in the bathroom earlier. Kissing me like that, making my head spin, and then saying we needed to hurry up and shave. You tried distracting me earlier, didn’t you?” you said, now obviously rutting onto him and using more pressure.

The grasp he had on your thighs now moved over to your hips, squeezing the skin there as he helped you along with grinding on him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he groaned out, rolling his hips into your ass and closing his eyes. His mouth was opened as you leaned in, your grip on him changing from holding onto his cheeks to one hand on his bare chest and the other on the nape of his neck dragging him closer.

You let out a groan of your own into his mouth, feeling how his cock was sliding perfectly against you with every thrust upwards. You knew you’d be soaking through this robe in no time as your tongue played against the roof of Zayne’s mouth, drinking him in and making sure his head was spinning just like he had done to yours earlier.

After a moment of kissing him you leaned away, making sure to lick his lip first teasingly. He was already panting as he looked at you, his hips still rolling up. You sat up and placed yourself back on his thigh and you could hear the pitiful whine that left him. His rosy cheeks only grew darker after he realized the noise that left him, but he opted to pretend like it didn’t happen.

He was about to say something when he noticed where your eyes were trailing to. You could see the clear outline of his cock through the robes, the member standing proudly and creating a large bump. The most intriguing part was where there was a very obvious wet mark where the head of it would go. You had felt it earlier, sure, but now you could see a bead of precum that was on top of it that shined slightly.

You licked your lips and grasped his dick then thumbed over the head of it through the robes, feeling the precum seeping through the material, “Fuck Zayne, you’re already so wet,” you said as you teased his cock. Zayne’s hips bucked up into your touch as he sought out more friction, his head rolling back at finally feeling something wrapped around him. Hearing those filthy words leaving your mouth was doing something to him as he felt his entire body getting hotter.

“Fuck Zayne, you look so good like this…” your free hand went to the tie of your robe, quickly undoing it and letting the material fall and pool around your hips and thighs. Zayne’s eyes were now on your body, trailing up and down before he landed on your face. He seemed to have melted the moment his eyes met your own.

He made a good attempt at steeling himself, “You look breathtaking right now, darling,” he sat up and used his grip on you to pull you closer. His lips collided with yours as he deepened the kiss, he never could get enough of your taste as he groaned at the sensation of your hand never leaving his hardening length. His hands now on your bare skin as he cupped under your ass and lifted you enough to drag the rest of the robes away, discarding them to the ground.

When you parted you began peppering kisses all along his jaw and neck, “I think I’m going to ride you tonight, Zayne,” your hand left his cock and trailed up to his robe tie now, playing with the silken material before slowly undoing the sloppy knot. Zayne’s breath hitched at your words, the mental image of your cunt wrapped around his cock while you bounced on his lap was more than he could handle. As the robe left his body to expose him you could see just how hard his cock had gotten; the head of it was red and dribbling with pre over the rest of the shaft.

“Please don’t forget,” he swallowed, “I’m on call tonight,” he threw his head back as your hand went to wrap around his length without any barriers between you. You tugged on his cock, letting your hand glide easily over him as you teased him and listened to the pretty noises leaving his mouth. His warning came far too late with how fucked out he already was; you found the entire situation amusing as you rose an eyebrow to look down at him.

“They’re just phone calls,” you dismissed it easily with your grip tightening and making him whimper, “You can answer them while I’m riding you. You just have to not moan like a whore into your phone and it’ll be fine, right?” it was impossible for Zayne not to be vocal while you were on him. He normally was so good at masking his emotions and expressions, but when it came to you he became an open book. You could read him so easily and draw out emotions he thought were long gone.

His breath caught in his throat; with either anxiety or arousal was to be seen. You riding him while he took a work call was surely going to end horribly and he knew it, but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to your words. His cock twitched in your grasp and you could see another bead forming on the tip which your thumb swiped over and used to slicken up your hold on him.

“That wouldn’t be a good-ah,” he groaned with how your pace picked up in stroking him; his words lost on his tongue as he stared up at you. His hips jerked up into your touch in a feeble attempt to fuck your closed fist and get more stimulation.

Of course this reaction didn’t go unnoticed by you as you looked at Zayne with a smirk, “Really babe, you’re leaking everywhere and you’re trying to tell me this isn’t something you want?” You took your hand away and licked your thumb, never breaking eye contact with him. You watched the turmoil in his eyes as he observed your pink tongue licking at the precum that had dribbled out.

“I…ah!” his words died again as you went to stroke his length faster, your grip tighter than before. Your chuckle echoed in the room as you tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, “Don’t think…mhm,” he was losing his own wits at the moment, opting to just let you do whatever you wanted. He knew it was a losing battle, the way you felt was always too good for him to simply pass up.

It was only when you lifted up and began hovering over his cock, positioning it at your entrance that he stopped you. His grip tightening as he looked at you, “You know you can’t take my length without preparation,” his tone was near scolding as he looked at you. For the first time since he made out with you in the shower, the stern Zayne came out and looked at you with hard eyes.

You let out a small and annoyed whine, “You’re on call for consultations and meetings, Dr. Li,” you began with a pout in hopes he’d just give it up, “Do we really have the time for all that?” you just wanted to feel his length stretching you out already. With all the teasing and cute reactions you had gotten from Zayne, it had also left you feeling wet and needy for the man. You just happened to have better self control at times…or perhaps your need to make him whimper overrode your own need to fuck him.

Zayne’s grip didn’t lessen at all, “We always have time to prepare you,” now it was your turn to blush. He said it with such finality you had to groan a little bit.

“Alright, fine, have it your way,” you guessed this would be fine, at least now you had a chance to walk tomorrow. Zayne was huge in every sense of the way, and normally even with preparation if you took his entire length you sometimes wouldn’t be walking straight for a day or two. He always tried to stop you from taking all of him anytime you two fucked, but the moment your pussy was wrapped around him all of his sensability went out the door. You loved feeling all of him every single time you fucked him, which is why you preferred being on top. It was teasing whenever he was on top and he only fucked you with part of his length.

“I just have no idea why you’re so fascinated with being put in a wheelchair,” you gasped at his words and then looked away. A small smile was now working its way onto your lips though at the horribly made joke. He wasn’t wrong about needing a wheelchair part. If you fucked him without prep that might actually end up happening. Last time it had happened you ended up calling out of work because you literally couldn’t walk without an obvious limp.

“Come here,” he said, lifting you up until you were now balanced on your knees. He dragged you closer to him as he adjusted himself in his spot, leaning his head back onto the couch. You then realized the position he had grabbed you in, your cunt now right in his face, almost dripping onto his chest, “Just like that,” he murmured, tugging your thighs apart so he'd have easier access.

The moment his tongue licked up your folds for the first time you knew you were going to be putty in this man’s hands. The amount of times he had eaten you out is immeasurable at this point. He had your body down to a science and he was more than happy to use it in situations like these.

You groaned as he lapped at your wet cunt, his mouth forming a small suction around your clit as he worked to get a good taste of you. One hand coming up to prod a finger into your entrance which made you gasp. Your hips rolled into his face as he slipped it inside, crooking it into your pussy as he began leisurely pumping into you. Despite how you knew he had things to do he seemed intent on taking his time to do this correctly.

You groaned, noticing how he was going too slow, his tongue simply playing with your clit as his single finger fucked up into you. He was doing this on purpose now, you knew you were wet enough for a second and probably third finger inside of you. His eyes glanced up at you in that moment, taking you in and you could see the look in his eyes that told you he was planning on keeping up with this pace and bringing you to a slow orgasm tonight.

With a small, annoyed groan your hand went to his hair, tugging harshly to get his attention, “Zayne,” your voice came out low and threatening, “Don’t tease me unless you want me to edge you for the next few hours,” if he wanted to be slow with eating your cunt, then you’d happily just sit on his cock and warm him for a few hours, moving the moment he began relaxing to get him riled up again. You had done it several times in the past when he decided it would be fun to be a cheeky bastard. Normally by the end of the second hour he was so fucked out he could barely think and begging you to just move already.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes for a moment and feel him taking in a sharp breath at your words. Zayne is admittedly a slut when it comes to your whims, and something you noticed about him is that he enjoyed being edged. He also knew that now wasn’t the time. Not when there was a possibility of getting a work call at any moment. While you doubted anyone would be calling him at this time anyway, there was still a chance.

Zayne let out a low moan, his tongue now working properly on your pussy, lapping at your juices and you could hear the smacking noises of his lips against you. He slipped a second finger inside, quickly scissoring into you and working you open for his cock. Your head was thrown back as he finally began giving you what you wanted. The slow build up was sometimes nice, but you were far too needy at the moment and his cock was the only thing on your mind.

The grip in his hair stayed consistent as Zayne began getting lost with the taste of you, your juices dripping down his chin as his free hand gripped your ass to drag you closer to him. He was groaning and you could see how he tried rolling his ups up into nothing as he worked on bringing you to the brink. You rewarded him with a loud moan that echoed off the walls of the room, looking down at him with a smile.

“Fuck,” you groaned out, now rolling your hips into his face as you felt yourself getting closer, “Such a good boy,” your breathing became labored and Zayne could definitely feel how your cunt pulsed around his fingers. You were getting closer by the second as you looked down at the man. He looked utterly disheveled at the moment, his eyes closed as he got lapped at your pussy like a starved man.

You ground your hips against his mouth a few more times before letting out a cry, your cunt tightening around his digits as you came. The tension in you snapping as you rode his face, feeling how he was angling his fingers to graze against that sensitive spot inside you as he worked you through it. Your juices now trailing down onto his chest, and the noises in the room were nothing but your panting and the loud slurping noises of Zayne drinking you in.

By the time you came down your thighs were almost shaking. You loosened your hold on Zayne’s hair and moved away for a moment. His chin was shiny and wet as Zayne brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking off the rest of your essence. He groaned at your taste, his eyes never leaving yours and a shiver went down your spine as you adjusted yourself back into his lap. You grabbed the back of his head, dragging him close until you were crashing your lips against his.

You could taste yourself so clearly on his tongue and Zayne melted into your lips right away. His tongue playing with your own as he groaned, clearly already fucked out and he hadn’t even cum yet. He was so content though as you explored his mouth, moaning as the taste until you were pulling away with a gentle nip on his lower lip.

“I think you might’ve enjoyed yourself more than I did,” you said, your voice coming out a little labored still as you went to wipe away some of the slick on his chin. Your eyes trailed down between your bodies and you could see a small pool of his pre cum on his abs, his cock head red from how turned on he was at the moment.

Zayne looked down to see the mess he had made on himself then back up at you, “I always enjoy making you feel good,” he said as he cupped your ass, his eyes were needy and filled with longing that it caught you off guard, “If you want to use me, you have my permission,” his cock twitched once again and you smiled. You leaned in quickly, capturing him in a quick kiss and nuzzling his nose with your own. He was so vulnerable with you now and days, and words like this always set your heart speeding.

“Did you want me to use you, pretty boy? Ride you and use your cock until I cum again?” you asked, your voice coming out gently as you press your lips against his skin. Your mouth trailing kisses along his neck, leaving a few small nips in your wake. He could wear one of his turtle necks tomorrow for all you cared, you just wanted to see him littered in marks right now. You were sucking harshly at the junction between his neck and collarbone and managed to leave a pretty red mark there that you kissed gently as you rose up.

Zayne could clearly see what you were doing but at this point he didn’t care, all rationality was lost, “Yes, please,” his voice quivered as he admitted his desires. It sent a shiver down your spine as you went in to suck another nice red mark on his collarbone and let off, looking at him with a lascivious gaze.

You grasped his cock in your hand, pumping it then placing the head right at your entrance. You could feel the bluntness of it and shivered, knowing the stretch would probably sting only a little bit since he had worked you opened. One day you swore your pussy would become accustomed to his size, molded to it. Still the intimacy between you two was still relatively new, only going on for a handful of months. You hadn’t fucked him in two weeks before this due to conflicting schedules and you were dying to feel him again. Zayne’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he watched as you slowly began taking his cock into you.

Zayne grasped the back of your neck, dragging you to his lips as he began kissing you. It was sloppy and hurried as his hips bucked up into you as he tried getting you to take more of him. His cock slid more into you and managed to hit your sweet spot and you took in a sharp inhale of breath. It was clear how much he wanted to feel your pussy clenched around his length as you smirked against his mouth. You let out a moan yourself, feeling how his cock was almost nestled all the way inside of you. You wondered briefly if it would be a good idea to take all of him tonight. Two weeks wasn’t that long ago, you could probably take it this time around.

You braced your arms on his chest as you sat up to get a good view of him. You didn’t even have a chance to begin moving when you saw Zayne’s arm coming up to cover his face. He let out a loud groan while he rolled his hips up into you. You could feel his cock twitching and then the warmth filling you up. Your eyes widened as you realized he was coming just from having you sitting on his cock. He had been more worked up than you originally thought, and it sent jolts of pleasure through you as he continued bucking up into you to ride it out.

His thrusts were shallow while he let out pretty moans that were muffled as he tried biting into his own arm out of embarrassment. That clearly wouldn’t do as you grasped his arm suddenly and moved it away from his face, pinning it to the couch above you. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, jaw hanging open as he let out a whiny moan.

“Don’t hide yourself, sweetheart. I wanna see you,” you rolled your hips into him as you helped him through his orgasm. His freehand went to grasp your ass and squeezed it harder than he intended as he tried moving you along his cock. He was almost shaking from how good it must’ve felt and as he slowly started to come down he looked down between your bodies.

He could see some of his release coming out of you, dripping onto his lap and coating his cock in the substance. The creamy mixture of your joined fluids was almost too much for him as his cock gave a final spurt into you.

“Did it feel that good to be buried in my pussy that you came instantly?” You asked as you brought your hand to his still wet chin. You made him look at you and he could see the mischievous glint in your eyes as he tried looking away. You chuckled, dragging him in for another kiss and grabbing his discarded robe next to you to wipe away some of the mess on his chin. He was panting into your mouth as you bit down hard on his lip.

Instead of leaving marks in your wake you were content with just leaving sweet kisses all over his face as he caught his breath. He was clearly enjoying himself with how his eyes closed and he relaxed into your touches. After a few more moments he was finally able to speak, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes opened to look at you. The embarrassment at coming the moment his cock was put into you was clearly there, but you found it more adorable if anything.

“Don’t be sorry,” you said gently, cupping his cheek. You watched as he leaned into your touch and smiled, “Besides, I’m not done with you just yet, Zayne,” you said and his eyes shot over to you. You felt his cock move inside of you and you smirked, “Looks like you’re not done either,”

His cock might’ve been softening inside of you right now, but you were intent on keeping him inside of you as long as possible. Before Zayne could protest you began rolling your hips onto his sensitive cock; a gasp left his mouth as he watched the way you were moving. Zayne had always been so easy to overstimulate, and the time it took for him to get hard again was always so fast it sometimes surprised you.

His grip tightened as he watched you lift off his dick slightly then roll back down, taking his softening length back into you. He hissed and closed his eyes, “W-wait…” he groaned, needing a minute before you properly began fucking him. You let out a hum, your hand on his chest as you pushed him back so he was pressed into the couch. You leaned up onto him with your hips still moving at a slow and agonizing pace for him.

“Wait? Zayne, you’re in call dear, we don’t have time to wait,” you teased him. You could see the cogs in his head turning at that and he bit his lower lip as he attempted to control himself, closing his eyes as he tried to not focus on the uncomfortable feeling of his sensitive cock being squeezed by you.

“Please…” he whimpered out and you chuckled at how breathy his voice was at the moment. You cupped his chin, forcing him to look at you. His cock was slowly starting to harden again, but it still felt too sensitive to be wrapped so tightly inside your pussy.

“Please what?” you cooed, your thumb pressing on his bottom lip. He tried to say something, but words were lost to him as he felt you squeezing around him, instead a small gasp left him as his hips moved up into you. You clicked your tongue and shook your head, “Remember earlier when I was shaving your face?” he was silent again and you applied more pressure to his lip, “Zayne, use your words,”

“Yes,” he said, swallowing thickly as he looked up at you, his adam's apple moving with the motion. His eyes were starting to get a little wet from the overstimulation and you groaned at the sight of him.

“You said you’d stay still,” you reminded him and he nodded in response, “Can you stay still for me again?” you cocked your head to the side and waited for him.

“I can…but why?” he said; as soon as the words left he realized what you had implied. Instead of placing your hands on him you put them on the couch behind him. You used it as leverage and raised a singular brow while smirking down at him. The way you seemed locked on meant only one thing.

You began riding him in earnest, your ass bouncing on his lap as you used the couch as leverage to help you. Your loud moans started filling the room as you felt his thick cock stretching you out. You still hadn’t even taken all of him yet but you were already feeling like you were getting close as you pressed your chest against him. Every single vein of his dick felt heavenly as you threw your head back to let out loud moans that allowed him to know just how good he was making you feel. He did say you could use him as your own personal toy if you really wanted to, so you were simply taking advantage of the offer.

Despite how he said he would sit still he couldn’t help as he began kissing your chest. They were bouncing right in front of him and he groaned, the wet smacking noises of his lips against your chest joined in with your moans. You felt his warm mouth latch onto one of your nipples making you keen, pressing your chest closer to his face.

“Fuck, Zayne, just like that,” you groaned, not bothering to scold him for being disobedient when he was making you feel so damn good. He was managing to keep his hips from fucking up into you at the moment so that would have to be good enough. Zayne moaned against your chest, his tongue laving over your hardened bud before popping off and kissing between your chest. Zayne swore if you allowed him he would stay like this, just kissing and sucking at your chest. He was starting to leave marks all over your skin without remorse, loving how the red seemed to bloom like roses on your skin.

You clench tightly around him as he presses gentle kisses against your skin and you feel your pace faltering a little bit. You were getting so damn close to coming already just from how he stretched you out so perfectly. You bit your lip as you tried picking up the speed to help reach your orgasm sooner, angling so your clit hit his pelvis with every stroke.

You felt his cock twitching again and you were so close to the cusp of getting to cum, and you were certain he was almost there as well. Then it was absolutely ruined the moment you heard a familiar ring tone coming from the side table next to you. You both paused, your cunt halfway on his cock as you both slowly looked over at his phone. It was flashing with the caller ID of one of the doctor’s you recognized from the convention.

The blonde female’s name popped up and you turned back to Zayne. It was nearly ten at night currently, and you didn’t know why the fuck someone would be calling. You could see the look in Zayne’s eyes as he truly debated if he was going to answer it. He did say he was on call for things regarding the conventions, meetings, and even emergency patient consultations. Still, at this time of night unless it was a patient or a coworker, did anyone really have a right to be calling him? If it was that important they could’ve sent him an email about the events of the convention rather than calling him at a time where most people should be asleep.

Zayne looked back at you, “I have to…answer this…” he sounded defeated as he looked back at his phone. You let out a sigh, reaching over and grabbing his phone. His hand was already out for you to place the device in his palm. He looked at the phone then back at you, “I’m…” he was about to apologize but you shook your head with a small smile. Even if you felt a little bubble of rage inside of you, you quelled it. You knew how important his job was. Hell if your Hunter’s watch went off you’d probably be jumping off his dick and grabbing your guns.

“Just answer it,” you said, knowing that in two rings it would go to voicemail. He finally swiped up on the phone and put it against his ear.

You could hear the female doctor’s voice on the other line who seemed surprised that Zayne had actually answered at this time. You frowned at how peppy the woman sounded and you could only barely hear her at the moment. Your eyes narrowed at the device and Zayne began giving short replies to the woman and attempted to keep his breathing even.

“Yes, tomorrow at eleven,” you heard Zayne murmur into the receiver followed by a, “Before the meeting?” and now your eyes were widened. You could tell that this phone call clearly wasn’t an important one, which you had suspected. That woman was from a different hospital, however she had met with Zayne at a previous doctor’s seminar about two months back. When you two had been walking around the convention center earlier today she had seemed overly friendly with him, going so far as to touch his arm while speaking. You had almost broken her hand at that since Zayne had tensed up the moment the woman had touched him.

It didn’t sit right with you, especially judging by how Zayne was speaking to her while balls deep in you. You made a motion for Zayne to put it on speaker and at first he shook his head, but one glare from you and he was moving the phone away from his ear and clicking the button so you could hear the conversation. You gave him a smile in response for listening to you.

“Yes, since the panel tomorrow was a little bit later in the evening I was wondering if you’d like to perhaps grab some coffee before it. I heard you have a sweet tooth and I know a place close to the convention center that has amazing milk tea,” the peppy woman on the other end began saying and you looked between the phone then over to Zayne. She was calling at ten so she could…ask him out on a coffee date for tomorrow morning? She…she had seen you two together. Sure PDA wasn’t something you guys partook in at events like this. You were certain that Zayne had made sure to introduce you as his partner though to everyone who had asked, including her. She knew he was a taken man.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” Zayne began but the other doctor seemed very persistent when she was speaking to him. Her voice even dropped to be a little more…seductive perhaps?

“Are you certain? They also have some items for breakfast we could try. I heard their cinnamon rolls were to die for, and I think they make fresh macaroons every morning,” how did this bitch find out she could tempt him with macarons? Who fucking told her? Greyson was at this convention too, wasn’t he? You swore up and down that if he had told this woman about Zayne’s preferences in food you were going to give him an earful tomorrow when Zayne wasn’t looking.

You gave Zayne the look as he seemed to think over the offer for a brief moment. You absolutely would not be having him thinking about going to breakfast with someone who was clearly trying to get into his pants. You decide to squeeze yourself around him and Zayne let out a small gasp at the sudden stimulation that he hadn’t been expecting.

His wide eyes looked at you, shaking his head as if pleading for you to not do this. You smirked though, clearly satisfied with how he reacted to just a little bit of teasing. Your hands left the back of the couch so you could rest them on his chest, your fingers going around his nipples, but not touching them; a small warning for him to tread carefully and probably end the phone call the moment he could.

“Zayne, is everything alright?” hearing this woman calling him by his first name instead of Dr. Li sent a spike of hot rage through you. You thought to yourself that perhaps you weren’t an overly jealous person, but that solidified that you could be downright nasty when someone was trying to hit on Zayne. Especially since the man didn’t seem to think anything of it, probably assuming it was just a casual conversation and she wasn’t flirting with him. Even you had to be extremely forward before he realized you were actually trying to flirt with him.

You looked at Zayne with a loving smile, your hand trailing up his chest and into his hair for a brief moment. He looked at you confused before letting out the loudest moan as you slammed down fully on his cock, taking all of him suddenly. You could feel the sting going through you as his cock slammed into your cervix, but you managed to school your expression as you had priorities.

The other end of the receiver was silent for a moment as there was no way the noise of you dropping down on his cock, and then his moan could’ve been mistaken for anything else. You knew damn well that you were caught having sex during a phone call, but honestly you didn’t care. You weren’t about to sit idly while someone flirted with your boyfriend while you were sitting on his dick.

“He’s busy right now,” you stated bluntly, “And he’s going to be similarly busy tomorrow morning as well,” your voice was clipped. The woman began stammering out a reply as she processed what was going on, but you had grabbed the phone and hung up on her. You tossed the device somewhere on the couch where it was out of sight and out of mind. You didn’t care who else tried calling him tonight, you refused to let him answer another call…and honestly probably after he fell asleep tonight you were going to block that other doctor’s number from his phone.

Zayne looked at you with both shock and something else hidden beneath the depths of those gorgeous eyes of his. He licked his lips and furrowed his brows as he cleared his throat, “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his cheeks very red now. He always was a stickler for keeping up his reputation, but at the moment you really didn't give a damn. If that woman wanted to spread rumors about Zayne getting laid over the phone, she’d have to admit she was flirting with the man in the first place. Besides, it might send a message to everyone else that he was very much taken.

“Well she did see us together at the convention center,” you began as you rose up on his cock. He groaned at the feeling of your slick walls gliding on him, “So she knew you were a taken man yet she still wanted to try and get you to go on a date with her,” you slowly descended back down on his dick until it was fully nestled into you. You leaned forward and pressed kisses behind his ear as you whispered, “Honestly if she tries that shit again I’ll fuck you right in front of her next time so she can see what a needy mess you become for me and me only,”

Zayne wasn’t prepared as you began bouncing on his cock quickly, accentuating every roll of your hips when he bottomed out. He had his head thrown back as he groaned loudly into the room, not prepared for you to go so fast again. His dick was twitching like crazy and you knew he was getting close and you were thrilled at the thought of him filling you up again. His neck was on full display and you began sucking a mark right on his jaw line where he wouldn’t be able to hide it unless he wore a scarf up to his damn mouth.

You squeezed his cock so perfectly, and the way that your body looked above him did things to Zayne he had never thought possible before meeting you. His eyes never leaving your face or chest, depending on which one came into view as you fucked yourself on him. It was like you were using his body as a toy, an instrument for your own pleasure. The sweat pearled on your skin and slid down the valley of your breasts and he leaned in, licking the salty mess and groaned.

“I’m close,” it was a warning from Zayne; to help you decide if you wanted to slow down and prolong your own pleasure, or to let him tumble over that perfect edge and paint your insides. With how your pace didn’t falter he decided it was the later, “Ah ah ah,” his panting against your chest made you chuckle. Your hand threaded into his hair and pressed him closer.

“Baby, play with my chest again. Want to feel that mouth of yours,” you groaned and he didn’t hesitate. His tongue quickling found one of your nipples and bit down around it. You jerked your hips on him and he knew he was done for.

He hid his moans into your chest, playing with your nipple as he came inside of you. The warmth spread over you and you bucked your hips, rolling them against his perfectly as he came inside of you. You were moaning alongside him, the noises mingling perfectly together as you settled on his lap and just ground yourself on his cock to help him through his second orgasm.

You felt him bucking up into you again, his body moving on his own. His hand twitched on your ass and then grabbed a fistful of it and tried dragging you closer and you chuckled. You watched him pop off your breast with a wet noise and he looked up at you panting.

His head was fuzzy and he couldn’t think of something to say, but it looked like he didn’t have to. For the second time that night he watched as you began riding his sensitive cock right after his orgasm. This time he let out a sharp gasp. His hands were on your hips in a weak attempt to hold you down, but as a hunter you managed to have a little more strength than him, especially after he had just come and was still blissed out from it.

“Zayne, lemme cum too, fuck I’m so close lemme ride you for a little longer,” your voice was so melodic as you said this, your hips not letting up in the slightest as you literally used him as a dildo at the moment. There wasn’t much he could do but help you work through your pleasure, so that’s what he did. He sat up and you felt his cock moving in you, dragging against your sweet spot as he managed to get a new angle inside of you without even trying.

He placed one of his hands into your hair and dragged your head closer to him as he began leaving wet kisses all over your neck and collarbone. His other hand was going between your bodies and pressing down on your clit before rubbing in the way he knew made you go crazy. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last long with how you felt around him, and he knew if he came again before you did he would be too fucked out for the rest of the evening to do anything.

The added stimulation had you gasping, pussy squeezing so perfectly around him that he was whimpering. His cock never had a chance to get soft as it was still hard inside of you. “F-fuck Zayne, mhn ah so so fucking clo-close babe,” you said as he groaned against your neck and left a red mark in a place you also wouldn’t be able to hide, essentially giving you a matching hicky.

You wanted to say something witty about how fucked out he was that he didn’t care if people saw the results of your romps, but your head was swimming right now as you let out a series of sweet moans. Zayne’s hips rolled in time with your own and you felt how he twitched inside of you, “Z-Zayne,” you whined, “C-can you cum again, sweetheart?” you gasped out as you felt his teeth grazing that soft spot between your ear and neck.

The way you felt his cock moving inside of you was enough to let you know he could. His refractory period had always been so damn short and one day you swore you’d explore just how fast and many times you could make him cum in an hour. Right now though you just wanted to cum yourself as you worked your hips perfectly on him and chased your high.

It didn’t take much, not with how his hand was working your clit and his cock abused your g-spot every time you impaled yourself on him. Your pussy clenched tightly like a vice around him and your thighs quivered as you cried out. You came hard, your juices flowing on his cock and it was enough to send him into his third orgasm of the night.

The combination of your tight pussy and the overstimulation had him spilling inside of you, filling you to the breaking point as his release flowed down out since you couldn’t contain it all inside. He was whimpering as you rode out your high, closing your eyes and holding his shoulder so tightly you were certain there would be bruising. His whines went perfectly with your own panting as you finally found yourself coming down to earth, sliding down on his cock weakly.

Zayne’s head was still nestled in the crook of your neck and you worked on shrugging him off. When he finally looked back at you his eyes were glassy and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. He went on autopilot, accepting your affections as he opened his mouth. It was lazy as you made out with him, tongue pressing against his own in a slow and sloppy kiss. Neither of you cared at the moment though, just savoring the moment of being like this.

Your chest was heaving as you parted, pressing your forehead against his own and closing your eyes. You were both sweaty and absolute messes, making your previous shower absolutely useless in hindsight. You chuckled at the thought, your hands running through his hair and playing with it as you smiled against him.

“What’s so funny?” his voice was husky and quiet as he asked this and you opened your eyes to stare at him.

“We made a mess right after our shower,” you commented and he let out a huff. He was clearly coming back to his senses as you just sat there instead of moving and overstimulating him again. His hands now laid on your thighs again, giving them a small squeeze.

“Who’s fault is that?” he murmured, making you laugh again and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“You’re the one who got hard from me shaving your face,” you remind him calmly, “Didn’t know you had a kink for sharp objects being pressed against you,”

“I do not have that kink,” he grumbled, but his argument was invalid after you felt him twitch inside of you. You let out another laugh and leaned back a little to cup his face.

“You sure about that?” The way his eyes avoided you was all you needed for an answer. You shook your head and decided to rest against his chest for a little longer. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer and placed his chin on top of your head. The moment was serene as you basked in the afterglow.

Instead of giving you an answer he just cleared his throat, “We need to clean up,” now it was your turn to groan at his words. He always was so anal about doing things properly with aftercare when all you ever wanted to do was cuddle with him and fall asleep. Of course if you fucked him to the point where he couldn’t think properly you would take the mantle, but it seemed today he was still well enough to have common sense…you’d fuck him senseless next time.

“Just a little longer,” you tried convincing him by using a whinier voice than normal. You looked up at him through your eyelashes in a silent form of begging, hoping he’d just let you have your way like he normally would in situations that didn’t involve your actual health.

Zayne shook his head, “If I give into you now then you’ll just fall asleep, and I can’t have that,” okay well he might’ve been accurate in that assessment, but it didn’t mean you were about to give up on your goal of cuddling with him right now.

“Counter argument…I cock warm you and we go to sleep like this right here on the couch,” You tried to reason, but clearly Zayne was not about to let you do that.

“That’s not good for your health,” he watched as you groaned, “We need to clean up, you need to use the restroom, and after that we can lay down in a proper bed and go to sleep,” he made an attempt to reason but you were still pouting at the thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” you mumbled, “You came three times,” you reminded him as your hand trailed over his chest gently. You tried looking innocent despite the fact that you had been riding this man and overstimulating him for around an hour at this point.

“I’m still fully capable of standing…” he said and you watched the corners of his mouth twitch, “Besides, you’ve done worse in the past,” you gasped and looked at him with an open mouth. Okay just because you’ve fucked him to the point of crying in the past and had him shooting blanks meant nothing.

You then smirked, “I mean…I can make you cum like four more times and then we’ll see if that statement pans out,” you chuckled at the thought. You wouldn’t mind wrapping your mouth around him and making him cum a few more times if it meant he’d be tired enough to not bother with getting off this couch. You just wanted to relax into him despite how tired you were and how your muscles ached. You knew damn well that you wouldn’t be able to ride him much longer if you tried, you already ached between your legs. It might’ve also been the reason you didn’t want to get off his dick at the moment, you knew that sore feeling would only fester the moment you did.

“Nope, not tonight, I have to do things tomorrow,” he said and he went to lift you up, but watched the small flinch the moment he slid you up on his cock. It seemed the real reason you wanted to couchrot finally clicked in his brain, “You took all of me…” he finally muttered as he looked down at you.

“Was I...not supposed to?” you asked and it was clear as day that you were guilty. Just like how he had things to do tomorrow, you did as well. Mainly accompanying him since you had insisted on joining him for a convention as his plus one. You had a full day of walking around a convention center.

He sighed and shook his head, “While I might be able to walk right now…can you?” he asked and you looked away and bit your lip.

“I mean…with a limp I could,” okay maybe slamming down on his cock during that phone call wasn’t your best decision, but you were feeling a little jealous and needed the bitch to know he was yours. You tended to make stupid decisions when it came to your jealousy. It didn’t happen often since most people understood they shouldn’t be flirting with a taken man, but when it did you never made smart decisions.

You let out a hiss as he finally lifted you off his dick and you could see the trail of your combined releases coming out of you and onto his lap. You’d have to clean this couch before it stained or else you’d be getting a nice little bill from the resort when you guys left. You could feel the ache so clearly now and it was written all over your face.

Zayne stood up with you still in his arms, making you lock your legs around his waist as he began carrying you into the bathroom. Your arms wrapped around him as you leaned closer to him, placing your chin on his shoulder as you let him carry you.

“Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you right now?” you murmured, letting out a small yawn afterwards as you nuzzled into him.

“Your argument would be more valid if you could walk,” he said with an amused huff. The bathroom was now cool, a stark contrast to how warm the living room had been after your session. The air was significantly less thick and not smelling of sex which you weren’t sure if you loved or hated right now.

“Again, I can walk…just not well,” you stated as he placed you down on the counter. You leaned your back against the cool mirror as you watched him walk to the shower and turn it on again. You were certain this time around the shower would be quick and almost clinical as he took care of your needs, “Seriously this should be reversed,”

“You’ve already taken care of me, snowflake, now it’s my turn,” the sound of the nickname made you flush and you looked away for a brief moment. Zayne seemed amused by your reaction as he made his way back to you. His hands now on the back of your thighs as he got ready to pick you back up, “Do you think you’ll be okay for tomorrow? I can go out and buy some heating pads. I already have pain relievers in my bag,” he commented as he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t think I need a wheelchair if that’s what you're asking…” you then smirked, “Although if you wanted to wheel me around in one tomorrow I won’t say no.” it would send a pretty good message to that one doctor…

“If you’re in that much pain tomorrow then you’ll be on bed rest,” he warned and you let out a groan.

“You know, Zayne,” you said as you pulled him closer to kiss him quickly, “It’s a good thing I love you,”

The way he looked at you was filled with so much affection it made your breath get caught in your throat. Even though he seldom was able to say the words himself you could tell in the way his eyes looked into your own that he loved you with every fiber of his being, “The feeling is mutual,” he leaned in again for a soft and sweet kiss that would always make you melt like snow. You smiled into it, allowing him to care for you once more for the night.

Aight it's here. It's finished. @anxiousgoddest I know you were excited for it so here is it. The fic. It's done. Also @zayne-li helped me a lot with coming up with some ideas for this so a big thank you!

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Zayne #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #zayne x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads zayne x reader

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reidsdimples · 2 months ago

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“I gave your girlfriend cunnalingus on my couch”

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Smut & Fluff (if you squint) 18+❤️‍🔥

Your cheating ex gets what’s coming to him when Spencer shows you what you truly deserve.

Just a little fantasy I had based on this song

Spencer opens his front door just barely after you finish knocking. You rub your arms as you hug yourself tight, trying not to cry anymore. When you see those sympathetic doe eyes though, you feel apart and collapsed into your best friend’s arms. He was warm, solid, unwavering. He always has been.

He closes the door behind you and gently guides you to his couch. You sniffle and wipe your tears. You’d been here before. Somehow you always end up in Spencer’s arms after your boyfriend cheats on you.

Even though you and Spencer no longer work together, the two of you have always been close. So when you took a new job in a different department, it didn’t affect your friendship.

“What happened?” He asks gently. He sits a mug of warm coffee on the table in front of you. Of course it was sweetened to your liking.

“Got off of work early, they were in my bed,” you seethe.

“Same girl?” He stares through you, his anger clear in the flexing of his perfect jaw.

“Nope,” you sigh. “I kicked him out. I don’t care anymore. He better be gone by morning,” you shake your head.

“So you wanna crash here?” He grins and nudges your arm playfully.

“Please,” you pucker your lip. His eyes linger on your mouth for a moment then he stands.

“You are always welcome,” he retrieves his phone which pinged with a text. He’s leaning on his counter casually with his long legs crossed at the ankles, looking unreal in a hoodie and pajama pants.

You and Spencer had never gone there. But you had thought about it… a lot. Now, sitting on his couch, heartbroken again, you find yourself wanting him closer than ever.

Your phone finds.

Leon

You ignore it, a fowl taste in your mouth. He calls again which becomes Spencer over with a pillow and a blanket.

Leon: come on babe, we both know you’ll get over it. Just come home

You scowl at the screen and drop your phone on his coffee table.

“I can’t believe I’ve put up with his shit for two years. Every time I say I’m done, I take him back,” you drop your head into your hands.

“I know you don’t like it when I profile you…” he starts.

“Give it to me doctor,” you tell him. No way you could feel worse.

“He’s carefully worn you down slowly. He has destroyed your self esteem and made you subconsciously believe you’re worth nothing better than him. He relishes in the power he’s taken from you. You crave intimacy and fear being alone so you take him back, you can’t help it,” he takes the seat next to you. The couch dips slightly.

You know he’s right, he’s always right.

“How do I… not do that,” you’re feeling vulnerable.

“Prove to yourself that you can do better,” he pushes and gently grips your hand.

You scoff in a disbelieving ‘yeah right’ manner and turn look away from him. You can’t bear his intense stare at the moment.

“I’m serious… you…” he pauses on a groan as if he’s fighting not to say something. His thumb brushes over your skin gently, sending chills up your arm.

“What?” You urge him.

“You are gorgeous, and powerful. You own a room when you walk into it and somehow you have no idea that all eyes are on you. You have the ability to drive a man to his knees but you keep letting Leon bring you to yours,” he shakes his head. Anger has crept into Spencer’s demeanor. “It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” You ask because his words have rendered you nearly speechless. He his squeezes your gently, he look away and looks back into your eyes.

“It’s not fair that he’s treating you this way. If I had the chance, I’d worship you.”

You’re pretty sure your jaw is on the floor. Spencer… Spencer Reid didn’t say those things, Spencer didn’t fantasize about you the way you do him. It’s impossible.

Your sheer lack of give a shit about anything spurs you to grip the collar of his hoodie and pull him towards you. He collapses to his knees before you and stares up into your eyes. He’s torn between astonishment and amusement.

“Worship me how?” You tease him.

He grins, his tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip. His strong hands rest on your thighs and squeeze. You inhale a sharp breath.

“It doesn’t even have to mean anything. But you need to know that you can do better,” he implores and situates himself between your still clothed legs.

“And you’re the better I’m assuming?” You poke his nose and lean back on the couch. You lift your hips when he locks his fingers in your waistband and tugs. You silently follow his lead.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he gently kisses your ankle as he tosses your jeans on the ground.

He props that same ankle on his shoulder and begins kissing up your leg. You want to tell him he’s the better man in every way, that he always has been.

But his fingers are fire against your skin, his lips soft and teasing as he plants soft kisses on your thighs.

Your phone rings again. Spencer looks up and laughs a breathless sort of laugh against your skin.

A text comes through and you look at it lazily while you play in Spencer’s hair. His fingers dig massage your thighs as he starts to nip at your soft skin.

Leon: where are you?

You smirk as an idea flies to you, one that would exact the perfect revenge. You place your hand on the crown of Spencer’s head and snap a photo from your point of view.

He laughs when you show him the picture. His identify is concealed and Leon doesn’t know Spencer. You send the photo of the “mystery man” between your legs to your cheating ass boyfriend. You finally toss your phone away, eager to focus on said man.

“Are you using me?” He tutts and tugs on your lace panties with his teeth. His breath fans across your pussy and causes goosebumps to trail up your skin and harden your nipples.

“Is that okay?” You playfully pucker out your bottom lip and bat your eyelashes.

“Mhmm,” he answers mindlessly because he’s tugging your underwear aside.

He gets a glimpse of you and you’re perfect and he’s amazed. He kisses your pussy lips softly, eliciting a soft moan. You want more of him, you need more friction.

You put your other leg on his opposite shoulder and pull him closer. That’s all the prompting he needs. He holds your underwear out of the way completely and dives into you as you open up for him.

Spencer’s lips are warm, his strong tongue pushing and prodding against your most sensitive areas. Your clit is given special attention but he notes how much you enjoy his tongue inside of you.

“Spencer,” you cry.

He holds girls your thighs and laps at you like a man starved.

“So perfect, angel,” he praises and slips his tongue back into your entrance.

He drags it upward and flicks it against your clit causing you to twitch.

“Mmm right there,” you beg and push his head closer.

He obeys and keeps his pace steady and unrelenting against your clit. You inhale deeply as your climax builds and you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt so wanted, felt so good.

He moans into your cunt when you start to greedily grind against his face. He masters the pace you need and tilts you right over the edge. Your orgasm seizes you all at once and your legs shake. He eats you through it and your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh god,” you shudder.

He looks up at you as though asking if he did good and wipes his mouth.

“Woah,” you pant.

He grins and you pull him up to kiss him. You had never kissed Spencer before but doing so felt so … right. He leans against you and cradles you softly, his hands on either side of your face as though he needs to keep you close.

Your lips slot against each others perfectly as if in tune to one another already. You savor the taste of him and how it mixes with your arousal already on his tongue.

Somehow you both moan into the kiss at the same time. It prompts a small laugh from the two of you and he rests his forehead against yours. He’s still leaning between your legs, well, more like lazily resting there as though beyond content.

You hear your phone buzzing and you think it must have been the whole time.

You scoff.

“For the record, Spencer, you’ve always been the better man. I just never would have thought you’d be interested,” you admit. He furrows his brow and moves up to set beside you. He faces you with his legs crossed.

You note his messy hair, crooked collar, and doe eyes which give him a boyish kind of charm.

“You’re so far out of my league that I never pursued you,” his voice notes the irony of the situation. “You don’t have to choose me. Or anyone. Ever. I just want you to be happy,” he says honestly.

Your phone vibrates again. Spencer stares at it and hands it to you.

6 Missed Calls

8 Texts Messages

4 Voicemails

“Thank you,” you smirk. “Right now I want to get over this asshole and spend time with you. In equal measure.”

“We can do that.” He leans back in the couch and you crawl against him.

You play the most recent voicemail which is just Leon blubbering and sobbing about “how could you do this to me” despite him cheating for your entire relationship.

You and Spencer get a good laugh out of Leon misery and then he reaches for a book.

“Read to me?” You sigh contently.

He does, until you fall asleep peacefully in his arms.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg pics #mgg #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid ai

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reiderwriter · 5 months ago

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Wished Away Entire Lifetimes

Chapter 6 of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Living with Spencer - even if it is because some psycho is trying to murder you - means learning more about him. You just hope that the reverse isn't also true as you keep your cards as close to your chest as possible.

Warnings: No smut, suggestive content, both reader and Spencer are horny as fuck the entire time, spoilers for Marley and Me, mention of a pet death in the aforementioned movie.

A/N: At this point, I have to admit to the audience that the plot has somewhat changed from my original intention, but I still have a solid goal in mind, so WHO CARES!!! Domestic Spencer! Dom can mean more than one thing, Amen.

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

Spencer's apartment was exactly as you remembered it, but this time around, it felt different.

You quietly walked in and sat down on the sofa, trying not to be so obvious in your glances towards the bookshelf, trying to see if your message was still intact.

“The kitchen's just through here, my bedroom, study,” he said pointing to each doorway, introducing you to a place you already had ingrained in your mind as the site of your biggest surprise.

You nodded along awkwardly and shifted the bag of spare clothes and toiletries you'd picked up from your apartment on the way there between your hands.

The shelves were still in order and, based on the updated collection of dust sprinkled about the place, hadn't even been perused in a while. You pouted a little, thinking about how you'd have to reluctantly forgive him for not messaging you. If he hadn't seen the message, then you supposed he was telling the truth about being busy.

More of you wanted to wallow in your pettiness, to wait until he noticed himself that you were expecting. You did wonder how long it would take him. He was observant. You'd admitted that to himself when he'd first started mentioning case details and inferences months before in the office, but it seemed like people weren't hit forte.

You were sure he could statistically tell you how big your baby was given the amount of weeks pregnant you were (the size of a plum, according to a Google search the night before) but you didn't think he'd be able to notice that you specifically were carrying said baby.

It was, though, only a matter of time.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” He asked, staring at you with his brow furrowed, his tie slightly looser than it had been a few moments earlier.

Now you were the thoughtless one. Your gaze raked down from his face to the loosened tie, the top buttons undone, the flash of skin at his neck as he swallowed lightly, obviously not as effected by your gaze as you were by his.

“Yes,” you replied, letting your mind wander off to one of the two couched he'd fucked you on.

“Y/N, you're not listening,” he said again, slightly irritated now. Somehow that turned you on more.

“Yes, I am.”

“What did I say then?”

“I said I was listening, not that I cared.”

He closed his eyes in a sigh before stepping closer to you and grabbing your bag in his hand. You quickly snatched it back and pulled it to yourself.

You hadn't exactly packed much, but in your rush out of the door, hormones or something maternal had grabbed a baby grow and a teddy bear, and you knew the combination would cause questions you didn't have the patience to answer just then.

“Y/N,” he moaned, signalling how tired he was with your attitude. You wanted to calm down and just apologise, but the part of you that had jumped at the sight of his bare skin was now itching for a physical fight.

Emphasis, hopefully, on the physical part.

“I'd rather you didn't go through my things, Spencer,” you said, throwing the bag back over your shoulder.

“And I'd rather you listened to me instead of glaring at me, but here we are.”

Your eyes narrowed on him as you found yourself pitching forward, head tipping back as his hand caught the top of the strap and slowly pushed it down your arm.

“There, now, let me show you the bed.”

“Bed?”

“You really weren't listening?”

“I tend to drown you out these days, I fear its a trauma response.”

He scoffed and pressed a hand to the base of your spine, inching you forward as he held your bag for you.

First, his hand on your arm, and then the one on your back - you really shouldn't have accepted his offer knowing you were going to spend at least a night and likely more frustratedly horny.

You'd barely survived a day in an office with him, And that was before you'd been intimate.

Now you had memories, and a reference point, and a goddamn bed.

“Here. I'll clear a draw so you can unpack. Let me grab you some towels as well, and-”

“What do you mean?” Your tone was brighter, less challenging now and more open curiosity, as if being mollified by his temporary kindness. The change made you uncomfortable.

He looked back at you with a wide-eyed questioning stare.

“Hmm?”

“Clear a draw? You keep clothes in your spare room?”

He struggled for an answer for a second before meeting your eyes again with an almost apologetic glance.

“Y/N, I don't have a spare bed. The other room only has a desk. The bed was removed when-” he trailed off, looking almost guilty as he spotted your embarrassed look.

“Okay, and when were you going to tell me that?” You said, hands on your hips in an attempt at intimidation. His eyes dragging down your body said that it'd had the opposite effect.

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to you again, hands resting on your hips then stroking up your back until he was cradling your back, closing the gap between you until you were chest to chest.

“You weren't listening, remember?"

You desperately clung to that indignant annoyance as his gaze slid to your mouth, your hands pinned against his chest. You were painfully aware of the bed just inches behind you, wondering what his reaction would be if you just stripped off and climbed in.

“I wasn't listening just now, but I sure as hell was listening on campus. Emily has a spare room, let me call her.”

“No,” he pouted, leaning forward to press his lips to your cheek.

“Spencer!” You gasped at the unexpected move. If you weren't so delicately pressed up against his rising member, you'd accuse him of acting like a spoiled child.

He did it again, switching to your other cheek. You pouted back at him, glaring at him when he surfaced from each kiss.

“You know,” you said as he licked at the skin between your neck and your collar bone. “You have a job to do, right?”

He hummed against your skin, lips rising to the sensitive point just below your earlobe.

You breathed out a shaky sigh and tried again.

“You can't just keep me in bed for two weeks,” you said, gripping his shoulders lightly, not sure whether you wanted him off you, or you wanted him buried deeper.

“I can't?”

His lips rose again to your cheeks, but so his his hands, grabbing a breast in one hand as the other squeezed your ass, pulling you closer.

“Spencer, some would think you hadn't had sex in months, come on-”

“Haven't.”

His hands were more insistent now, pushing up your shirt and finding your sensitive breasts. His wandering hands didn't care about your bra, they didn't care about how sensitive your nipples were because of the hormones, they didn't even care they were being a bit too rough as he pinched your nipples hard and pulled them upwards, a moan shooting from your mouth.

It was so painful, so fucking delicious that you almost missed his words. You almost laughed at the irony that both your and his first fuck in months had resulted in a pregnancy. A dry spell ended by a shower of orgasms and a conception to boot. How lucky.

Spencer was too busy for thought.

“God, Spencer, if you're going to fuck me standing up, at least do it against a wall.”

He reluctantly pulled his hands away and his head, too, just long enough to glare at you.

“Towels,” you said. “And a clear draw.”

He nodded and finally removed his hands from you, though you had no doubt he'd be back on you the minute all the tasks for the day were done.

“And Spencer?” You said, curiosity getting the better of you.

He turned to look at you, and you let the question out before you could think about it too much.

“How busy were you that you haven't had time to fuck in months?”

If it were any other man, you'd have cringed at hearing your own question. But Spencer always answered so earnestly that there could be very little embarrassment with him. Just frustration and confusion.

“I wasn't busy,” he said, already making his way out of the room, leaving his head peeking around the doorway as he finished his explanation.

“I was in prison.”

You spent the next 72 hours trying to wrap your mind around that declaration. Of all things he could've been doing, prison never came to mind.

A vow of celibacy you'd believe. Just a general lack of game, you'd be a bit more hesitant to believe, considering his general attractiveness. A nasty case of (now cured) Chlamydia leading to almost a year sex free in recovery would be preferable. Or a stint in rehab for sex addiction, perhaps, considering how often his hands had been on you since arriving.

But prison?

What the fuck would they put him in prison for?

While he'd run errands for you that night, you'd tucked yourself into his bed, not even bothering to change into your pajamas. You stripped off a single layer and climbed in, not stopping to let yourself contemplate that answer until the morning.

Unfortunately, since you'd found yourself snuggled up to a hard cock 8 hours later, you didn't exactly have time to think about it then either, busy grinding against him wantonly.

By the time his hands were gripping the flesh of your thighs grinding back into you on the edge of sleep, you'd been struck with your usual morning upset, and had sent yourself to the bathroom quietly to empty your stomach.

He was still abed when you'd finished, and you decided to leave him there to think, and then you'd repeated that twice coming up with no logical conclusion.

You'd finally given in and thrown in the towel when you realised you had Penelope’s contact details still and decided to ask her yourself.

It was a relief to know that the man you'd created life with was not actually a murderer but actually wrongfully convicted. Especially since you were supposedly thrown into his arms (this time) by a murderer yourself.

You did start to feel guilty about treating him like shit when you first met, though. He'd, supposedly, only been back from federal prison for a few weeks when he was thrust into your office, which probably explained his less than friendly nature.

It didn't excise yours.

You'd kept our distance enough in those few days to avoid sexual encounters, but you relaxed into his touch a little more after finding out.

It came as a bigger shock than it should have that you enjoyed Spencer Reid's company.

Bored out of your mind on house arrest, you'd taken to rooting through his bookshelves, and when he wasn't commenting on your bad habit of touching other peoples books or actually doing his job, he rooted with you.

“Why do you have a copy of The Collector by John Fowles from a New York public library?”

“It was from a case.”

“And why didn't you return it.”

“Touché.”

You'd rolled your eyes at him and picked up a battered copy of Crime and Punishment from a lower shelf.

“Writing a book this long should be a crime, and reading it must be a punishment,” you grumbled to yourself as he laughed behind you.

“I can finish it in three hours,” he said, trying not to brag but failing miserably.

“You're bluffing.”

“Want to make a bet?” He smiled at you mischievously, and suddenly you saw the boy he must've been. Your heart panged as you wondered if your child would inherit that look.

“Penelope said I shouldn't gamble with you. Las Vegas, right?”

“Penelope?” he asked, and you realised your blunder. Technically, you still had yet to be introduced to the one woman tech show that was Ms. Garcia, and you scrambled for an excuse.

“Emily made me contact her with all my passwords and tech info,” you said, technically not lying.

“She's real friendly.” That was definitely the truth, and you prayed to god that he bought it.

You didn't give him a chance yo interrogate further, simply throwing the brick of a Russian classic at him and grabbing a book yourself.

You climbed onto the couch next to him, resting your head in his lap and began to read your book.

“Time starts now, Reid. And I will be testing you after.”

“Sure, if you can stay awake,” he said, stroking your hair out of your eyes and leaving you in peace as he began his solo race.

Spencer didn't let go of your off-hand comment, though. On the contrary, he let it spill over into his work life the next day as he watched Penelope with furtive eyes, wondering what the two of you could be hiding.

He knew you were hiding something. You'd had the same look about you at the bookshelves as you did when you first insisted you weren't attracted to him. A mildly annoyed face and an unconscious bite of the lip, a glance to the right, and all of a sudden, he was dying to know what you were hiding.

“So far there's been little activity in the hunting grounds due to the vigilance of the girls on campus, but there have been a spike in reported stalking, and Penelope, how do you know Y/N?”

He fought to get the words out, mollifying himself with the consolation that at least he got all the important information out first in the middle of the meeting.

“Oh ho,” chortled Luke from the side, looking on amusedly as Penelope glanced about for help or a way out.

“I don't know Y/N, I've never met Y/N. Why would you think I know Y/N? Who is Y/N?”

“Slightly overkill, Penelope,” Emily said, collecting her papers and abandoning the other woman.

The others followed suit as she gaped and sent pleading looks behind them.

“Penelope?” Reid said again, and Penelope was annoyed to find his stupidly innocent puppy-dog eyes staring back at her and expecting answers.

“No, no, no, no, I promised I wouldn't say anything, and I am not breaking a promise. Don't make me break a promise, Spencer, you know that's bad luck.”

She stood and tried to walk briskly out of the room, but he followed her still.

“Penelope, please. I won't say anything.”

“Yes, you will. You can't help yourself,” she said, stopping to talk to him for a second before quickly starting again, practically marching to her office.

“Then tell me where you met, at least? I know it wasn't messages, Penelope, all her communications went through Emily. She's lying to me, and we have to keep her safe.”

They finally reached her office, and Spencer finally pulled out his final card.

“I just want to keep her safe, Penelope. Just this one girl, just this once.”

She looked at him with a shocked, heartbroken face, even as she knew he was manipulating her and caved.

“She came to your apartment. A month ago. I was there picking up a book for you.”

“What was she doing there?”

Penelope hesitated, trying to avoid the topic of your revelation, telling herself that if she didn't tell him about the baby, she hadn't actually broken her promise.

“The emails. She found some emails from you in her spam folder.”

“Right,” he said, blowing out a deep breath in relief. “Right the emails. She mentioned that.”

Penelope, too, let out a sharp exhale, imagining the worst of it over now he'd stopped asking questions.

Spencer made his way to the door before turning back and asking one more, though.

“Penelope, why did she ask you to keep this to yourself?”

Penelope sent him an apologetic look, then zipped her mouth shut and threw away the key. He nodded and took his leave.

Spencer was sure that there was an explanation for everything, that you'd probably just been embarrassed at turning up at his house and finding out he wasn't there. Maybe you'd even forgotten you'd been.

But another deeper part of him was angry and unjustifiably so. You'd lied to him, and he felt sick, angry, violent, and like he'd love nothing more than to bend you over his lap and make sure you never did it again.

All of the unjustified anger he'd pent up in prison, the rough way he carried himself in the field now, his less than friendly exterior, it was bleeding into his relationship with you.

He tried to damp it down, but he couldn't control it, and he was scared even as he opened the door to the apartment and prepared himself for an argument that would probably end in rough, probably progress-ending sex.

And you had made progress in the last few days. He'd thought at the very least that you'd be a friend, albeit one he would love to kiss and sink deep into. Now he knew that he'd probably ruin all chances of that as he rounded the corner and prepared for a fight.

He was angry, and, like it or not, he knew he was going to take it out on you.

It was the sight of you on the couch that completely dissipated every negative emotion that he had.

Your dress was loose and fell about you in a puddle, though it too was drowned underneath what looked to be every blanket in the house.

Tara sat off in the corner silently watching you, and he gave her a stiff nod as she departed her protection duty for the day.

“S-Spencer,” you sniffled, and his heart paced rapidly as he found your face stained with tear tracks, fresh tears still dripping down as well.

He had just enough time to check you over for injuries before you had flung yourself into his arms and commenced sobbing like an absolute baby.

“Y/N, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

Your breath hitched as you tried to speak, but you couldn't calm down and he walked you back to the couch, sitting down and letting you climb into his lap, straddling him as you once again buried your face in your neck.

Five minutes later, you'd ceased with the dramatics, but you faced the awkward consequence of having to tell him now that you were crying because of a scene in Marley and Me.

“It's s-stupid,” you laughed into his neck as you cuddled into him, further muffling your voice against his chest.

“Just tell me,” he pleaded, stroking your back and hair. You looked up at him in his eyes, and then shook your head and retreated into the comfort of the crook of his neck, hips pushing closer into his as his hands rubbed comforting circles in your back.

After a few rubs, it was quite obvious that his hands were pushing lower, and his fingers were close to grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Was it a movie?” He asked. You nodded.

He looked at the screen and sighed.

“Marley and Me?” He asked. You nodded again.

“And the dog-”

“He died, Spencer. He loved his family so much that he took himself outside so they wouldn't have to watch him die.”

“I know, Y/N, I know.”

“He was such a good dog,” you said, blubbering again.

“I know,” he said, gently kissing you.

“You know, crying during movies is a sign that oxytocin has been triggered by the connections you feel due to vicarious social experience. Your attention is captured and emotions elicited by the movie's story.”

He kissed you again, and you kept listening to his explanation, suddenly calmed by his gentle explanation.

“Oxytocin is best known for its role in childbirth and breastfeeding, increasing contractions during labour and stimulating the milk ducts, but it's also released in response to positive physical contact – hugging, kissing, sexual intimacy and even petting animals – as well as through positive social interactions.”

“Spencer?” You said, looking up at him again.

“Yes?”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I do know what oxytocin is. I, too, have a PhD, you know.”

He smiled shyly as he ran his hands down your legs and back up again, pushing your skirt up to the tops of your thighs before gripping the bare skin he found there.

“I think I'd much prefer if you just kissed me again,” you said.

And he did.

With a tear, you'd lifted the anger that had built up all day, and now he was like putty in your hands, obeying his every command for physical attention.

He kissed you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as your hips subtly shifted above his, stimulating areas that had been much too eager to be stimulated in the last few days.

His cock rose slightly, filling with blood as you moaned gently into the kiss.

He was seconds from pushing you into the couch once again and freeing his abused cock, plundering your depths once again, but gently this time. He had promised himself he'd make the third time a bed at least, but here he was. You had to stop sitting on sofas.

But with a quick thank you and heavy eyelids, you pulled away and rested your head against his shoulder.

In his shock and disappointment, it took him rather a long time to realise you'd fallen asleep in his arms. Though his body craved attention for his own, the weight of you on top of him was warm, and satisfying, and when the shock wore off and he'd blinked away any untoward thoughts, he pulled you in closer, sunk down into the couch, and slept with you.

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🔖@mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @nox-sprite @alondralolll @allspicestones @Chiyozai @iheart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @tiyuel @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @waywardgoddess66 @tampon_racecar @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @a1dyn @pleasantwitchgarden @kolasbombaf @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @melagem02 @calypso-read @ari-aurelia @flipsideoflife @mggreidsreads @@farfromthehomelands @spicyspirit @donttrustlove @chicaconfudidaycuriosa @ivet4 @nox-xie @sarakay-gvf @miss-ev @@nvrlandqueen @delicatelittleworld @nokjhg @measure-in-pain @famouslynerdy @batrensworld @batrensworld

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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bradshawssugarbaby · 8 months ago

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Easy Like Sunday Morning - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Lazy Sunday mornings are few and far between for you and Bradley. When they do happen, you make the best of them.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v (or at least, no protection mentioned), dirty talk, praise kink, Bradley worshipping you. Sort of CNC (both parties are awake though when the actual act occurs?)

word count: 1.5k

The morning sun peeked through the curtains over the large window in your bedroom. You yawned and stretched, a much needed gesture after a solid eight hours of fighting Bradley for the covers throughout the night. Beside you, he lay in bed, still snoring peacefully - you were convinced at this point an atom bomb could probably detonate beside his eardrum and he still wouldn’t stir. His tanned arm rested just over the covers, his hand loosely gripping the fabric as he slept. He turned onto his side, causing the blanket to drop slightly, exposing a landscape of golden sunkissed skin dotted with freckles across his shoulders and upper back. Bradley would never admit to it, but he’d been hitting the gym harder lately, and it was starting to show more so as the muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he got comfortable.

Bradley had always been a good looking man. You swore that from the moment you first saw him - dressed in his khaki uniform walking down the streets in Coronado as he and a couple of friends decided to grab lunch off base that day after a briefing. You’d been out for lunch with one of your friends, and Bradley caught your eye from a mile away. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered and handsome - he was perfectly your type. As luck would have it, it turned out that he’d had his eye on you at the same time. Before leaving that afternoon, he’d stopped by the table where you were dining and flashed this beautifully crooked smile at you, the kind that made you just absolutely melt on the spot.

“Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I couldn’t walk away without telling you how beautiful you are.”

His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine when he spoke, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your brain processed what he’d said. He laughed when you told him he was sweet, his cheeks becoming rosy as you teased him, and that was that - within a couple of days, he was calling you for a date, and now, two years later, he was sound asleep in bed beside you, in the house you two had purchased together a few short months ago.

You gently placed a kiss to his shoulder blade as you reminisced to yourself about meeting Bradley for the first time, causing him to murmur something softly, eyelids fluttering for a moment before remaining shut. After a few minutes, Bradley flipped back to lay on his back, grumbling quietly as he settled himself back into his rest. His curls were tousled messily from his tossing and turning, something that Bradley would quickly tame the moment he woke up with some hair styling products he had stashed away, specifically for making sure his hair remained in Navy regulation at every moment.

You began to kiss his shoulder again, gently peppering his soft skin with tender kisses as he slept, showering him with affection. Bradley’s eyes fluttered again, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he glanced down at you, your trail of kisses now heading further towards his chest. He hummed softly and shut his eyes again, enjoying your display of tenderness towards him on this lazy morning.

As you trailed your mouth down his body, you peeled back the blankets gently - trying your best not to wake him abruptly. You danced your fingers down his chest to his abdomen, your lips following suit. Once you reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, you delicately placed another kiss to the light trail of hair that extended from his naval to his waistline before sitting yourself upright. Carefully, you straddled his waist, taking care to seat yourself gently on his abdomen. You ducked your head down to begin kissing at his ear, which prompted a soft groan from Bradley.

“Mornin’, honey,” he said sleepily as he blinked his bleary brown eyes a few times in an effort to focus them on you.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your lips leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, something Bradley could never resist.

“Mhmm,” Bradley shook his head, a strained chuckle falling from his lips as he shifted underneath you in the bed. “Honey, you’re making it really, really hard for me to not just flip you over and-”

You raised a challenging eyebrow as you hovered yourself over top of his lap, settling down on the tenting fabric of his boxers. Grinding yourself against him, Bradley let out a deep grunt, shaking his head as he reached out and grabbed at your hips. He held you firmly in place, guiding your as you moved back and forth, rubbing yourself over top of his boxers.

Bradley gazed up at you with lust-filled eyes as he pushed you back onto his thighs for a moment, reaching a hand down to shove the restricting fabric back off his waist. Your fingers teased and taunted him as you slowly pulled back his boxers, his hardening cock springing forwards as you freed it. Taking his length in your hand, you stroked it gently, your thumb tracing soft, delicate circles around the tip.

“Honey, you’re killing me here,” Bradley rasped, watching you carefully as you continued to toy with him, pumping your hand along his shaft with just enough pressure to drive him crazy.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Roo,” you purred, using his callsign as a means to tease him.

“Fuck,” he panted, shaking his head for a minute to try and compose himself, “I need you to ride me, pretty girl. Think you’re up for it?”

“I think I can handle it.”

You lifted the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt that you’d slept in up, just enough to keep it out of the way as you positioned yourself over top of him. You slid down on to him with a soft whine, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at him, pressing your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey. Lookin’ so pretty bouncing up and down on my cock,” Bradley grunted, his large hands reaching for any part of you he could get a grip on, settling for your thighs.

You bobbed yourself up and down on him with ease, working yourself into a rhythm as you rode Bradley. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, causing you to whine as you sped up your movements. Bradley’s hands snuck their way up the bottom of your shirt, gliding their way against your sensitive skin before cupping your breasts. He gave them a playful squeeze before sliding them back down to your waist, guiding you up and down on him as he felt your walls beginning to clench around his cock.

“S-so close, Bradley,” you whined, throwing your head back before darting your eyes down to meet his steely gaze.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let it go for me, honey, I’ve got ya.” he coached, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

You gasped as you felt Bradley switch his hand placement, one of his hands drifting to your abdomen. He reached down and pressed his fingertip into your clit, massaging it in circles as you rode him. Your orgasm hit you almost immediately after he made contact with your sensitive nub, a wicked grin formed on Bradley’s lips as he watched your thighs shake and the movement of your hips become less precise as you fell apart on him.

Bradley snapped his hips forwards into you, thrusting hard and deep into your throbbing cunt. He desperately pounded into you, his breath hitching in his throat as he brought himself close to the edge. Your name fell from his lips like a sacred prayer, repeating it over and over as his voice rasped - as if there was nothing else on his mind than you.

“Fuck, so good, honey, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me, baby girl.” he praised, worshipping you as he came down from his climax.

Breathlessly, you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a feverish, passionate kiss. Your teeth grazed at his plump bottom lip gently as you pulled your head back, a grin forming on your features as you looked down at him.

“That’s one way to wake me up,” he laughed, shaking his head before gazing up at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“Come on,” you grinned, tapping his thigh as you dismounted from his waist, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you coming with me, Roo?”

Bradley grinned, raising his dark eyebrow at you as he watched you walk towards the bedroom door.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fic

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mufos-photo-album · 5 days ago

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Sum Mufo lore below the cut vvv

My character playlist page for Mufo is coming along, though one big roadblock is that it needs background art! I've talked before about how I wanted to draw Mufo's home base someday, and I think just drawing a small portion of it for some background art would be a nice place to start. One thing I struggle with when it comes to backgrounds though, especially character-based ones, is making them feel lived in. Backgrounds I've drawn in the past often felt too clean to me, like no one is living there! Unfortunately I don't have the time right now to slap down some sketches to flesh out Mufo's room, but I can write about it to reference later, so here we go!

Mufo lives in the Vault of Knowledge, more specifically inside what can be thought of as a "storage closet". These storage areas resemble larger areas of the Vault, but are mainly used to store menial things like cleaning supplies, spells, and personal belongings. Mufo has part of a storage closet all to herself.

Her room is basically like an indoor tent. The "walls" are actually just pieces of cloth. It's convenient since she can enter and exit her room at any location, though at this point she has dedicated "door spots" — specific spots she decides she is allowed to walk through. Anything that isn't a door spot she treats as if its a regular wall and thus not normally walk through.

In terms of solid furniture (like, heavy stuff), Mufo might not have much. At the moment I definitely imagine she has a bed and maybe one or two bookshelves. Maybe she has a chair in there, to go with the shelves? Other furniture she has is mainly pillows and blankets, strewn across the floor so that many places in her room are comfy.

Currently debating if Mufo decorates at all. Like the stuff I listed before is mainly functional in nature. Maybe younger Mufo wouldn't have cared about decorating, but present day Mufo does since she has finally seen the outside world for herself and is insanely inspired. With that in mind, I gotta think about what Mufo decorates with. I definitely think if you showed Mufo some fairy lights it'd be OVER for her.

This might be one for the decoration category, but maybe Mufo keeps souvenirs from her journeys if she can pocket them.

Her room almost definitely has some memory lanterns and books lying around. This would have been especially true when she was younger (like the drawing above!), where such things were her only form of solitary entertainment. As she got older, she became better about returning memory lanterns and books to their rightful place in the Vault (though not all the time, hehe).

At the moment I don't imagine Piripu has a home, but if he were to crash anywhere, it'd be at Mufo's place. He probably does it often. With that in mind, Mufo's belongings probably got pushed around with Piripu becoming a pseudo-resident. Fortunately, he is a boy of few belongings... For now?

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #that sky game #thatskygame #skyblr #not a photo from the album #the titular mufotsuki #mufo draws

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roosterr · 1 year ago

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love you from afar

note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)

pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 9.5k (oops)

summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.

warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff

ao3

over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.

after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.

the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.

it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.

resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.

over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.

for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.

the next incident happened three days later.

during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.

as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.

"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.

"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.

he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled.

"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state.

he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all.

"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.

luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.

you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.

you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.

as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.

so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.

you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.

when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.

you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.

ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.

"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.

you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.

after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.

you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.

you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.

occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.

once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.

that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.

you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.

except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.

the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.

whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.

as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.

the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.

it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.

you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.

as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.

of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.

it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.

the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.

the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.

the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.

soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.

you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.

"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.

"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."

gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"

soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.

"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.

and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.

"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.

"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.

"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.

"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.

that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.

"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.

"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.

"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.

"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.

"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."

"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.

"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.

"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"

you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.

"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"

"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.

"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.

"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.

"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.

"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.

"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.

for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.

✹✹✹

"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.

"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.

she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.

with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.

"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"

you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.

your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.

"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.

"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."

the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–

"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."

you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.

"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"

"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.

"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.

"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"

now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?

"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.

as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.

"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.

it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going.

the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.

his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.

"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.

"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.

"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"

"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.

"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.

"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."

"but–"

"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.

"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"

"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.

you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.

"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."

you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.

"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."

if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.

"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.

when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.

"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.

"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.

"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"

"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."

his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."

"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.

"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.

"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.

"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."

"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.

"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.

"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.

johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.

"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put.

"you should still get it looked at, might be–"

"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."

you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.

"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"

you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."

"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.

"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"

"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.

"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.

before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.

"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.

"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.

"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."

when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…

"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.

"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"

your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.

✹✹✹

you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.

you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.

much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining.

though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.

"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.

"what?"

he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.

jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.

"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.

"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.

"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.

you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."

"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.

"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"

"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."

his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.

"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.

"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.

"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.

johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.

he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.

"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.

at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"

before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"right… better not keep him waiting."

"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.

"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.

✹✹✹

despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.

still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.

having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.

a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.

eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.

you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again.

with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.

you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.

i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it. i'm your secret admirer. i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore. i love you. maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again. your heart, johnny

the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.

all this time, it was johnny.

every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.

every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.

he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.

all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.

you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.

in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.

another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.

he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.

"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.

"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.

with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.

johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.

the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.

the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.

"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.

his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.

"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."

johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.

"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.

"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."

johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."

you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.

he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.

you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.

"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.

"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"

johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"

"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"

he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.

"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"

"soap!"

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes #releasing this into the wild like an injured bird

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sagesolsticewrites · 9 months ago

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Homecoming

John Egan finally makes it home to you

Requested by anon, based on the prompt carrying the other one in their arms

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

“They’ll be here,” Marge said from her place beside you, fussing with the hem of her dress.

She sounded as if she was trying to assure herself as much as you, but you appreciated the sentiment, bumping her shoulder and giving her an encouraging smile and nod in thanks.

Marge had introduced you to John Egan— better known as Bucky— about a week before he shipped out to England, and you had fallen head over heels for him.

Both Marge and Gale had warned you before he left that “John Egan isn’t the penpal type,” but to all of your surprise, Bucky had dutifully written you the moment he arrived on base, and the stream of letters had remained steady for nearly the entire time he’d been away.

Until one day Marge stopped receiving letters from Gale, and Bucky’s letters had stopped shortly after.

The two of you were beside yourselves with worry, until you received word that both of them had ended up as POWs in a German camp; you were both still terrified, but at least you knew they were alive.

Then came May 1945– Germany had officially surrendered, and your boys were coming home.

The flow of letters had resumed shortly after you had received word of Bucky’s capture, but it was slow and irregular despite the Red Cross’s best efforts. You hadn’t seen Bucky for nearly two years, and joy and terror were fighting for dominance in your mind at the thought of standing in front of him again.

The Army had set up you and Marge, as well as the other loved ones waiting for their soldiers to return, in a hotel near the train station where the boys would be arriving. So now here you were in the lobby, waiting anxiously for Buck and Bucky to walk through the doors.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you were only alerted to their entrance by a gasp from Marge, who promptly raced into Gale’s open and waiting arms. You, on the other hand, were frozen, scrambling to process the appearance of one John Egan as his eyes locked on you.

Frankly, it was a blur. One moment you were frozen in place, the next you were racing towards him, Bucky moving to meet you halfway, his arms curling tight around you as you collapsed against him.

“You’re here, you’re here,” was all you could say as you held him tight, a spike of worry running through you when you felt how thin he had become, but he was still warm and real and solid and here, and his voice was thick in your ear as he whispered back. “‘M here, sweetheart, ‘m home.”

He pulled away slightly— it took all of your strength not to clutch him to you again, loath to let him go after so long— and brought up a hand to caress your cheek, blue eyes simply taking you in for a moment.

His gaze kept drifting down to your bright red lips, and at your eager nod once you’d realized what he was waiting for, he swooped down to capture your lips in a long, long overdue kiss.

You couldn’t help but giggle against his lips as you heard Marge cheering at the sight of you two, and the feeling of his returning smile against your own had your heart soaring.

After several long minutes of simply holding each other, making up for lost time, you eventually joined back up with Buck and Marge, giving Gale a joyful welcome-home hug as Marge did the same with Bucky.

The hotel had arranged for a special dinner, and the plan was to head straight there once the reunions had wound down… though you had no idea how anyone could even think of dinner at a time like this.

Bucky’s thoughts seemed to be straying as well, as instead of allowing you to simply curl up next to him on the couch set where you settled with Buck and Marge, he tugged you down into his lap and wrapped his arms firmly around your waist.

Your friends headed over to the dining room before too long, Bucky assuring them that the two of you would catch up.

Those plans soon went out the window entirely, though.

Bucky’s scarred, nimble fingers began tracing patterns over your dress, making your breath hitch.

Your letters to each other had been… well, you wouldn’t want your mother reading certain sections of them, that’s for certain. But the feeling of him pressed against you, holding you tight was an experience no amount of letters could have prepared you for.

His lips brushed your ear, unspeakable implications hidden in such innocent words: “You have your own room here, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Unable to form words as his low rumble sparked heat just below your belly, you nodded, and to this day you have no idea how you didn’t simply melt into a puddle when you felt him grin against you.

His question of “Care to show me?” was met with a similar, more enthusiastic nod, and before you knew it Bucky had swept you up in his arms.

“I— Bucky!” You yelped in surprise as he carried you towards the elevators with surprising ease, “Should you be doing—?”

“What I should be doing—” your concerns for his health were brushed aside with a searing look “— is showing my girl exactly how much I’ve missed her.”

It was a good thing he was carrying you, because every bone in your body turned to jelly at that statement.

Even in the elevator he didn’t put you down, silencing every one of your protests with a kiss until your lipstick was irreparably smudged and the coarse hairs decorating his top lip were tinted a slight red.

You arrived at your floor, and he waited patiently as you unlocked the door from your place in his arms— a task that took much longer than it should have thanks to the major scattering kisses along your neck, as if he had to have his lips on you constantly now that you were more than just words on a page.

You were carried over the threshold bridal-style, and Bucky nudged the door closed with his foot so no one could see how he gently lowered you to the bed, murmuring promises of making up for lost time against your lips.

#john bucky egan #bucky egan #john egan #bucky egan x reader #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #callum turner #callum turner x reader #my writing

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loaksky · 2 years ago

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— 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.2k

the tags & warnings — language ,, misunderstandings (i love this trope and this is a hill i’ll die on i’m SORRY) ,, neteyam’s friends can be shitty, but mean well ,, reader just wants to love up on her boy :(

the notes — based off of this request! this is another addition to my neteyam content, but ik some of you guys are itching for some other characters, so i'm probably gonna steer in another direction & write for kiri & tsireya so if that interests you, stay tuned! <3

(not proofread well lmao)

masterlist

Neteyam is many things; a kind spirit, a fierce warrior, a loving brother, a diligent son. But Neteyam is also new to love. Not quite new to being in love, but learning the act of loving you.

He’d found so many ways to express his heart’s desire; written notes on scraps, gentle smiles, searing eyes. It was one thing in particular, though, that made his mouth dry, made his brain nearly short circuit, and it was your need to be in his space.

Even after many days that bleed into weeks and meld into months, you make his cheeks warm with every lingering pass of your fingertips, make his stomach knot with every fluttering kiss to his skin.

It’d been a pleasant surprise at first, but now it was a need, an absolute necessity to have you fused to him like a second skin. Your touch was a tacit word and he was learning to speak your language.

The two of you together was normalcy and the clan members were more than delighted to know that the olo’eyktan’s son was lucky in love. But there were teasing whispers, lilting voices in the background that made something uncomfortable pinch the back of his brain.

His skin would light up with equal parts want and embarrassment when you’d hang loosely around him during evening meals and the villagers his age would giggle and murmur behind their palms about the two of you. Didn’t help that you were an oblivious thing, or maybe you didn’t care, when you’d hold his hand in your own, occasionally bringing his fingertips to your lips during casual conversation.

And he didn’t mind loving you endlessly when you were just two souls enjoying each other, but he can’t help but tense when his eyes wander and he sees watchful gazes.

“Mighty warrior is a needy one, huh?”

His friends, comrades since childhood, surround him on a sunny afternoon. Neteyam pauses his actions, arrow in the midst of a sharpening.

His spine goes rigid and his eyes narrow.

“What are you on about?” he asks, jaw locking.

“Even in the moments you aren’t with her, you’re thinking about her,” his friend Marin says with a shiteating grin.

“Don’t even,” Neteyam warns, eyes rolling as he continues with sharpening his arrows.

“Oh, come on,” another one of his friends guffaws, twining a new bow string. “You haven’t said a word since we sat down.”

And he wishes he could form a solid argument, but you are on his mind, all-consuming as always. Can’t help it when he’s pined after you for years and only recently found the courage to act on his heart.

“Maybe I just don’t want to engage with you assholes,” Neteyam bites, fist tightening around his dagger.

“Yeah, because if you open your mouth, all you’ll be able to talk about is my girl this and my girl that,” Marin teases. “Who knew future olo’eyktan was so clingy.”

“Yeah, like it’s me who’s clingy,” he grunts, resuming the task at hand with much more fervor.

“Is it not?” Marin challenges. “Oh, ________, my love, look at these flowers I picked for you.”

The blood is rushing to his ears as his friends howl with laughter.

“Syulang, I wrote you twelve pages declaring my love even though we’ve seen each other thrice since last eclipse.” The taunting makes him seethe, makes the feeling of discomfort surface all over again and the words are spilling before he can plug the dam.

“Of course it’s not me,” Neteyam scoffs. “I keep my composure, but it’s her that insists on constantly reminding the village that we’re together. If I had it my way, nothing would have changed from when we were friends.”

It’s a lie and he knows it, his friends know it. But you, you who staggers outside of the training circle at the sound of multiple voices don’t know it.

It’s like a swift strike to the gut, one that squashes every butterfly that tickled the lining of your stomach on your way to fetch the very man who’d held your heart and crushed it all the same.

Your satchel, heavy with fruits and snacks for after your evening swim with Neteyam, weighs heavy across your front as you debate whether or not you should be listening to a conversation that is obviously not meant for your ear. But it’s like you’re rooted to the soil beneath you.

“Yeah, okay,” Marin chuffs, obviously not convinced. “If you’re so bothered by your dynamic now, there isn’t any reason why you wouldn’t say anything. She’s your second skin and you love it.”

He does, he thinks to himself.

Of course he doesn’t, you realize, horrified, the thousand and one times your hands would find his body and he’d tense or shy away replaying like a horror reel in your brain.

“I potentially hold the future of this clan in my hands,” Neteyam says. “It is my duty to endure all things whether or not I enjoy it.”

It’s like you’re doused with water so cold at the violent shiver that shakes your spine.

Just another thing to endure, you mull over in your brain as the barge of emotions brims dangerously near the surface.

You break from the edge of the clearing and you’re off.

Something is off.

And Neteyam is ashamed to admit that it takes him obnoxiously long to notice. Maybe it’s because he’s caught up in his duties, or maybe for once in his life, he isn’t worrying about meddlesome gazing, but the shift is imperceptible.

You’re still you, so aching beautiful and devastatingly radiant, but something is different. He doesn’t pinpoint it until he’s bidding you a farewell, leaning into your space to plant a kiss on your lips when you ease away to beam at him nervously instead.

His brows furrow when you wave, breaking away from him to scurry home.

He thinks it’s a one off, something he shouldn’t read too much into, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s so used to your touch, so used to feeling the pads of your fingers denting his skin and the scald of your lips.

He tries again a few nights later, after finally getting you alone. He’d been busy assisting his father in planning a raid at the end of the month and you were busy trying to put as much distance between the two of you.

“You’re awfully quiet, bug,” Neteyam observes softly, chin dipping under the water as he swims closer to where you float on the surface, eyes closed.

You only hum, pleading silently that he’ll let it pass. But when his fingers skim your navel, you’re jerking away from him, settling so that a berth of glittering blue separates the two of you.

He forces a laugh, wading closer to you as you seemingly shrink.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees something like discomfort flitting over your expression, concern eclipsing his features as he reaches forward to grab you by your arm.

“Nothing…” you swallow, staring at the rounded stones beaded through the necklace you made him early on in your budding relationship.

He doesn’t buy it, tilting your chin up with deft fingers.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, searching your face for a tell. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” you breathe, peeling away from him to wade back towards the embankment. “It’s nothing.”

He watches as you hoist yourself up from the river, heart in his throat.

He cracks when the others seem to notice, slowly catching onto the fact that the usually doting and loving partner of the olo’eyktan’s son is surprisingly distant. It’s during an evening meal, villagers surrounding the multiple fires, when it comes to a head.

There’s an unusual space between your bodies as you chat with Kiri and a few others and he can’t help but close the gap as something akin to desperation washes over him. His fingers brush the span of your shoulders to pull you into his chest, lips a hairsbreadth from your temple before your palm snakes between your bodies and plants on his chest to nudge him away.

He bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as Marin and his other friends share knowing glances.

While he boils silently, you ache to tell him that you don’t mean it, that there’s nothing more you’d want than to spend every waking moment in his arms, but that day in the clearing is a humiliating reminder that Neteyam is shackled to his honor and if it means making you happy despite his discomfort, he’d endure it all.

You hate it, hate that he’d let you feel like things were alright leading up to this moment, that he’d suffer at the expense of mocking and badgering from his friends. Makes you feel embarrassed, sorry, that you’d read the two of you all wrong.

You feel his fingers inching towards yours, pinkie overlapping with yours. Your hands involuntarily close into fists and that’s all it takes for Neteyam to shoot up from his perch on the log and take you by the elbow.

There’s a hush as his friends and yours watch the two of you part ways with the group, the nearly feral look in their leader’s son suggestively mistaken.

“Why won’t you touch me?” Neteyam asks fiercely, once enough distance lies between the two of you and the rest of the clan.

His words make your cheeks warm, but he looks troubled, hurt.

“I-”

“Did I do something to disgust you? Did I…”

His words melt into the background as you watch him with teary eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teyam,” you whisper. “You can tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frustrated. “You’re the one hiding something. These past few weeks I’ve been trying to be with you, trying to love you and you keep pushing me away.”

A twinge of annoyance erupts in the pit of your belly as you frown.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you murmur hoarsely.

“I’m so lost right now, ________,” he admits desperately. “We were fine, everything was great, and suddenly I feel like I’m losing you. Did I do something? Are you–”

“Just be honest with me!” you cry out. “Why do you have to put on this front all the time? It’s just me, Neteyam! If I overwhelm you, if I embarrass you, just say it! It hurts worse when you act like it’s nothing.”

And Christ, his friends were right. He is needy. Because you’re not a want but a lifeline. A dire necessity that he feels the need to cling to in this moment. This feels a lot like you two are splintering, and he’s about to open his mouth to ask what would compel you to say such a thing, but then it clicks.

The final piece of the puzzle that he’d been agonizing over falls into place and his eyes are widening.

“No,” he says vehemently. “That wasn’t–”

“Is it not?” you cut him off as you dash the threatening tears away.

“God, no,” he breathes. “I was– They were…”

You watch him with wet lashes and his heart aches as he takes the leap and pulls you into his chest with a shuddering breath.

“I’m so stupid.” His chest rumbles as your ear presses to his heart, arms winding tightly around your figure to buoy you to place. “Fuck.”

You hiccup and his hand cradles your head, peppering kisses against your hair as he sways your bodies like it’ll disorient the miscommunication and send it spiraling away.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to be embarrassing. I–”

“No, no, bug,” he swallows, hugging you so tight, you struggle to suck a breath into your lungs. “You’re not, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.”

You shudder so hard his grip loosens, parting with you to cup your flushed cheeks in his hands.

“They were ripping me a new one,” he says shakily. “Told me I was needy, clingy, and I was embarrassed because they’re right.”

Your throat bobs and Neteyam’s thumb brushes over the apple of your cheeks.

“You make me so weak, you don’t even understand,” he laughs humorlessly, body wracked with nerves, with want, with need. “I said it to save face because I never know what to do with myself around you.”

“You—”

“And I know it was wrong, talking out of my ass to get them to shut the fuck up,” his language is a crass reminder that he’s a former marine’s son, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being yours.”

Yours.

It’s a sound declaration, one that makes you crumple like a baby because you’ve missed your person, and Neteyam hugs you close again.

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless sometimes, bug,” he whispers, cheek nuzzling the top of your head. “Love you more than anything, I mean it.”

You hiccup again.

“Love you, too, stupid” you mumble, arms wrapping around the narrow of his waist.

It’s your first meaningful touch in weeks and Neteyam melts under the heat of your body, under the heat of your warm hands.

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

#neteyam drabble #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar the movie #avatar the way of water #atwow

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rs-hawk · 1 month ago

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I don't think i can explain to you the near-boundless giddy excitement I got form seeing EJ on that creeptober list of yours. (If it's not obvious, he might just be my favourite, snort) Looking forward to all of em tho ~!!

He’s GREAT. I used to have so many head cannons about him since so little is actually known. This story is actually based off my hc about his origin. I hope you enjoy!

Creeptober: Day Three

Eyeless Jack’s Obsession

Yandere! Eyeless Jack x AFAB Reader

CW: horror themes, stalking, blood, pain, death (not of reader), hypnosis, breeding, etc

Eyeless Jack was once an ordinary spirit. He lived his afterlife the way most spirits do. Bored and alone. However, that all changed when you bought the mansion in which he resided.

You moved in without ever seeing the place in person, which you soon regretted. The entire place gave you a creepy vibe that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. At all times it felt like something was watching you. Stalking you. Filling every room with its presence.

And he was. Jack was following you no matter where you went in the house. It was like you were a drug and he was an addict. Being around you made him feel almost alive again. And the more alive he felt, the more he could interact with the physical world.

Soon he was moving things. Taking things from you. You noticed but kept trying to brush it off. You hoped thought that you were going a little crazy. After all, you worked a remote job and lived in this big creepy house all by yourself. You were supposed to fix it up and sell it for your aunt, who hadn’t lived here in decades, but it was hard. Even with the money she gave you, you struggled to make up the remainder.

Eventually though, you did, and construction started. You still lived in the loft like area that was once an attic while the crews worked downstairs. Unfortunately for the construction workers you hired, Eyeless Jack wasn’t as enthused with the intrusion into your space as you were.

On the very first day, a ladder fell over, nearly killing one of the roofers. He was fine, but he refused to return as he said he was pushed. The next time a ladder fell, a few days later, someone did die.

You heard the screaming and the sound of a body hitting the concrete. It took you a few minutes to rush downstairs. Terror filling your body. Did someone really just die on your aunt’s property? Holy fuck. How would you be able to keep living here? That poor man and his family.

While you were panicked, Jack was ecstatic. He hoped now you would send all these other people away so it could just be the two of you again. All he wanted was to be able to have you all to himself again. As he watched you panic, and the other workers calling the cops or trying to scrape their dead friend’s body off the concrete, he realized that he had blood on his hands.

For a few moments, he just stared at it. Vague memories of being alive and kicking blood from a cut on his finger drifted through his mind, but nothing solid. It was too long ago. Too hard to remember. Yet, his tongue darted out to flick across his palm.

The blood in his mouth solidified some of the memories, and made him feel almost alive. In a frenzy, he licked the blood from both of his hands, the coppery and metallic taste filling his mouth. His eyes glazed over and all he could think of was getting more blood. How much could he touch then? Could he touch you?

The next few days were a blur for you as you worked with the company and your home owners insurance to work out the logistics of the worker’s accident. Everyone saw that he just fell. The ladder was properly secured. No one was messing with it. He was acting responsibly. He wasn’t impaired or intoxicated. It was a freak accident.

But you knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew. It was because of that disturbing presence in the house.

You decided that you wanted the renovations done as quickly as possible, so after getting some of your money back from the previous company, you hired another. And another. And another. Every time, someone died. It was horrifying. One man came to your house just to survey the land and came across a missing roofer. He looked like he had been ripped open with a man’s bear hands, and, to both your and the surveyer’s horror, all of his organs were missing.

That night you called your aunt and told her that you were done. In the morning, you were leaving. She didn’t even try to protest after you told her everything that had happened. Jack, having over heard your conversation, was furious. He couldn’t lose you.

Over the past few months, he had undergone a transformation. Every bit of human flesh he consumed made him more solidified. More tangible. More alive. However, his face has become mutated and disturbing. Where his eyes once were, were just empty chasms, dripping black blood. His skin turned to a disturbing shade of ashy gray. So, to prevent your terror as much as he could, he carved a mask out of a piece what used to be a blue shelf. Now there was no reason for you to rebuff his affection.

When he made his way up to your room, you were on your laptop. In seconds, he tossed it from your lap, and your phone was pushed off the bed. He was on his knees on the foot of the bed, leaning over you, caging you in with his arms.

A scream welled up in your throat as the black holes bore into your eyes, but a muttering voice soothed the fear away. Your brain turned fuzzy. It was like you couldn’t think for yourself. He tilted his head, which you mimicked.

“A pretty puppet,” he purred, stroking the side of your face with one of his hands.

You couldn’t think of anything. It was like his eyes had drawn every thought or ounce of individualism from your skull. When he told you to take off your clothes, you did. When he told you to lay down, you did. You couldn’t see his mouth, and his voice seemed to come from everywhere, but you knew that it was him talking.

“Make sure your pussy is good and wet for me,” he instructed, and you obliged.

You began to finger yourself, using your other hand to play with your clit. The soft whimpers and moans that escaped your lips had him gritting his teeth behind his mask. He wanted to take you so badly, but he also wanted it to be perfect for you. His little morsel. He wanted to be apart of you. For you to be apart of him. Forever.

Once your juices began to drip onto your sheets, he finally cooed at you to stop. You did. Despite the frustration and throbbing of your pussy. He was still caging you in with his arms, his form nearly engulfing you. After a moment of watching you squirm, your neglected cunt clenching around nothing, he eased back. Unzipping his pants, and pulling down his boxers, his hard and throbbing cock was shown to you.

Once his hypnotic gaze was broken, your mind began to flood back to you, and the sight of something so massive made you try to scamper back on the bed. However, your loving Eyeless Jack realized that his hold had been broken and grabbed your face, forcing your gazes to lock. Once again, anything in your mind seemed to melt away.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed. And you did.

He slowly slid inside of you, watching your face intensely as it contorted in pain and pleasure. He stretched you out to the point that you felt like you’d burst. Your walls were still throbbing with need, forcing you to clench around him. Clearly to his immense pleasure.

“There we go. Mine. So good for me,” he moaned as he finally sank his cock deep inside of you, his eyes flickering away from your face for just a moment to see how your stomach extended from his cock.

When his gaze returned to you, he saw tears in the corner of your eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to me, won’t you?” he promised, cupping your cheek almost tenderly again. You nodded obediently.

He was only slow for a few thrusts before losing what little of his kind remained. It was clear he wanted to care about your pleasure, but the decades of death and isolation left him desperate for the comfort and warmth your pussy brought him. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix repeatedly, making you wince. He muttered out apologies, but never stopped. Never slowed down.

His cock ripped you slightly, blood beading along your tender lips. He muttered out another apology about how he’d make it up to you, and all you could do was whisper out an “okay”. It took hours for him to finish, and when he did, he slammed himself deeply inside of you, his cum pumping directly into your womb.

“There we are. Now I’ll always be apart of you,” he smiled, pulling up his mask to press a kiss to your forehead before disappearing.

As your mind came back to you, you winced at the pain, but wondered with a twisted hunger if he would come back for you.

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iatemyboyfriend3 · 3 months ago

Text

wc: 408

johnny "soap" mactavish x reader

warnings: mdni! no warnings, just fluff. mainly just me practicing writing his accent because i luv it so much

all you wanted was a moment of peace, and you and soap barely made it back to base before exhaustion caught up with you both. the adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness. as soon as you dropped onto the couch in the dimly lit rec room, and soap was there beside you, his presence a familiar comfort after the chaos.

“c’mon, lass,” he murmured, his scottish brogue thick as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “ye’re about to keel over. let’s get ye sorted.”

you leaned into him, the tension in your muscles slowly unraveling as he held you. his broad chest was solid, a steadying presence, and his heartbeat felt like an anchor in the aftermath of the mission. he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, more routine than romantic, like he was checking to make sure you were really there.

“look at ye, barely keepin’ yer eyes open,” he teased, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “can’t handle a wee bit of action?”

“oh, like you weren’t ready to drop too,” you shot back, nudging him with your elbow.

he let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “aye, but i’m still the one holdin’ ye up, aren’t i?”

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the exhaustion start to weigh heavier as you relaxed against him. soap shifted, pulling you closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. “don’t get too comfy, though,” he said, his tone lighter. “i might need to boot ye off if ye start snorin’.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother with a retort. the warmth of his body, combined with the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, was doing wonders to pull you into sleep. “sure, but you’d miss me too much.”

“keep tellin’ yerself that,” he replied with a smirk you could hear in his voice. “but aye, ye did good out there. now rest up—can’t have ye draggin’ us down tomorrow.”

you closed your eyes, the last of your worries fading away as you nestled closer to him. the world outside faded, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of safety. as sleep finally began to pull you under, soap’s arm tightened around you slightly, his presence as steady as ever.

“sleep tight, lass,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice low and gruff. “i’ve got ye.”

#141 x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod #soap x you #johnny mactavish #cod headcanons #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #unedited

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barrenclan · 3 months ago

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I LOVED this issue. I knew Deepdark was going to adore the "there's nothing i can do" answer, it just made sense and played out nicely! I didn't expect ranger to get hurt at all after this, though. Then again, he'd want revenge on the cats who mauled his mate. And the LAST PANEL! AAAAAA!!!

Something that interests me is the future of Barrenclan. Barrenclan is most definitely dead. My personal theory is that Barrenclan will cease to become a clan. It makes sense for the group to move now that Defiance has stopped their slaughter. But are they able to leave the wastes? If Deepdark wants the life in the wastelands to be destroyed then will he kill the clan if they try to leave? Or is he just referring to the clan being alive in general?

I'm hoping for a future where they find healthier territory to support them, based on the cover of 'Death of Barrenclan 1'. But this is a tragedy, i don't really expect the best outcome. Now that the trench of the horror is over, i'm hoping it's only up from here

So, here's a little bit of a theory as to what's next

Redpelt will take charge of the clan

Daffodilpaw's character arc is coming to a close

Family support moment. These cats r going through it and they're doin it together

Considering we have two issues left, i don't think anyone is actually going to die

Pinepaw and Cormorantpaw become mates :) or cat dating. Wait they were already doing that werent they

The clan will move elsewhere. Cootstorm will not like this. She also might stay

Barrenclan will either stop being a clan or stop being "barren", as these cats will leave the wasteland they trapped themselves in for so long

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

Deepdark doesn't want life in the wastelands to be destroyed, he wants them to survive - that's why he left them alone, and he won't go looking for them. But his offer is a one-time-deal; if BarrenClan somehow runs into Defiance again, after he'd done so well sparing them, the random chance they had will turn into a solid no-mercy situation. So it's like he's saying he'll trap them in the wastelands forever; alive, but still suffering.

It's a conundrum - do you stay in the "safe" place even though it'll kill you slowly? Or do you leave to find ways to actually thrive, but risk running into certain death again?

Up to the cats.

#ask #theory

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idesofrevolution · 2 years ago

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Something’s Wrong with Luca

Teddy and Lucas were the best of friends. For the past fifteen years, since Lucas' family moved to town from Argentina, the two were inseparable. In fact, Teddy could remember the very day that they met as if it had happened the day before. Sitting in the back row in homeroom, seventh grade, Ms. Posner's old cadaverous talons gripping the Argentine boy's shoulders as she presented him to the class... Lucas didn't speak English very well at the time, so few if any of the other kids were particularly interested in being his friend. In most of his classes, at least for the first few years, he had to have an aide to help him through his coursework; most of the other kids assumed he was stupid and quiet. But the moment he was sat next to Teddy, sharing that genuine smile, it sparked the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

As Lucas' english speaking continued to improve, Teddy discovered a goofy, funny, laid back kid who just wanted a friend. They weren't popular kids, passing on sports teams, drama club, music ensembles, art club... they spent their time playing in the woods, creating fantastical realms of pirates and kings, elves and dwarves. In their fantasy worlds, they were safe. They were away from the judging eyes of their peers where they could truly be themselves. And so on it continued for the better part of a decade. Upon graduation, they had grown into two wildly intelligent, albeit a bit awkward young men ready to tackle the world. Though, as Teddy went on to university to study literature, Lucas' family wasn't able to afford any of the colleges he'd been accepted to. Thus, for the first time in their lives, the two were separated. Teddy flew across the country to Virginia for college, and Lucas stayed behind to work in his father's mechanic shop.

Their new situations were polar opposite, though their communication and relationship never faded. At least once a week they would facetime, updating eachother on their lives. The dynamic was as solid as it ever was, until it wasn't.

One cold January evening, Teddy sat down for his weekly video call, excited beyond words to tell Lucas about the new PS5 he'd bought for them to play Rocket League together on weekends. Though as call after call went unanswered, he decided to call it a night and touch base with him the next morning. Though, as morning came and went, there was still no sign of Lucas. His social medias went without updates, Teddy's texts went entirely unanswered, the only news heard from him whatsoever was from his step brother who mentioned that he'd seen Lucas working hard at the shop and hitting the gym he'd frequented.

This was the first peculiar incident that Teddy had noted. He'd known Lucas for years and while he was a lot of things, athletic was NOT one of them. It'd always been them versus the meatheads, and it was not like him to even consider lifting so much as a five pound weight. They would joke about the stupid smelly brutes in the school gym, mindlessly picking heavy things up and putting them back down again for some sense of marginal achievement. Though this would be only the beginning of Lucas' odd behavior. Months went by, Teddy checking his Instagram every day looking for a single sign his friend was doing alright, until one day as he was scrolling, he saw it.

It was Lucas, though not the proud, stringy outcast he'd left behind. This Lucas was ripped, proudly posing shirtless in some fancy-looking room he had never seen before, a cocky smirk plastered on his sweet face. The caption read:

"Workout complete: who's gonna give me a tongue bath?" followed by a slew of hashtags. Teddy's face flushed white as snow. Who was this person? What happened to him? Tapping his icon, Teddy saw that Lucas had changed his screenname to Luca, and this thirst trap he'd posted was the first one in over four months. Unsure of how to approach this vastly different person, Teddy replied to the post with a simple shocked emoji and hit send. It didn't take long before his phone dinged with a message: it was from Luca.

L: "yo sorry I been afk bro. my cuz julio been visiting from buenos aires... so i been hangin wit him. wuts up bro"

Immediately, Teddy thought his phone had been hacked. Luca had spent years perfecting his english, almost to the point where he would have been a tutor in the writing center had he wanted to be one. His texts were always grammatic perfection, down to the last punctuation mark.

T: "Uh, that's fine. I didn't know you had a cousin? You never talked about him or anything."

L: "bruh i didnt know he existed til he showed up. hes dope af. showin me some pointrs at liftin n shit. been changin my life. you gotta meet him when you come back."

T: "Sure, Lucas. I would love to meet him. I should be back next week actually, the semester is almost over. Maybe we can play RL at my place!"

L: "hah i dont think hed be into that kinda stuff. you shud hit the gym wit us when we go, get that pump goin ykwim. you gon love him."

Teddy frowned, had Lucas changed that much in the span of a few months? It wasn't just the physical differences, it was his attitude, it was his style, it was the way he talked, it was just... all wrong.

T: "Lucas, are you okay?"

L: "never better man. its Luca btw. fits better i think"

With that last text, Teddy decided to leave him on read. Lucas... or Luca rather, wasn't one to drink or do illicit substances. Though aside from that, he couldn't think of any other explanation for this dramatic shift in his friend's entire personality. He resolved then and there to get to the bottom of this, and he would do so in person the following week.

Thus, as he finished his finals, packed his bags and flew back home, the singular thing on his mind was seeing Luca. Arriving home, he monotonously went through the motions of greeting his parents and step brother, anxiously fidgeting on the car ride back from the airport. He didn't even take time to unpack his bags. The moment his mom's car parked in his driveway, he'd politely excused himself to go meet up with Luca. Hopping on his bike, he left his visibly confused family in the dust, rushing to the mechanic shop downtown where Luca worked.

By the time he got there, the shop was closing up for the day. Teddy ditched the bike on the concrete and burst into the front office, startling the lady behind the desk. Panting and sweaty, he collapsed onto the front desk.

"Uhm... Is Lucas here?" He breathlessly choked out the words to the woman, who confusedly cocked her head to the left. "Oh, I guess it's Luca now?" This name evidently struck a chord, where she nodded and pointed to the back room where the lockers sat. Teddy thanked her and slowly walked toward the big grey door. Placing his hand on the cold steel handle, he closed his eyes repeating to himself hopes that the person behind the door was the same one he'd always known. As he pressed the handle down and pushed the door open, the wet, dank smell of ripe sweat poured out. There, sitting on the bench, taking off his beat up pair of steel toed work boots was a shirtless Luca, almost twice the size he had been before. Where he used to be 5'8 and 101 lbs soaking wet, this Luca was easily 6'4 and pure muscle. His biceps bulged as he yanked his boot from his massive foot, veins pulsating up and down his arms. That boyish face remained, albeit with a newfound twinge of cockiness that was entirely counter to the mousy, nervous expression Teddy had grown to love. The moment he looked up, Luca grinned from ear to ear, hopping to his damp, socked feet and rushing his long lost best friend, throwing his arms wide to embrace him.

"Teddy!" Luca's chiseled body collided with Teddy's, holding him tightly against his statuesque torso with his face pressed against his sweat-slick pecs. Teddy felt like a child now compared to his friend, now transformed into a complete stranger. "It's so good to see you, hermano!" A thick Argentine accent bellowed from his newly baritone timbre- one that had been all but lost in school, but now prominently flowed from his supple lips. Teddy pulled away sharply, taking a step back in shock. "Oh, ¿es el olor? My bad, mi cuate. Long day of hard work, right?" Luca laughed, raising his arm to take a deep whiff of his dripping pits. "Ahhh. You grow to like it, me entiendes?" His jovial demeanor quickly subsided as he saw the look of absolute shock on Teddy's face.

"Lucas... What the fuck happened to you?"

"It's Luca now, hermano. I told you. Still the same guy as before, just a lil different now."

"Yeah... different. You can say that again." Luca sighed as he plopped back down onto the bench, spreading his legs wide as he rubbed his face.

"Yeah. I get it, man. It's a lot to take in, verdad? I told you my cousin Julio was in town for a while?" Teddy sternly nodded, straining to contain his contempt for this sharp departure of personality. Luca looked downward. "Yeah, well. He was a lot different from the rest of mi familia. He was a proud Argentino hombre. He was okay with not having perfect english, he wasn't scared of bein' different or bein' looked down on. Someone looked sideways at him and they'd have a broken jaw, me entiendes? It... it was so fuckin' nice to have someone around like me who was cool and strong and proud... I always wanted to be someone like him, Teddy. Always." Teddy saw a different Luca before him. Yeah, he was different, he was the embodiment of the thirst-trapping, smelly jock bros they hated as kids. Yet, in this moment of vulnerability, he saw the Luca he knew deep down.

"Luca, all those years of us being friends, being this close, you never told me that." His head hung low, running his hands through his sweaty locks.

"That's not the only thing I haven't told you, man."

"Luca, you can tell me anythi..." Luca threw his head straight up, staring Teddy straight in the eye before blurting out:

"TEDDY I FUCKIN' LOVE YOU!" The room fell silent. Both men sat there, not breaking eye contact, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Of course, someone had to be the one, and Luca sighed as he continued. "Mi amor, I have always loved you. Since day one. Lookin' at eachother in that old bat's class, I knew I wanted to be near you. With you. And it wasn't 'til Julio made me realize I should have fuckin' said somethin' that I let my balls drop and promised I would tell you. So yeah, man. I love you." Luca stood up abruptly, with a confidence entirely foreign to Teddy and towered above his infatuation. "And you know what? I think you love me too."

Teddy was gobsmacked. This was a revelation he wasn't prepared to address. Luca loved him? This cocky, jockish best friend of his loved him? More importantly, did he love him back? They stood there, waiting once again for the ice to be broken. Before long, Luca had turned around and began to pack his duffel bag, fearing he'd gotten the answer he was hoping to avoid. Yet, perhaps it was a moment of clarity, or even a moment of weakness, but something deep within Teddy surged up from his core out his mouth.

"I love you too." The quiet admission didn't go unnoticed, as Luca stopped everything he was doing and immediately turned around. "Yeah, I think I love you too Luca. You may be different now than you were, but all this time I couldn't stop thinking about you. How much I missed you, how I would have rather spent every single second with you than every moment of being out there without you." Luca smiled earnestly, slowly moving toward his cowering love. "And it made me scared and uncomfortable because I was terrified things were changing and I stayed the same. Seeing you like this this, you're doing what I could never do. You're growing, you're becoming the best version of yourself, and I didn't know if you'd even want to be around me anymore or if you'd be ashamed..." Teddy's groveling finally ended with Luca's lips firmly pressing against his, the stubble on his chin scratching against Teddy's smooth skin. His inhibitions melted away, Teddy allowed himself to fall into the sweaty stud's firm hold, wrapped in a warm sticky embrace.

"Do you wanna to be your best self then, mi amor?" Luca whispered so gently, as if his words were caressing the ear. Breathless, Teddy could only nod as he allowed his endorphins to take over. "Julio showed me how. Do you trust me?" Another silent nod, stifling a guttural moan as he felt Luca's bulge rapidly growing firm against his stomach. This was the explicit consent that Luca felt he needed, he was desperately aching to bestow upon his lover Julio's gift which he had been given months before.

Teddy felt a firm grip against his shoulders pressing him down to his knees, until he was eye level with the lengthening rod which strained against Luca's thick sweatpants. For so long he'd suppressed his innate desire to give it the worship he felt it had never received and as Luca threw the waistband down to his ankles, he was not disappointed as it flew up and smacked him in the jaw. Before him was the most anatomically perfect cock he'd ever seen: easily 10.5 inches of thick, uncut, musky dick. Two large-egg sized balls sagged low behind it, spattered with selective hairs and dripping sweat. Teddy felt drool begin to drip from the bottom of his lip, the sheer heat of the musty hot rod only millimeters from the tip of his nose. Luca smiled, wrapping his hand around it and pulling his long foreskin down, revealing the pink, leaking mushroom head it contained.

"Julio showed me an old family secret. Only a few of us can do it, and I want to do it for you, mi amor." He began to stroke slowly; his member immediately taking direct notice, throbbing in a fervor more akin to convulsion. "He fucked it up last time, he didn't come back. But now thanks to him... I know how to give it to you, babe." Luca took his thumb and gently pried Teddy's mouth open. Eager to please, Teddy quickly took the opportunity to lick the tip of his cock, instantly savoring the powerful flavor of his dripping pre. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. Sweet, salty, sour, savory... every taste bud fired thousands of endorphins in his brain. "Get your tongue in there, Cariño. Let it in." Teddy's tongue acted as if it were under another power, softly probing the leaking slit of the head and causing Luca to groan in ecstasy, throwing his head back. Grabbing the back of his head, in one firm push, Luca speared Teddy's gaping maw with his musky cock, pressing the nose firmly into his ripe bush.

Teddy was nearly scent-drunk in his love's dank, masculine smell, and only after a split second did he realize his entire tongue had slipped into Luca's thick rod. Grunting like a man in heat, the latin adonis gritted his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he felt Teddy's tongue slowly retract out of his cock. Released from his impalement, Teddy observed the wide opening of the cockslit in full view. Luca's hands gripped his palms, guiding his index finger back to the inviting orifice, effortlessly slipping in and sounding into his member. Elastic stretching sounds echoed in the room as the cock widened to fit his finger, then two, then four... until the whole hand was inside.

Teddy felt entranced, completely enveloped in the heat of the moment, plunging his second hand into the gaping hole. It stretched wide to welcome him, and with a single glance upward to a winking Luca, he understood. Teddy worked quickly, using forward momentum and the increasing suction within the engorged cock to propel his head forward into the tight wet cavern. The rest happened quickly. The sucking member had taken his arms and head entirely inside of it, squeaking and expanding as it guzzled his shoulders, chest and midsection. He could feel Luca lift his dick upward, letting him slide deeper and deeper. It was constricting, it was tight, it was wet, it smelled funky and ripe... it was the best sensation he'd ever felt. As his thighs and calves were made quick work of, only his feet remained outside of the slit. It took mere seconds for them to slurp inside.

Luca's cock was as large as he was, veins bulging and the entire length of it bulging and contorting as it worked Teddy down little by little toward his balls. He began to pump toward his sweaty balls, until he could feel the tips of his boyhood friend's fingers reach the opening into his cavernous testes. As if a seal had been broken, Teddy's body fell into the ocean of spunk, swelling his balls to accommodate the entire human being being nestled into his sac. The pace of his cock pumping hastened, as he felt closer and closer to climax. He felt the rigid bones and gelatinous fat begin to melt into his seed as Teddy was assimilated entirely into his system. Just as Julio had done to him, and just as he had in turn done to Julio. His breathing shallowed, gasping for air as he reached his tipping point, shooting out cum like a firehose all over the interior of the room. In it, was every insecurity, every pain, every imperfection which had plagued his lover since he was forced into the world. Gallons, tens of gallons in cum painted every surface around him, and as his balls began to shrink back down to the size of cantaloupes, he could feel his body churning Teddy down, incorporating him into the remnants of what was left of Julio. The gift itself, handed down the line for thousands of years was being imbued into the very core of Teddy's being. Julio had overshot his escape route in the heat of his own carnal lust, being broken down and slowly assimilated into Luca's body. The cockiness, the libido, the drive, the gift all now coursed through Luca. He was gone, but he didn't have to be wasted.

Over the next few weeks of churning, gurgling, bubbling, and undulating, Teddy was broken down and rebuilt only to be broken down again. Each time, a little more of Julio's essence would incorporate into him, even some of Luca himelf found its way into his shapeless form. Every workout that he did provided bursts of testosterone into the mix, and every jerking session flooded serotonin and glutamate. And after carefully monitoring the time, ensuring that Teddy would not meet his cousin's fate, three months later, it was time.

Sitting down in the luxurious apartment paid for by thirsty gay subscribers to his JustForFans and PH videos, Luca took his cock into his hands once more. Gently. Slowly. Carefully. Never losing focus of what was at stake, he stroked. Within his heavy balls, his leche had begun to bubble and slosh, preparing itself for expulsion. He picked up the pace, lifting his arm to get a full inhale of his pungent, all-natural pit poppers. His cock began to pulse and crack, as the thick sludge began to make its way toward the exit. Sure not to fall into the same trap as before, he pulled away from his tangy stink and focused. It was time. His hand moved furiously up and down his slimy cock, dripping with pre which pooled at his big, musky feet. One final cry of euphoria and out shot his load. One barrage after another, thick and dense landing afront him. Each shot slowly coagulating into a recognizable form. It slowly hardened, the milky white color giving way to ivory, then light beige, then a warm tan. Muscles tightened beneath a smooth skin, their fibers reconnecting one by one until they were strong and lean.

By the end of the bombardment, the homunculus before him had stood up. It was as tall as him, as broad as him, as powerful as him, and as the form of it's face began to take shape, a single tear was shed from Luca's watery eyes. He recognized his love, he could see Teddy, albeit ever so slightly different. He had certainly taken more of Julio and Luca's essences than they'd anticipated. A sharp, chiseled jawline carved itself out of the miasma, dark brown locks of hair sprung from it's scalp and plump lips parted to allow the deep breath of life which had been denied until then. His caramel eyes opened, and he smiled.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #musky #gay transformation #cockvore #assimilation #racial change #male tf

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calmariah · 16 days ago

Text

Using Canto VII to Predict Dante's Identity (Continued)

I love a good sequel.

This post is the second half of a whole! Please view the first half of my theory here!

Even before the release of Part 3, my mind has been racing with evidence and possibilities I didn't list in my first post on this topic.

I'm excited to say that Part 3 has not deconfirmed any part of my theory-- and in fact has only strengthened it!

Hark, for my resolve is truer than any theorist before me! Adventure with me, if thou darest...

(Full story spoilers for Canto VII Part 3 below the cut.)

(EXTREMELY long post ahead.)

(You have been warned.)

SECTION 0: HERE WE GO AGAIN

The following post will assume you have both read my original theory and have played or otherwise experienced Canto VII's story content to its completion. If you haven't, you will be lost-- and worse, horrifically spoiled!

The Dream Ending is a brilliant canto that deserves your undivided, unspoiled attention.

That said, we're actually going to put Part 3 out of mind for a moment.

There's some aspects of the previous post I'd like to expand on first, as there are things I missed within Part 1 and 2 itself.

It's good to establish a solid base of information before we dive into the tasty new stuff Part 3 has shown us. If you need to refresh yourself on my thoughts regarding Part 1 and 2, this would be a good time to do so.

SECTION 1: WHAT DID I MISS?

You're finally awake! That Neutral clash looked pretty rough.

Huh?

Sancho boss fight? Binah Sapling of Light ability!? What are you talking about?

It's the 17th of October! Come on, Part 2 just released. Let's go fight Dulcinea!

SECTION 1.1: PRONOUNS

In my original post, I stated-- with no small amount of unearned authority-- that Bari was only ever referred to with they/them pronouns. This was incorrect, as I edited my post to add later.

At the time, it was fairly easy to miss... The 7-35 cutscene changed in the October 24th update. Before then, the only mention of Bari's gender in 7-35 was in this brief bit of dialogue by Sancho.

SANCHO: Will she be coming today? Again?

SANCHO: It is high time you put an end to this rivalry, isn't it? Or, hm. I fear that time is already long past.

...I must've replayed that cutscene no less than eight times while writing that post. I cannot BELIEVE this slipped through the cracks.

Well! I hope that doesn't strain my credulity going forward too much.

I do not believe this disproves that Bari could be Dante, though it does kneecap what I perceived as a shared trait of obscured gender identity.

Onwards and out, though.

Here's some things I simply didn't think to mention.

SECTION 1.2: RED, WHITE, BLACK, PALE

This is a weak bit of 'evidence,' but something I felt the need to point out regardless.

My assertion that Bari was seeking the river of human consciousness was pretty much just conjecture when I made my previous post. There admittedly wasn't very much linking her to the Seed of Light project that I could see.

For your consideration, though...

In Part 2's paper fight, we've given the opportunity to observe Bari's fighting style and capabilities though in a stylized medium.

We can see many of her Skills and their names, such as Dragon of the Spring, Lotus in Autumn, and Faint Trace.

What really interests me however, are these two.

Red Arwe and Blak Arwe.

The only place we have ever seen Red and Black damage in use are in Lobotomy Corporation.

Note I don't say the game, though. Black damage has appeared in Limbus Company, through the Fourth Walpurgisnacht's combat event. Let me show you.

The Violet Ordeal foes encountered past Mephistopheles' Backdoor also use Envy skills that inflict Mental Fracture.

During this event, the Sinners are somehow someway inside of Lobotomy Corporation HQ. So, it counts.

In Lobotomy Corporation-- the game this time-- Violet Ordeal related entities were one of many sources of Black damage, and it was in fact the only damage type Violet Dawn entities were capable of directly inflicting.

It's safe to say, yes, Blak Arwe is supposed to remind us of Black damage. Thus, Red Arwe is also Red damage.

According to Faust in this same Walpurgisnacht event, Red White Black and Pale damage are terms invented by Lobotomy Corporation itself.

Bari's skills including the terminology is, forgive the term, an abnormality.

I'm not necessarily suggesting that... her bow is somehow extracted E.G.O equipment, or something. It looks more like a fancy workshop weapon. I truthfully don't know how or why she can deal Red and Black damage, but it constructs a solid thematic link between Bari and the Seed of Light project-- and thus the river of human consciousness.

I just felt that particular assertion needed a bit more solid evidence.

Red, White, Black and Pale damage were actually intended to be in Library of Ruina, but this was scrapped. Presumably, guests from outside the Library would also be able to inflict RWBP damage, thus nullifying it as a concept solely associated with Lobotomy Corporation.

...But, you know. It was scrapped, so I don't need to care?

SECTION 1.3: LIBRARY OF RUINA BETA IMAGES

Hey, speaking of things that got scrapped from Library of Ruina! Didn't I just say cut content wasn't going to be considered?

I did, to be fair. But this is more of a meta comment on Bari's role in the Project Moon universe.

I'm not very comfortable showing too many images from the Library of Ruina artbook, because it is a paid product-- and a very good one at that.

The thought of maybe being right on the internet is about to override my moral code for a moment though, so check it out.

Originally, Library of Ruina was going to have a much different combat system. It involved little paper doll looking characters running at each other simultaneously to clash blades.

In motion, it might've looked quite similar to Limbus Company's unfocused encounters, actually.

The artstyle was a lot more simple back in the day, too. Check out these early combat sprites.

We have Myo and Kali, two important characters who were in Lobotomy Corporation. Makes perfect sense their sprites would get made first.

But bizarrely, we also have Bari.

(And... Esther from the Index for some reason? Don't worry about him)

Bari's final presence in Library of Ruina is fairly miniscule. She only appears for a brief cutscene during the optional Librarian of Death ending. And yet, Project Moon had plans for her so far in advance that, seemingly, her sprites for this battle system were made before ROLAND'S.

In other early screenshots, we can see that her sprite saw use as a placeholder asset for certain UI elements. I can't read Korean, so I don't know what this menu is saying, but I imagine she might've been a default Assistant Librarian.

Not an honour to be taken lightly, I assure you. The original dummy sprite, predating even the legendary Zwei fixer herself...

(And you'll get that joke if you buy the artbook!)

I'm not suggesting that there's some kind of deeplore with Bari and the Library by the way. I mean, beyond the existing deeplore with Bari and the Library. I'm not THAT far off the deep end this early into the post.

What I am suggesting is that Bari has heavy significance to the developers. The kind of significance the protagonist of their third game might share. I just don't think it's 'punching above her weight' so to speak to say she could be Dante.

Or, you know, perhaps plans changed. But no matter what, Bari was asserted as a very important character in this canto. It's good to track her development history when considering theories like this.

SECTION 1.4: SOMETHING OF A BIGWIG

We've talked about Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina so far. I GUESS we can talk about Limbus Company now. If you twist my arm.

We know very little about Dante's pre-clock life, but not nothing.

During 0-2, Introductions, Rodion says this after introducing herself to Dante.

RODION: I think there's a... well, good reason you became our manager.

RODION: I'm sure. You used to be a big deal back in the Nest, right? When your old habits start coming back, we'll be that much closer to rolling in the dough...

During 3-7, Siegfried, Vergilius says this while Siegfried is massacring the Sinners.

VERGILIUS: About time they learned what happens if they kick up a ruckus in a Nest thinking they can get away with it.

VERGILIUS: ...Dante, you may not remember it at the moment, but at one point you used to be something of a bigwig... so to speak.

DANTE: I... I was?

DANTE (NARRATION): I just couldn't picture it.

To be honest, it's difficult to imagine Bari being some kind of money-making high roller. She seems like a more self-effacing person than that.

But then, the Sinners don't know a lot about Dante's past either. It's possible Rodion heard that her new manager used to be a high grade Fixer in some nebulous Nest and got her hopes up.

Bari seemed to have incredibly impressive equipment, so she would've needed money to procure and maintain it somehow. If a requirement for being a Dante candidate is "being rich" I think Bari clears the bar.

I'm not yet comfortable saying she could've been a Colour, but from what we've seen she certainly could've been a Grade 2 or 1 Fixer. That's bigwig material.

SECTION 1.5: FAMILY

If you asked me to identify a singular theme that unites the Sinners, I would tell you one word.

Family.

Almost all of them have family related troubles in their past.

Don Quixote's familial strife with the Bloodfiends of La Manchaland.

Ryōshū's constant grumbling whenever someone so much as says the word family in earshot.

Meursault's mother, who according to his character promo he murdered.

Hong Lu, just like, as a concept.

Heathcliff, abandoned by his birth parents and hated by his adoptive family in Wuthering Heights.

Sinclair, whose family was butchered by Kromer.

Outis, presumably trying to get home to a Penelope and/or Telemachus left behind.

And Gregor's mother is the closest thing we currently have to a primary antagonist.

The only four Sinners who I cannot find this theme of family within are Yi Sang, Faust, Ishmael, and Rodion.

But even three of those I can explain readily enough.

Yi Sang's League of Nine was much like a family. As was Sonya's Yurodiviye and Ahab's Pequod crew, dysfunctional as they all ended up being.

Every Sinner has some kind of unit-- usually familial, but not always-- that they were either violently removed from, or left intentionally.

...Faust remains the exception, but then, that is much like her. Even then, her literary counterpart's strife with Gretchen's brother and the death of Faust and Gretchen's child may qualify her in the future.

I don't see why it would stop at just twelve of the thirteen Sinners. I assert that, to continue this theme, familial issues are required in a pre-amnesia Dante candidate.

Lucky for me, Bari fits that mould perfectly.

Nothing in Canto 7 outwardly suggests that Bari has any strife with her family, but her mythological counterpart absolutely does.

Princess Bari's exile from her family and her commitment to saving them regardless is the crux of her story. Her abandonment is so important to her character that she's named for it. Bari-degi. Abandoned child.

As of recently, the Sinners of LCB have felt a lot more comfortable travelling alongside each other.

When entering the Haunted: Bloody Mary attraction in La Manchaland, they make the family comparison for me.

SINCLAIR: It's been so long since I visited one of these haunted mansions...

SINCLAIR: The last time I was at a place like this, I thought when the next time came I'd be here with my family again. Not... all on my own like this.

RODION: All on your own? C'mon, kiddo. You're here with your coworkers~

HEATHCLIFF: Ahm. Coworkers who are... kinda like family, innit?

RYŌSHŪ: ...

Even Vergilius is starting to feel the love.

And speaking of Vergilius, he and Charon also have a busload of familial problems to contribute to the theme.

Anyone who's read Leviathan knows about the Tomerry incident. Lapis was a child in the care of Vergilius' old orphanage.

I can't prove logically why Bari would be Dante.

But I think what I can do is suggest that Bari being Dante would be narratively and emotionally fulfilling. And this is one of the ways it would be. It would continue the theme of lost family on Mephistopheles, which makes the growing found family among them all the sweeter.

SECTION 2: OCTOBER 24TH

Oh hey, Part 3 just released. From now on, we're knee-deep in spoiler territory. Last call.

So, my absolute most primeval fear going into Part 3 was that Bari was going to physically appear in person. Because if anything was going to obliterate my theory in one fell blow, it would be her having a conversation with Dante.

Good news for me, though. Bari only appeared in flashbacks, and never in the present moment.

But it honestly, truly begs the question, why NOT? Part 3 has only hammered down harder how much Bari has written herself into Sancho's soul. (Just look at her attack animations, seriously.)

The scene after Sancho's boss fight where we find out Sancho post-Lethe has been unknowingly swapping letters with Bari proves that their bond was mutual.

So, why is it that when La Manchaland screams open in P Corp, Bari doesn't investigate at all?

(And, no, this isn't her. Bari is not mentioned to be physically present after this. This is just a vision of Bari made through Sancho, since Dante and co. just proved a second ago that they're able to manipulate Quixote's Fathoms of Ego.)

Bari is alive. Bari didn't show up for La Manchaland. Even if you don't think she's Dante, that's weird! She must be somehow predisposed or unaware that La Manchaland had opened.

And if you don't think she's Dante, I'm glad that you're still entertaining my thoughts. Come with me just a little further. Now that we're in Part 3, we're going to address one last glaring omission from my first post.

SECTION 3: TEAM DEMIAN

"I'll now wait for the sun to set into the gloaming before nightfall."

We're dealing with a character clad completely in blue with mysterious sparkly blue powers.

...It's a miracle this is the first time I've mentioned Demian's name.

Indeed, even in Parts 1 and 2 there was evidence that Demian and Bari had some kind of association.

Sansón's dialogue icon has this bisexual gradient background that thus far had only been used for Demian and Rim.

Combine that with his blue colour scheme, immense power and general freakery, and yeah we're dealing with a member of Demian's weird little tea party.

Thus forth, I'll be referring to Demian's group as "Team Demian."

Sansón says this when giving Sinclair Bari's role in his stageplay.

SANSÓN: Well, then. We have another actor present here to play this character. A little green, a little incomplete, but still with the sign of great potential.

SANSÓN: I give this role of the Knight of the White Moon to you.

SINCLAIR: ...?

SINCLAIR: M-me?

DANTE (NARRATION): Sinclair held his forehead for a moment, then looked at his changed appearance in confusion.

Suggesting that the Sign made Sinclair a good fit for the Knight of the White Moon's role strongly implies that it was an attribute they shared.

That Sansón knew this-- and otherwise knew Bari well enough to write her into his stageplay-- indicates a connection between Bari and Sansón, and thus Bari and Team Demian.

Regarding Bari and the Sign...

(I had to fight Sancho five separate times in the making of this post. Project Moon, PLEASE make mid-battle cutscenes viewable in the Theater.)

Part 3 confirmed she had it.

It's my understanding that to see the Sign on others, you need to be a bearer of it yourself.

That Dante has seen Sinclair's Sign now and in the past, as well as Demian's, it means that they themself must be a Signbearer.

This is nothing new. But combined with the confirmation that Bari too was a Signbearer, it's yet another attribute they share.

In 2-19...

SONYA: Rodya, this will probably elude you, but you don't have the mark.

SONYA: I came here hoping you'd possess it, but I'm seeing it on some of your friends instead.

Being a Signbearer is apparently common enough that Sinners other than Sinclair and Dante also have it (assuming Sonya's definition of 'some' is more than two), but it's absolutely something to consider.

I had originally assumed that Demian appearing before Dante so often was solely because they both had the Sign. But then, why single out Dante?

There are other Sinners in LCB who have the Sign. But Demian has taken such a firm interest in Dante specifically.

In the Canto IV post-credits scene...

DEMIAN: Countless stars are in the sky. But they aren't all the same. If someone else saw them, they might have been nothing more than dim lumps of light.

DEMIAN: But someone who found the twinkle staggeringly charming took one of the stars...

DEMIAN: And hung it on a high enough place for everyone to see, expelling the dark.

DEMIAN: All the people would rejoice.

DEMIAN: Now, here's a question.

DEMIAN: What will become of me who has been robbed by me, and the star that's now forced to illuminate the dark forevermore?

DANTE: I...

DEMIAN: The mirror your friends use isn't any different. That is such a cruel piece of technology.

DEMIAN: Take your time with the answer. Just draw me a sheep later.

DEMIAN: You may not remember it right now... but you promised to.

Overall, it's actually extremely possible that Bari used to be a member of Team Demian.

She has the Sign, Sansón knew her, she's dressed in all blue, and she has some kind of mysterious blue gate power.

I would be shocked if she didn't have at least something to do with Demian. It might explain why Demian can understand what Dante says, if they have a past like this.

I'll admit upfront that she doesn't have the bisexual gradient background, though. Maybe in all the instances we see her talk, she hadn't yet joined Team Demian?

Or maybe the background just isn't as important as I've been thinking it is.

That kind of flippant speculation is going to serve us well going forward!! Because it's time for...

SECTION 4: THE LIGHTNING ROUND

What!? We've barely gotten started!

Don't worry, and don't go anywhere! The lightning round is NOT the end this time!

I've saving my juiciest evidence for last! For now, let's take a quick jog around the minor stuff Part 3 has yielded us!

It's my hope that these little pieces of evidence, while alone uncompelling, will paint a strong picture of the ties between Dante and Bari yada yada I've said this before let's go play Canto VI!

SECTION 4.1: FLOWERS

That's not a typo, I did mean VI. In the post-credits scene of Canto VI, Demian appears yet again. Because we're not done with that little weirdo.

(I'm not including this in the Demian section above because the purpose of that was to establish a logical connection between Dante, Bari and Demian. The lightning round's about tiny little themes!)

DEMIAN: Do you like flowers too, Dante?

DANTE: Um...

DANTE: I think I've come to like them.

DEMIAN: Imagine that there was a single rose you've cared for a long time.

DEMIAN: Your room was always brimming from the sweet aroma of that flower.

DEMIAN: But one day, you leave the rose behind to go on a long, long journey.

DEMIAN: In your journey, you come across a large garden... and there, you see thousands of the very same rose you once you [sic] cared for. That sight... brings you to tears, and you drop to your knees.

DEMIAN: ...Why do you suppose that is?

DANTE: ......

DANTE (NARRATION): Demian... he's appeared before me in the past. He would always leave me with these cryptic riddles.

DANTE (NARRATION): But I'm starting to understand what his riddles are supposed to represent.

DANTE: Because I've finally come to understand.

DANTE: That the one I truly loved was the rose I'd left behind.

DEMIAN: Correct.

Demian's cryptic icebreaker about Dante going on a journey that ends in finding a garden full of flowers reminds me of Bari quite a lot.

He isn't talking about Bari's journey specifically-- much more likely this, like the stars before, refers to an individual and all of their Mirror World Identities.

Still, Bari is a self-described flower hunter. I feel it'd be reckless to not at least note this down. That's what the lightning round is for!

SECTION 4.2 JIA XICHUN WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN PLEASE COME BACK AND EXPLAIN

Honestly just read this exactly as it happened

OUTIS: Don Quixote... Executive Manager... Amnesia has certainly made things difficult for many of us, hasn't it?

HONG LU: There are so many ways to erase people's memories in the City, after all.

JIA XICHUN: ...Yeah. There are plenty of ways to remove people's memories, and that's just counting what's public.

JIA XICHUN: The most common method is moving someone's memory into a different object, or a person. Some parts of the City even sell them as local products.

JIA XICHUN: Another is to completely destroy the memories. It's cheap, but because it comes with the risk of affecting other memories, only desperate Backstreets dwellers use this method.

JIA XICHUN: And... now we know the final method, which has so far been unknown, and remains inaccessible even now.

JIA XICHUN: The River of Oblivion... also known as Lethe.

JIA XICHUN: Drinking the waters of this River allows one to bury their memories beyond the veil of their consciousness, to the point where they become uncertain, hazy and dim like the memories of a dream.

HONG LU: So that's what you've been looking for... Xichun.

JIA XICHUN: Not exactly. It's a different stream, somewhere near the River of Oblivion.

JIA XICHUN: I suspect that the River I'm searching for has something to do with the immortality of the mind that our elders have been seeking so desperately.

HONG LU: Ah. To be free from aging and death, right?

(If you've been wondering why I'm speaking of a 200+ year old woman as though she could be alive today, there's your answer.)

JIA XICHUN: Yeah, that old, tiresome thing.

DANTE (NARRATION): Maybe... that's how my memories were removed.

DANTE (NARRATION): I don't even have a dreamy recollection of my memories; it's like they were uprooted straight from my head.

DANTE (NARRATION): So it's either been transferred to a different person or object...

DANTE (NARRATION): ...or it's been totally destroyed, forever unsalvageable.

DANTE (NARRATION): Still, I have no clue as to who, how or why anyone would do such a thing.

JIA XICHUN: ......

DANTE (NARRATION): Jia Xichun briefly glanced at me as my clock ticked on before turning her attention back to Hong Lu.

JIA XICHUN: That's why these scant traces of this 'Bari' are so important to me.

JIA XICHUN: I can't tell you in any greater detail, but I see them. I can see her ancient traces here.

HUH

Jia Xichun what does that MEAN. She goes on a long monologue about how extremely possible it is to erase someone's memories, takes a sideways glance at the Most Important Amnesiac and says "I can see the ancient traces of Bari here."

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

WHAT DO YOU KNOW

DO YOU ALSO THINK DANTE IS BARI???

DO YOU ALSO HAVE A TWO PART EXTREMELY LONG TUMBLR POST???

PLEASE COME BACK HERE

I NEED TO KNOW

DO NOT LEAVE ME IN THIS VOID

WHERE I CANNOT FIND YOU

SECTION 4.3: JUST KIND OF THE WAY THEY ARE THEMSELVES

Pwfaaah. Sorry, that was unprofessional.

Let's pull ourselves together here. I'm getting slightly lost in the theory sauce.

I need to fall back on something objective before I further lose my mind. This update gave us a talk sprite for Bari finally, so obviously the very first thing I did was put it next to Dante's.

(Thank you Lunartique07 for the ripped assets! The Project Moon Google Drive has been an incredible boon.)

Plus some other Sinners for scale.

I chose Yi Sang and Heathcliff because they actually both just so happen to be standing in the exact same pose as Dante and Bari respectively.

Don Quixote isn't very helpful in that regard, but she heard some of the other Sinners were taking a group photo and really really wanted to be included.

Please understand.

The very tip of everyone's closest shoe is touching the green pixel at the exact same point, so this is even as I can get them.

I'm sure you've noticed that Bari and Dante don't appear to be the same height, but please consider the difference in posing. Dante and Yi Sang's shoes are mostly level, while Bari and Heathcliff both have their right foot a decent bit above their left.

They're at an angle, like so. Very slightly standing on the air.

This is going to skew perspective a little.

Even with that in mind however, Bari and Dante are extremely similar in both height and width. Bari is wearing a much thicker coat than Dante is. I'm willing to bet that if they both took their coats off, they would have pretty identical frames.

Thankfully, technology hasn't advanced far enough for us to see for ourselves.

The fact that there's a discrepancy in height at all means this little factoid got lightning round'ed. I can't really in good conscious consider this hard and fast evidence. Pretty Cool Though!

SECTION 4.5: MOST UNFAIR

I'm sure you remember this scene from the very beginning of Canto VII.

[Complete darkness. Yellow text appears in the middle of the void.]

The night approacheth with great haste;

Yet thou shalt hew open a path, cleaving the shadows in twain,

With the blessings and approval of they family of which there is no equal,

Challenge and vanquish all things perilous,

And at last--reach true happiness;

Thus how indubitable,

The magnificence with which mine ingenious adventures of to-day shall shine.

Which is... our adventure, as well.

You remember the words, right? A Fixer must maintain a head clear of corruption, speech free of deceit, and conduct guided by clemency.

Show courage in adventure, and bear pain in suffering.

And pray, forget not the mercy for the downtrodden...

...and last but not least...

...Pursue your dream, even if it means wagering your life in the chase.

Should you ever fail to stand by even one of these tenets...

I'll smack you guys upside the head myself.

Steel yourself and always, always keesp moving forward.

Is that not...

...a threat most unfair?

[We fade back into the P Corp WARP train platform. Present moment.]

DON QUIXOTE: Manager Esquire... how unfair of thee...!

DANTE: ......

DON QUIXOTE: Most unfair, I say...!!!

DANTE: What is it this time...?

Something I need to note is that the white text above is delivered through the narration box in a manner identical to Dante's internal monologue.

This is far from the only time this happens in the game. Even later this canto, Sancho borrows Dante's narration box for a while. Just keep that in mind, still.

In a lovely bit of circular narrative storytelling, during the Don Quixote boss fight, we see this cutscene again.

Only this time, we can see who is talking.

The scene plays out like before. We see that the yellow voice was Don Quixote, and the white voice in the narration box was Bari all along.

It's not exactly the same scene, but it's undeniably Bari both times. It's the same voice actor.

So what would this suggest, I ask you?

When Bari, in the style of Dante's inner monologue, says she'll 'smack you guys upside the head'?

When Don Quixote says that's a threat most unfair?

And when we fade back in, Don Quixote is telling Dante that they've been most unfair?

...This proves nothing. Listen, I want to make one thing crystal clear.

I'm not stupid. I know that this is an incredibly simple narrative convention. It does NOT prove that Dante is Bari.

Just because the two scenes spliced together-- just because Bari was called unfair one moment and Dante the next, it doesn't mean ANYTHING.

Because it could just be a fun little moment of storytelling. One character being called unfair in one scene and another in the next does not necessarily mean they're the same person.

But the fact that it is Bari and Dante feels intentional, doesn't it?

When put next to every other bit of evidence we have so far, are you able to say in full honesty that I'm seeing things? Jumping at shadows where there aren't any? Tilting at windmills?

If you still think that, then I'm glad you've stayed with me anyway.

So please stay with me a little longer,

and allow me to cut through your reservations once and for all.

SECTION 5: FOUNDING LCB AND THE PROMISE:

"Dear the most valorous Fixer of the Zwei, How farest thee? 'Tis my hundred-and-thirty-first letter. Prithee, excuse my persistence. 'Tis merely that my passion cannot well be doused. I am soon to be a Fixer myself. And with thy teachings, I shall become a Fixer most just as persistent who doth not know surrender."

VERGILIUS: I believe I've afforded you sufficient restraint.

A red hot gladius rends the seal on her cradle in two.

...

VERGILIUS: My old... friend has told me that you are a Second Kindred.

...

VERGILIUS: The Fixers on these posters... They're all from at least several decades ago. It is as my fellow has told me. So much of her slumbers... even her instinctive craving for blood.

...

VERGILIUS: I am the guide who will bring you all to the right path.

VERGILIUS: You must come with me, for this journey demands your company. In return...

VERGILIUS: ...when the time is right, the promised timepiece shall come to be by your side.

SANCHO: Promised...?

VERGILIUS: Yes. You are bound to a promise, just as I am.

VERGILIUS: So...

SANCHO: Gasp...

VERGILIUS: Remember these eyes.

VERGILIUS: Remind yourself time and again every time you look into these eyes that hold the blood of a generation higher than your own.

SANCHO: I... have nary a clue as to whatever it is that--

VERGILIUS: I speak of the promise that will one day return to you when the time is right.

VERGILIUS: Remember it, so that the unforgettable promise will one day return to you, so that you may keep it when the time comes. Even as it eludes you now.

This scene is seen at the beginning of Part 3, as LCB enter the Fathoms of Ego.

Isn't it weird?

The conversation doesn't flow naturally. Vergilius talks about his eyes, and then cuts Sancho off and continues talking about the promise out of nowhere.

A long, long time later, following Sancho's boss fight, we see this scene again.

But something has changed.

Something that was intentionally omitted from Sansón's telling of this scene.

VERGILIUS: You must come with me, for this journey demands your company. In return...

VERGILUS: ...when the time is right, the promised timepiece you once heard shall come to be by your side.

(Note the addition. "timepiece you once heard' was not in Sansón's telling.)

VERGILIUS: Even when you feel like giving up on yourself.

VERGILIUS: So I promise you this.

VERGILIUS: That one day, you will return to the beginning of all things...

VERGILIUS: ...and tell them all about the adventures you've had.

This was the moment I knew I had it.

This was the moment I chambered my silver bullet.

When the time is right, the timepiece will come to be by your side. And you can tell them all about the adventures you've had.

Could he have been talking about both Bari and Don Quixote?

Sure, maybe. Sancho does tell Don Quixote about her adventures as he lays dying.

But that's only one way to read this sentence.

I think 'them' refers to the promised timepiece. To Dante.

This part of his speech was important enough to be omitted from the first version of the scene we saw.

Important enough to save for the very end of the canto.

In P Corp's backstreets, Vergilius said something to Dante that confused them.

VERGILIUS: ...Your hands have stopped trembling. I'll take that as a sign that we have an understanding.

VERGILIUS: Should you ever find yourself growing anxious in La Manchaland, when things start to go awry...

VERGILIUS: Remember these words.

VERGILIUS: Henceforth, whatever happens...

[Vergilius smiles.]

VERGILIUS: ...Don Quixote will remember the promise, Dante.

DANTE (NARRATION): The promise.

DANTE (NARRATION): I have no idea how that word is supposed to assuage any of my fears.

DANTE (NARRATION): Vergilius isn't the type to waffle on meaninglessly, so...

DANTE (NARRATION): ...I suppose there isn't anything else I can gather from him at the moment.

Dante is right. Vergilius is a man of few words-- he says what he needs to say, and that's it.

But Vergilius is also a deeply sentimental person.

If he gave advice to Dante that meant nothing to them, it must've meant something to HIM.

I assert that the promise Vergilius is referring to is this one.

BARI: Remember? We promised to meet again once each of our adventures are complete...

SANCHO: ...and tell one another all about our adventures.

Dante's number one fear throughout the La Manchaland mission was that the reveal of Sancho's true nature would irreparably tear the Sinners' bond apart.

That is what Vergilius is reassuring them against.

That Sancho promised to always be their friend. To meet with them when all was said and done.

She'll remember that promise. She won't drift away from you.

This would require Vergilius to not only be aware of Bari, but familiar enough with her to understand the promise she made with Sancho and Don Quixote.

And I can prove that he was.

VERGILIUS: The build of this place is quite durable, my lady.

VERGILIUS: It should be able to withstand assaults from any pursuing Bloodfiends... no, even Bloodfiend Hunters.

VERGILIUS: It is an entirely different question if they can make it this far down to this Ruin, of course.

VERGILIUS: My old... friend has told me that you are a Second Kindred.

...

VERGILIUS: The Fixers on these posters... They're all from at least several decades ago. It is as my fellow has told me. So much of her slumbers... even her instinctive craving for blood.

...

VERGILIUS: Your adventures with them are unimportant. And you won't have to listen to these Fixers anymore. Because...

VERGILIUS: ...doesn't an adventure guided by me, a Fixer bestowed with the title of a Colour... sound much better than any of that?

In Sansón's stageplay...

BARI (SINCLAIR): "Once we find the river..."

BARI (SINCLAIR): "I will guide you to the place that will be your residence henceforth."

BARI (SINCLAIR): "An abandoned lighthouse where no one visits."

BARI (SINCLAIR): "Please, make that place your home."

Only Bari should've known where Sancho's cradle was.

Only Bari could've told Vergilius where to find her, that she was a Second Kindred who erased her own past, that her craving for blood was suppressed by Rocinante, and exactly how to get her to join LCB.

Because Vergilius pulls rank as a Colour Fixer, and it immediately entices Sancho.

This gives us three things simultaneously.

One. Vergilius and Bari were 'old friends.'

Two. Vergilius could've known about the promise Sancho and Bari made.

And, three, it gives us reason to believe that Bari was willingly contributing to the formation of LCB.

Because she told Vergilius where to find Sancho. Because Vergilius knew what to say to recruit her.

We know for a fact that pre-amnesia Dante was cooperating with Limbus Company, because they were already wearing the uniform when they lost their memories in the dark forest.

We're so close. We have so much.

Katabasis.

Resurrection.

Visions of the past and visions of the future.

Stories of future cantos.

Association with literature.

Pre-amnesia power.

The river of human consciousness.

Family.

Similarities in sprites.

The Sign.

Team Demian.

Cooperation with the formation of LCB.

The promise.

I have just one more thing to share. One last section.

One last narrative commonality between Bari and Dante before I bid you goodbye.

SECTION 6: ANTICIPATION

DON QUIXOTE: Tomorrow is a promise that does not hinge on your blessing.

BARI: No, no. That's not the tomorrow I'm talking about. I'm talking about the 'tomorrow' you seek.

BARI: You've been living out your days mired in meaninglessness, quietly wasting away inside.

BARI: Drinking human blood, compelled not by your own will but by your sickness. In your countless years of existence...

BARI: ...you've never had any reason to exist, have you?

BARI: But your illness... and this applies to all of your kind... is loneliness.

BARI: It's the kind of suffering you can't weather through by huddling together with your Family in the dark.

BARI: So I offer you this.

BARI: Anticipation for what tomorrow holds.

BARI: In other words... a dream.

BARI: I can make you dream.

SANCHO: The adventure... has ended.

SANCHO: And thus, so did my dream.

SINCLAIR: It's not over yet.

SINCLAIR: We're pretty major characters in your adventures too, you know?

SINCLAIR: You can't just... end this story without even asking its cast.

SANCHO: So stupid...

DANTE (NARRATION): Her words of denial are tinged with something new, something we hadn't heard in what felt like forever.

DANTE (NARRATION): Anticipation.

Twice over, they reach for a Bloodfiend who has no reason to be.

Gifting them the anticipation to see what comes tomorrow. To adventure, and to dream.

It isn't just Dante, the second time. All of the Sinners come together to find that anticipation for Sancho.

But who is it that drives it home?

Who is it that lights her way?

Who is it that thinks to inspire Sancho by telling her a story?

DANTE (NARRATION): I know what to do. The flow I must find, the flow I must hitch myself to.

DANTE: However...

DANTE: Don Quixote, who despaired that this moment was to be the end of her tale...

DANTE: Still refused to give up.

[Faust smiles.]

FAUST: ......

History repeats and Bari's role is reprised, and by Dante. By the rest of the Sinners too, but especially by Dante.

Because at the end of the long battle against him, Don Quixote says this. Completely unaware of the dramatic irony in his words.

DON QUIXOTE: Alas, it appears that we are not availed the benevolent, mediating force of Bari to quell our quarrels. Then I suppose we are at an impasse, want of a better mediation...

DON QUIXOTE: ...than one wrought by force.

I assert that he is wrong.

I assert that the narrative completed itself. A perfect circular structure, like so many aspects of this canto.

Atop La Manchaland, all but two Sinners are dead. Only three were alive to witness what happened next.

Exactly as it began.

Only Sancho, her father Don Quixote, and the White Moon beside them.

It's the same scene.

Bari and Don Quixote called out their names, and clashed in a brilliant shining light.

Sancho and Don Quixote called out their names, and clashed in a brilliant shining light.

It was Bari that made him dream.

And it was Dante that made her dream.

Anticipation. The final, ultimate theme that they share.

And after all was said and done, after La Manchaland was reduced to a pouring torrent of blood, the Sinners boarded Mephistopheles once again.

Ready to gallop onto the next canto of their story.

But first, Don Quixote said something to Dante.

DON QUIXOTE: Prithee, regard me not with such an expression.

DANTE: I... don't have an expression, let alone a face.

DON QUIXOTE: All of existence, from the swaying flowers in the meadows to the rolling pebbles in a stream... has emotions.

DANTE (NARRATION): What expression did she read from me, I wonder.

DON QUIXOTE: I beseech thee, smile.

DON QUIXOTE: For all of this is but a merry dream.

DANTE (NARRATION): No one thinks about what awaits them at the end of the journey when embarking on an adventure.

DANTE (NARRATION): But that unknown future, twinkling so tantalizingly...

DANTE (NARRATION): ...is what inevitably draws us to venture toward them.

DANTE (NARRATION): So...

DANTE (NARRATION): ...I guess I'll smile, like Don Quixote asked me to.

DANTE (NARRATION): Smile with anticipation for what tomorrow holds.

I hope I've given you a lot to think about.

No matter what, I think Dante and Bari are both immensely interesting characters, and I believe whatever Project Moon does with both of them will be more satisfying than whatever little old me can think of.

I cannot prove that Bari is Dante. But I can maybe convey that, if she turned out to be, It would be a well foreshadowed and thematically consistent reveal, more so than any other existing candidate.

This is a long pair of posts. And you read all of it. If you have any feedback to add to my theory, please include it in a reply!

I would love nothing more than to hear from you.

#project moon #limbus company #canto 7 spoilers #canto vii spoilers #dante lcb #theoryposting #long post #canto 7 #canto vii #limbus company spoilers

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