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obiwankenobis-lap · 2 years ago

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This is so beautifully written wth i love you😭 i fucking love Tomb. SCREAMING AND KICKING MY FEET I WAMT A HUG FROM HIM AAAA

Hiya! I’m so happy your requests are open omg your writing is impeccable. So I’ve been with this concept in my head for so long since I read this prompt somewhere: what is with your weird fascination with me?

And just immediately my head started creating a story about reader having the nickname ‘Death’ because she has the highest body count known, skilled as no other and, also, imposible to know on a deeper level because she is like a wall, not letting anyone in. Until John Price needs her for a mission and is, as the prompt says, fascinated by her (and feeling other things he doesn’t want to admit), and is able to break her a little when he gets hurt in a mission after months of working together.

Glory to the Reaper

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: He was strange, you admitted to yourself. Always around even when you didn't want him to be. But perhaps the Brit just might surprise you.

WORDCOUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, gore, canon typical violence, avoidance tactics, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: I switched around the codename but it's still the same plot! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes slip over the file on the table, slowly caressing the parchment with easy and careful consideration of every word and comma—searching. Focusing. You hum under your breath and slide the page away to spy on the one behind it, the room quiet and the air cold. Outside the window the entire compound is asleep, only the light of the street lamps illuminating the land; inside this office, your feet barely shuffle over the tuft of the rug.

Clicking your tongue, you go to the next document in the pile.

The still-warm body flinches and jerks below you, but you barely notice—he hadn’t put up much of a fight; wasn’t memorable. Sighing and itching over the mask along the bottom of your face, you snatch the last six papers from the desk and fold them four times, stuffing them into your vest pocket.

Stalking with sure steps, you press into the radio on your gear as you step over the body and head to the door. Bloody bootprints follow behind you like a crimson shadow of surefire death.

“Actual, intel secured. Heading to Evac now.” Laswell was listening intently on the other end, your Op of the highest priority.

You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, surely. The small click from the other end greets you as you shove open the office’s door and saunter down the hallway paved with glints of marble and pools of viscera like a Roman horror story. Eyes numbly slide past the scores of bodies; necks slit and stomachs burst from bullets fired through silencers.

“Good job, Tomb,” Laswell utters, voice fast and serious as always. “What’s the clean-up status?”

Your lips flinch upward, “I suggest fire and a prayer, Actual. But no one knows I’m here. Main house is neutralized.”

A small pause later and a huff of dull amusement.

“Copy, Tomb. Your ride is waiting—best not to miss it, we need you back sooner than later.” The structure of your lungs rearranges in a small chuckle that echoes off the ceiling; molten silver from the moon slips over your darkened form. The patch upon your right shoulder is illuminated in steady intervals, the familiar image of a mausoleum and a guarding Sphinx.

Alone, that patch is, with no other dark affiliations beyond that demonic cause. Many see it right before they meet their end, but the insignia was entirely left to ruin—no one sees it and lives besides other soldiers.

“Copy.” Your voice is easy and bland as the curtains from the single open window shake in the breeze. “Tell the boys I’m on my way.” You pass the window and slap a gloved hand to it, hearing the squeak of the frame as it hits back down before you turn the corner, slinking away to reform into a figure that evokes grim glances and sliced sentences.

—

You stare into blue eyes with a sheen of disinterest coating your own, hands stuffed into your pockets and gear heavy on your chest. From your shoulder, the strap of your rifle sits as you speak, tilting your head, “Captain Jonathan Price of Task Force 141.”

The man was tall, you admit, fit and formed to harsh military life. Undoublity he’d been in the service for decades. You’d seen his face before—the brunette beard and the strong jaw; small eyes with wrinkles, it’s how you had ID’d him. Plus the bucket hat. Laswell had told you he’d been inquiring about your file and you’d done your own digging off the books.

John grunts a greeting before nodding.

“Pleasure. Tomb, was it?” On the tarmac, you glance around with stiff shoulders as the blades of the helicopter slow down behind you. Morning was just on the horizon, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the flight back.

Lips thin, before your vision slides back into place. John’s hands are crossed casually, but his blue holds glints of intrigue. You don’t like that. “...The one and only. Excuse me.”

Walking past, you move like a crane, legs taking long, steady, strides. A hand comes up to scratch at your cheek through your face covering. Laswell was expecting you immediately.

And those feet at your side were not supposed to be there. Your eyes shimmer lowly at the shadow of John as he follows.

“Should tell you that Laswell’s in building two, then.” Pace halting, the Captain continues off on his own as your sharp gaze burns into his neck. He spares a glance over his expansive shoulder before adjusting his course to the East. “Told me to bring you to her. We need to have a little chat, yeah?”

You stay silent, watching John travel to the larger building where Laswell was apparently now waiting for you. After a still minute where you listen to the birds waking up and the scent of dew is in your hidden nostrils, you sigh deeply and roll your shoulders before beginning to walk behind.

“Hm,” Garbled grunts are only heard by you as you stay well enough back from the man. Cautious as you stare at his head.

He holds the door open for you when you finally make it, and you stand blankly from the opening as John’s calloused hand clenches over the door. When you don’t enter, the Captain shakes his head and releases a deep chuckle.

“Alright, then,” he mutters, shuffling through the door first. You follow the strain of his back until you look away and reach for the barrier, pushing it back from you. Making your way inside, you sigh and wonder what you’re getting into.

“Laswell said you don’t like strangers,” eyes peek back at you as the buzzing from the overhead lights echoes in your ears. Your throat releases a hum; shoulders showing a picture of wound ease. “Can’t say she’s wrong, now can you?”

Watching another soldier pass the two of you, you tilt your head to make sure the stranger’s footsteps turn the corner before you answer John’s question with a raised brow to mirror his own.

“Did she also tell you that I don’t plan on joining One-Four-One, Captain?” His bearded smirk catches you slightly off-guard, perplexed by not even the hint of shock in his gaze. He’d done his research.

John grunts as his eyelids narrow, amused. Your muscles tense.

“Affirmative.” The meeting room door is opened and this time he allows you to ease your paranoia by slinking in first.

In the room sits an occupied Laswell, a long table, a projector, and black-out windows. Confused but used to last-minute changes, you simply enter silently and pick a chair with your back to the wall and a good view of the room.

“Laswell,” you utter in greeting as the woman hums a hello, shifting through numerous files. In your breast pocket, you pull out the files you’d stolen and toss them onto the wood. John stands near the entrance with crossed arms, hips shifting every so often as his feet re-situate themselves.

He blinks down at the papers and then back to you with a careful glance at Kate.

Your Station Chief chuckles when she looks at you, tilting her head before she snatches the prize.

“Good work as always, Tomb.”

“Why is he here?” You get to the point, one hand going up to brush over your hair as the other sits limply on the seat’s arm. Your gear sits heavy on you, but that brutal tic of curiosity blooms.

John’s lips twitch before he answers, “An offer. Knew I wouldn’t be able to meet if Laswell wasn’t the mediator, eh? You’re bloody difficult to track down.”

“Offer?” Small talk never mattered to you, hadn’t since you’d signed up, and probably never would. You didn’t understand why people beat around the bush—just say what you need to say and get it over with. There was only so much time in a day.

It seemed John Price carried part of that opinion as well.

Blunt, you admit to your opinion of the man, and sure of his strengths.

“I need your skill set.” Kate looks back and forth between you two before she focuses on her work, multitasking. John continues, pointing a hand at you in demonstration from their hold on his chest. “Mission in three days. Turkey…” He watches you closely as if gauging your abilities. “You in or out?”

You wait in a dim silence for a minute or two before you tilt your body to Laswell, eyes still stuck in stormy blue and pale wrinkles inlaid with dirt.

“Kate?”

“Totally off the books,” the woman says confidently, pen sliding over paper. “Two targets in Bursa. There’s a file in your office.” Raising a brow, John hides his cheeky smile behind a bored mask.

“Take your Lieutenant,” you glare, “Ghost, was it?”

Price shakes his head, hat flinching along with it. “On assignment. I’ll need an answer today, Tomb. Time’s ticking.”

Your jaw clenches in annoyance, “Capture or kill?”

John shrugs nonchalantly, “Either. Is this a yes or a no?”

In this game of cat and mouse, you find yourself slipping. Your obligations as a soldier call to you to take the mission immediately, but for the simple fact that this Captain was unknown to you—and apparently, you weren’t unknown to him.

John was checking all of the boxes of people you didn’t like to be around.

Your voice grits out, eyes burning in their glare, “...When?”

His smirk makes you want to storm out.

“Tomorrow. 1300.” The air in the room is thick, tense like a thick layer of molasses was overtop everything. Under the table, your foot taps to the steady beat of your heart, your face tensed, and the layers of your facemask suddenly too formed to your neck and chin.

Twitching your nose you dig your eyes into John, peeling down his expansive shoulders and chest to take in the layers of packs and other miscellaneous items. His thigh holders and the way they hug his legs. You end with one last dead-on look into his eyes, trying to pinpoint intentions and flay the lines of his brain.

Most people glance away, but John returns the look with a casual tilt of his head and a raised brow. Not at all off-put.

Your hand steadily clenches over the chair.

All you give him is a firm nod—nothing more than a mere jerk of your chin. Kate sighs from where she’d been watching.

“Perfect. John,” she points her pen at the Captain as you both stare off. John grunts before his eyes flicker to the side, leisurely roving back moments later. You blink and rub your forehead. “You have your answer. Now would the both of you get the fuck out of here?”

“Copy, Kate.” John sighs, and you huff; standing as you plan out the amount of time you have to clean up and sleep before you have to leave. With an easy brush of your shoulders, your form shimmies past the Captain with dull enthusiasm.

You weren’t happy about this, but fine. You’ve been through worse.

As you shuffle down the hallway to the armory, your ears quirk when the footsteps ring in the drums of your ears like a hiking beacon. Already you’d memorized the walking pattern.

The thump-bump, bump-thump, of boots and the clink-clank of metal on metal. Shoving down a growl you hiss out into the air, not turning around.

“Problem, Price?” A gruff humph bounces.

“Negative, Tomb.” His shadow comes to conjoin with yours, large body standing side-by-side. Eyes flash to the side of your face, hidden from all by the cloth—like a bored cat, you continue to pave your way to silence; hoping whatever thought this man had in his head would disappear. “Just curious, see.”

“Curious?” your brow raises, the make of your muscles showing your unease. “Can’t help you with that.”

“No, probably not, eh?” John grunts and reiterates as strange emotion spikes in the lines of his face as he glances along you. “Tomorrow. 1300. Don’t be late.” With nothing more, he halts and pivots, peeling back to leave your side as his sudden absence leaves you devoid of heat.

Confusion breeds in your chest, but your steady legs carry you on until your tension leaves. Under your breath you utter a question as you enter the armory, shuffling your rifle off of your chest. “What the hell was that about?”

—

Price and you stand inside the safehouse with fast hearts and narrowed eyes. Blood was dripping down your hands, the black gloves flooded with gore that sure as hell doesn’t belong to you.

“Fuck,” John growls, guttural reverberations echoing off the walls. With stiff ribs, you go and lightly peel back the fabric of the nearest window to study the street below; looking for any suspicious figures. Frowning, you see nothing and let the curtain fall, eyes wafting to the Captain.

“We either lost them or they have surveillance on the building. Best for you to not leave either way.” The mission had gone sideways—apparently one of the targets had an ID on John as a member of One-Four-One. One thing led to another and resulted in you sticking a knife into some man’s gut to get away when he’d been spotted. You blink at his agitated expression, the black beanie on his head ruffled as he runs a hand over it.

But you don’t say anything else. Peeling off your gloves, you listen to him as a rain of blood splatters the carpet.

“This sets us back—since when does bloody fuckin’ Metin Baydar know who I am?” John’s hands are clenched, jaw so tight you wonder if his molars will crack under the pressure. A smirk twitches your lips at the thought. “Tomb,” you slowly tilt your eyes to him. The man sets his lips and crosses his arms, the brown casual wear in his chest bunching. “I’ll need you to be my eyes on this, yeah? If I leave this position I jeopardize your safety.”

“My safety?” you huff a laugh and push your gloves into your loose pants. “Captain, I don’t need you to worry about my safety.”

He seems to pause for a moment, and with a shake of his head his blue eyes shutter closed. A deep, tight, breath is taken and those tiny lids are forced back as you lock gazes. You send a blank look his way and he nods firmly.

“Keep low.” Is all he grunts, feet standing apart and his stare intense. “Copy?”

A swirl of amusement dances in your gut—you tap the earpiece in your shell with a stained streak of blood on your fingers. John stares, unreadable.

“I’ll leave when the streets cool. Just keep on the line so I can relay my intel, Price.” After a moment of silence, your eyes tighten with intrigue. “How do you wonder Baydar knew your face?” Standing by the window again, you peek out and keep John in view. His form shuffles, and he scoffs before walking beside you. Over your shoulder, he also views the buildings and businesses below. You still at the sensation of his breath on the back of your head, hand twitching over the curtain. It ruffles your hair for a moment before you snap out of it, eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Task Force isn’t exactly known,” you finish your sentence, voice strained.

Clearing his throat, as if realizing how close he’d gotten with only the intention of gazing outside, the man’s form jerks back; taking a step or two away to give you distance. Your far-gone eyes blankly continue to look outside but your chest gains some tension to it. You don’t know why.

This Brit is strange. You frown, watching a cat traverse the concrete far below. Not that I really have much to go off of.

“Haven’t a clue.” John sighs again, one hand going to itch at his chin. “Your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know is that we have to fix this. Now.”

“You should tell Laswell,” you mutter, turning around and walking past him to stand around your packs—all of which hold your gear. Your knife was set into a small sheath inside your shirt, leather wrapped around your waist as you stopped near the coffee table. You pull the lip of your clothes up and grasp at it before peeling the metal out with an inquisitive eye.

If there was any breakage to the tip, you’d be furious.

John watches from across the room, catching glances at your bare skin riddled with scars and burns; unmarred flesh foreign. He feels his breath hitch before you drop your shirt back down and bring the blade into the light.

Holding it parallel, you gaze along the edge and tilt your head, eyelids half-closed.

“Kate?” Price answers you, clearing his throat. “No, it’s better not to create any more shite. She’ll be good off not knowing, yeah?” The brunette’s brow raises in question.

You hum and don’t reply.

The rest of the mission was spent with the two of you conversing over the open line of your comms as you scoured the streets for any sign of the target, feet carrying you over the city as the chill of the late afternoon set in. Presently, you didn’t know how to feel about your situation. Working with others was a strain on your focus—on the walls you’ve built up; John had obviously noticed that you didn’t exactly play well with others. It was plainly stated in your file, after all.

“—attitude, or lack thereof, is a detriment to the structure of any team/unit/platoon that she is placed into under all circumstances. Recommended reserved operations to limit drawbacks.”

Having a pleasant attitude wasn’t your job.

Stalking around the corner, your ears twitch to John’s voice. “Sitrep, Tomb. What’s it looking like out there?”

It was strange, then, that the man over the line was so eager to speak to you. Your sigh hits on deaf ears, and you respond as you carefully walk past civilians making their way home.

“Quiet. No sign.” The silence re-settles and you gradually loosen again. Like a cat, your ears twitch to hear the muttering from the commuters; eyes sliding with watery film across faces.

Baydar owns a restaurant as a front for funding terrorists. Anyone exiting from this direction could be part of it—

“You said you’d never join One-Four-One,” John’s voice makes you shove down a flinch, ripped out of your focus. In your pockets, your hands close into fists, and a deeply annoyed mask fits itself over your expression. “Why’s that, then?”

“What is this?” Your voice goes cold, “interrogation time?”

“With a record like yours, you’d get pick of any Task Force or SOF in country.” The Captain seems to ignore your hiss and jab as his deep voice continues; accent low. You hear the drag of a cigar and the puff of smoke. Internally, you’re thankful for the casual yet attentive acknowledgment of your skills—how the man doesn’t seem in the slightest worried about you. “Why is it that you’re always alone out ‘ere? Couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it, truthfully.” A tobacco-slick chuckle, “Bloody hell, people would kill to get you on a mission like I did, eh? No doubt.”

For a long time, you don’t answer, leaning against the wall across from your target’s restaurant doing recon. Frown tight and face stiff. John’s voice fizzles.

“Ah, fuckin’ forget it Love, just a man’s curiosity speaking for ‘im. I’ll leave you to focus.” Before the line can click, you open your lips—as if the things have a mind of their own.

“People are unpredictable.” The Captain’s breath is gently puffing over the line. He listens and you know he hangs on every word; it was a strange feeling to know that. From under you, your feet shuffle. “They do things that don’t make sense. I don’t like dealing with it.”

A grunt. “Well, can get behind that…” John had a smirk on his lips, you can hear it. “You’d lose your head if you met MacTavish.”

Your focus waning, you blink, getting sucked into this strange interaction with an even stranger man.

“Yeah?” You wonder, head tilting to the side. “One of yours?”

“Hm,” he affirms and the chill of the night caresses your skin. John chuckles. “Sergeant. Bloody good shot, but can get into trouble faster than his fucking gun can fire.”

Your mouth quirks. “Sounds horrible.”

“Makes my job a living hell,” John admits and you shock yourself by listening. “But no one better to keep by my six…You’d ease up to him.”

“I’m not joining, Price,” Your voice mutters out like how a dragonfly snaps its translucent wings on still air. “This is it.”

In the safehouse, John hums under his breath, staring out the window at the blinking lights of the city as you watch the restaurant with far-off thoughts. A smile twitches his lips. For some reason there was something about you he wanted to figure out—something to unravel. You were like Ghost sometimes, but more… fascinating. Darker.

And you knew how to get the job done better than anyone.

John wanted you on his Task Force, your expertise, and the only way to get that was to take you apart like a puzzle of razor blades. Study you. Learn you as the edges cut up his flesh. The Captain had no idea what picture you’d make when everything was in its proper place, but he’d be willing to try with the very tenacity that had gotten him this far.

But there was something else there, too. Some kind of tightness in his chest when you looked at him; he'd gotten it when he’d seen you on the tarmac back not so long ago like some schoolboy. Those blank eyes of yours…why did he want them to light up?

Why did he want to see your laugh?

John wasn’t immature enough to not know his own feelings or attractions, but this was an entire section of its own. Blinking, the man grunts to himself and smirks. “Well, better make it last, then.”

You feel your eyelids carefully pull in surprise.

“I…” Your voice starts but dies off, swallowing saliva down as your mouth clacks shut with a connection of teeth. Closing your eyes, you steady your heart, which had suddenly created a concerning skip in its beats.

John places the cigar back to his lips and takes a long drag, leaning out of the window to watch the smoke disappear into the twinkling lights. Lips peeling his beard hairs back.

—

As it turned out, the mission in Turkey wasn’t the only time you’d have to deal with John Price, and it certainly wasn’t the last time you’d see his face in front of yours. One mission turned into two—two into three and so on. You hadn’t exactly wanted it, but you found you couldn’t turn him down either.

At whichever base you were stationed at, all of a sudden he’d just show up; standing on the tarmac with his arms crossed and that casual set to his shoulders. The first time you’d seen him after Turkey, you had half convinced yourself he was a mirage. And then he’d smirk at you and tilt his head and you’d have no control over your words.

It was pathetic…disgusting…it was…it was…

You shake yourself back to the present when a bullet whizzes past your head, a sharp call from across the utter warzone you’d found yourself in the middle of.

“Tomb, what in the hell’s wrong with you?!” John’s voice is harsh, and you lock onto it. “Get your gun up!”

You sigh, unperturbed. Peaking past the large crate you use as cover, your eyes glare at the enemy soldiers across the dock, fixing your finger’s position over your M4A1. The small unit you’d been dragged into by John was mostly dead—only four of you remaining from the ten.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.

Jerking back, a splintering of wood explodes in front of you as the next fast piece of metal nearly takes your nose off. With a grit of your teeth, you flick your safety off and swivel your shoulders.

Popping from the top of the crate, your sharp eyes lock onto the first visible body before you press your finger to the trigger with practiced ease as the word shrieks all around you. Recoil is eaten into the padded kevlar of the junction of your shoulder and arm.

When you dart back, the body has yet to hit the ground.

“There she is!” John calls, and you look forward with a steady stare as the brunette laughs from behind his own crate a few feet away. “Keep your head in the game, Tomb.”

You frown, normal facemask back over your chin hiding it. While you loathe to admit it, John had grown on you in these…what was it…? Months? Yes, that seemed about right.

Months of joint missions. You could hardly believe that he’d dragged you out like this.

“Tell the others to flank,” Your voice whisps over the line like smoke, “Left side—there’s a gap in the crates.”

John looks you in the eyes and blinks, eyelids twitching. With his beard covered in gunpowder, the man looks across the open space between the gunbattle to the left. Sure enough, right before he’s forced to snap back down to cover, the Captain spies a very well-hidden gap in the defenses.

He smiles viciously like a dog, and barks a laugh to you, nodding, “Good eye! Boys,” the two don’t pause their assault but call their questioning voices over the line. You don’t listen, occupied with giving off bursts of gunfire and trying to avoid the eyes of your fellow dead soldiers. Your lungs are compressed inside of your ribcage like prisoners. “Flank left. We’ll cover you!”

“Sir!” Steadying your breath, you avoid John’s confused glances and scoff to yourself, resituating your clammy hands.

When all’s said and done the four of you are the only ones left. Letting your gun sit on your chest you use the body as an armrest, allowing it to hang off the side from the trigger-guard. Your fingers twitch, and as John speaks to the two men, you stare silently at the gushing bodies of your fellows like phantoms spring from their chests.

John’s voice slows when he sees you apart from them, glancing at the soldiers at your feet before ordering the remaining men to get to the evac point. They try to argue everyone should be going together, and on all accounts, they’re completely right, but John won’t hear it.

“Go—that’s an order.” Reluctantly, the two glance at each other and speed off.

You jolt at a call of your name, head turning to face stormy blue as they gaze at you with concern. Stopping a few feet away, John stands still and folds his arms, face going rigid with concern as he glances you over for wounds.

His head slightly leans in, chin down.

“...You alright?” Hand flinching, you clear your throat.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, fixing the position of your feet and forcing away the images of dead bodies and blank eyes.

You’d seen scores of men dead before—friend and foe—but you had thought you’d never have to see more of your own fall. It had been a long time since you’d felt the distant lull of numb horror in the back of your brain; like some ocean wave that drowns you under every time it comes back. It always comes back.

John narrows his eyes and frowns deeply, glancing around and hiding the slight way his right arm sags.

“Tomb?” He says it so lowly that you really have to focus, ears straining. That gravel was back, and you found yourself latching onto it. “Eh, you just focus on me, yeah? I’m right ‘ere.”

“I know,” you snap, eyes shuttering away only to find more vacant stares. You flinch back and look up into the sky; a sudden burn in your brain that you need to quell.

The man grows even more concerned with you, taking a step forward and clenching his jaw. He studies you, your shaking tension and the clench and loosening of your fists—attention always on you but roving to the dead men all around. Something clicks with a violent inhale.

John moves to you without a word and grasps you around the shoulders quickly. You gasp at that, immediate reaction to shove away, but only gape at the warmth that he brings you instead—the steady presence and chest to lean on. As the Brit drags you, you focus instead on calming your breathing.

The Captain lightly shimmies down your facemask and you suck down tight air as you go limp into his side.

“C’mon, Tomb. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s muttering to you, disguising his pained grunts in favor of taking care of you.

That strange affection for you had grown in your time together…not that he’d said anything. It was more proper of him to watch out from a distance, not sure of your own feelings or the probability of you gazing back at him with the same amount of concealed longing. Many a night he’d sat on his bed and wondered. Wondered how an animal so extraordinary and remarkable took the form of a woman with a black sphinx patch and sharp eyes.

John had heard you laugh once through your expeditions together—sniping in Greenland. Once had been enough; if he never heard it again, he could still recall the pitch and frequency to the yawning of his soul. He didn’t need to hear it again.

It was locked into the fabric that made up your skin and speech, and every time he stared at you he could find it in your eyes.

The Captain puts you down near a crate around the corner, letting you lean into it as he turns and captures your neck from either side. You shake under him, blurry vision stuck to his dog tags as they wink against his chest.

“Tomb,” John says again, and with a lick of your chapped lips, you carefully turn your head up. Blue eyes crease worriedly. The thumbs on the sides of your neck caress up and down your rapid pulse steadily; calluses creating stimuli. A small smile meets you. “There we are, atta girl. Focus.”

Tears dribble down your cheeks, and you flatten your lips, whispering out brokenly, “I said I don’t like teams.”

John’s heart breaks.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” his hand captures the back of your head and you’re brought into a deep and firm embrace—gear pinching and prodding but neither of you care.

When was the last time you’d been held like this? The feeling makes your mouth quiver, your face stuck into the junction of the Brit’s neck and shoulder.

“John…” You whimper out and his arms around you only tighten—his tense nose shoved into your scalp as his eyes closed tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, heart racing, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

You don’t know long he holds you there, the air filled with blood and death but just so soundly resting atop his vest and limp to his gentle swaying. The tears dry at some point, they always have to. Sniffling, your burning face takes in the scent of beard oil and gunpowder and you find yourself calmed by it.

Calmed by John.

The man holding you waits a moment more before he slightly leans back, staring down at you intently; nervously. You lick at the tears drying into the line of your mouth to taste the saltiness on your tongue as fingers grasp at your chin.

Angled up, your face is on full display.

John sighs and the drowned keratin of your lashes flutters, embarrassment flooding you. His eyes crease before his hands come up to take away your sorrows with a soft brush of his digits. The man clears his throat tinily, voice deep with emotion.

“Better?” Your eyes dip away from his, knowing you’d been staring.

“I…” Glancing over his right shoulder absentmindedly, you only get a word off before you see a fountain of red. Blinking away the last of your tears, John’s finger on your cheek stops moving as you freeze—stiff to the touch.

His panic spikes again.

“What’s going on—”

“When did you get hit?” Your voice is hard and laced with something you can’t name. Shaving back from John you frantically grab at his arm. In an instant, the Captain is whirled around and shoved back into the crate; he grunts loudly, eyes snapping wide.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He grumbles, but flinches when you peel at the bloodied layers of his compression shirt. John smirks, letting your touch rove him as your nose scrunches. He represses a shiver at the bite of your nails, whispering out, “If you wanted to throw me ‘round, Love…all you had to do was ask.”

You blink rapidly and turn your fast gaze to his eyes as you stutter, fingers covered in blood and holding apart the fabric of his outfit to show a bullet graze to his pale upper bicep. John’s cheeky smirk grows and against all the pain and the dark corners, you feel a bubbling in your gut.

A small chuckle snakes out, like twinkling bells.

“Shut up,” your smile leaves him breathless, smirk falling to a small open-mouthed screen of obvious admiration. A hum marks the back of his throat, eyebrows loosely curving upon his forehead.

You look over and find him like this—his gaze trapping you like his arms had. Like music, it takes you into its melody. Staring, your smile, gradually too, leaks out.

“What are you doing?” Your question is breathy. "What is your fascination with me?" John’s eyes stick with you, the shining, shimmering, blue. There are tempests held there and if this man was anything, he was a storm of intentions and promises.

“Looking,” John answers lowly. "Just looking."

You take down a breath, “At what, John?”

He chuckles at you, face close and pleasant, “Y’know, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, Love.”

Blindly you wonder how the world can still turn while you both stand here—was it, even? How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave?

How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand.

It’s all here, and then it’s gone. Nothing can truly be as it was in the past, and therein lies the small, glorious, deaths. Both a blessing and a curse.

Your lips press deeply into one another and the blood of old wounds dries.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#ughhh i love this sm #ur writing is immaculate #GIGGLING LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT #THIS IS SO AKWBDOQNQOWK #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader

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pomefioredove · 2 months ago

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HIII DOVE:DD this is my first time requesting but, may i pls have a sugar cookie #18 with whipped cream & choc drizzle? ty!!

(btw your works & writing are totes immaculate i just want u to know that & i hope ur doing well!!)

thank you so much!!

order #18; sugar with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ nothing nice to say

tropes: exes to lovers, royalty AU characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, fae!reader word count: 500

"Well. This is awkward,"

There's a smile on Lilia Vanrouge that begs to differ.

You press your lips together. The words on the tip of your tongue are sour, after all.

Hundreds of years after your betrothed left you at the altar, and that's all he has to say.

"A pleasure to see you again, Vanrouge," you lie, quite obviously.

He either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

"Please! No need for formality," he says, draping an arm around your shoulder and making himself comfortable at your side as if he has any right to be within even an inch of you, and-

You take a breath. Apathetic. Mature. You don't care about him.

"We're all old friends here, aren't we?"

"Acquaintances, perhaps," you correct him as politely as you can manage.

You're different now, after all. Older. Wiser. No longer the silly, emotional little noble you were in your youth.

You will not let him break down your walls again.

"Acquaintances," Lilia repeats the word, as if feeling it in his mouth. "Well, we don't need a label for it. So, how's life in the western woods? How're the, uh... swamps?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "You might as well say what you mean, and save us both the breath,"

Lilia feigns offense, putting a hand over his heart. His scoff echoes off the stone castle walls.

"Can a man not ask about swamps?"

You refuse to dignify that with an answer, and he pouts. It's a strange look on him. Gone are the days of the haughty General, it seems.

Finally, he sighs. "It's been four... five hundreds years since we last spoke. Forgive my curiosity- I only want to know how life has treated you, my dear,"

That term of endearment sends a chill up your spine. Who is this man? Surely not the same one you were betrothed to, once.

You cross your arms. "...Well. And you?"

Lilia pouts again, now at your vague answer, the lack of gossip.

"Well... enough. I've been kept busy, you know. Children,"

You can feel your embrace tightening around yourself, fingers digging into your forearms.

"You married, then?"

"Hm...? Oh, no," Lilia chuckles. "I did not sire them, if that's what you mean to ask."

You relax. An odd relief, to know that you were his last attempt at romance.

"...My apologies for assuming, then," you say. "News does not reach the west so quickly."

"I know,"

You hate that. You hate that he remembers things, that he remembers you, and that for all you're putting into looking mature and unbothered, he can tell you're not.

Lilia had always had a way with you.

Has a way with you.

"You look just as beautiful as the day I saw you last," he says in a whisper. You can't come up with a way to respond to that.

He's standing beside you, your arms merrily linked together now.

"Well, come along. We can't keep the Prince waiting, can we? I'm sure he's very curious to hear all your stories about what I was like as a boy,"

You scoff, but still, something about him...

You may hold a grudge, but it's been long enough. A few hundred years of the silent treatment should be plenty.

Reluctantly, you smile.

"You know I'll have nothing nice to say, right?"

Lilia returns your grin and pulls you a little closer, your bodies almost touching.

"I'm counting on it, my dear,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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lesbikaiser · 2 months ago

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I love ur writing so much maybe even more than I love ness 😸😸 could you do ness w/ a biting kink?? I just know he'd probably be so possessive and want to put his mark all over you so everyone knows you're his hehe TYSM if u do it ilyy

hii babe! im glad you like it that much omg! ofc i can, i loooove the concept of jealous ness because it's so him to be like that! really hope you like this one <3

cw for a bit of blood!

ness' lips feel hot against your neck, his tongue licking down the column of your throat as sharp teeth drag against your flesh, teasing to mark your immaculate skin. his hands clutch the fabric of your clothing tight enough to get to your waist, it's probably bruising your sides but you don't seem to care when his hips are literally pounding into you, cock dragging on your sensitive walls and each thrust reaching a particularly pleasurable spot that has your eyelids fluttering shut and moans getting higher.

your sounds mix with ness' desperate whimpers right in your ear, his fluffy hair tickles your chin and the smell of his shampoo fills your senses, it's so sickeningly sweet – just like him. you shove your face into his locks when his dick reaches deeper, tip hitting harder against your g-spot and making you bite back a whine of his name. but he hears it, and it almost makes him cum.

your cunt feels incredible around him, wet, tight and warm, clamping down on his dick in a vice grip and sucking him in every time he pulls out, it nearly makes him forget what got him to bring you to the lockers and fuck you right on the sink.

keyword: nearly. he can't forget it though, how you showed up at his practice looking prettier than usual – he didn't think it was even possible. a sweet smile tugging at your lips as you waved your hand towards him, showing the bag he forgot when leaving your shared apartment and he swore your orbs were sparkling, hair silkier than how he remembered and skin glowing under the sunlight in a way he could get blind if he stared for too long – and he was ready to risk it because you looked exceptional. he couldn't take his eyes off your figure bouncing towards the benches, and it would be a perfect memory if he hadn't noticed how all of his teammates were suddenly too interested, beyond the acceptable for just being curious about the intruder.

no, they were all gawking at you, seated prettily and waiting for him to go talk to you.

that's why he interrupted practice, excusing himself from the field and running towards where you were patiently sitting, he could feel his colleagues' gaze piercing holes at his back as he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him, guiding your confused self into the lockers and glueing his lips to yours as soon you both got in.

he needs them to know you're already taken, needs it to be as clear as day that he's your boyfriend and you're the happiest with him.

he moves away from your neck, watching your glossy eyes and swollen, slightly parted lips with your tongue lolling out, you are so fucked out already, quiet whimpers leaving you as you try in vain to hold back, brows furrowed as you stare back at him. shit, how is he supposed to control himself when you look so pretty, so hot while getting railed?

and he's the only one who can get you like this. no one other than himself is able to satisfy you the way he does, and no one will ever get to love you the way he loves you.

with his fingers wrapping around one of your knees, he pushes your leg further open, drilling his cock inside your hole faster – harder, ripping a loud moan out of you as you bring your hand to cover your mouth, trying your best to stay quiet. the helpless glare you give him is enough to drive him insane, doe eyes silently pleading him to have mercy on you because the others might just hear it with how loud you both are being, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his whimpers and your whines bouncing off the walls and echoing through the tiles.

but he needs to make it clear what you two are doing right now, and if he can't have them hearing, they'll surely see the evidences of it on you.

"they were all–ngh! all ogling you... filthy bastards, gotta make sure they know you're mine." circling your waist with his free arm, he brings your body even closer to his – it that's even possible. kissing down from your cheek to your jaw, then reaching your neck, he sucks a bruise right on your collarbone, where he knows your shirt won't cover and it's gonna catch the attention of whoever looks at you – anyone will know you're taken at first sight. you whine at the feeling, nails scratching his nape and ness thinks he might just cum on the spot – you're marking him too.

he doesn't stop at just one hickey, painting your neck red and purple from your jaw to your shoulders, tongue licking at every new mark to soothe your fragile skin, and with each one he can feel you clenching tighter and tighter around him, your inner thighs getting slippery with the amount of slick your sloppy cunt is gushing out, soaking his dick, pelvis and even the sink you're sitting on.

he knows you're about to cum anytime, and so is he. letting go of your knee, he brings his fingers to your neglected clit, rubbing the soft pad of his thumb against it and the moan you let out is simply insane, how you call his name so desperately as you seek your high – and he knows he's the only thing in your clouded mind.

you're his, and his only, and the way your throw your head back, presenting your bruised neck for him – he knows you want him to give you everything he got. and so he does, sinking his teeth on your flesh, biting you hard enough to draw blood – the metallic taste all over his tongue, it's delicious, even more when you cry out as you cum on his dick, walls spasming around him.

"mmph– alexis!" it's all too much for him, the taste of your blood, your moan of his name and your sweet pussy gushing all over his cock and abdomen, practically milking him dry, he cums so hard his vision goes white for an instant.

still mouthing on your soft flesh, there's a comfortable silent in the room as both of you come down from your highs, panting heavily against each other and whining when ness pulls out of your spent hole. he bathes in the sight of your colorful throat, admiring like a proud artist admires their art, it takes all out him to not get hard again when he spots the bite mark right where your shoulder meets your neck.

"mine~" he licks and kisses the print of his teeth on your skin, muttering a small 'sorry' when he sees you wincing at the stinging pain. coming to look you in the eyes, he showers your cheeks with smooches, making you giggle before giving the fatest kiss on your lips, orbs practically heart-shaped when he speaks. "love you, mein schatz. won't let anyone take you away from me."

let's say, nobody dared to look at you for too long when you both showed up a few minutes later, your neck covered in purple marks and ness' nape red with scratches.

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #alexis ness smut #ness smut #ㅤ𔘓 – my works...!

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

#return to sender #daddy kink cw #oliver x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #writing tag #this wouldve become a 10k fic if i was not so fucking careful

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moshpitgamma · 1 year ago

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pls write a john dory nsfw headcanons / fic if u can !!! <3 love ur writing!

Sureeee I’m so sorry for taking so long😭

John Dory x Reader||NSFW Headcannons

Warning:sexual themes——————————

🚎He is at least 7.5 inches and is a grower more than a shower.

🚎John cums a lot. I mean he’s literally a bussing waterfall.

🚎He doesn’t like to be quiet during sex so prepare for little compliments, jokes, and loud, deep and rugged moans.

🚎When y’all fuck Rhonda rocks👀

🚎(Act like they have phones in this)If you send a spicy pic to him with your location, this man if full sprinting to it. He’s there in about 5 minutes.

🚎His kinks are spanking, bdsm, edging, and food play. Y’all can’t tell me he isn’t the type of man to put whip cream on his body and let you lick it or vice versa.

🚎Will sneak up behind you if you’re bending over and just rub his hard bulge on your ass.

🚎Loves when you sit on his lap. It usually ends in a hot makeout session with you doing cowgirl.

🚎He is a totally ass and thigh man. I also headcannon he like bigger people and just loves to leave hickeys and love bites on their thighs.

🚎He loves to take risks, so if you wanna have sex in a crowded place, he’s there holding you up in the corner with his hand over your mouth to muffle the slutty sounds coming from you.

🚎John can last about 3-4 rounds. If you’re up for more he’s just letting you overstimulate him.

🚎He is 100% a top but bottoms out when he’s tired.

🚎Morning sex is a MUST. He’s just rubbing you through your panties/boxers while you’re still sleep just to hear your sleepy moans.

🚎He loves to have unserious sex but if the mood is DEEP, he’s stuffing you and making this experience as loving and serious and possible.

🚎Since he’s been in Rhonda for 20 years not having to worry about his growth down there. He’s hairy and doesn’t really shave or maintain his hair until you say something. If you don’t then you’re fucking a beast.

🚎loves to mark you and makes you wear clothes that show them. He will even ask you to do the same to him and he’ll show it with pride.

🚎If y’all met in his band days, he would take his anger out on you and angry sex with him would just make you immobile and shaking with pleasure.

🚎His biggest turn ons are you wearing his clothes, doing things for him, or you literally scolding or yelling. (He loves a feisty s/o)

🚎If you pull his hair while he’s giving head, he’s going max speed and has an adrenaline boost right then and there cause he’s making his s/o feel good

🚎His aftercare is IMMACULATE. He will fix you a snack, give you some water, and run you a bath. Once you’re taken care of, he’s knocked out like a light right on top of you.

THE ENDDD😘😘😘 (Do y’all actually enjoy my content?)😲🥺

#trolls john dory #john dory x reader #trolls #brozone x reader #brozone #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls x reader

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hoshinasblade · 8 months ago

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Hi I love ur Hoshina fics sm!

Anyway you were asking for headcanons last time, do you think our Hoshina sends dick pics to his s/o? I'm not sure if you write nsfw but it will be fun to read if ever! Thanks x

HAHAHA anon, this is so interesting. minors, please don't interact with this one.

honestly i dont think hoshina is above sending thirst traps - he would be the type to send you a picture of him topless while still sweaty after his workout, and he'll probably throw a peace sign or two and tell you that he's just tryna be cute. liar liar, pants on fire. he gets his kicks on knowing he can fluster you with that. im a bit hesitant on dick pics though, and it's not because i think hoshina is a prude - hell no - but i think it's because he was never able to get a good angle ever so he doesn't think it's sexy enough for you to look at. and let's be honest, if he's gonna send you a picture of his immaculate junk, he would rather go to you and show it personally. im assuming he's got more privileges and therefore freedom so he can roam around even after-hours or get out of the base when he's not that needed.

one nsfw headcanon i have for this guy though is that though he never sends dick pics, he excels at moaning audios. his voice would be deep and husky from both sleepiness and lust, and he would just sound really, really hot. you mentioned to him once that you liked him dirty talking during sex and it activated a switch in his brain that you can't turn back off. he had definitely sent you multiple voice messages where you can hear him moan while he's touching himself. you overheated the first time you listened to it.

also yes, i have some nsfw prompts lined up, just gotta look for some momentum and chance to write. i know i yap a lot here but i also work full-time so that makes writing a bit hard for me since my process takes longer than i sometimes intend it to be. it's always worth it though hehe i like writing for hoshina. if you have a specific nsfw scenario you want me to write about, feel free to let me know and i can possibly whip up even a drabble or a one-shot for you.

#lian replies #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #lian's thoughts #kn8 x reader

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nyxi-pixie · 6 months ago

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Hiiiii.

Sorry to bother you, I wanted to know if you had any fic recs? Your writing is so good and your tastes are immaculate, and I am starving for any kind of good content. Please?

its not possible to bother me love dw <3

NOW. i dont actually read all that much anymore bc i am horrendously picky but this does give me an excuse to hype up the few authors that have satisfied my unreasonably specific tastes 🤩.

so. a few bsd recs for you (except theyre 99% skk because im horribly predictable forever). everyone go read all of these and tell the authors how wonderful they are in the comments please <3

anything @booksandpaperss has ever written is genius work and everyone should read it. could talk abt all of their stuff for hours (and i have🤩 they put up w so much of me bothering them godbless). also our brains do some accidental crazy mind melding shit whenever either of us write fic so if you like any of my stuff you will like theirs. thats the rules. <3

like twin stars in the dark (we collide)- dead apple skk porn as a vehicle for 22skk analysis. makes me salivate i have read it so many times. they get 22skk better than anyone🙏

my lies are for you to keep (my love for you to lose) - the only take on beastskk that matters to me ever. you can actually see me losing my mind in the comment i wrote on this fic bc of how fucking insane every single line made me. theres SO much packed into this thing its fucking crazy i NEEEEED everyone to read it. thats all <3

till death, I'll give you my breath - dazai death timeloop. this fic terrifies me so much i await every update with my teeth chattering and my heart pulsing so rapidly i should be hospitalised. the first scene of chapter 2 genuinely had me on the verge of tears im unwell about it.

(elli also has some jjk stuff thats REALLYREALLY good and if ur into jjk u should check that out too.)

NOW. aside from being a propaganda machine for my fav writer ever. Heres some other stuff i love.

the second perspective by @wildflowerteas. murder mystery/detective noir stuff w some time fuckery. the au of all time. mashes aspects of beast, canon, and some extra special niko sauce into a mixing bowl and goes crazy w it. just Such a genuinely impressive piece of writing. i could talk abt the technical brilliance of it for hours but i will stop myself. you gotta commit to this thing because it WILL make u crazy. also i loveee the sskk. its like if we had the beast first meeting sskk forever. SOSO GOOD!!!!

did fate guide the gun or did you? by @kanetheo. i read this pretty soon after chapter 109 and it genuinely fried my brain for months. the writing style is beautiful (as for everything they write AUGHH!!!) and the angst is delectable. the way it intersperses more fun silly skk moments with just. complete misery. GOD. it just hits. ive reread it quite a few times and it never fails to make me go crazy. srsly cannot rec this enough.

the decomposition of dazai osamu by @hella1975 this shot several bullets through my brain and i still havent recovered. i keep thinking 'oh i should reread that' and then i dont bc some part of my brain still concerns itself w maintaining whats left of my sanity. BUT its crazy good and everyone should read it and suffer at least once. EVERYONE LOVES YOU OSAMU!!!! EVERYONE EATS YOU!!! line of all time lets all kill ourselves.

smoke held conversations by feralrookie - i havent reread this in a while but it does cool stuff with nlh and the skkisms are really good in this too. ppl often write teen chuuya as less intelligent than he actually is. hes very observant, esp of dazai, and this fic gave me that 🙏

i called your name til the fever broke by forest_raccoon - vampire chuuya. biting is involved. i blacked out reading it. enough said.

#most of my motivation to write is bc there isnt enough of what i want to read bc im cursed w being the most picky fic reader ever #but this stuff is all sooo good and everyone should read it #ALSO anonnnn<33 im glad u like my writing teehee🥰#asks #soukoku #soukoku fanfiction #skk fanfic #bsd fic recs

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planetkiimchi-rbs · 1 year ago

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You deliver your answer to your knees.

alright that's it. there is no better way to phrase this than this sentence right here.

"i did a thing." or, hyunjin needs an expert opinion about his newest piercing.

words・1.4k / pairing・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader / genres・fluff, established relationship / author's note・takes place in the same universe as places, places! and crying lightning but can be read on its own. @astraystayyh your children are back :’)

The parlor door jingles. Hyunjin emerges onto the chilled pavement with his phone pressed to his ear, and you pick up on the fourth ring.

“What is it? I’m busy.” The way your voice shrinks substantiates this claim, like you’ve darted to the other end of the room promptly after accepting his call. “And you’re on speaker.”

Hyunjin ducks into his car and sits back against the nylon with a grateful sigh. He finds himself constantly ill-prepared for Seoul’s Januarys. “Busy with who? Remind me.”

“You wanna say hi?” You ask the person in your company. Who is it? He hears them ask, to which you answer: Hyunjin. You say it softly, in the sense that you’re far away and speaking under your breath, but softly, in the sense that your tongue caresses every syllable of his name with that tacit fondness he’ll never tire of.

He notices the ditzy smile on his face only when he glances into his rear-view. He’s long given up on wiping it off.

A familiar voice drifts into your receiver. “Mr. Hwang!”

Ah, that’s right—you’re working on Aespa’s new music video for the next two weeks. Today must be the first day of filming.

“Hey, Ningning! How are you?”

“In a predicament, honestly. I have the biggest crush on my stylist, but so does this other guy…”

“Damn, sounds tough. Best of luck.”

“Oh, I won’t need luck. I said predicament, not competition.”

His jaw hits his wheel. “Okay, we’re boxing. Let’s go. Earrings off.”

“Say less!"

You’ve withstood enough. “Alright, nobody is boxing anyone—do not touch your earrings, Ning, what’s wrong with you? God, Hyunjin!”

Now you say his name sternly, hopelessly, like he’s just knocked ten years off your lifespan. He almost likes this version more. He fell in love with you listening to it, after all.

“Did you call for any reason aside from threatening my clients?”

Oh, right. He did.

Hyunjin glances into the rear-view again, intentionally this time. He moves aside a lock of maroon hair to review the silver studs glinting off his right eyebrow.

He smirks.

“Am I allowed on set?”

Half an hour later, Hyunjin reaches the filming site and runs into a few staff members who are so surprised to see him they nearly forget to question what he’s doing there.

But they do their job, and he humors them, utters your name and the word “boyfriend” back to back. Then he watches their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines and basically prances into the dressing rooms.

He loves that everyone knows you. He loves that everyone knows that he loves you.

You were out of bed before he opened his eyes this morning, and he blooms at his first sight of you today, alone in the lounge, curled up on the couch and browsing through your phone. Eyeshadow stains your fingers and a pen sits behind the cuff of your ear. Your figure is framed in a (his) white cardigan with a red heart stitched over its left lapel. So professional, so pretty, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he uses his words instead.

“I did a thing,” he says, plopping onto the cushion next to you.

You look at him, shut off your phone. “I figured.”

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“No.”

It was worth a shot. “Can you blink, at least? You’re scaring me.”

In turn, you stretch open your eyes and hold them there. “A blink would be more than you deserve right now.”

Insufferable. He unleashes a bashful laugh and singular clap and looks back at you just in time to see a matching smile on your cordate lips. And to see you blink.

“Seriously, though, no more suspense,” you plead. “What on earth did you do? Should I be worried?”

You tuck your hand around his bicep and tug lightly at his arm, and his insides pirouette at the gesture.

“No, no,” he answers, letting you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I was being dramatic. It’s nothing, really.”

You catch him as he’s trying to leave. A light finger hooks beneath his chin, an anchor to keep his face a mere few inches away from yours.

You look him in the right eye, then in the left, your expression stoic, scrutinizing. He doesn’t remember where he looks, in the meantime. He’s slipping and sliding out of his right mind, drinking in your long lashes and curved cheeks, wondering what heroic deed he performed in his last life to be able to study beauty in such proximity in this one.

“It’s not nothing, is it?” You query, tracing the tip of your pointer finger over Hyunjin’s cupid’s bow.

“No,” he exhales. “It’s not nothing.”

“Did you get it on your face?”

Of course you already know.

He nods, and the finger moves to his lower lip, gently indenting the glossy plush.

“Hot or cold?”

“Cold.”

The finger runs over the bridge of his nose, then the perimeter of its prominence, like the drag of a feather.

“Warmer.”

You lift a brow, give the side of his face a small nudge, and say, turn. The word comes out in a very stylist-esque manner, and you and Hyunjin realize this at the same time, judging by the synchrony of your quiet chuckles.

“Force of habit,” you murmur, and move his hair out of the way and lean in to examine his ear. Nothing new there. He turns his face the other way before you have to ask. Nothing new there, either.

When he looks at you again, your gaze has locked onto his eyebrows. You cock your head slightly to one side as it dawns on you what he’s done.

“Warmer,” he offers anyways, his smile small, his pulse rapid.

With a flourish of movement, you push his purple locks all the way off his forehead. Hyunjin holds his breath. Your expression goes blank.

But it’s not blank, not really. One just has to know where to look. (He does.)

Your eyes darken fast as if caught in a solar eclipse, your pupils doubling in size, your irises quivering slightly. Your mouth opens, then closes, then purses into a thin line as if suppressing something explosive. Your cheeks blush at their very outskirts, along the edges of your face and the slants of your cheekbones, like how the first rays of sunlight always skim the mountaintops first.

He hardly notices the finger you bring to brush over the studs, so carefully he doesn’t feel the contact.

He’s too busy basking in his victory.

Neither of you say anything for a long while. You lean back, then right, then left, your hand pinned to his hairline, your gaze superglued to his brow. He simply sits still, feeling like one of your French girls, simpering, simping.

“You really did it,” you finally say.

“I did,” he chirps. “Any notes?”

At the next part of your lips, your waiting smile overtakes them at long last. You duck your head to conceal it like he hasn’t already melted at its mere image. You deliver your answer to your knees.

“No?” He repeats incredulously, teasingly. “That’s a shame. I really could’ve used an expert opinion.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to tug at your sockets. His boyish grin wipes away your feigned irritation like warm cotton.

“Fine,” you grouse. “Look at me.”

He does. You look back.

“It's nice," you deadpan.

Your resolve wobbles.

"Complements your face…shape.”

The ‘p’ sound pops, and you lose your shit.

The sun fully risen now, you bury your burning face into your hands, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Meanwhile, the raucous cackle that leaves Hyunjin’s lips causes the intern hurrying past the lounge outside to jump so high he actually lets go of his coffee cups before snatching them back out of the air with a relieved groan. He doesn’t get paid enough.

You think you’re getting paid too much.

“I love it, Hyun,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough."

His heart beats so rapidly he thinks it might take off into a sprint; his laugh dwindles into a ditzy smile, one he’s long given up on wiping off.

“You know nothing about that word,” he replies, softly.

You bring your lips to his. His fingers wrap around the crook of your elbow. Yours begin curled in the silken hair at the back of his head. The pen behind your ear falls into the cracks of the couch.

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh against his mouth, your own statement debunked by the inevitable drift of your touch back to the metal lodged in his face.

He doesn’t need to call you out. You do it yourself: “Ugh. I’ll be mad at you later.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

#hyune and stylist yn explains his immaculate fashion sense #i'm so in love witth ur writing but i think a little more in love with ningning and hyune's dynamic #ningning and yn sound like besties i love it #ningning #hyunjin #hyune #skz #aespa #🏷️ — fic recs

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theealbatross · 3 days ago

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hi, I just read your sebastian fics and to say I'm obsessed would be underestimated hah

I wanted to ask if you take requests, and if you don't do you recommend some writers who you like or write similar to you?

I do take requests but there's no promises on when I can get on with it, I mostly use it as inspiration to integrate on the WIPS I am currently working on!

PREPARE YOURSELF FOR MY RECOMMENDATIONS:

@applinsandoranges - applin (idk if that's her name I just call her that in my head lmao) is my go to for ANYTHING because she writes SO WELL and has such an extensive collection of work that I know anyone will find something to enjoy!

@anto-pops - anto (again i just call them this in my head idk if this is their name jasdfk) is my go to for ~ spicy ~ content + dark!obsessive!yearning sebastian AND BEWARE IT IS SUPER SPICY SO MINORS DNI

@shadowtriovibes - girrrrrl her masterlist is again extensive and immaculate but you ARE NOT READY for her 'break a sweat' series (cheack out both the version here on tumblr and on ao3) IT IS A MASTERPIECE

@whizzing-fizzbee - MY CURRENT FAVORITE but mostly NSFW so children pls stay away! The 'This is How It Starts' was hilarious and sooo well-written

@callmehopeless - the series 'A Matter of Public Record' deadass had me giggling, swinging my feet A PERFECT COMBINATION OF YEARNING + DUMB TEENAGERS BEING DUMB TEENAGERS + AND ANGST

@choccy-milky - 'THE RAVEN AND THE SNAKE' IS A FANDOM CLASSIC AND I WILL TAKE NO NOTES (clora is my sweet angel baby) plus her art is sooo fucking pretty and hilarious and hot (minors dni i beg u)

@slytherizz - I actually discovered them on AO3 and TRUST I was jumping for joy when I realized she was in tumblr too! Most of her fics are nsfw so again MIND UR AGE!

@writing-intheundercroft - 'This Little Life' series had me BAWLING I love love LOVE her characterization of seb and mc I keep rereading it when I need to cry lol

@jackalope-patronus - they mostly do headcannons and drabbles but they have one shots too and they're perfect all the same!

I probably have more but these are the authors I constantly come back to! If anyone has any more recommendations please feel free to add! I mostly used her/they pronouns so any of the authors I recommended don;t hesitate to correct me if you want it fixed <3

#hogwarts legacy

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fatuismooches · 1 month ago

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I used to love scrolling through the Dottore x Reader tag on Tumblr until I stumbled upon your account and ended up binge-reading all of your posts. [I would spam-like all your posts, but I’m unsure if spam-liking is unwelcome! (/--)/] I just have to say, your writing and characterization of Dottore and his segments are by far the best I’ve ever read and seen???? Honestly, it’s my favourite portrayal of Dottore, and your writing is just so immaculate??? The emotions and details are perfect, and it’s always such a joy to read and visualize everything in my head. If I had to describe it with a physical feeling, your writing feels warm, fun, freeing, and safe—like lying in a field of grass under a night sky, with warm winds brushing against my skin. ＼(^-^)／

I love your versions of the segments, too! They all feel so unique, and there’s such variety in your portrayal of them. I love how each segment gets its share of love. The interactions between the reader, Prime, and the segments never feel awkward—everything feels balanced and fair. I used to be really unsure about segments x reader content, but you’ve made me fall in love with them all. The way you give each segment so much personality while ensuring none of them overshadow the others is just incredible?? IF THAT MAKES SENSE—I’M JUST RAMBLING I FEAR— TLDR: YOUR WRITING MAKES MY EYES AND HEART EXPLODE WITH HAPPINESS. (*^ー^)ノ♪

AND THE ANGST WRITING TOO??? UGH, MY HEART. IT’S SO PAINFUL. I LITERALLY TEAR UP AND CHOKE UP EVERY TIME YOU WRITE ANGST. [PLEASE, SEGMENTS AND PRIME DOTTORE LIVE FOREVER!!! MY HEART CANT HANDLE THAT PAIN- AND THAT LATEST ONE ABOUT OMEGA AND READER HAD ME DOWN ON THE GROUND, UNABLE TO GET UP. (/_;)/] But seriously, your work has made me so much more attached to Dottore than ever before. Sometimes I even find it hard to go through the Dottore x Reader tag nowadays because I’ve developed such a heavy bias and preference for your characterization of him. It’s such a refreshing take on the character and I absolutely adore it. ＼(^-^)／

Also, I’m just in general a sucker for villains being soft for their lover, and the fragile reader concept you explore on this blog is just chef’s kiss.

Please write forever, I don't know what I'll do with my nightly reading time without your delicious dottore content /lh /pos

Also, your blog is so organized it saves me so much time as someone who frequently gets losT online and irl

CAN I BE 💀🎉 ANON???? I'VE NEVER BEEN AN ANON THING BEFORE IDK HOW TO DO THIS

SORRY FOR THE WORD VOMIT MY MIND HAS LIKE 3938328 THINGS RUNNING AT ONCE AND WANTS TO SAY THEM ALL IN ONE GO

ANON??!? IM LITERALLY GOING TO CRY I NEED A MOMENT TO BREATHE WHO LET YOU BE SO KIND- IWHDEUWIDHEW

FIRST OF ALL, THANK U FOR THIS ILY 😭🙏 I'm super happy you like my writing and characterization of Dottore, your praise makes my heart happy and want to continue to write *hugs* 💕! (and feel free to spam like, it doesn't bother me and it makes me smile actually!)

I'M GLAD I MADE YOU LIKE SEGMENTS FICS TOO??😭🥺 that's a huge compliment bfbewfe imo the segments are underrated in fics and need more love so to know i converted you just makes me go 🥹🥹🥹🤏💙💙💙💕🥺 FELLOW SEGMENT LOVER!!!! I VERY MUCH ADORE YOUR RAMBLING ANON!! your praise for my writing is far too high i fear- i just write what my whimsical heart tells me to 🫶 i think ur the one making my eyes and heart explode!!! >.<

AHH IM HOLDING U TIGHTLY DURING THE ANGST FBEWFEW I PROMMY EVERYONE IS ALIVE!!!! I'm also glad you liked the Omega fic hehe i was worried it didn't have the usual oomph BUT IT SEEMS I DID MY JOB!!! (secretly love-hate writing angst bc it makes me sad but i also love reactions like these-) It's always the nicest thing when people love Dottore more thanks to my writing, it's truly so cute!! I love spreading the doter love... 💞💞💞

SUPER GLAD YOU LOVE THAT TROPE TOO!!! IT IS MY LIFE'S BLOOD!! i prommy to write forever for you dear 💀🎉 anon (funny emoji combo) I WILL MAKE YOUR NIGHTS THE BEST NIGHTS!! also glad to see you appreciate my organization, i am actually proud of my blog's structure hehe

U DON'T NEED TO APOLOGIZE!!! I LOVED THIS ASK SM IM STORING IT SAFELY!!

#smooches talks #💀🎉 anon #this was one of the first things i woke up to and i smiled so hard #and then i came back to reread it again and again ur far too sweet anon ILYSM #i also love how u described the physical feeling of my writingbrefbreif thats so cute

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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MICKEY MY MOUTH IS WATERING MY HEART IS RACING MY HANDS ARE SHAKING IM LITERALLY ABOUT TO COMBUST

i honestly dont trust myself to Like. express myself coherently rn. so im just gonna go thru all the notes i made while reading this one by one <333

but mickey i need u to know that i ADORE this fic im literally so obsessed and bewitched i dont even know what to do w myself. i dont know where to begin. i feel like a rabid dog. i need to be sedated immediately THANK U for this masterpiece 😭😭😭😭😭 pls give me ur ring size rn

the prince's heart thumps in his chest - for once in his life he might actually be a bit anxious. nervous, even. no, no way. he'll talk himself out of it just like any other time. his charm will save him.

"wanna see what your insides look like, pretty boy!"

okay, maybe not.

RIGHT OFF THE BAT THIS IS SO SO FUNNY im already in love w this fic. im so charmed. its so crazy how much prince!gojo’s personality shines through in a single paragraph u r SO talented mickey. hes so charming and endearing and annoying im already in love w him </3

"why hello, gentlemen! fancy seeing you here! didn't take you for nature guys but it is a lovely day today, isn't it?" still down on the soft grass bed, the prince tries to slowly back away from the hunters before him.

a palm flies over his mouth, surpressing the giggles thrathening to leave. how can one be so proud of his own joke?

AND IM IMMEDIATELY PROVEN RIGHT goooood hes so. hes so funny and charming and witty and cute???? a little cutiepie??????? i need to bite him like a puppy w a chew toy

shit, where is suguru?

SUGURU MENTIONED‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

and as if an answer to his question — a sudden loud neigh cuts the tension on the clearing and a saviour appears.

a black horse, with a mane darker than night, stands back on it's hind legs - looming over the prince and the peasants. a figure sits up high, bright sunlight beaming from right behind them, the shadow hiding their face. but the prince knows — it's not suguru. no, this is someone else entirely.

armor clangs as the figure hastily jumps off their horse, mumbling a quick go, boy! to the animal. he takes off into the woods, leaving just the hunters and the prey behind.

a knight. coming to save him.

GOD MICKEY. knight!reader’s appearance is SO cool and hype and just. enchanting????? esp paired w gojo’s dreamlike state, i can see it so vividly in my head …….. like a movie. all hazy and sunlit and sparkly. gleaming and bursting into his world. THE ARMOR THE HORSE THE HEROIC LIGHT…..

im sure u can tell by now mickey but there isnt a single thing in this world that i love more than Knights they literally make me insane (and this fic made my obsession w them worse </3)

who are you? you're surrounded by some kind of holy light — an angel, sent just for him.

AAAAA mickey … 🥺🥺 gojo seeing reader as an angel sent to save him …..,,, even tho theyre so tough and stoic and violent. smth abt it just scratches a certain corner of my brain im obsessed

the big scar running down across your right eye forever engrained into his mind.

I LOVEEEE SCARS SM i think theyre so cool and pretty i already love ur take on knight!reader sm … :’3

a mighty knight like you doesn't have the time to worry about such silly things, although the prince thinks he would gladly (and generously) share some of his special made lip balm with you. preferably straight from his lips to yours.

SO CUTE SO CUTEEE u get gojo so well mickey. i think no matter the au he would share his lip balm w u and he would do it in the most embarrassing way possible <3333 ohhh i adore him

AND THE ACTION SEQUENCEE ….. READER CUTTING HIS HEAD OFF FUCKKKK THATS SO COOL

"next." <- THEYRE SO COOL THEYRE SO COOL THEYRE SO COOL also the subtle reference to gojo’s shibuya moment…. i See the vision

the prince blue eyes rise from the sight in front of him to you and your eyes meet for the first time ever. a prince and his knight.

something about this line hits me so hard A PRINCE N HIS KNIGHT ….. their eyes meeting ………. the fated meeting between them hhhh

the prince watching the scene unfold with exhilaration. this just might be his dream – he's the damsel in distress and you are his knight.

PRINCE!GOJO IS SO MEEEE i would be so so SO infatuated… also mickey im literally so weak for casual reversals of gender roles <33 my biggest weakness. satoru is so damsel in distress coded….. pretty boy just wants to be swept off his feet!!

you're panting; a light sheen of sweat covers your forehead – a drop runs down the side of your face. the heavy armor and the sword are taking their toll but it's nothing new, you're used to this. thick dark blood drips from your blade - they're good friends by now, they often meet. the silver and red mix together, making a color you know all too well.

im melting im crumbling im turning into Mush mickey u owe me financial compensation for this. i will NEVER be the same. i love this whole paragraph so much there r tears in my eyes its so TASTY…. such a vivid scene. i love knights SO much and i love this kind of depiction of beautiful brutality…… AND UR WRITING STYLEEE gosh its so pretty. im literally so invested already u dont UNDERSTAND T_T

he tries to bother suguru as much as he can, it's pretty much the only entertainment he has.

ANOTHER KNIGHT!SUGU MENTION im collecting them. putting them in my pocket. i need a whole entire fic of prince!gojo bothering knight!sugu they mean the WORLD to me

"stand back, your highness." you try to command him.

"no way." he replies with a smile.

HES SUCH A BRAT I LOVE HIM :( and wahhh theyre fighting together!!!!! theyve got each others back!!!!!! this is literally peak romance idc what ANYONE says

it's quite pleasing to watch; how smoothly he walks; with no shame - like he owns this clearing (he quite literally does). just like you, he knows he's already won this duel. it pleasing to watch how he raises his sword with a smile; how he knows there won't be a single consequence to anything he could possibly do to this man. he can have his time with him.

i love him i love him i love him. u write him so WELL mickey T~T hes so playful and just. easygoing … so far above. like hes above all consequences and he IS….. theres smth almost scary about it but also sooo…. charming. i can rly imagine him fighting here, almost playing with his food, waltzing w his opponent…………. ”a boy, who's used to playfighting instead of surviving.” is rly the perfect description of it ty knight!reader <3

"this isn't a game." you deadpan to the price.

SMTH ABT THIS ……….. maybe i really am just too weak to knights for my own good LMAO but im kind of in love w knight!reader. VERY in love w knight!reader. theyre so interesting and such a good foil to prince!gojo aaaaaa </3

it's uncanny, how good he looks. no. scratch that. it's uncanny, how excited he still looks. a smirk stays glued to his lips, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are just about to pop out of his head, pupils so dilated that the crystalline blue color of his eyes is almost entirely gone. his lips are parted and he's panting a little, resembling a puppy - ready to do anything just to go outside and play.

MICKEYYYY THIS ENTIRE PARAGRAPH IM LOSING IT IM BITING AT MY FIST LIKE A CHEW TOY oh god . hes so PRETTY im pissed. the way he almost seems manic….. BUT THEN U COMPARE HIM TO A PUPPYYYY MICKEY IM TEARING UP

hes so…….. hes just a little puppy. i want to pick him up n cradle him close to my chest. panting and wagging his tail ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ bro.

"these men are trying to kill you, your highness." blood pools in your mouth and you spit it out, wiping your mouth once more.

"whatever." he laughs. he plays with the blade in his hand but his eyes are cemented to your bloodied lips.

OH HES NOT SLICK AT ALL…….

the prince's mouth falls agape. how dare you mock him? and how dare you look so good while doing it?

ME AND PRINCE!GOJO ARE LIKE THIS 🤝🤝 i really do adore this kind of dynamic… knight!reader is violent and beautiful and dangerous and gojo is just watching them lovingly <333

"and need i remind you, i am your prince." he stands next to you, eagerly trying to assert dominance but the jutted out lip almost makes you laugh.

"oh, my deepest apologies for offending your pride, my prince." you bow down, just enough to really get your teasing point across.

THE BANTER THE TEASING THE THE THE (sound of buzzing static). ”my prince” i literally started foaming at the mouth I LOVE THEM BOTH SOOO MUCH

you watch the light go from his eyes and you let out a deep sigh. closing your eyes, you lift your head up to the sky, momentarely basking in the warm sunlight.

(…)

but the over exaggerating sigh emitting from the prince makes you take a peek at him. he's almost mimicking you - standing up with his head lolled back and eyes closed, he also seems to be enjoying the sun. just like you.

this is such a pleasant mental image…… so vivid and peaceful and just. such a tender little respite from all the violence ……. and!!! the emphasis on the fact that theyre the same, that both of them r just two people basking in sun :< mickey u evil genius

he's staring down at you, looking at the concentrated look on your scarred face. the close proximity is already clouding his head, the touch deprivation really kicking in. yeah, no, he's officially addicted.

TOUCH STARVED GOJO TOUCH STARVED GOJO 👏👏👏👏👏 hes literally soooooo real to me. i think a headscratch could fix him

bending down you pick up the piece of cloth made out of the most expensive materials, surely, just for the prince. swiping your rough fingers over it, you marvel in the softness of it. it's completely and utterly foreign to you. not meant for you to touch.

not meant for u to touch ….. :c u show their differences in status so subtly n seamlessly… i almost forgot it bc of how in sync they were while fighting but im assuming that the gap between them will be a big theme later on in the series too and im just sooooo excited to see where it goes!!! i feel like its gonna make me cry tho :’3

”he's very well-trained." the prince muses.

"he is." (…) ”unlike you, of course." it's a mumble, if anything. a quiet breath under your nose yet the prince hears it nonetheless - his eyebrows shooting up.

"excuse me?"

READER IS SO SASSSYYYY oh i adore them. and again!!! their banter is so GOOD and fun to read im so addicted to ur dialogue aaaaa

"wait-wait! i don't even know your name! you just saved the prince, i really should now your name." he says loudly. he speaks like he's not afraid to take up space. you envy him.

YOU ENVY HIMMMM………….. im literally so so SO interested in knight!reader their personality shines through so well in the narration and its just so good…. that subtle envy, maybe a bit of admiration…. like a child watching a dove take flight into the sky………. i am Thinking many thoughts (<- my obsession is growing deeper by the second)

"satoru."

you look at him confused. the boy stands in the field of blood with a beaming smile and an outstreched hand. inviting you in. "my name."

"i know your name, your higness."

"well, i want you to use it."

"absolutely not, your highness."

"i command you."

…

MICKEY THE WAY I FELL TO MY FUCKING KNEES hes so…… ohhh hes just soooooooo…….. u made both prince!gojo and knight!reader WAY too charming and attractive i have no idea who im more jealous of atp 😭😭😭 ”i command you.” i respect reader so much bc i wouldve folded like a lawn chair

ALSO JUST … THE INTIMACY OF A NAME ….. him wanting u to call him by name, wanting to know urs…. reaching a hand out. beaming. hes the apple of my eye <3333

but theres smth sooo…. tender here that reader rejects i think. that little step hes taking into their world. but obv reader cant reciprocrate bc they just Arent on equal grounds at all…. GAHH I WANT THEM TO CALL HIM BY NAME THOUGH ☹️☹️ i feel like itd be so so sweet and i also think he’d fall to his knees PHSJDJS

"i pretend i do not hear, your highness."

his shoulders fall, his lower lip jutting out. "but you have to!"

"i do not, your highness."

"isn't a prince's command sacred?" he skips over to you. "or something?"

"or something, your highness."

oh hes the cutest EVER. just a little lad. skipping around. in my brain ur prince!gojo is making this :3 face 24/7…. and reading is just -_- THEYRE MY EVERYTHING

"good luck!"

"oh, fuck off."

THEYRE SO <333333333 this is what love looks like to me

the prince is sure he's in love. and since love is blind, he definitely does not see the real danger of the situation; he truly believes you will kill this man in one go and you'll be on your merry way home. he'll be swinging his legs while sitting behind you, whistling alongside the birds.

oooooooohhhhhhh i love this. im sure im repeating myself atp but mickey u need to understand how much i love ur prince!gojo….. how perfect ur characterization of him is….. he’s spoiled, and he rly does seem to think that hes above consequences. which is probably INFURIATING for reading lmao but something abt it is almost…. idk the right word for it. he just has this innocence to him…

i also love how he’s just reader’s lil hypeman LOL. like a girl at the club who picks a fight w everyone and then brings her 6’0 boyfriend in to defend her LMAOOO

a clap.

a clap is what brings your eyes up from the lifeless body laying dead on the ground.

"knew you could do it!" the clapping echoes in your ears; another bloody ball of spit leaves your mouth and you wipe the remains with the back of your hand. "jus' needed a bit of help at first, no big deal."

this is so attractive to me im sorry I LOVE PRINCE!GOJO SOOO MUCH <333 i just know he was sitting there twirling his hair kicking his feet watching his beloved knight behead a whole man <33

ALSOOOO i hope ive made this clear enough already but!!! i love ur dialogue so SO much and also just ur writing style in general…… its extremely late here rn so my brain is a bit groggy but this is just so FUN to read, its not straining at all!!! and ur characterization is so so so enjoyable wahhhh 🥺🥺 im just so enamored by it all !!

"get up."

"nuh-uh."

...

"w- what do you mean 'nuh-uh'? get up, i'm taking you home."

NOT THE NUH UH PSJFKDJDJFJ HES SO INFURIATING 😭😭😭 i fear i am in love.

"lay here with me a moment."

"are you fucking serious?"

HELP THE WAY HE WANTS TO HAVE A ROMANTIC MOMENT W U SOOOO BADLY …..

"this isn't a negotiation. get up."

"c'moooon."

"get the fuck up."

"you look really good from this angle, you know."

oh im so WEAK for flirty x stoic dynamics…. they give me butterflies i love these two to the moon and back actually. i need them to kiss.

in one quick motion, the tip of your blade touches his jaw - the cold steel tilting up his head. his adam's apple bobs and the sharp edge slides an inch on his glassy skin.

HEAVY BREATHING HEAVY BREATHING HEAVY BREATHING HEAVY BREAPDJDKFBDUXBXB MCIKEY. MICKEY. u r ticking ALL my boxes rn please stop i can literally feel my brain rearranging itself . i am Not the same person i was ten minutes ago

it's the quiet anger in your eyes; he can see that you're holding yourself back. if he were anyone else, he'd surely be dead already. you're clenching your teeth, your jaw tensing. it's hot.

(…)

the tip of your blade presses more into his skin, making him back down with a breathy chuckle. he thinks you won't hurt him.

oh, but you will.

the cold blade sinks half an inch into his neck, stopping when a drop of blood dribbles down it. the sun shines down on the warm liquid, making it appear lighter in tone than it actually is. it trickles down the prince's neck and straight onto his whiter than snow shirt. just a drop.

the prince holds his breath. a new kind of excitement running in his veins. blood rushing to... somewhere.

GOJO IS SO FUCKING REAL IM LITERALLY SALIVATING. mickey this entire sequence might be my absolute fave part of the whole fic and TRUST ME its hard to pick a fave …… i was foaming at the mouth reading this i literally have no words. this is my greatest weakness. im lying on the floor like a gutted fish. the blade tilting his jaw… the blood against pale skin…… the fear mixing w attraction i am going FERAL

(also can i just say …. gojo getting a fucking boner from this is so UNBELIEVABLY real i cant believe him. hes Me. we are the same. theres something very wrong w him <33)

the prince clears his throat and refrains from commenting on the fact that your warm hand still sits in his. it takes you a second to realize and you pull away from him as if you just got burned. the prince wipes off the blood on his neck – the wound remaining a constant remainder of you. looking away, you sheathe your sword and step towards your awaiting horse. you also feel the need to clear your throat; a strange lump keeps forming in there and you don't really know why.

the prince follows you with quick steps and this time, to your surprise, he doesn't fight on the matter of going home. he lets you get on first and then with the help of your offered hand, he sits himself behind you – arms circling your armored waist. for safety purposes, of course.

this is so so cute and tender …. the comfortable silence and subtle intimacy and the simmering tension ….. it feels like puppy love to me. at least from gojo’s side. just a bunch of blushing and nervous gazes and careful touches i am melting through the floorboards

the late afternoon sun is slowly starting to set, warming the back of the sleepy prince behind you. an unexpected weight rests itself against your shoulder and you try to glance at it – and it really is the sleepy prince. his eyes are closed, his long elegant white eyelashes lay against his skin. his cheek is completely smushed against your armor, both lips jutted out as if awaiting his fairytale kiss. he's kind of cute like this.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 mickey there are TEARS in my eyes help me hes the cutest eepiest sweetest boy in the whole wide world. AND THIS VIBE …. the sunshine…. the warmth……. i can literally feel it so vividly goshhhh this fic is so comforting

"hey!" a smooth voice calls to you and you're met with another knight. he's beautiful.

OHHHHH MY SUGU RADAR IS BEEPING SO LOUD RN

he's stood by the castle gates, convering with another servant but seeing you he scraps his sentence and hastily makes his way over to you. he's holding his helm under his arm, his dark black hair gently blowing in the summery wind. his eyes are glued to the man behind you – you can see the worry swirling in them. and you can also see it disappear when he hears the prince snore. "is he sleeping?"

a sigh. "yeah."

"fuckin' christ. of course, he is." his eyes have now found yours and he's studying you. you're not from around here, at least not from this town. he reckons you're here for the money; he doesn't blame you. "thanks for bringing him back."

THERE HE ISSSSSS ‼️‼️‼️‼️ MY SPECIAL BOY 😭😭😭😥😥😥😥😥 oh i LOVE the way u write him mickey hes soooo funny and snarky n secretly caring <333 the way hes worried at first…. stsg are soulmates no matter the universe i think

"i know. just... buy the sleeping beauty a new fancy little outfit with it, why don't you?" you can't hide the small little smirk on your lips, imagining his reaction to your words.

I LOOOVEEEEE KNIGHT!READER I LOVE THEM TO THE MOON AND BACK IM PICKING THEM UP N COVERING THEM IN KISSES <3333333 mickey i literally cant tell u how in awe i am of u and ur characterization like. GAHH. theyre both SO charming i cant believe u have me simping for both of them 😔😔 wasnt one enough.

this prince — this irritatingly beautiful boy with an even more irritating personality and an even more beautiful smile won't definitely haunt you for the rest of your life. he won't.

right?

@me before starting jjk LMAOOO bUT seriously…. i love this paragraph!! so much. irritatingly beautiful rly is the best possible description of gojo i think…. and reader being in denial ………… these two are going to make me lose it entirely i can FEEL it

aaaand thats it for my notes !!!!! MICKEY IDK IF U CAN TELL BUT. im literally insane. i feel insane. i gobbled this up like the finest cuisine bc thats exactly what it is.

i loveloveLOVE ur take on them and ur writing and dialogue and characterization and just !!!! this fic in general !!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺 SO many moments had me giggling n smiling n foaming at the mouth LMAO….. i know i already said it but this was just so FUN to read, it didnt feel long at all and i enjoyed every bit of it <3333

ack. i just!! i cant praise u enough!!!!! im in awe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in shambles!!!!! this fic deserves a billion notes and then some. i have the biggest smile on my face rn words cant explain how much i love this. how much i love YOU. tysm for feeding the entire fandom w this concept <3333333 uve added at least two decades to my life span im not even kidding i would lay down my life for u!!!!

i feel like i have so much more to say but the words just. Wont come out PLS just know ily and i love this and i love prince!gojo & knight!reader and im literally so excited to read the rest of this series u dont even KNOW. if u feel a sudden warmth envelop u out of nowhere today thats me hugging u telepathically <333 picking u up and spinning u around!!!!!! i appreciate u so much 🥺🥺

thank u so so so much for this meal mickey i devoured every single crumb. pls tell knight!reader & prince!gojo that i love them :’3

SUMMER - THE FIRST MEETING

☆. contains: prince!gojo satoru x gn!knight!reader; crack, fluff; meet-cute????; blood and death; tw gojo is fucking ridiculous; a couple of suggestive comments and a boner mention; also a knight!suguru mention (thank u moss); reader has scars

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: dedicated to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat thank you for being insane about them with me and thank you for being my inspiration<333

adrenaline pumps in his veins.

the branches scratch his marble skin as he runs through the forest, followed by the loud thumping of six or seven men. the sudden loudness amidst the trees scares even the birds, flocks of them flying in their seperate ways over the clear blue sky.

"c'mere, boy!"

"yeah! we jus' wanna talk!" their deep dark laughter echoes between the trees. the prince's heart thumps in his chest - for once in his life he might actually be a bit anxious. nervous, even. no, no way. he'll talk himself out of it just like any other time. his charm will save him.

"wanna see what your insides look like, pretty boy!"

okay, maybe not.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

he tries to catch a glimpse of them over his shoulder and immediately trips over a branch, falling face first into a cute small clearing. the perfect little spot for a murder attempt of a prince.

"well, well, well. if it isn't the honored one." says one of the men that had been chasing him. another one steps into the clearing after him and from the corner of his eye he spots another pair. he's clearly outnumbered.

"where's your sword, boy? stupid of you to come out without it. you never know what lurks in the shadows, heh." another voice booms from the left. two more men leaning on trees, one of them plays with a knife while the other lights a smoke. the bright sunlight bounces off the knife, making the prince gulp.

now typically, he would have it with him but well, he hadn't really planned on getting ambushed, now did he? his plan was to enjoy the warm weather and time away from his father. so this time, he does not have it. this one time he decides he'll do fine without it is the time for these money hungry bastards to make their move. how unfortunate.

"i was actually hoping to use one of yours." he says with a smile.

the men laugh.

a bald one steps forward, the leader the prince presumes. he plays with the tip of his blade, letting it glide over his palm as he starts making his way over to the prince.

"you really are as arrogant as they say. d'ya know how much your head costs?"

the prince laughs.

"what's so funny, boy?"

"i don't think you gents can even comprehend how much my head would cost."

a palm flies over his mouth, surpressing the giggles thrathening to leave. how can one be so proud of his own joke? his attackers stare at the prince with straight faces - they either don't understand or they're seriously beginning to take him for a bit of a loony.

"not funny? i thought it was funny. you know, head?" the prince's tongue pokes at his cheek, his hand making a back and forth motion and one of the men gags. "what?! you're the ones talking about my head!"

"enough."

the baldy is only a few steps away but the prince doesn't really have a plan. should he run again? the castle is far, would he even make it there? sure, he's fast but there's way more of them. hell, there might be more hiding in the trees. what if they do have horses somewhere? they'll catch him for sure. shit, where is suguru?

and as if an aswer to his question — a sudden loud neigh cuts the tension on the clearing and a saviour appears.

armor clangs as the figure hastily jumps off their horse, mumbling a quick go, boy! to the animal. he takes off into the woods, leaving just the hunters and the prey behind.

a knight. coming to save him.

"step back." confidently unsheathing your sword, you point the silvery blade at the baldy. your voice is rough and the prince definitely doesn't recognise you.

"we were here first." he bites back.

"he's mine."

and then the prince falls into a dream-like state. the short interaction between his knight and the bandits falls deaf on his ears as he's busy taking you in. who are you? you're surrounded by some kind of holy light — an angel, sent just for him. he has never seen you before, he'd definitely remember you if he had. he glances over your armor, noticing the small specks of rust covering the joints of the cuirass. you're not wearing a helm so the prince can take his time to remember your eyes; the big scar running down across your right eye forever engrained into his mind. and it's not the only one – you've clearly taken some hits; a strong warrior nonetheless. your eyes are set on the bald bastard in front of you – cold and hunter-like? absolutely devoid of fear and anything alike, you know you will best the men before you. you shall brush them off and count this as a quick and simple victory. your posture is immaculate, your head held up high – it's making him a bit jealous really, all the times he's been lectured about not having a straight back flood his mind. he should be ashamed. his eyes fall to your lips; they're a little chapped but that's completely understandable. a mighty knight like you doesn't have the time to worry about such silly things, although the prince thinks he would gladly (and generously) share some of his special made lip balm with you. preferably straight from his lips to yours.

a sudden light in the corner of his eye breaks breaks him from his dream and gives him a second to scoot backward – to escape the sharp blade coming down his way very fucking fast —

it lands right between his thighs, awfully close to his precious manhood and he gasps. big widened eyes gaze up at the perpetrator but before he can say anything, a quick swing at the man's neck makes the lump in the prince's throat grow in size. the man's mouth opens and closes twice, eyes rolling back before the whole head rolls off the body. it falls between the prince's legs, right next to the sword, the body following a mere second later. blood splatters out of the limp figure, painting the lush green grass a deep dark red color instead.

"next."

the prince blue eyes rise from the sight in front of him to you and your eyes meet for the first time ever. a prince and his knight.

but moment doesn't last. you tear your sharp eyes from his infatuated ones and glare at the men hiding in the treeline. it seems they need a moment to collect themselves – as they should. not everybody is able to cleave a head off a body in one swing.

they've heard stories about you.

an abrupt war cry emits from behind one of the trees, accompanied with the fast heavy steps of the man sprinting towards you. he's a good distance away, giving you more than enough time to ready yourself. his eyebrows are furrowed, fingers tightly gripping the sharp blade in his hand. he's approaching quickly, the ground thumping under his feet. you make your stance directly in front of the prince, ready to protect him, ready to keep him all to yourself.

while you're focused on the bastard coming straight for you, you barely make out the other pair of feet advancing from the other side.

"watch out!" a loud warning comes from down below you, the prince watching the scene unfold with exhilaration. this just might be his dream – he's the damsel in distress and you are his knight.

but to you, it seems that these poor men (including the prince himself) still underestimate you.

the yelling man meets his demise the second he's in your reach, a swift deep slash across his body stopping him in his tracks - he'll bleed to death in a matter of minutes. you think about how stupid they are for coming out here without armor or any other sort of protection. did they really think killing the prince would be so easy. however, you don't have time to contemplate the decisions of these silly little men because the other bandit is about to be on you.

almost stumbling over the prince's lanky legs, you realize that you're putting the prince way too close to the danger. you wouldn't want him to get hurt, now, would you? so, you take a bold step toward your attacker and pressuring him into making his move earlier than expected - which in turn, makes dodging it easier than expected. he swings his sword but you dodge it; he does it again - this time in the opposite direction but to no avail. you strike him once, twice – sending him staggering backwards before finishing him off with slash to his throat. he falls.

meanwhile, the prince sits on the soft grassy ground, observing the brutal scene. his hands shake from the adrenaline still pumping in his body; the excitement of the whole thing making him grow restless – desperate for some action. every day he sits in the castle, rows of words filling his vision – it's boring. he tries to bother suguru as much as he can, it's pretty much the only entertainment he has. sometimes he still messes around with the maids; aimlessly flirts with the younger women and cracks jokes with the older ones. but it's not enough. he needs this.

so, he scrambles to grab the dead man's sword from between his legs, drawing your attention away from the treeline, where three men still prowl.

"stand back, your highness." you try to command him.

"no way." he replies with a smile.

you reach out your hand, ready to push him aside - to usher him toward the other side of the clearing but a deep voice interrupts you.

"would you look at that, the boy wants to play too?" he chuckles darkly.

"bold of you to laugh while your friends lay dead before you." the prince sharply snaps back.

the man stays quiet.

you stare at him for a moment, raising a brow at his arrogance. you've heard that the prince has had some training and that he is supposedly good with a sword but to be this excited in a moment like this? he's something else, you surmise. he takes his place slightly behind you, ready to "watch your back".

in theory, you're still outnumbered even with the prince alongside you. the men are circling around you and it's hard to keep them all in your sights. two of them seem to be more focused on you, seemingly the only good idea they've had in a minute, and one is going straight for the prince.

they all make their move simultaneously, running wildy at the both of you. a loud clang — a swing against your tough armor; the heavy hit almost making you lose your balance. you collect yourself fast and take a quick left - successfully ducking away from the next blow. but the taking on two people at the same time is no small feat; the other bandit smacks you right in the middle of your face with the back of his sword, immediately flooding your senses with the tangy smell of blood. the warm liquid drips down to your lip and you can almost taste it. no, wait - you can taste it. a cut in your tongue, deep and painful, the result of it getting caught between your teeth. you've always thought it hard to bite your tongue and now, a mouthful of blood clogging your throat confirms that you won't be doing that again. you spit some of it out and bare your red stained teeth at the attackers.

the prince behind you is, surprisingly, holding his own very well. he's enjoying it. a cocky smile plays on his lips as he toys with the man. taking a step to the right and then to the left, as if checking his footwork.

"not bad, tough guy!" the prince laughs, making you glance over your shoulder but the movement in front of you brings your focus back to your guys. tired of playing around, you juke one of them and cut off the hand holding the blade; the man's wailing music to your ears. whilst he cries, you stab the remaining man right through his chest.

the prince and his dance partner are still going at it. the man swings his blade at the prince and he deflects it with ease. he keeps taking steps forward, forcing his opponent to back up; it's clear who's controlling the fight.

but there's a very distincitve difference between him and you. while the prince uses every possible chance to taunt and mess with his rival, preferring to toy with them - you would never. it's what really reminds you, who you're fighting alongside with. this is not some random drunk in a tavern or a even a skilled knight on a battlefield - it's the prince. a boy, who's used to playfighting instead of surviving.

your heavy armored boot sinks into the ground as you step between them, swiftly slicing your sword across his knees, making him fall down with a sob. you wipe the blood from your nose, slightly smearing it on your cheek.

"this isn't a game." you deadpan to the price. it's uncanny, how good he looks. no. scratch that. it's uncanny, how excited he still looks. a smirk stays glued to his lips, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are just about to pop out of his head, pupils so dilated that the crystalline blue color of his eyes is almost entirely gone. his lips are parted and he's panting a little, resembling a puppy - ready to do anything just to go outside and play.

"why not? i haven't had this much fun since – i don't know, fucking forever, probably."

the two last bandits cry on either side of you but you pay them no mind.

"these men are trying to kill you, your highness." blood pools in your mouth and you spit it out, wiping your mouth once more.

"whatever." he laughs. he plays with the blade in his hand but his eyes are cemented to your bloodied lips.

"whatever?"

another loud cry comes from the man with no arm.

"there are constantly people trying to kill me. it's no big deal." he drops the sword, aware he won't be needing it any longer.

"must i remind you – you looked pretty terrified before i arrived, your highness."

the prince's mouth falls agape. how dare you mock him? and how dare you look so good while doing it?

just when the armless man opens his mouth to let out another annoying wail, you end him with a strong blow, putting him out of his well-deserved misery.

"and need i remind you, i am your prince." he stands next to you, eagerly trying to assert dominance but the jutted out lip almost makes you laugh.

"oh, my deepest apologies for offending your pride, my prince." you bow down, just enough to really get your teasing point across. you spit out another clump of blood. stepping to the very last dying man on the clearing, you swat away his dirty hand and slice his throat. you watch the red liquid flow out of the wound and down his body. you watch the light go from his eyes and you let out a deep sigh. closing your eyes, you lift your head up to the sky, momentarely basking in the warm sunlight.

the silvery heavy boots you're wearing are absolutely tearing into the back of your heel and the constant irony smell and taste is getting rather annoying. your tongue hurts and your fucking nose hurts and if you're being honest, your whole damn body hurts.

gives you time to just look at him, though. his hair still looks soft as ever, like he hadn't been fighting for his life a few minutes ago. you know, he takes care of his hair - he just seems the type to spend inexplicably long in front of his mirror making sure the white tufts of hair sit nicely. his pretty little prince attire is messed up, though. it's dirty and stained green in some places; it's wrinkled, deep lines running all over his body. but then, you spot a patch of red on his beautiful pale skin. the dirt and the wrinkles you can look past but blood on the kingdom's beloved prince is a bit too much. he can't go back to the castle like that, can't have his parents worrying. can't have the king and the queen worrying. so, you abandon your place in the sun and walk over to him. the prince barely has the time to open his eyes before you're roughly grasping his chin and smashing his cheeks together.

"you uh- have a little something here, your highness." you wet your thumb in your mouth and bring it to his cheek, gently wiping it clean.

he should be at least a little disgusted. he's the prince! how dare you touch him like that! with your own fingers; with a saliva coated thumb, wiping at his precious face and oh, his thoughts are running wild in his head. he wants more of that. he needs more of that. sure, it's dirty – he doesn't know where your hands have been. well, he kind of knows, considering he literally just watched you decimate six men. but your hand cradling his jaw is something he doesn't get that a whole lot.

sure, his mother kisses him on the cheek every once in a while and there are people helping him dress and even wash himself but it's just not it. he wants somebody to really touch him. like you're doing right now.

when you finally release his face from your hold, his own hand rises to return the gesture but you harshly swat his hand away.

"none of that." you grunt as you for the nth time of the lovely afternoon, wipe your own blood off off your face. turning away from him a piece of clothing on the ground catches your eye.

"so you're allowed to be all bloody and muddy but i am not?" since your back is turned to him, you can't see his face but you're so sure you just heard him pout.

"because my appearance does not matter, your highness. all that matters is you being returned safely."

"right." his eyes bore into your figure, trying to take a mental picture of the cravings on the back of your armor. he doesn't recognise those either.

"i do believe this is yours, your highess?" you turn back to him and reach out your arm, offering it to him. he nods but makes no attempt to retrieve it from you.

"shouldn't you put it on, your highness? doesn't it hurt?" you inquire, genuine curiosity evident in your voice.

"no, i want to keep looking at you without restrictions."

usually, you don't fall for such simple words. usually. but this really caught you off-guard. your breath hitches just a little as you stare back at him. he confidentally holds your gaze, no regret in his eyes. if anything, a glint of proudness shines in them. you try to brush it off.

taking a few steps, you simply push it into his hands and a bright smile plays on his lips as he pickets the blindfold. he's annoying, you conclude in your mind.

in the background you hear a quiet neigh, breaking the sweet little moment between the knight and the prince – your horse letting you know that it has returned to you.

"he's very well-trained." the prince muses.

"he is." you look at your companion with pride and beckon it closer. stopping right in front of you, his dark mane glistens under the sunlight. you give him a few pats before adjusting the saddle.

"unlike you, of course." it's a mumble, if anything. a quiet breath under your nose yet the prince hears it nonetheless - his eyebrows shooting up.

"excuse me?"

you look up at him.

"you are excused, your highness. 'though, i really oughta return you home now, i'm sure your parents are terribly worried." you gesture to the horse.

he scoffs. "ah yes, surely, the king is worried."

you hum knowingly. you've seen him waltzing around town a few times, a bitter old man; desperate to keep his claim on the land and even more desperately trying to build a clone out of his son. trying to open up his brain and stuff it with battelfield strategies while the boy himself is occupyied with actually taking care of his people. that much you know about him.

stepping back from the saddle, you motion for him to climb on but to your displeasure, the man steps back.

"wait-wait! i don't even know your name! you just saved the prince, i really should now your name." he says loudly. he speaks like he's not afraid to take up space. you envy him.

"that is irrelevant, your highness. now, please." you motion to the animal beside you again.

the prince takes another big step backward into the centre of the clearing. he does a spin, enjoying the warm sun and completely ignores the dead bodies all around him.

"satoru."

you look at him confused. the boy stands in the field of blood with a beaming smile and an outstreched hand. inviting you in. "my name."

"i know your name, your higness." you stare at him blankly. this is the prince? your kingdom will soon be in his hands? you're doomed.

"well, i want you to use it."

"absolutely not, your highness."

"i command you."

...

satoru's lips twitch upward – awaiting for your reply; thinking he's won already. clearly not enough people tell him no.

"i pretend i do not hear, your highness."

his shoulders fall, his lower lip jutting out. "but you have to!"

"i do not, your highness."

"isn't a prince's command sacred?" he skips over to you. "or something?"

"or something, your highness." you sigh, looking at him, silently begging for him to climb onto the horse and be on your way to the castle and then to the nearest bed. you reckon you deserve as muc —

"where do you think you're going?"

a voice - coming from the other side of the clearing. it's deep, like thunder. and there he is. the seventh man of the group and he's big. this is who the guys were probably betting on doing the all of the work. shit.

"hey, who are you?!" the prince shouts and you almost push him into the bush next to you.

"i see you've already dealt with my dear friends. that's a shame. one of 'em owed me a drink."

"and you'll be dealt with, too, if you don't stop right there!" you yell back at him, making him laugh.

"listen here, tin can," the humiliating nickname makes the prince snicker and you have half the mind to actually smack him. "i'm not here for you. 'm here for your pretty little boyfriend."

"he is not my boyfriend!"

"no? so you're not on a lovely stroll in the woods together, hm?" he's now in the middle of the field and the reality of this man's size is making you gulp. he's very obviously towering over the both of you and well, armor won't really do anything if your opponent can just crush your skull.

"we actually are!" the prince answers with a smug smile. and this being the final straw, you hit his shoulder with everything you've got, making him stumble backwards.

"how dare you?" he whispers. you try your utmost best to ignore him.

unsheathing your sword, you start making your way over to the man.

"good luck!"

"oh, fuck off."

"what kind of a man doesn't fight his own fights?"

"the prince kind, you dumb fuck."

you meet him smack in the middle of the blood field. fingers gripping the handle of your blade; how does one fight a giant? you hold your ground, boots leaving a deep print into the mud. a flock of birds flies high above you, altering the way the sun bears down on you. it shines right into your eye and the second it's gone, the giant is a foot lenght away from you, angrily raising his sword – ready to make you bleed —

but then his mountain-like body moves a step to the side, a force pushing him aside and away from you.

the prince.

your eyes widen and you try to pull him away from the giant but you're too late – his heavy hand does it for you and prince goes flying back; falling back onto his ass, groaning and moaning. you lock eyes with the bandit boss and clang! — the sound of his rusted sword colliding with your polished one reverberates throughout the whole forest. the entirety of this man's strength is making your knees buckle and he chuckles at you. another clang and then another; one right after the other. you don't stop; with taking big steps you force him to lose his edge of towering over you. another clang but this time you spin youself from under the impact, pulling your sword upwards and scoring a hit on the giant. red blooms from under his shirt but he's unrelenting. a swish and a clang and yet another clang - and you manage to trip your rival; he bares his back to you and is punished for it immediately. a strong swing of your blade tears into the skin of his neck, the red now pouring out. he falls to his knees, facing the prince. a growl leaves your lips when you raise your sword for the last time for today - it smashes through the thick pinkish meat of his neck once more and with that, you've beheaded exactly two men today.

a clap.

a clap is what brings your eyes up from the lifeless body laying dead on the ground.

the eye roll you give him only irks him on. "all offense, i did not need your help, your highness."

"i don't know, definitely looked like you did, though. the sun seemed to be doing a number on you."

a few fast paced steps toward him make the corners of his lip pull up even higher. fuck, that's really beginning to get on your nerves.

"get up."

"nuh-uh."

...

"w- what do you mean 'nuh-uh'? get up, i'm taking you home."

"has anyone ever mentioned that you're very bossy?"

"has anyone ever mentioned that you're very irritating?"

"yes, many times actually." he says it like he takes pride in knowing that.

"that is not a good thing, you know."

"lay here with me a moment."

"are you fucking serious?"

his answer is a smile. FUCK.

"get. up."

"tell me your name and i will."

"this isn't a negotiation. get up."

"c'moooon."

"get the fuck up."

"you look really good from this angle, you know."

in one quick motion, the tip of your blade touches his jaw - the cold steel tilting up his head. his adam's apple bobs and the sharp edge slides an inch on his glassy skin. he would rather give up one of his precious balls than to admit that you do look a bit scary like this. but just a bit. it's the quiet anger in your eyes; he can see that you're holding yourself back. if he were anyone else, he'd surely be dead already. you're clenching your teeth, your jaw tensing. it's hot.

your burning eyes bore into his icy blue ones and a short breath of air escapes your nose. it's the twinkle in his eyes that's really pissing you off now. you're getting tired; this isn't a game. the tip of your blade presses more into his skin, making him back down with a breathy chuckle. he thinks you won't hurt him.

oh, but you will.

the prince holds his breath. a new kind of excitement running in his veins. blood rushing to... somewhere.

"up."

when all he does is blink up at you, you press the sharp blade deeper into the small wound, making him wince - a small ah-ahh leaving his pink lips.

"i will take you home now. understood," a final push. "your highness?"

the prince nods against your weapon; feeling his pants getting tighter and tigher by the second. he shakes his head to rid of these thoughts. you are his saviour, his angel, his knight. it is inappropriate.

to his surprise, you offer him a hand, which he so generously takes. the small and short-lived skin to skin contact making his crush only worse. pulling him up onto his feet he bumps into you, making him almost lose his balance if not for your hand in his. this is the same man from before? who was toying with his opponent? weird.

with a shallow breath and a gentle shake of your head, you grab the reins – letting your noble steed know you're ready to go.

the ride to the castle is quiet (you figure it would be time for the prince's afternoon nap anyhow). birds chirp on the branches growing over your head, squirrels chase each other down the tree barks. the late afternoon sun is slowly starting to set, warming the back of the sleepy prince behind you. an unexpected weight rests itself against your shoulder and you try to glance at it – and it really is the sleepy prince. his eyes are closed, his long elegant white eyelashes lay against his skin. his cheek is completely smushed against your armor, both lips jutted out as if awaiting his fairytale kiss. he's kind of cute like this. when he's not being a dick.

a gentle smile graces your lips as you continue on your ride to the castle. upon arrival, you're met with the townsfolk's glares. understandable, considering you have a knocked out prince on your back.

"hey!" a smooth voice calls to you and you're met with another knight. he's beautiful.

a sigh. "yeah."

"sure."

"i'll get him inside and then i'll bring you the reward." he slightly shakes the snoring man but nothing.

your eyebrows shoot up. "the reward?"

"for bringing him back? the king put out a reward?" it's the knight's time to sigh. his big hands wrap around the prince's waist and he pulls him onto his shoulder. watching him getting manhandled like a doll is quite funny to you. the knight does the smallest jump in order to move the limp body into a more "comfortable" position before looking at you.

"oh... no need." you tell him.

"no? the king put it out, not me, you know."

"i know. just... buy the sleeping beauty a new fancy little outfit with it, why don't you?" you can't hide the small little smirk on your lips, imagining his reaction to your words.

the knight snorts quietly. somehow he already knows the prince will be asking about you the second he opens his eyes. he'll bombard the black haired knight with questions about you as if he'd know any better. he's already preparing himself for the headache he'll surely get.

you take one last look at the prince on the knight's shoulder and rein your horse away from the men, setting your mind on finding a place to stay.

this prince — this irritatingly beautiful boy with an even more irritating personality and an even more beautiful smile won't definitely haunt you for the rest of your life. he won't.

right?

#if u see this u r legally obligated to read this fic or u will be cursed for the rest of ur life #I LOVED IT SOSOSOSO MUCH…… <333 #the vibes are immaculate the banter is so funny the writing is so pretty the dynamic is literally unbeatable #prince!gojo is a charming flirty puppy dog of a man & knight!reader is so attractive they distracted me from gojo #the action is also SO good and i love the brutality of it … esp contrasted w the soft n funny moments in between #ALSO KNIGHT!SUGU HELLO????????? worth at least three reads just for him alone <333 #i cant even speak mickey i loved every single part of this fic from start to finish #kisses u kisses u kisses u !!!!!!!#here is a bouquet for this masterpiece im gonna read it for the rest of my life 💐💐💐#im extremely eepy rn but i hope u can feel every single drop of the love i have for u and this fic !! my heart is just brimming w it :’3 #<3 <3 <3

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