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catchastarorten · 29 days ago

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—“This one’s mine.”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x VIP!fem!reader

Summary: after being pestered by your own brother, you agreed to accompany him to the island to watch the games, only to find yourself helping a waiter—Jun-ho—who was being eyed by a creepy panther-masked VIP.

Warnings: your sarcasm, mentions of death/violence in Glass Bridge, your brother is a VIP, brother & sister bickering/you put him in his place because he's being annoying, the VIPs—panther masked VIP being a weirdo, you save Jun-ho tho, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.6k

The golden fox mask felt heavy on your face, pressing against your skin in a way that made you want to rip it off and toss it across the room. But that would be improper, wouldn’t it? A VIP must maintain decorum. At least, that’s what your insufferable little brother kept reminding you.

Speaking of him, he was sitting beside you, his wolf mask barely concealing the delighted smirk on his face as he leaned forward, watching the players stumble and fall to their deaths on the Glass Bridge. He laughed—actually laughed—when a man made the wrong choice out of the two and jumped, crashing through the wrong glass panel, screaming all the way down.

You sighed, swirling the drink in your glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light. It was infinitely more interesting than the so-called “game” before you.

How had you let brother dearest drag you here? Oh, right. He had whined and pouted and gone on and on about how you never did anything fun with him. You had rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten stuck in your skull, but against your better judgment, you agreed.

And now here you were, surrounded by a bunch of snobby men—your presence wasn’t nearly enough to balance out the testosterone levels—draped in velvet robes, sipping on the finest liquor, and betting on desperate people fighting for their lives.

You suppressed a yawn.

“This is so much better than another charity gala, isn’t it?” your brother drawled, nudging your arm. “You have to admit, this is real entertainment.”

“Yeah, watching poor people die really warms the heart,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be such a bore, sis,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is tradition. You should be honored to be here.”

Oh, you were honored, alright. Honored that your parents left everything to him, making sure he had enough money to play dress-up with his rich little friends while you had to fight for your own wealth. Not that you needed their inheritance, but the principle of it still burned. He got to be the spoiled prince while you had to claw your way up in the world. And now here he was, wasting it all on cheap thrills.

The Glass Bridge game was nearing midway. The players were hesitating, trying to strategize their way across. The VIPs around you were buzzing with excitement, shouting bets, clapping, drinking like it was the biggest sports event of the decade. But all you saw were walking corpses, their fear so thick in the air it nearly masked the expensive cologne in the room.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the burn coat your throat.

“At least pretend like you’re having fun,” your brother whined. “People are gonna think you’re some kind of a… prude.”

“Oh no.” you responded mockingly.

He huffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. If there was one thing he hated, it was not getting his way. You could practically hear the gears turning in his spoiled little mind, trying to come up with a way to make you enjoy this, but his thoughts were interrupted when the other VIPs erupted into cheers and groans. You just exhaled through your nose, staring at the mess.

It was the players on the glass bridge, arguing, too afraid to jump. One shoved another forward, out of desperation or malice. The man screamed as he plunged to his death.

“Ugh, finally,” your brother muttered. “I hate when they hesitate. Just jump, you cowards!”

You turned your head slightly, studying him. Did he even realize how pathetic he sounded? Lounging in a silk robe, sneering at people who had nothing? He wouldn’t last a minute in their position.

“You should play,” you mused, tilting your head. “Next year.”

He snorted. “Please, I would dominate these games.”

You smiled behind your mask. “Would you?”

Your brother scoffed. “You doubt me?”

“I know you,” you said. “And you wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’d make it to the finals, at least.”

You leaned in, voice dropping. “Tell you what. If you join next year, I’ll bet against you. Just to make it interesting.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. But you saw it—the flicker of doubt, of fear. As much as he enjoyed watching, he knew very well he would never survive playing.

And that? That was the only entertaining thing you’d seen all night.

A moment later, your eyes flicked toward the Panther-masked VIP, whose frustration over losing a bet had quickly turned into something much more unpleasant. His focus had shifted from the game to the waiter standing stiffly beside him—a waiter who, you observed, wasn’t moving quite like the other servers.

You weren’t an idiot. The way that waiter hesitated when he was called, the way his shoulders were a little too tense, the way his hands remained perfectly still as if not used to serving—it all screamed of someone who didn’t belong.

That was because he wasn’t really a waiter, it was Jun-ho disguised as one, though you didn’t know that. He had taken down one of the servers moments before the VIPs arrived on the island.

And now, the Panther-masked VIP was ordering him to sit beside him and take off his mask.

Jun-ho—recognizing the sharpness in his tone—tried to resist, his voice calm. “I need to serve the other guests, sir.”

The Panther VIP scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now, the others won’t mind if I keep this one for myself, will they?”

A chorus of laughter and amusement rippled through the room, the other VIPs agreeing without a care—“he’s all yours!” one of them laughed. Your brother even chuckled beside you, raising his glass as if this was all just another part of the entertainment.

You, however, did not find it amusing.

Before Jun-ho could be forced into something he clearly wanted no part of, you lazily raised your hand and gestured toward your glass.

“I need a refill,” you said smoothly.

Jun-ho’s eyes darted toward you, wary but sharp, understanding immediately that you were giving him an out.

Your brother groaned, shifting beside you. “Come on, sis, let him have his fun—”

Your hand shot out, swatting him hard against his arm before he could finish his whining.

He yelped, rubbing his arm. “Ow! What the—?”

“Shut up.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but the look you gave him through your golden fox mask was enough to make him think better of it. He slumped back into the couch with a huff, grumbling under his breath.

The Panther-masked VIP tsked in annoyance but didn’t say more as Jun-ho bowed his head slightly and stepped away from him, making his way toward you. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease, if only slightly.

As he reached your couch, he carefully took your glass and poured you another drink, his movements slow and precise. Up close, you could see the way his jaw was set tight, his eyes flickering with restraint.

You leaned in slightly as he finished pouring. “You okay?” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jun-ho hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding once. “Thank you,” he said quietly, placing your glass back into your hand.

You didn’t reply, just took a slow sip while he stood beside the couch you sat on.

However, the weight of the Panther-masked VIP’s stare was suffocating. You didn’t even have to look to know that he was still watching Jun-ho like a predator eyeing its next meal.

Annoyed, you turned your head ever so slightly, locking eyes with him through your golden fox mask. You raised your glass in a slow, mocking salute before downing the rest of your drink in one smooth motion.

The message was clear: Back off.

Unfortunately, subtlety was wasted on men like him.

“Come back here,” the Panther VIP drawled, waving his fingers in a lazy command at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho’s grip on the bottle in his hands tightened slightly, his body as still as a statue. It was subtle, but you caught it. He didn’t want to go back over there.

So, before he could even think about stepping forward, you reached out and grabbed his forearm, holding him in place. Your fingers pressed firmly against the fabric of his uniform—a silent message that he could stay with you.

You sat up straighter, your voice cutting through the noise.

“This one’s mine.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jun-ho stiffened beside you, clearly taken aback. You didn’t mean it in the way it sounded—he wasn’t a possession. But these men only responded to power plays, and if that was the language they spoke, then fine. You’d speak it fluently.

Your brother let out a low whistle beside you, his amusement clear. “Ohhh, big sis is getting bold.”

You didn’t even hesitate—your palm struck his arm again with a sharp thwack.

“Ow!” he rubbed where you smacked him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, leveling him with a glare. “If you don’t stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll give you a real beating in front of all these people.”

He grumbled something under his breath, soothing his arm, but he didn’t push it further.

The Panther VIP, however, was not so easily prevented. “Come now,” he chuckled, though there was irritation beneath his voice. “You can’t hoard all the fun.”

“Sure, I can,” you replied dryly.

A few of the other VIPs laughed at that, enjoying the exchange. The Panther VIP let out a breath through his nose, clearly displeased, but he wasn’t about to pick a fight with another VIP. That was the unspoken rule—annoyance was fine, but outright challenging each other was bad form.

Jun-ho turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. You met his eyes for a brief second, and then you stood up, keeping your grip on him firm.

“We’re leaving,” you announced.

Your brother groaned. “What? Where are you going?”

You didn’t even look at him as you responded, voice utterly monotone. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

More amusement rippled through the other VIPs, some watching with interest, others indifferent as they returned their attention to the game. But as you turned to leave, you felt it—that silent, looming presence watching you.

The Frontman.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t move to stop you. He simply observed, his masked face unreadable.

You met his gaze for a long moment before turning away, leading Jun-ho out of the room. No one stopped you. No one dared to stop you.

And just like that, you stole the only honest man in the room away from the wolves.

The moment you got him alone into a dimly-lit, empty room, you could feel the tension radiating off of him. Jun-ho wasn’t stupid—he knew he didn’t belong here, and he knew that you knew. His shoulders were taut, his breath controlled but just a little too shallow, and his hand was subtly reaching for something. A gun, maybe. A knife. Whatever he had managed to smuggle in.

You raised your hands slowly, showing you had no weapon, no ill intent. “Relax,” you said, your voice calm, softer even. You let go of his arm, stepping back to give him space. “I’m not going to turn you in… or whatever you’re thinking right now.”

Jun-ho’s sharp eyes flickered with suspicion. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because if I was planning to sell you out, I would’ve done it back there.” you tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms loosely. “Would’ve let that old man have his fun.” you said with a hint of distaste at the thought.

That gave him pause. He studied you, his gaze flickering over your golden fox mask, as if trying to gauge whether you were lying, or just the need to understand why a supposed VIP was helping him. You didn’t blame him for being on edge. This entire place was a slaughterhouse dressed up in gold. If you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust anyone either.

“You don’t belong here,” you stated plainly, watching for his reaction.

“And neither do you.”

That actually made you laugh, just a short, soft chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”

He hesitated. Maybe because your mask didn’t hold the same predatory amusement as the others. His fingers twitched, like he was still deciding whether to draw his weapon, but then he let out a slow breath.

You sighed too and gestured toward the door. “You should go. Before someone actually does come looking for you.”

Jun-ho didn’t move right away. He just stood there, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. And for a brief moment, you could tell—he wanted to ask.

Who are you?

Why are you helping me?

What’s under the mask?

But he didn’t ask. He just gave you a small nod before slipping out the door, disappearing like a shadow. You shut the door.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you turned back toward the empty room. Not even a minute later, a knock came at the door. You raised an eyebrow, opening the door, meeting the presence of a square-masked guard, who stepped inside.

“The Frontman sent me to check on you,” the guard said, his voice hollow under the mask. “Where’s the waiter?”

You gave him a blank look. “What waiter?”

The guard straightened. “The waiter you left with.”

You tilted your head, voice dry. “Oh. Him.” you shrugged lazily. “I got bored. Told him to get lost.”

The square guard didn’t buy it. “Where did he go?”

You sighed, as if this was the most exhausting conversation of your life. “Am I his babysitter?”

The guard didn’t move. He was pushing. You didn’t like being pushed.

So you took a slow step forward, closing the space between you and the guard. He stood his ground, but you could feel the slight hesitation in his stance as you slowly backed him up against the wall.

When his back hit the surface, the shift in atmosphere was instant. You weren’t loud. You weren’t aggressive. But the weight of your presence—the empty, unreadable calm of someone who knew how to lie—was enough to make the guard tense.

You tilted your head slightly, a slow, empty smile forming under your mask. “What exactly are you suggesting?” you murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That I’m hiding something?”

The square guard stiffened.

“Because that would be a very bold accusation to make against a VIP,” you continued, voice dropping to something almost sickly sweet. “And you wouldn’t want to insult a guest, would you?”

There it was—the slight shift in his posture, the hesitation and hint of nervousness.

“I—”

You stepped back, your fake smile still in place. “Good talk,” you said dryly, dusting off your robe like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Tell the Frontman to send someone more competent next time.”

The square guard didn’t argue, he just quickly stepped away from the wall, stiffly nodding before leaving the room without another word.

You sighed as the door shut behind him, rubbing a hand against the side of your neck.

This whole thing had been a drag, but at least you’d managed to do one decent thing tonight.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

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Medical Emergency

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

Disclaimer: Enemies to lovers, brother's best friend, descriptions of being ill (nothing fully specified, just fainting a lot, low blood sugar and hormones), swearing, fluff, steamy moments, he takes care of you. This has been in my w.i.p for a while now so it's kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

It was safe to say Jake was confused to find out he was your emergency contact.

It was known to most people in the town that you and Jake weren’t exactly the best of friends. The hatred started all back when he was brought into Top Gun the first time round. Before he suddenly became the best, of the best of the best. And each year he came back, it only got worse.

Neither of you would be surprised if everyone in San Diego knew about how much you and Jake didn’t get along.

So, yeah. Getting a call from a Nurse called Emma telling him he needed to come and pick you up from the hospital…he was confused.

He’d spent most of the day training the new recruits at Top Gun. He was on base when he got the call, but twenty minutes later, he was parked outside the hospital and was being shown to your room.

“She’s to take two of these every six hours for the next three days. If she has any drastic changes; dizziness, nausea, vomiting, etc. Bring her back. But she should be okay.”

He hadn’t even been told what had happened.

Then he saw you.

On a typical day, your hair was either up or down. You typically wore bright colours since the kids in your class like to point them out and name them. And even at the end of the week when you’d walk into the Hard Deck, Penny already having your drink waiting for you, and you’d look tired and ready to go to bed, you were still…bright. Put together.

But from where he was standing, you were dressed in grey sweats and a Top-Gun hoodie. Most likely, you thought it was your brother’s. But from the worn hole around the edge of it let Jake know it was his. One your brother had never returned to him.

You looked…like you needed to be comforted.

Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of your skull. Any hints of make-up had been long washed away. Your nail polish was chipped, if not already peeled from your nails.

Finally slipping your shoes on, you stood slowly. You looked like you needed to sleep for a year, and maybe take another nap for eight months.

“Just sign here and here and then you’re free to go.”

Jake watched as the nurse’s words just about registered in your ears before you slowly picked the pen up from her hand and signed your name at the bottom of the paper.

Reaching to grab the rest of your stuff, Jake almost swooped forwards. “I’ve got it.”

You just nodded. “Thanks.”

Any other day, you would have told him you could do it yourself and tell him to fuck off.

He picked up your overnight bag and, with a hand at the bottom of your back, led you out of the hospital.

“This way.”

You followed him back to his car and once he knew you were safe inside the passenger seat, he rounded the car and got into his seat.

“I did tell them just to call me a cab. You can just drop me off down the road. You don’t need to-”

“I’m not letting you walk home.” He told you. “What’s your address?”

Part of Jake wished you’d fight him more about walking home. At least that way he’d know you were actually okay. He still would have driven you home, but…he wanted you back.

Typing your address into his phone, he followed the sat-nav.

By the time he pulled up outside your house, you were asleep. He waited for five minutes, letting you sleep whilst he researched and read the prescription you’d been given.

Then he looked up at your house. You had to have a spare key.

Carefully, he left his car and walked up your path. He looked in all the typical places until he found a small patch of wood from your porch coming loose. Inside was your key.

So, opening your door and carrying your things inside, he came back for you.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, he placed one of your arms around his neck before placing his own arms around your back and under your legs.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

And you did.

Shutting the door to his car with his back, he carried you into your house, shutting your front door with his foot before taking you into your bedroom and laying you on top of your sheets. Looking around, he found a basket of blankets just under your window.

However, as he covered you up, he checked your temp with the back of his hand. You seemed okay.

Then you reached for him.

It was only for a few seconds, but you held his hand before your body fell back to sleep.

Before he left your room, Jake got you a glass of water and left your window on a latch. And then he stayed.

Kicking off his boots by the door, he locked everything up around your home before laying down on top of the guest bed with a million and one questions circling around his head.

Why was he your emergency contact? What had happened? Why didn’t anyone else tell him you were in the hospital for, clearly, more than a couple of hours?

You spent the next two days in and out of consciousness. The hospital told Jake not to worry and that it was a good sign you were sleeping. He’d wake you every couple of hours and give you your tablets.

And each time, you’d wake up with the same confusion of how and why he was in your house. And then you’d remember. And apologise. And thank him. Before he’d tell you to lay back down and get some rest.

By the time you came round, you woke up to texts pinging on your phone.

How could you not tell me you were dating someone?

We SERIOUSLY need to catch up about this when you’re back in.

Your boyfriend called the school. Why is this how I’m finding out you’re sick?

Get better soon, honey xoxo

Also, don’t worry about the kids. I’ve got your class covered.

One of your fellow-teacher best friends. You and her had joined the school as teachers in the same year. She had been away on a cruise for the last two weeks.

Slowly, everything that had happened over the last two days came flooding back to you. They had called Jake. He had come to get you at the hospital. He kept waking you up. Had he stayed that whole time? Was he the one to call your school?

Pulling yourself from your bed and heading to the bathroom, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror. You looked…rough. And also the exact same as you had when you’d left the hospital. Maybe there was a little more colour in your cheeks.

And you did feel better.

The room felt still and you didn’t feel like throwing up all your insides out, despite being unable to do so.

Drying your hands on the towel, you made your way through your home. Things were…tidy. Militarily so. The last time your place, although tidy, had looked militarily tidy had been when your brother had visited you before he got deployed again.

So, either, he was here now. Jake was still here. Or you had a ghost haunting your house that just so happened to be in the Navy.

Walking down the stairs, you found a pair of boots at the bottom of your stairs. They definitely weren’t yours.

Then you heard someone in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and chicken noodle soup wafted through your home.

It was a minute or two before Jake spotted you. It felt like a fever dream, watching him in your kitchen, dressed normally, a towel slung over his shoulder as he slid the bread buns from the tray to a cooling rack.

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

You nodded. “Did you cook?”

“How are you feeling?” Jake made his way over to you, his hand coming to touch your forehead and cheeks. You swatted his hands away. You could have sworn you saw him smile after you did it.

“Get off me, I’m fine.”

Jake smiled as he watched you make your way to sit down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. You looked way better than you had done when he saw you in the hospital.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He told you, continuing to slide all but one of the bread buns onto the cooling back. The final one, he dropped onto a plate before dishing out a bowl of the soup.

“Eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

You looked at the food in front of you. “You made this?”

“I made it.”

You looked at him sceptically. “Is this how you plan to kill me? She was weak, your honour. I just wanted to help her.”

“Why would I take care of you for three days and then kill you? It’d be easier if I did it in three days.”

“So you did think about it.”

Jake rolled his eyes and handed you a fork. “Just eat.”

You couldn’t lie, it was one of the best meal’s you’d had in a long time. And as you ate, you looked around your home. Your books had been tidied away and back onto your shelves. All except two. One you were part way through reading and one that was…almost finished. But not by you.

You didn’t notice as Jake watched you take everything in. Your books, your pots of pens. You dish towels, your spices and other baking ingredients. Some had even been put into the jars you had been meaning to fill back up. Then you noticed the smaller things. Like how he’d put up the wooden signs in your kitchen you’d been planning to do for months, and how he’d cleaned…everything.

It looked like he’d done a complete renovation of your place whilst you’d been knocked out.

Then you noticed the pile of papers on your kitchen counter.

The English and maths tests you’d given to your class a few weeks ago. You hadn’t finished marking them.

But Jake had.

You took the top paper and looked it over.

“Did you mark these?” You flipped through the pages. Not only were they marked, but they were marked correctly. They even had a sticker on each of “well done” or “great stuff”.

You heard Jake chuckle. “I am a teacher, too, you know.”

“You’re a…Top Gun instructor. Not a third-grade teacher.”

“I do suppose I am over qualified to help but-”

You shook your head. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so insulting.

“No, I-I mean, thank you. But you didn’t have to do this. Any of this.” You gestured around your home. “You already did enough bringing me home.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. Why was it me that brought you home? Surely you have people who you actually like, to be your emergency contact?”

Tyler watched as you fell silent and searched for the words to tell him.

“You’re…not.” Taking a breath, you looked up at him. “They…they tried a couple of people. They couldn’t make it. One of the nurses knows Penny so called and asked if she had anyone’s number who I knew. I did try and tell them to just call me a cab.”

He let your words settle over him.

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who else did you call? Who didn’t pick up?”

You listed them off. Most were people in your family and a couple of friends.

“I would have fought them on it but-”

“I’m glad you called me.” Jake admitted you. And it struck you. “Give me your phone.”

You slid it over to him. And he called his number from your phone.

“If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me.”

“Jake-”

He shook his head. “You’re not fighting me on this. Fight me on everything else. Anything else. But not this. Call me.”

So you just nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. And eat up, too.”

You did. “You say that as if we’ve got some place to be.”

“We do.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later he practically shoved you into your bathroom en-suit telling you to shower and get changed.

“I thought my nurse was meant to be kind.”

“I am kind!” He said. “And I’m not a nurse. And I’m a friend.”

You laughed a little at that one.

“I’ve seen the inside of your junk drawer. I’m your friend. I have to be, or else I don’t have a word for it.”

He did have a point on that. Your junk drawer…even you hadn’t seen the inside of that thing in at least a year.

So, after getting dressed, taking the last of your antibiotic and forcing some kind of health smoothie Hangman had made you with the blender he found at the back of your cupboard, you found yourself back in the passenger seat of his car.

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, just smiled and pulled the aviators from his collar and put them on before starting his engine and for a moment you wondered if that was what he did when he got into his jet. Flash his million-dollar smile before starting his jet engine and taking off into the sky. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to watch him land and look over at you just like he did.

But then you forced yourself back to reality.

This was Jake Seresin, aka Hangman. Given that name because he hangs his team out to dry.

But he didn’t leave you.

In fact, he was the only one to show up.

And the first to stay.

You read the road signs as best as you could until you realised where he was taking you.

“You know there is a beach like ten minutes from my house.”

He nodded. “I know. But you’re there all the time. You’ve seen that patch a thousand times. This is different.”

“How? Isn’t all sand the same?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe. But they always say the beach can work a thousand miracles. Come on.”

It was a five minute walk to the bottom.

“Is it usually this empty?”

He looked around. “There’s usually a couple more people, but yeah. This is usually it. Not many people drive this far down. They think it’s not the best but to me…couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Jake asked, looking at you.

You continued looking out to the water. You shook your head. “No, nothing. Just…never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”

“Well…I’m not.”

You looked at him.

“To most people.”

It was at that moment you felt a small crackle. Either in your chest or your gut, something crackled. And you felt the blanket of hatred you had for Jake Seresin start to fade.

His call sign might be ‘Hangman’, but you had a strong feeling that when it came to those he cared about…he tried his best to stick around. And even if he couldn’t, he’d make a memory of them to last a lifetime.

For the rest of the day, you spent most of your time lying on the beach watching the waves or reading your book, which he had packed. And it was…one of the best days you’d had in a long time.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?” Moving the book from his face, Jake looked at you from beneath his shades as you lay on your stomach beside him.

“This? Less than a week ago I’m pretty sure people would have made money on you and I killing each other. Why are you helping me?”

“Because you need it. And I’m pretty sure anyone else would believe you when you say that you don’t.”

“And you don’t believe me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean you know me?”

You watched as he smiled and tried to kill the butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

You were still getting used to the fact he was using your first name. Usually it was your last, or some sweet nickname like ‘Sweetheart’ that would grate through your entire body.

“You spend most of your time making sure everyone feels okay and is doing okay. The only time you actually let your feelings know is when you’re taking shit to me. You deserve a break. You deserve to take one before your body forces you to have one.”

Hearing his words as he spoke, you slowly sat up until your back was to the water and you were fully facing him.

“Plus, your brother asked me to look out for you. And I’d rather not suffer his wrath again.”

Okay, that had to be complete bull. Your brother’s wrath when it came to protecting you, that was true. But why ask Jake of all people given he knew your history and track record with him.

And what did he mean by again?

You barely had time to ask all of your questions before you watched him stand up, throwing his book closed to the ground. You mentally scolded yourself for letting your eyes wander all over him.

You weren’t blind to the fact Hangman looked, well, like him. A daring smile, enough charm to charm even the most sourest of people and the body to go with it. But before today, you had been immune. At least, you considered yourself immune since the blanket of hatred that you held for him seemed to block plenty out.

Worst of all, he caught you.

You knew he caught you because of the smirk on his face and the chuckle that escaped his broad chest.

“Shut up.” You groaned, forcing yourself to stand. “I’ve been in the hospital. My immune system is temporarily weakened.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve caught you, Sweetheart.” Seresin drawled just as you looked at him both annoyed and confused. And maybe slightly offended that he thought you had, before today, purposefully checked him out.

But he just laughed. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“It’ll be safe. I know most of the people on this beach, they’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

Taking your hand in his, he led you down the beach, under a small cove and through to the otherside where some rocks were covered in seaweed and sand.

And for a while, you and Jake explored the place. You’d never been this far down the beach so finding out it existed was a bonus. Finding seaweed to pop and watching the crabs crawl across some of the rocks was fun.

You’d never stop to take a break. Straight out of college, you’d begun teaching. It had been in your home town until your brother got accepted into Top Gun. And, with an internalised fear of losing him, you moved out to San Diego. You knew after a while he’d be stationed somewhere else, but you’d managed to find a home there. And when your brother was stationed not too far from his Top Gun base, the rest of your family moved closer.

Since then, it has been helping them get settled, tutoring their children after spending all day teaching. It was sleepless nights spent alone at home, living off the quickest food you could make because you simply didn’t have time to cook. It was running yourself so far into the ground that the one person who you never thought would even step foot into your home was the only one to show up and give you enough space to actually relax.

So watching crabs walk along the rocks was fun.

And hearing your name, and calling out his name above the waves, without hatred or malice behind it, was fun, too.

“Come and look at this.”

Carefully, you made your way over the rocks, trying your best not to slip and hit your head. And you did so, until the last rock before you joined him.

Letting out a small yell as you reached out to try and catch yourself, he threw out his hand and caught you.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Can you stand?”

You lowered yourself to a lower rock, still holding onto his arms before letting go and allowing yourself to take his hand and help you up the rest of the way.

“What am I looking at?”

It was a starfish.

The rest of the day, you and Jake explored the shore, skipped rocks on the calming water, sunbathed and even took a swim in the water.

By the time the sun had set, you found yourself sitting with him on the hood of his car, a pizza box between you both, watching the planes fly from the airport.

A week ago, if anyone had told you that you would have done any of this, especially with Hangman, you would never have believed them.

“Thank you, for your help.” You blurted out as you watched another plane fly into the sky.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” You wanted him to listen to you. “Given our track record for being nice to each other, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t turn up at the hospital to bring me home. But you did. And you made sure I didn’t fall into some kind of coma after it. And today you gave me the first day, I think, ever, where I’ve not done a thousand things for somebody else and enjoyed what I was doing. So, I do need to thank you for that.”

“Are you saying…you…like me?”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, but you tried to force it away. “Okay.”

“No, no. I mean, this is a miracle.”

“You’re tolerable.” You corrected him.

Smiling, he took another slice of pizza. “You like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You like me. I am now your friend. We are now friends.”

You shook your head, holding in a laugh. “Just shut up and eat your pizza.”

It was safe to say after that, that everyone was shocked at the dynamic between both you and Hangman.

They had all gotten so used to the insults and borderline flirty comments you’d both sling each other's way, it had become like white noise. So, when it was gone and replaced with laughter and smiling, it gave everyone a terrified feeling.

“I’m guessing they’re not here yet.”

Penny shook her head as she poured another pint. With a smile, she nodded over to the other end of the bar. “They’re over there.”

Twenty minutes later, it had become like a social study for everyone in the bar to watch you and Jake.

“Do you think they fucked? Got all that pent up energy out?”

Coyote shook his head. “No, he would have told me. How long have they been like this? Maybe they’ve been hypnotised into liking each other?”

Rooster shook his head. “The hypnotist left like three months ago. Maybe they’re…faking it. Do you think they heard us talking about them last week? About who would kill who first? Maybe they’re teaming up so nobody wins?”

Penny shook her head as she wiped down the bar. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a nice change. She looks a lot happier. They both do. Who knows, maybe next we’ll be holding a wedding here.”

“Not their wedding?” Rooster seemed shocked. “Penny, they were about three insults away from killing each other three weeks ago.”

“Love is blind, as they say.”

For the rest of the night, people watched you and Jake sat together. Seresin and Y/l/n. Hangman and Sweetheart.

And then they watched as you walked home.

Together.

It was safe to say everyone was shocked to their core. For the first time ever, there had been a night where both you and Jake had not only been in the bar at the same time but had also sat together for the whole night, and not once killed each other.

Verbally or otherwise.

“You know, you’re not as big of a dick as I thought you were Seresin. Tonight was a nice change.”

“I have been known to be kind once in a while.”

“Keep this up, you might be fit to see another day.”

“So might you.” Jake replied as he watched you climb the steps of your front porch. “I meant what I said, about taking a break. You deserve one, Y/n.”

You took in what he said with a small nod before adding. “You know, it’s still freaking me out, you even know my first name.”

“If it helps, the nurse had to tell me.” He said. “Guess I’ve called you by your last name so much, I forgot your first.”

“Is that why you keep saying it? So you don’t forget?”

He shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You know, it is okay if you forget it once in a while.”

Jake smiled a little at that. “How could I forget the name of the woman who once dumped three shots of tabasco sauce into my drink?”

“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.”

“Hey, the bottle was in your hand.”

You unlocked your door. “I still plead not guilty.”

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. Sure you’re okay on your own?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you have an early start in the morning?”

He nodded. “Even so. Call me.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

He waited for you to lock your doors before he got into his car and drove back home.

The following weeks continued the same way. If anybody who was anybody saw you and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin together, in the same room, talking. They would stop and watch.

Never in a million years did anyone expect you and Jake to talk, never mind actually become friends.

Each Friday, you met each other at the bar. You both have a drink. You’d both sit and talk. Maybe some of your old ways were still there with each other, but there was less “25 to life” about it and more “affection” in the words you both said.

However, it nearly gave people an aneurysm when they thought you were both actually dating.

Two people who were thirty seconds away from physically fighting each other every day had gone from, well, that, to…to…to dating?

It couldn’t be…could it?

And the rumours that had been spread by one of the bar regulars, after she’d spotted both of you grocery shopping together before spotting Jake’s car leave from the top of your road hours later, were only fueled when they heard about what happened at the school.

It had been months since you fainted and you had been getting better. You felt better, you felt like you had more energy. And with Jake’s help you started to feel like a person again. A person who wasn’t wholly consumed by their work constantly, whether they were ten miles from the building or not.

Except, one morning, you woke up and felt…off.

Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe your period was coming early. It has been doing that lately. Surprising you when you least expected or wanted it.

Just a few weeks ago, it had arrived early once again. And the pain you’d felt in the days before nearly floored you. And when you hadn’t showed up at the bar like you’d agreed to with Jake, he came looking for you. That night he’d taken a quick trip to the grocery store after you told him what happened. He looked after you. Made sure you were okay. The next day, he drove you back to the store and you stocked up on supplies and snacks.

It was also later that night when he surprised you by making dinner.

Opening up your fridge, you took one of the healthy smoothies that Jake had left you the last time he’d come round, before packing it into your bag and heading to work.

Your queasy feelings only got worse. And then…you felt it.

Sticking on a documentary for your class, you took your phone and slowly made your way towards the teachers bathroom, stopping off at the next class.

“Can you keep an eye on them for a couple of minutes?”

Your best friend nodded. “Course’ honey.” Before asking her TA to go next door.

“You okay?”

You tried your best to look okay, despite everything you were feeling inside.

“Yeah. Yeah. I will be.”

As the TA headed next door, you made your way towards the bathroom, then dialled his number.

“Hey,” Jake said as he answered. “Just about to call you. They’ve got a showing of The Wizard of Oz tonight at the theatre, if you wanted to go-”

“Jake.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is everything okay? Is it your brother-”

“Every…” You swallowed thickly before carefully lowering yourself onto the floor with your back against the wall, and unlocking the door. “Everything’s okay, it’s just…”

Jake had a strong feeling he knew what was happening. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“School bathroom. Teacher’s.”

“Okay.” You could hear him leaving his office and getting into his car. “Is the door unlocked?”

You didn’t answer.

“Y/n.”

“I’m here.”

Jake breathed. “Y/n, Sweetheart. Is the door unlocked to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else know you’re there?”

You explained what happened as best as you could.

“Just, please get here soon?”

“I will, Sweetheart. I promise. I’m almost there.”

You didn’t know how long had passed but it wasn’t long before you heard your name being called out by Jake.

Pulling the door open a little from the floor, Jake ran towards it and peeked inside. There you were, sat with your knees close to your chest, against the wall.

He stepped inside before crouching down.

“I-I’m sorry I called. I just-”

Checking you over, Jake cupped your face. “Hey, no. No. I’m glad you called me. You can always call me. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. It’s better now but still like the room is spinning. And I’m not harnessed in.”

“Okay. Do you think you can stand?”

You gave a small nod. “Maybe.”

Helping you up, Jake took your hands in his and you stood up.

“Come on, we’re getting you checked out at the ER.”

You would have fought him on it but considering the last time it happened they kept you in overnight, you went willingly.

Thankfully, you didn’t pass out even when the dizziness and the nausea felt like they were getting worse.

By the time the doctor saw you, she did all of the routine checks before turning and looking at Jake and back to you.

“Is there a possibility you could be pregnant? I’ve seen a lot of couples come in here with similar symptoms and-”

Oh shit.

“Oh, no. I-I’m not. And he’s not-”

“We’re- We’re not together.”

A few more awkward moments like that filled the next couple of hours until both yourself and Jake seemed to give up on correcting people.

By the time they discharged you, they told you your blood sugar levels had dropped and your hormones were beginning to change with your cycle. Along with the advice to try and reduce stress.

Driving you home that night, Jake made a detour. Towards the diner and then towards the beach along The Hard Deck.

It was quiet for a Tuesday evening, but yourself and Jake just sat and ate dinner whilst watching the water push in and pull out constantly across the sand until eventually, laying your head on his shoulder, he placed his arm around your own.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you for calling me. Are you feeling any better?”

You nodded, gratefully. “Just a little tired, that's all.”

“I’ll drop you off at home, soon, if you’d like.”

You nodded then looked at him. And before you could stop yourself, you asked him; “Would you stay with me? Tonight? If you can’t- or if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll stay.”

“A-are you…sure?”

Jake nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say other than thank you, so pressing a light kiss to his cheek, you said as much. “Thank you.”

You could have sworn you saw him blush as he smiled and looked down. “Anytime.”

It was odd really, laying beside the man you thought you’d be telling your kids about when you were older. About how much you hated him and how much he hated you, and why neither of you could sit next to each other at the Thanksgiving table every year.

Jake had decided to stay in your guest bedroom, but the minute you heard him lay down in his bed, you felt…awake. Not wide awake. You were still tired. But you weren’t settled. Something inside of you wanted to be closer to him.

So, after an hour of laying on your back, staring at your ceiling and listening to the distant shore line, with the odd rumble of a car’s engine running up and down the road every now and again, you got up.

Jake had left his door open. If you shouted for him, or needed him, he would be able to hear you. Usually, he’d be out like a light, waking up at the smallest of noises. But this time, he couldn’t sleep.

Instead, his mind was going over the fact you had called him when you were at work. And the fact that he enjoyed it when you were with him. That he was the one you chose to lean on. And the fact that he wished he was down the hall with you at that moment, then lay alone in the dark in your guest bedroom.

Then he heard you.

From the dim, moonlit hallway, he saw you.

“Hey, everything-”

“Can I stay with you?”

Already half way up, Jake paused for a second. Then nodded. “‘Course. Come ‘ere.”

Walking over, Jake pulled the covers back and you climbed under them before feeling his arm wrap around you. And your arms came around him, one over his shoulder and round his neck, the other by his side.

Instinctively, he pulled one of your legs across him and held it there whilst his other arm remained securely around your back, holding you to him.

“Is this okay?”

He felt you nod and he nervously swallowed.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

In a quiet voice, your breath against his neck, you answered. “Better now.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, you nuzzled into each other.

“Good.”

Not too long after that, you both fell asleep.

And when you both woke up, neither of you wanted to move.

If this had somehow happened six months ago, you probably would have thrown each other to the other side of the room. But it wasn’t six months ago. And you’d come to know Jake as…Jake. Who took care of his friends, and made sure everyone was okay and was kind and caring and…a lot of other things you didn’t want to think about at six o’clock in the morning.

And the way he was looking at you at that moment made you think about other things that you didn’t want to think about.

“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked after a few moments of watching you study him.

“That you need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you…like me.”

Jake smiled. “I do like you, Sweetheart.”

“Jake.”

Then, for a moment, everything felt…serious. His tired smile dropped a little from his lips as he looked at you.

“Do you trust me?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up in your chest and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it.

“Yes.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you felt him cup your cheek. “Y/n…”

He seemed nervous.

“Can I kiss you?”

If you had let yourself think about it long enough, you never would have guessed Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who went after whatever, and usually whoever he wanted, would ask if he could kiss. You’d always assumed that he was so confident in life and with women that he’d know. That he’d see the small signals. Or even the loud ones. And just…kiss a girl.

But no.

He asked.

And something in your gut jumped.

So you answered; “Yes.”

Nervously, he licked his lips before he leaned in. And kissing him felt…weird. Because it felt…normal. Unlike anything else you’d felt in your life.

You managed to pull him closer, until he was leaning above you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

From there, the softer, searching kisses slowly faded away and turned into something more. More wanting, more needing. Feeling his hands move down your body before he gripped your hips, and pulled you closer to him and carefully slid them back up until the fabric of your t-shirt began to bunch together.

Feeling him press into your thigh, you let out a small noise that was only swallowed by his kiss. Swiftly, he pulled you across him, your legs straddling his lap before he sat up. Once more, he pushed the hair from your face and took you in, in the rising daylight.

No words were spoken out loud, but everything was said.

Leaning down, you kissed him again before letting your own hands move down his chest and towards the hem of his t-shirt. Except, just as he pulled you closer by your waist, his hips rocking into you, you both jolted at the sound of his alarm.

“Sorry.” Jake quickly turned and switched it off. You were both going to be late for work.

“If we don’t get ready now, we’re gonna be late.”

Looking at him, you didn’t know fully what to say. It had just been the hottest make out session of your life, with a guy six months ago people would have bet money on you killing. And you’d both been cock-blocked by his alarm.

“I’ll meet you here, after work?”

That made you smile. “Okay.”

Then he did, too. “Okay.” Before throwing his phone to the side and pulling you down to kiss him. But as you pulled away, he groaned, trying to pull you back to continue but you walked a good three feet away from the bed.

“Can’t be late, Hangman. You’ve got pilots to teach.”

With a coy smile, he was standing in front of you within seconds before lifting you onto the dresser behind you. This time, it was you trying to pull him back when he stopped kissing you. But he just stood back and let out a small chuckle.

“We’ve both got students to teach, Sweetheart. We stay here any longer, they’re both gonna miss us.”

One final kiss to your lips, he stood back and practically ran away before you could grab hold of him.

Twenty minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day and had poured you a coffee to-go as well as packed you another smoothie and grabbed your lunch for you before you’d come downstairs, dressed and began loading the last of the exam papers into your bags.

He dropped you back off at work, however, when you realised he was waiting in the parking lot for you to enter, you left your bags by the pillar and walked back. With his window already being down, you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his hand cup the back of your head.

“See you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

The day for either of you couldn’t have felt longer. And by the time Jake came walking through your back door, dropping his bag onto one of the pantry hooks, he couldn’t have been more relieved to see you.

And for a moment, he just watched you as you sat on the sofa with crossed legs, flipping through a textbook and making notes. Softly, he approached you from behind before wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

You smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“You’re back.”

You felt him relax against you. “Finally.”

“There’s some food. I made you a plate in the oven.”

He pressed a kiss to your head before walking towards the kitchen. “I would have cooked.”

“I know, but I needed the distraction.”

Waltzing back inside holding onto the warm plate, he smirked as he popped a fork-full of veg into his mouth. You could already feel your cheeks heating and from the look on his face, he could see it clear as day.

“Distraction from what?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Nothing, huh?”

At some point, he put down his plate and rounded back to the sofa, standing behind you before pressing soft kisses into the side of your neck.

“Jake.”

The way you said his name went straight to his dick.

As he moved your hair, you leaned to grant him more access. A satisfied smirk came to his lips as he watched your legs move to straighten out.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Sweetheart.”

Eventually, you felt Jake move away but he appeared again, lowering himself in front of you. Taking the textbooks and notes from you and placing them on the coffee table behind him, he leaned forward and pulled you in to kiss him.

“Have you been thinking about me?”

Feeling his hand move up your thigh and towards your shorts, you leaned in closer. “Have you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes,” your voice came out breathy.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded.

“I need words, darlin’.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

As time passed, the small part of you that was still able to function started to ask questions. Like why you had hated him so much in the first place? And how you almost missed…him.

And by the time you woke up in the morning, Jake practically wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, you had come to a new conclusion.

You didn’t hate him anymore.

You hadn’t hated him for a long time.

All opinions you had of him, especially after a night of mindblowing sex, had been shot out of the water.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was no longer the man you thought he was. The man you had come to know and lo-

The man you had come to know was a man that showed up. And stayed. He was someone that took care of the people he cared about. He was someone that would fix things in your home without you asking. He was someone that cooked meals, even if it was almost one o’clock in the morning and you were craving a grilled cheese. He was someone that, even after sex, took care of you in a way nobody had ever even thought about doing before. He was someone that you could trust and respect, and did so.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was a man that had proved your theories wrong and he was a man that you realised you were falling for.

And in some ways, that scared you. And in some ways, it didn’t.

Because, for as much as he could be so sure of himself. So bold. So confident, it bordered on cocky. You were also sure of him. Sure that, if he was feeling the same things you felt, that he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself when you fell, but rather he’d catch you.

And it, surprisingly, didn’t take him very long.

By the time you woke up in the morning and headed downstairs, freshly dressed in a worn Top Gun hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts, you started making breakfast. However, as you stood at the stove, flipping the bacon, you felt a newly familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

Dropping his chin to your shoulder, Jake pulled you close to his chest.

“Good morning.”

“Morning’.” He drawled. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”

“Bacon and eggs. There’s also toast in the toaster.”

With a smile, Jake pressed a kiss to your exposed collar which caused you to let out a small giggle before quickly turning the stove off.

“You’ve gotta be careful, Hangman. You’ll make me burn breakfast.”

He hummed a response. “I had a couple other meals in mind.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

With his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck where you suspected he’d just left another hickey, he slowly turned you around. “I can think of one.”

Finally facing him, he kissed you as you fumbled with the last temperature gauge and turned it off. Picking you up, he carried you away from the counter near the stove to the one complete opposite.

“You’re driving me insane dressed like this.” He mumbled against your kiss. “Wearing my shirt.”

“Your shirt?” You asked as his lips moved to your neck.

Looking at you for a moment, half drunk on your kiss, he nodded. “Didn’t you know, Sweetheart? This here is mine.” Pinching some of the fabric between his fingers he shook it as he told you so.

You laughed. “No it’s not.”

He nodded. “God's honest truth. Your brother stayed at mine one night after he’d gone out drinking. Lost his shirt, don’t ask me how. Stole one of my hoodies. Never got it back.”

“How do you know this is yours?”

With a smile, Jake showed you the small hole that you’d made a little bigger over the years from when you’d get nervous. “This right here. Loose thread got caught in a cabinet I was fixing in my room. Pulled at it too hard. And…”

Jake watched as your expression changed a little, hungry for more of his touches, as he pushed his hand slowly up the inside of your- his hoodie.

A slight smirk, he pulled at the side tag and showed you. And it baffled you how you’d never noticed before.

J.H.S

“See. But, I have to say, Sweetheart. It looks better on you than it ever did me.”

And as he was looking at you, he asked you something else. “Let me take you out on a date. A real one. You know, seeing you like this…I never want to see anyone else like this but you.”

“Jake…”

“I’m being serious. Sweetheart, I want you. And not just temporarily.” Then he looked away as he said the next part. “I’d get it…if you didn’t want that. God knows you and I don’t have the best history when it comes to even getting along but-”

“I want to date you.”

He looked up at you.

“I want to date you,” you repeated. “Believe me, half of the time I don’t get it myself. How we’ve gone from one extreme to the other, but I know…I know I want you around.”

“I want you around, too.”

“So, yes.”

Jake smiled. “Yes?”

You smiled back. “Yes. Take me out on a date, Jake Seresin.”

Leaning forwards, he kissed you. And before long, your hands started to feel for the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head.

It was safe to say, when you and Jake walked into The Hard Deck in the evening after your official first date, hand in hand before he pressed a kiss to your lips, a lot of people were shocked.

And lost a lot of money.

But Penny won it all.

She knew the minute Jake saw you, and your brother scolded him, that something would happen. After all, Hangman was known for going after what he wanted. She just never expected to have to be the one to force you to be in the same room and for that room to be a hospital.

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captn-duck-gremlin · 5 months ago

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Like it all started when you and some friends decided to do some urban exploration, visiting a broken abandoned military base. Now while there your friends are of course being dumb, touching things with bare hands, no face coverings to protect them from whatever harmful things could be in the air, respect for the possible dead is on floor level with them. You on the other hand, you got gloves, a face mask just in case, you're apologizing to anything you bump into. You did the research, this place went down from an unexpected attack, so there might be a corpse around somewhere (or lingering spirit). You give a short prayer to anything that looks like a corpse, regardless if you follow in those beliefs or now; you just want to be respectful to the dead. And yes, this place is haunted. Obviously. Now the important part, at one point or another 4 damned souls have clung to you. You dont notice at first, you barely feel that buzz that you're being watched. But the first unnatural thing to happen to you starts in a dream, a weirdly detailed dream. You're a housewife in the 50s. Cute summer dress, lovely home, nice street. But it feels too real, the patterns on the walls stay perfect no matter how long you stare at them, you can read lines from books you've never seen before, you look at your hands and they don't look distorted like they usually are in dreams. Then a man walks through your front door like he owns the place, you don't recognise him. At all. Yet he speaks to you in such a nice rough voice from his cigars, calling you such sweet things. Treating you like his wife. Then after what felt like hours from playing housewife you wake up, confused to hell and back. You brush it off until the next night, where you're sucked into another oddly very detailed dream, but its so different. From housewife in the 50s to maiden in the ye old times. The man is different, instead of tough, friendly bearded husband, you now have dark knight with skull markings. Helmet stays on at all times, but despite the rough and scary armour and vibe, he treats you like you're the finest silk, the sweetest flower, like you'll shatter if he so much as looks at you wrong. And after living through that you wake up once again incredibly confused. Is this what the backrooms feel like? You don't know, you don't want to know. Night rolls around once more which you dread and sure enough another weird dream with a new life. Now, at a farmland on the outskirts of an old styled town, you got chickens, goats, two cows, some ducks and a bulky husband with a silly mohawk. You don't know what year it is, what century you're at, at this point you're just rolling with it. Husband got a nice accent, Scottish you might think it is. He's absolutely spoiling you, treating you like a princess for no reason. Not like you're complaining. After that dream, you wake up contemplating that you might be losing your mind. But no, you're just being haunted by demons who like spending time with you through your dreams. Moving on. 4th weird dream, this feels further up into recent years, maybe 2000s. Cute husband, looks like a sweetheart, is a sweetheart. His skin is darker from the other ones, but not like you could tell with Sir Skull and Bones. He has a smooth voice, could probably sweet talk a bear. Time with him was almost too sweet. You swore his pupils nearly went heart shaped when he looks at you. And like the rest of them, you wake up confused. And thats just how your nights go, things in the day go.. strangely.

Oh and quick reminder, don't run from them.

#141 x reader #demon!141 x reader #task force x reader #tf 141 #call of duty #cod mw2 #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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peachesofteal · 1 month ago

Text

Simple Math / Part Twenty

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse reader, feelings of fear and panic, PTSD, references to domestic violence. Trauma, blood. Flashbacks. Dubious ethics and morality, dark content.

“Are ye comin’ inside?”

“I need a minute.” He needs more than a minute. He needs days, weeks. Needs to wind back the clock and slam it into the ground, over and over again, until the springs and hands and tiny numbers splinter into pieces.

Failure. He failed. They failed.

They failed you.

“Wait, go back.” The video pauses and rolls backward, all the way until Simon tells Kate to stop it when you step out of the elevator. “What’s in her hand?”

“Dinnae,” Johnny’s nose is practically touching the screen.

“The recording is pretty low quality; I’ve tried enhancing it with no luck.” Kate’s voice crackles through the speakers from the other side of the laptop, the other side of the world. This is the first time they’ve managed to get a hold of her in weeks, and even now, the connection is half static.

“Looks like a piece of paper, or a picture?” Johnny murmurs, leaning back.

“This is just before she bolts,” the playback continues, and they watch as you walk down the hall, bright smile fading when you reach the corner. “She’s here for a minute and then runs…” Simon is glued to the screen, forward on his haunches, and Johnny rubs his back, kneading his knuckles into that ever-present knot in his shoulder. He watches your head turn, your back stiffen, and Johnny sucks in a breath.

Kate nods the confirmation. She’s already put the puzzle together.

Graves.

You’re reacting to Graves, seeing Graves. Entire demeanor shifting, changing from their sweet, smart girl with newfound confidence, to a deer, shocked and startled, running from a scope.

Graves.

It’s simple math. Plain as day. You take one look at where he’s come around the corner, running his mouth, chewing that fucking gum, and split.

It’s Graves.

And it all makes sense.

“-you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.”

“He always finds me.”

“He has resources. Has followed me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I’m originally from Texas.”

Texas. Texas. Texas.

There was a conversation, months ago, that slipped through Simon’s fingers. A wisp of a suspicion, one pushed away by doubt, by disbelief.

Not possible. A coincidence.

He was wrong, about being wrong. He was right, all along.

Johnny nearly flips the table before Simon urges him back down. “Where… where does she go after this?”

“She gets the car,” Simon answers, timeline clicking into place, “she borrows that gits car, comes home, packs a bag, and runs.” Johnny’s hands are shaking, fingers white against his knees.

They’ll kill him. He’ll paint the walls with Phillip’s blood. They’ll do what should have done in the first place.

He should have protected you, should have seen it all clearly. Should have applied more pressure and made you crack, if only for your own safety.

He failed.

They failed.

“That piece o’ shite, I’ll-“

“Kill him.” Simon finishes simply, and they exchange a look. A promise without words. Simon will shatter his skull between his palms if he has to.

Johnny nods. The gears are already turning. Are they so different from a man who has stopped at nothing to drag you back to him?

No.

They'd burn the world for you, to protect you, to bring you home to them.

Kate clears her throat. “There’s more.” More? “I was checking some records, looking at her last clock out, when the last paycheck was paid out and I pulled her personal information, her medical chart.” Kate’s tone is wary, hesitant, and Johnny straightens.

“What is it?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, unsure trepidation that’s so unlike Kate the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up.

“Kate…”

“She’s pregnant.” You could hear a pin drop. Johnny’s rage turns to panic, and an ocean of blood rushes in Simon’s ears.

“She’s- she’s what?”

“She’s pregnant. By now, she’s probably twenty weeks, maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t know much about those things, but her chart notes say both of them are… were in good health. Low risk.”

“Twenty weeks,” Johnny echoes, faraway look in his eyes.

A baby. You’re pregnant.

Pregnant. Pregnant and alone, and scared. Running away.

From them.

Simon’s trying to wrap his head around it, but he can’t. The information doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense.

“If she’s twenty weeks, then she’s been pregnant since before she left.” Johnny’s talking to himself at this point, because Simon can’t force his mouth to make words. “Why keep it a secret?” Kate is telling them something about index hits and cameras, but it all amounts to nothing after you board the train, and Simon still fails to make a sound.

And then, she piles it on.

“Graves is in the wind.” Simon’s heart stops like he’s been struck by lightning, electricity jolting him alive.

“How?”

“He went offline. No traceable activity in the last week or so. Last known location was Texas. After that, I’m not sure. Yet.”

‘He can’t be in the wind,” Johnny whisper shouts, all too aware of Penny upstairs, napping. “We need to know where he is. Now.”

“I’m doing all I can. He has resources too, you know. A lot of them.” The screen goes black for a second, before she reappears, lips pressed into a grim line. “I have to go. I’ll keep you updated. Sorry guys.”

They can only nod.

It’s clear as day, what happened now. How you saw them in the hallway, how you drew the conclusion, one that seemed so painfully obvious, connected the dots that appeared in your mind, stringing together bits and pieces until it all made sense.

He knows what will have to happen now. They both do.

Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “We’ll find her.”

“An’ bring her home.”

“No matter what.”

The rest is left unsaid.

You’re having a dream.

It’s a lovely one, more of a memory than anything else, but a dream, nonetheless.

“This still feels like a bad idea.”

“Isnae, ye’ll do great bun. Jus’ the ‘hawk now.” You’ve already finished the sides of his head, which were easy enough, but using actual scissors to cut hair is well outside your wheelhouse.

“What if I mess it up?”

“It’s jus’ hair, pretty girl. It grows.”

“How’s it going out here?” Simon leans out the sliding door, Penny in his arms, and you try to plead with him with wide, nervous eyes. He chuckles. “Looks good so far.”

“See?” Johnny smiles, one of the big ones that stretches his whole face and makes your knees weak. Penny loves them too, and she claps her hands together, giggling.

“But… I don’t… I’m going to mess it up.” Johnny stands, warm hands on your arms.

“Ye could shave me bald and wouldnae mess it up, bun.” You nod, but the acid, noxious taste of worry is still there on your tongue.

“I just… I…” you’re starting to shake a little, fingers squeezing together. He tugs you into his chest, kisses your temple.

“Ye’re alright.”

“I know.” You do know. You’re safe. They’d never hurt you, never betray your trust or even yell at you, but muscle memory doesn’t forget. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Ye dinnae have to be sorry.”

“It’s okay, bunny.” Simon murmurs, but it’s not.

Is this how you’ll spend your whole life? Afraid? Shaking?

No.

Not anymore.

“If I ruin his hair… it’s not my fault.” Simon chuckles.

“We’ll blame him.” You turn back to Johnny and put your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath, surveying the mop of unruly brown strands, and he covers one of yours with his own.

“It’s okay. If ye-“

“No, I can. I can do it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a hair cut, for crying out loud, but for some reason it feels like plunging into the deep end of a pool. “Okay,” you breathe, making the first snip. He nods encouragingly and you roll your shoulders.

“See? Not so bad?”

“Not so bad.” You cut again and again, trying to manage it all into a proper length, shaping as best you can.

Each snip, something grows. Your hands tremble a little less, your jaw unclenches, lips flexing upward into your cheeks. You breathe deeper.

When Johnny turns around, he doesn’t care about his hair, or the slightly uneven chunks, or the fresh clippings on his shirt.

He cups your face, kissing you before pulling away to rub his thumb across your cheek.

“There she is.”

Spring rain. There’s nothing like it.

It washes away the gloom of winter. It’s the turning of a page, the spine of a brand-new book snapped open with a splintering crack. Cabin fever becomes walks in the park, lunches and coffees outside, hanging out on balconies and patios.

Dead things turned to soil now sprouting new life.

Like you, you guess.

You’ve been dead before. If someone looked really closely, they could see it in your eyes. The grey of decay, the separation of iris and pupil. Dead and brought back not quite right, every time. Sally, stitched together incorrectly, the wrong pieces of patchwork, poorly aligned.

Every time he ripped another piece of you away, you found a different one, one less like you, to put in its place.

Every time, until you weren’t you at all. Until you were a girl in a mirror. Until you were a ghost.

It makes sense that you don’t know yourself now, haven’t known for years. On the run, there’s not a lot of time to stop and consider things like that, those pieces. Coffee or tea? Chocolate cake or vanilla? Do you like snow? Do you like the beach?

Do you like yourself?

You could have had these answers, you think. Could have learned these things, if it hadn’t turned out the way it did. If Simon and Johnny hadn’t turned out to be a hydra, mouths open, waiting to devour you.

Sunbeam kicks. They nail you in the bladder, and you wince, rubbing over the crest of your belly. “You’re killing me, you know that?” You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, every day. The aches and pains are never ending, your back and hips screaming by the end of a shift. You can’t sleep, the heartburn makes it hard to eat, you’re never comfortable.

The whole time, you curse them, Simon and Johnny.

Their fault, it’s their fault.

And yours too.

But no matter how tired, how sore, how cranky you are, you can’t bring yourself to regret it, and in your dreams, it’s like all the bad, all the awful betrayal didn’t even happen. You dream of a family with them, Penny holding her little sibling, the five you together. It’s all been buried in your mind, too deep and nearly impossible to dig out. The visions of them, the longing, the good memories. You’re infested with them.

You didn’t want this. You wanted them, you wanted it all, and that might be the hardest thing about it. You weren’t given a choice, this decision was made for you, taken from you, just like almost everything else.

Except little sunbeam. You wanted them, chose them, will choose them, over and over, forever, keep them safe, make sure they know they’re loved.

No matter what.

It’s the train, always the train.

Not the long rail train, the commuter train. The one that takes you to and from work, the one that’s sometimes-standing room only, though most people offer you their seat, which is surprisingly kind, compared to where you’re from.

Regardless, you feel the gaze on the train, and no matter how hard you scan, dissect, watch the people around you, there’s nothing. All three faces, three sets of eyes, three profiles, are never anywhere to be seen.

It’s overwhelming, unsettling. The stress of this prickling unease combined with the stress and physical strain of your job is taking its toll on both you and Sunbeam, as the midwife likes to remind you.

Take it easy, take some time off, try to relax. Stay hydrated, eat well.

Yeah… okay.

You rub your belly anxiously, tugging your hood farther over your head, trying to look around without being so obvious.

“Excuse me?” You jolt, startled by a man standing at your elbow, pointing to a vacant spot on a bench. “Would you like my seat?” His smile is subtle, matching an encouraging but not overly intrusive demeanor.

“Sure, thank you so much.” He nods, stepping to the side, into the space between the seat and the divider, close to the door. You try to swing your backpack in front of you, but it gets caught, and he snags it before it falls. “Sorry, thanks.”

“Of course, no problem.” You give him another glance. Really handsome, rich brown eyes you could get lost in. He’s got a baseball cap on, but it’s not pulled down over his face like your hood, he’s not trying to hide. “I’ll move when your stop comes up.”

“Okay, it’s not for a while so, no worries.” He might be kind, but he’s still a stranger, and you’re not going to divulge anything specific. Stranger danger.

Not everyone is a threat but…

“How far along are you?” You blink.

“Uh, about twenty-five weeks, give or take a few days.” He nods.

“My wife is due next week; it’s been a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest.” You laugh, a little apprehensive, but also, a little glad, secretly, to have a casual conversation with someone. He sticks his hand out.

“I’m Kyle.” Your tongue rolls with the practiced name you’ve memorized, the one you’ve drilled into yourself over and over again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The next stop is announced, and he moves gracefully, reaching for his bag and tugging it over his shoulder, barely giving you a second glance.

“This is me, have a good day.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you when he’s getting off, doesn’t watch you through the window from the platform. He’s completely uninterested, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The box is delivered on a Tuesday.

The Scottish government gives you almost everything you need. Clothes, thermometers, baby books, a changing mat, a mattress, a sheet, a blanket, the list goes on. The box even doubles as a bassinet.

You cry over it. Rifling through everything, tears drip down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands. You didn’t get to share an ultrasound with anyone, or have a shower, or hold someone’s hand to your belly as sunbeam kicked, but there’s this. A box full of baby stuff, a box that says no matter how hard it is, you and sunbeam will have a good start. Even Sunbeam’s room is halfway sorted at this point, crib set up, dresser half stocked with clothes, collection of diapers and burp cloths and bottles starting to pile up in various places in their room. You’ve made it comfortable, slowly, mix matched furniture and all.

Every day feels like a year, but as each one passes, you slowly adjust to a new normal, a new life. Something you made, again, from scratch, for yourself, your survival.

And now, for Sunbeam.

One day, maybe it will feel like home.

You really need to stop buying so much crap at the store.

You practically have to drag your grocery loot into the elevator, bags overflowing with fruit, vegetables, cans of formula. Random cleaning products, stuff for baby proofing, a new candle.

Apparently, some call this nesting. You just call it annoying.

You lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment, shifting your weight to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Thirty weeks.

Ten weeks left.

Ten weeks left. It’s wild to even think about, to even say to yourself, or out loud. You’re going to be a mom in ten weeks. Going to have a whole human depending on you for every single thing, in ten weeks.

You’ll be alone, with a newborn, in ten weeks.

Alone.

It still aches. Stings. Salt in the wound-

Lit end of a cigarette against your skin.

You instinctively cup your belly, thumb rubbing over where one of your burn scars has been stretched by Sunbeam, and shiver.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Get it together.

“We’re home!” You announce to no one, no one except Gus the goldfish who’s swimming circles around his bowl. You got him two weeks ago on an impulse, following a pathetic, sad desire all the way to the pet store.

It’d be nice to have something to come home to.

You tap a few flakes into the water and watch him gobble them up, oddly soothed by his presence in the flat.

This is how far you’ve fallen. Taking comfort in a damn goldfish.

You blow out a breath and fall onto the couch, swinging your legs up onto the cushions, dragging the pillows under your ankles, or what used to be your ankles. They’re more like overstuffed sausages now, tops of your sneakers cutting into your skin. Every chance you get, you’re finding places to sit at work, caught yourself leaning most of your weight on your patient’s beds, more than once. Thankfully, your coworkers are overwhelmingly understanding.

And when you come home, you do this. Collapse on the couch. Talk to a goldfish, or Sunbeam, or both.

The oddest trio: Mom, baby, goldfish.

You manage to limit yourself to three bites of ice cream before putting the carton away in the freezer. You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, apparently, not because you’re at risk for gestational diabetes, but because Sunbeam is already projected to be on the bigger side.

You look mournfully at container, spoon still in hand.

One more. What’s it going to hurt? One more bite isn’t going to turn Sunbeam into a giant, it’s-

Knuckles rap against your door.

Your blood goes cold, colder than ice, and you instinctively find the floor, crouching by the fridge, using it to shield yourself, keeping away from the door’s direct line of sight.

The knocking gets louder.

Someone’s saying something on the other side of the door, but you can’t hear it over the buzzing, beeping sound in your ears.

How.

How? How did it happen so fast? Where did you fuck up?

The fear you once felt for yourself pales in comparison to the true fear you feel now. You’re supposed to protect Sunbeam, supposed to keep them safe.

You’re supposed to be a mom.

A sob claws its way out, and you clap your palm over your mouth, agony squeezing your heart, panic clutching your throat in a vise, choking off your air, throttling you until you’re gasping.

You should run, should sprint into the bedroom and grab the gun from under your mattress, should start crawling out the window to the fire escape.

You should do these things, but instead, you’re trapped, immobile, watching with horror as the deadbolt turns horizontal, sliding the lock free with a bloodcurdling click.

Your baby. You were supposed to keep your baby safe.

You failed.

You stand, so unsteady you have to support your weight by leaning against the counter. The only thing in here are kitchen knives, and you rip two from the block, one hiding behind your back, the other brandished in front of your body like a sword.

You’re going to die.

But not without a fight.

Tears wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke, sliding a hand over little Sunbeam, “I’m so- so sorry.”

The creak of the door handle is unmistakable, a metal whine scraping against the frame. You close your eyes.

“Bunny.”

Your heart stops.

The men you thought love you are standing just inside your kitchen, the sight of them turning your stomach, their eyes flicking between you and the shiny, sharp knife in your hand.

Johnny inches forward, his voice a low, gentle murmur, one that cracks your heart. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’re here to take ye home.”

“Get away from me.” The knife is practically rattling in your hand.

"It's alright. We’d never hurt ye, either of ye. We know what ye saw and-“

“N-no,” you sob, voice cracking, shoulders shaking, “don’t come near me.”

“Put that down, sweet girl, it’s alright.” Simon edges around the counter, caution and wary weighing his steps. They’re supposed to be muffled you think, soft, but they ring so loud.

“Stop!”

“Just let us explain, give us a minute-“

“I saw you! I saw you w-with him.” Your vision is blurred by tears, and you look down at your belly, desperate. “Just let us go, please. Don’t- don’t let him-“

“Listen to me, sweetheart. We have nothing to do with Phillip.” His name makes your flinch, and you inch backwards.

“You know him.”

“We do. He tried to kill us, betrayed us, on a mission. Nearly succeeded with Johnny.” The words conflict, mash together into a scramble you don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

More lies.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, I know you don’t. I wouldn’t if I was in your position either, but we’re telling the truth.” You shake your head.

“No. You’re just… you’re just trying to trick me.”

“We’re not,” Johnny murmurs, “We’ve always told ye the truth, bun. And we’d never hurt ye.” He steps forward. It’s too close, way too close, and you pivot, both knives still clutched in your hands.

“Put them down.” Simon instructs, a little bit of steel in his voice now. He can obviously see the one behind your back, and your heart starts to sink.

There’s no way out. You should have run when you had the chance.

Stupid.

The girl in the mirror stays silent. She says nothing.

For all you know, she’s dead already. Killing blow dealt by your own hand.

You think about Sunbeam, all warm and safe, protected from the world, and despair swells in your chest, an entire ocean beneath your feet, waiting to swallow you up, drag you down and drown you.

“Now, sweetheart. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You laugh. It’s a sickly, nervous thing, too tinny and high pitched.

You’re falling apart. You’re not a fighter, you’re a runner, shot lame in a race rigged against you from the beginning. They’re closing in, wolves stalking the bleeding lamb between them, predators about to fall on prey.

“Don’t,” whisper, fingers tightening around the knife in front of your body, unable to hold it steady through the trembling.

“Bunny, listen to us, please.” Johnny is reaching and you get trapped in his gaze, spiraling into the swirl of misery and fear, mirroring your own. “I love ye, we love ye. Ye belong with us, at home, where we can keep ye safe.” You slam your eyes shut, trying to block him out. “I’ve loved ye since the day I opened m’eyes and saw ye leaning over the bed. We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Simon moves. One powerful, huge step, and he’s on you, grabbing your arm, applying pressure to your knuckles to release the knife.

You scream. It’s instinct. Everything shuts down, narrowing down to one objective.

Run.

“Johnny,” he half shouts over your keening, holding gentle pressure against your arm as you try to rip yourself free. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You thrash, trying to twist out of his grip, shoulder shrieking in pain, and he goes with your momentum, providing slack so there’s no tension in your arm. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart, you’re okay.”

You’re not.

You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay.

The walls close in, and it all becomes so clear. Your future, what will happen if they take you, if you leave here with them.

They’ll take Sunbeam. They’ll turn you over to Phillip, throw you out like trash, and you’ll die.

Are you going to let it happen, just like you let everything else? Are you going to roll over? Let it all be stolen, again and again?

No.

Simon reaches for the other knife and you swing it wide, slicing through the air until the blade meets flesh.

He hisses. Blood spills, drips down the handle, coats your fingers, and you stand there, frozen, gobsmacked.

Did you-

Did you just-

“Johnny,” he barks, but it barely registers, you’re too transfixed by the blood, hypnotized by it, too entranced to even register Johnny at your side, too stunned to see what’s in his hand.

A needle.

He whispers your name, cradles your face-

And then everything goes black.

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap

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rainswriting-blog · 2 months ago

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In Their Shirts

Summary: the members of Task Force 141 find themselves captivated by the sight of you wearing their shirts

A/N: I’m sorry I had to make Gaz a gentlemen he’s so sweet and cute in my opinion

Word Count: 941

Warning(s): Suggestive and cursing.

Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated. 18+ minors do not interact

Captain John Price

The soft cotton of Price’s shirt drapes loosely over your frame, the hem brushing against your thighs. The scent of his cologne clings to the fabric, warm and woodsy, like a campfire on a chilly night. He’s seated on the edge of the bed when you walk into the room, his signature cap resting on the bedside table.

His gaze lifts, and he pauses mid-puff of his cigar. A slow smile creeps across his face, his blue eyes crinkling. "That mine?" he asks, voice low, tinged with amusement.

You nod, tugging at the collar absentmindedly. “It’s comfy.”

Price leans back, resting on his palms as he lets his gaze wander appreciatively. "Looks better on you than ever on me," he murmurs. When you step closer, he reaches out, pulling you between his knees. His hands find your hips, fingers brushing the bare skin beneath the oversized shirt.

“You’ll steal my wardrobe at this rate,” he teases, but his voice softens as he looks up at you. “Not that I mind.”

He presses a kiss to your stomach through the fabric, his beard tickling you slightly, and when he looks up, there’s a glint of tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter.

"I really want to fuck you in my shirt," he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he scoops you up effortlessly, laying you down on your back with a look that leaves no room for doubt.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The oversized black shirt with the skull logo on the chest feels like it belongs to you now. Ghost had tossed it on the chair in your room after a mission, and you couldn’t resist slipping it on. The faint scent of gun oil and something distinctly him lingers on the fabric.

When Ghost steps into the room, his balaclava already pulled off, he freezes in place. His dark eyes sweep over you, taking in the sight of his shirt hanging loosely over your frame. His expression softens, though his brows knit slightly.

“That’s mine,” he says simply, his voice a low rumble.

You shrug, tugging at the hem. "Finders, keepers."

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “Looks better on you.”

He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his palm lingers as he cups your cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “I like seeing you in it.”

When his lips meet yours, the kiss is unhurried, almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing the moment.

As his fingers slide under his shirt draped over you, he discovers bare skin, no bra, no panties. Simon pauses, his breath hitching before he mutters, his voice husky and laced with desire, "You're going to be the death of me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz’s shirt smells faintly of soap and the lingering musk of his cologne. It’s worn and soft from years of wear, the material brushing against your skin as you lounge on the couch. The logo of a football club you’ve never heard of stretches across your chest.

He notices the moment he walks in, carrying two mugs of tea. His dark eyes light up, and he sets the mugs down with a grin. “Oi, is that my shirt?”

You smirk, leaning back. “Looks better on me, doesn’t it?”

Gaz chuckles, shaking his head as he comes to stand in front of you. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” he teases, leaning down to place his hands on either side of you. His face is close, his grin infectious. “Gotta admit, though, you pull it off.”

He straightens up, grabbing one of the mugs and handing it to you before sitting beside you. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, pulling you against him. As you sip your tea, he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Guess it’s yours now,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a blanket.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

The shirt you’re wearing is unmistakably Soap’s—a faded band tee with a rip at the hem that he swears adds “character.” It smells like his body wash, fresh and slightly citrusy. The fabric is soft, clinging to your shoulders while hanging loose everywhere else.

When he walks in and spots you, he stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face as he crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe with Soap's now visible boner evident.

“Well, aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes,” he says, his accent making the words sound even more teasing. “Didn’t think my old shirt could look that good.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth of his gaze makes your cheeks heat. "It was the first thing I found," you reply, feigning nonchalance.

"And clearly, you love seeing me in it," you tease, gesturing toward the unmistakable evidence of his reaction.

Soap steps closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. He hooks a finger under the hem of the shirt, tugging lightly. “You can keep it, bonnie,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Looks like it was made for you.”

His hands settle on your waist, and when he pulls you close, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s equal parts playful and tender. “Now I’m gonna need another excuse to see you wear my clothes.”

Taglist

none

#modern warfare 2 #john price #simon ghost riley #modern warfare x reader #john price smut #modern warfare smut #modern warfare ii #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #johnny mactavish #johnny mctavish x reader #Johnny mctavish smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #stealing simons and johns clothles #simon riley

1K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 3 months ago

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Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, fingering, sucking both Sukuna's monster c*cks, Sukuna calls you little bunny lmao, soft Sukuna in places, he's falling fast tbh, reader is a lil innocent thing, stomach tongue says HELLO, all his tongues say hi, lil bit of degradation, true form Sukuna

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: This is ALL fluff and SMUT lol, it's just our king falling for y/n <3 Gonna be like four parts to this, so a short fic! Monsterfking and fluff lol- WC this chap-5.8k

Comments/ reblogs appreciated ❤️

<<<part one part three>>>

Part Two

“Good day, my Queen.” You’re greeted by Uraume, Sukuna’s right hand, they are so ethereally lovely, you think, their white hair and pale silky skin, along with their honey brown eyes were something to behold. They’re donned in white robes, hands hiding in their long sleeves, bowing just so.

“Good morning, Uraume.” You say softly, you are dressed now in another set of purple and gold robes, it seems to be Sukuna’s favorite coloring, if he chooses your wardrobe, nearly all of it was reds, purples and golds. “Um… where is the King?”

“You wish to know where he is?” They ask curiously, tilting their head. You nod then, feeling your cheeks heat up, remembering last night with him, he’d been on your mind all morning now.

“I’m afraid I’m quite lost in this castle, and I also fear to disturb him if I do find him.” Uraume nods now.

“The king sent for you, actually, it is why I came here. Come along now, my Queen.”

You eagerly follow, and you think the serious Uraume gives a little turn of their lips, but your mind must be playing tricks. You met them before King Sukuna, they were part of the group that led you on the long trek from home, a calming presence yet so powerful with their energy.

What exactly was your power, your energy? Your clan had made sure you never explored such things, no one has taught you anything about it, but it must be special if you’re destined to bear Sukuna’s heir. You still have much to learn, you fear, you are following their swishing white robes as you descend through the massive halls. You pause when you hear a slam against the door.

“What is that?” You ask, frightened, and Uraume just sighs.

“Foolish fucking mortal. Aaha!” You hear booming laughter now, when you enter Sukuna’s throne room, he’s grinning like crazy as a man is picking himself up, holding his stomach.

“My king…”

“Any last words? Should I give you any?” He’s chuckling with an insanely huge grin now, red eyes landing on you, raising a dark, arrogant brow. “Ah, it’s my beautiful bride. Come on now, have a seat.”

You’re looking at the room filled with people, guards and lords and commoners alike, all bowing down to you now. You start to walk up to his throne, the dark black throne filled with what appears to be cow skulls. You gulp nervously at it, taking over so much, Sukuna takes over so much, and he’s just perched on it with a smirk, patting his thigh again.

“Come on, little bunny.” You glare now, and he chuckles in delight, as you stomp on over, gasping as he pulls you to his lap, one of his four hands on your thigh, the other brushing your hair back to reveal your bare shoulders. “Uraume, you did superb with these gowns.”

“I’m pleased you enjoy, my King.” Uraume now stands with the council, as Sukuna’s long dark nails press into the delicate silk of your gown, his hands are so huge he takes you over entirely, you’re so overwhelmed, but also…

You feel him pressing between your thighs, against your slick heat, and he leans close, lips against your ear. “Soaking wet in front of everyone? Slutty bunny.”

“Oh you-” You go to stand now, sure everyone can see your embarrassment, your flushed cheeks.

“Ah ah, I’m your husband, you’ll sit here on my throne with me, wife.” He sets you back down now, hands firmly holding you in place, against the strong, muscular thigh that is making you throb.

You remember last night vividly even moreso now, being pressed like this, he rests his stubborn chin on one of his tattooed hands now, bored expression on his face. “And you, what is it you wish to plead for?”

A nervous man comes up to the throne, trembling before the two of you, “M-my King, my wife, she’s been taken by the demons of the East, please, I beg for your help!”

“We’re too busy, mortal, go bother someone else with your woes, I’m busy with more important things.” He says, his hand now reaching up to grab your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point, and you realize he’s playing with your body’s reaction to his touch.

“My king… we should help.” You murmur, he leans forward, two of his eyes glinting angrily at you now.

“The bunny speaks?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, earning a raised brow. “Yes, the bunny speaks. Why am I here if not-”

“Insolent brat.” Sukuna sighs, cutting you off. “Not here.”

You nod then, realizing your folly, his hand is squeezing your hips so tightly, but it only makes you more intrigued, the duality of him. “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh thank you, thank-ah!” Sukuna has thrown him into a wall now, waving a hand and rolling all four of those eyes.

“Enough, out.” The man stumbles backwards, and Sukuna and you listen to the next few people, he seems to enjoy hurting them, finding great amusement, you wonder at his sadistic nature and big grin at it.

Suddenly a young girl comes and he does not treat her as such, he listens a bit more attentively now. He orders for help for her village, surprising you somewhat, but Sukuna did indeed protect those that had agreements with him, like your village for example. But the girl you notice he doesn’t fling for amusement, making you contemplate him a bit.

“What are you looking at, brat?” He says now, as you study him carefully, tilting your head.

“You’re rather sweet sometimes.” You tease, earning his anger.

“Sweet!?” He demands, and you suppress a giggle. “And you’re laughing at me? And here I am, being benevolent.”

“I apologize, my King, I don’t know what’s come over me.” He glares now, setting his jaw, and then suddenly an insane amount of energy pools right in one of his hands, he’s holding it up, a bright ball of dark purple and red, so intense the entire room stands still now. “My king…”

“Should I show you who I really am, brat? Since you find me amusing.” You shake your head then, feeling your body start to tremble, but not in fear of him, for fear of everyone in the room. “No? How about him first.”

“Stop!” You snatch his wrist then, to the gasps of everyone in the room, and the shocked look of the King himself, as you nullify his energy to nothing, little puffs of color is all that’s left. “I… I…” You’re gasping, opening your mouth and closing it over and over again, as the room is so silent you could hear the smallest pin drop.

Sukuna scowls at you now, and you know you’re in for it, whatever that was… what was that!?

“Uraume, see them all out. Now.” He orders, and they quickly obey, soon you’re left in a giant empty throne room with a furious king, their footsteps echoing through the halls, the giant doors slamming shut, and your heart races faster than ever before, alone with him.

You can feel his anger, his power, but there’s something else now, something new. His eyes are on you, the room spinning with his energy as he releases it, you can see it like a tornado of purple and red circling around him, but it’s not coming towards you, earning his anger as he stands, looming so big over you. You stand up, trembling but not backing down.

“What on Earth… what the fuck… you’re…”

You smile then. “Does this mean I’m more powerful-ah!”

“It means you’re an annoying little brat.” He says, grabbing you by your hair with one hand, another grabbing your ass, the energy dissipated.

“Why are you like this?” You ask, and he laughs, a low, deep, terrifying sound really, but it doesn’t scare you.

“Like what, bunny?”

“So powerful, yet so cruel. You could help so many but you choose to just watch and enjoy their suffering instead!”

“It’s the way of the world, my world.”

You step forward, his hand still firm in your hair, but the pain is noticeable, the pull of him drawing you closer. “So you enjoy this cruelty.”

“You mean to understand me? You just met me, bride.”

You slide your hands up his bare chest then, so much of the broad, muscular chest on display, the black lines running down it. “Will you let me actually get to know you?” You ask softly, he sighs then, something softening for a moment, before he’s back to a tense stance.

“I’ve never met anyone who could do that to me before. You’re a puzzle I want to solve, and I will solve you, one way or another.” He stands now, his robes sliding down his shoulders, his muscular chest bare, then you see him, naked, his two cocks already standing at attention, you gulp at them. He’s chuckling now.

“You think this scares me?” You ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking, his cocks are so thick, so long, veins wrapping them. You’ve never seen anything like it before, but you’re not scared, you’re more intrigued than anything. “I can handle you, King of Curses.”

“Oh really, brave little bunny?” He steps forward, the energy surrounding you like a cloak, yet you’re untouched, in fact… you enjoy it.

“You cannot hurt me. And you do not want to, do you?” You ask softly, his brows lower over narrowed eyes, as he steps closer, his hard cocks touching you through your robes now.

“Tch, you really think you’re a match for my power? You’ve barely seen any of it, any of me.”

“So show me then.” Your hand drifts down his rippled body, blushing as you remember the pleasure he brought.

“You dare challenge me, brat?” He whispers, and you just nod, and then Sukuna slams his lips against yours, kissing you, hard and brutal, and you kiss back just as fiercely. For your second real kiss with him, you catch on quickly, because you are craving him, more and more every moment.

His hands are everywhere, ripping your gown off, revealing your naked body to the room, his cocks pressing against your stomach when he pulls you back against him, hot and heavy. You moan into his mouth, feeling yourself getting wetter as his other hands grip your bare ass, squeezing and pressing you against him now, you’re crying out, head falling back.

“Here?” You whisper, looking around, and he grins.

“You’ll service me here, like a good girl.” And then he’s dropping you down onto his throne, his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down to sit, and his cocks are directly in front of your face. “All that talk, time to shut your bratty mouth, hmm?”

You look at him defiantly, hand grabbing the top cock, stroking up and down tentatively, he moans, and you relish in it, leaning forward, licking the sticky white substance at the tip of each cock, pooling in the slits. He wraps his hands in your hair, pulling hard, making you even wetter, his other two hands bracing on either side of the cold, hard throne, tummy clenching in desire.

“Which one will you service first?” He says with a wicked smirk, and you lean down and take one of his massive cocks into your mouth, sucking and licking like you’ve never done before, your hand reaching down to stroke the other one, feeling the heat, feeling him so hard.

Sukuna groans, his hand in your hair, guiding you as you suck and kiss and lick, his energy swirling around you like a storm, but instead of being afraid, it’s like it’s feeding you, filling you up, urging you on, as you now start to suck his other cock, looking up at him the entire time. He’s surprisingly gentle when it comes to his thrusts, not pushing too far, letting you sink your mouth on him.

You’re so wet and aching you whine now, vibrating around his cock, and he sucks in a breath, brushing your hair back. “Does my needy bunny need her cunt played with?”

“Please, my King.”

He scoffs, but his hips stutter, his hand grabbing your hair as you lap your tongue on him. “My king? I have a name.”

“S-Sukuna?”

“I have a name.” He says again, and you pull back from sucking, one of his hands grips your throat, squeezing now. “I could break you, bunny, like you’re nothing but a little doll. Use you for my pleasure.”

You’re shaking with need, somehow every damn thing he says and does just makes you want him more, this insane need that’s clawing through you, made worse when you taste more of his salty liquid dripping from his tips. “You could break me, do you want to, my King?”

“Sukuna. You are my wife, you may.” His voice is so soft, even as a tattooed hand is choking your throat.

“Are you sure?” You ask quietly.

“You question your husband, your King?” He demands, and you enjoy his name on your lips far too much.

“Sukuna.” He moans now, taking your hand and putting it between your thighs, you squeak, pulling it off, earning his laughter. “I cannot do that!”

“You can, and you will.”

You gasp at his audacity. “You have four hands!”

“Mmm, I do, but I want to see you do it. Come on, don't be shy, bunny, feel how wet you are sucking my cocks.” You touch yourself as one of his hands is urging your finger on, pressing it against your neglected clit, in little circles that feel far too good, his nails delicately pressing into your scalp as he shoves a cock back inside your mouth, you’re drooling all over his length, onto his other cock now.

He’s feeling your slick as he guides you, only serving to make his thrusts more insistent, there’s a hand guiding your clit, a hand on your breast, the two pulling your hair, taking you over entirely now your fingers are weak, slipping. He takes your limp fingers now, bending down to suck your juices off them. You’re gasping as he goes deeper, as you take more.

“Pathetic, can't you even touch yourself?” He taunts, you glare again, yanking your right hand back, sinking a finger into your slick heat, moaning at the stretch of it, and he falters then, staring at you, lust dilating his eyes, droopy as his mouth is wide open. “So needy you’ll finger yourself?”

“You talk overmuch.” He glares, shoving his cock further down your throat now, grunting as he fucks your throat, making your throb around your own fingertip, urging him on.

“Insolent girl.” He drags your mouth down to his other cock, before shoving both tips in your mouth, tears pour down your eyes, jaw locked open. “What can’t handle them both? All talk?”

You glare up at him under your lashes again, sucking harder, then you watch him, his head falling back, as your hand leaves your entrance, instead working both his cocks. He’s sucking in a breath, rippling muscles tensing, and that is when you see it, opening now…

A mouth on his stomach!?

You shriek, when it laps against your cheek. “What on…”

“Did you think those were all my tongues? Be good and I’ll let you ride it tonight.” He says, you bite your lip now, stroking his cocks with both of your hands. “And you want it so bad, don’t you slutty bunny?”

“I am not a bunny.” But you do find yourself insanely curious, he retracts it and allows you to finish sucking him, and he’s groaning then, huffing, jutting his hips as the tongues on his hands are lapping at your breasts.

“Fuck, sucking them better than any concubine, look at you.” He whispers, his other hands gripping your head. “Could crush you like this.” You’re crying out now, grinding on the leather plush of the seat below you. “Making a mess of my fucking throne, hmm… F=fuck…”

Sukuna shoves his thick cocks as deep as they can go in your open mouth, you’re gagging and crying, slobber and spit leaking everywhere out of your mouth now, body trembling with need as he’s thickening against your tongue, your cheeks hollow as you suck. Then he’s pulsing, and so much cum starts to pour inside, shocking you, the hot liquid coating your mouth, your tongue.

“Swallow it all, brat.” He orders softly, you gulp it all down, lapping at the tips of his cocks, sucking every bit, feeling his thighs tense under you, his body trembling from aftershocks, leaving you so needy you can’t take it. “Open.”

You do as your king and husband commands, his pastel pink hair is falling just so over his face as a hand wracks through it, spiking it up, and he sees you’ve swallowed it all. He moans now, caressing your cheek, leaning forward. “Did I please you, my king?” He gently smacks your cheek, but his hand is so huge and he’s so strong it stings.

“What was my name again, bunny?”

“Sukuna.” Your voice is hoarse, and Ryomen Sukuna exhales, thumb pressing on your lower lip.

“Open again.” You do as he says, only for him to spit saliva, dripping it into your mouth, shocking you, but you swallow obediently. “That’s a good bunny. One more thing…”

He flips you over now, making you sink to your knees. “What…”

“Clean that mess up.”

“No!” You glare up at him, he kneels down with you, two hands on your breasts, tongues lapping all over you, his free two hands on your waist, pressing you towards the slick on his throne. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it, slutty little virgin. Go ahead, lick it, if you want me to get you to cum at all. Or I’ll leave you, just like this.” You shake your head, and he grabs your hair, wrapping it around a fist, as your nipples perk up, sensitive and aching, your body covered in goosebumps. “Don’t you want to cum later? All over me?”

“N-no… ah!” Sukuna sinks two thick, long fingers in your cunt then, filling you for the first time, you scream out, walls fluttering around him, dripping down his hands, earning his satisfied groan. “Your nails!? I… ah!”

“You think I’d cut your perfect little cunt?” He laughs now, yanking his fingers out, the nails temporarily gone, only to shoot back out, as his teeth are biting your nipples, you’re a sloppy, drippy mess in front of him. “Lick it, and I’ll come please you in your chambers tonight.”

“You’re even more cruel than they know.” You say, he just laughs now, shoving your head forward, you barely lap it up with a tip of your tongue, to his amused laughter, and you look back and glare.

“You really did it!” He’s holding his stomach in laughter, and now you stand, shoving at him as he’s at level with your tummy, he keeps laughing now as you feel tears prick your eyes.

“Don’t bother coming to my chambers.” You say through tears, overstimulated, humiliated, and suddenly as you’re grabbing your robe he grabs you, yanking you against him. “Leave me alone, go… get a concubine to amuse you.”

Sukuna’s face drops then, as you slip on your robes hastily, he grabs your waist, you try to wriggle free to no avail. “I did not… you…”

“Leave me be.” You’re sobbing now, you don’t know what’s overtaken you, but instead of mocking you further he pulls you close, letting you cry against his chest, holding you with all arms. “Don’t touch m-me.”

“Sad little bunny. Sensitive little brat.” He sighs, stroking your hair now, it feels far too good.

“Are you comforting me?”

He huffs. “No!”

“No?” You look up through watery eyes, Sukuna’s jaw sets now.

“No. Just… it gives me a very irritating feeling when you cry, I do not enjoy that feeling, so I order you to stop.” You shake your head in confusion, hiccuping through your tears. “I said stop, brat.”

“I c-can’t… I want you… and you…”

“Shut your mouth.” He slams his lips on yours, lifting you up like you’re nothing, kissing you over and over. “It was a joke. Do not cry again.”

“I can’t make promises.” He swipes your cheeks with his thumbs, kissing your cheeks now, tasting your salty tears. “You were mean to me.”

He sighs now, brushing the rough pads of his thumbs on your cheeks. “I’ll have to baby you, hmm? Stupid baby.”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, turning, but he brings your back against him, bending low to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll be in your chambers tonight. Understood?” Your heart starts faltering now, you manage a little nod, and he sighs, holding you so tightly you can’t breathe for a moment, but you relish being in his arms, resting your head against him. “You’re using whatever powers you have over me.”

“I do not even know what my powers are!”

“Hmph. Go.” He kisses your neck and then shoos you away, but you’re pouting. “Do not use those eyes on me.”

“What eyes?” You ask, curiously.

“Do not act so… just… I’ll please you tonight, I have business to attend to. Out.” You bite your lip nervously, pulse thrumming in your ears now, you glare one more time at him, making him run a hand across his face, now back in his robes. “Do I need to shove both my cocks in both your holes right now?”

Your mind whirls at that, as you blink rapidly. “Both my-”

“Out.” You stomp away now, he almost laughs at how adorable you are, but he’s too fucking confused. And luckily you are missing the look of confusion and longing on Sukuna’s face, as he wonders just what are you and why can he not stand your tears when he massacres people!? What sort of damn magic do you possess?

How can the King of curses be so entranced by some little brat!?

He hates the fact that he’d do anything to put a smile on your face after upsetting you.

*****

There is a knock on your door as your maid prepares you for dinner with the King, you’re still so confused by him, so angry at what he thought was amusing, and wonder why you are so desperate for him. Just yesterday you had no clue what pleasure was, now he’s left your body on edge, you’re so eager for him again, he hadn’t barely even touched you.

You shiver just thinking of those fingers sinking into you, how they glistened when he yanked them out, dripping down his long nails. He’d hidden those nails not to hurt you, he cared when you cried… there was more to him then he let on, surely, more to this cursed sorcerer.

You want to know more.

Uraume comes now, holding a delicate white box, opening it and revealing a breathtaking gold and diamond necklace. “What is this!?”

“The King asks that you wear this tonight.” Uraume says, your hands tremble just so, it’s already so opulent living here, but the way it glitters under the soft lights pouring through your window.

“It’s too beautiful.” You whisper.

“King Sukuna has ordered it. Shall I put it on you?” They ask, you nod eagerly, looking in the mirror as Uraume comes behind you, placing the necklace on your throat as you lift your hair out of the way.

“Thank you, it’s so lovely, I adore it.” You touch it gently, one of the many baubles along your collarbone now.

“Do not thank me, it’s the King.”

“Uraume… tell me. Do you… is he… the King is…”

Uraume tilts their head. “My Queen?”

“Do you find the King to be… kind?”

“Kind… hmm. I suppose he can be at times. He is indeed the most powerful. Why do you ask?” Uraume helps finish your hair, taking over for the maid.

“I find him very interesting.” Uraume lets out a little smile that you don’t see.

“I see. Let us go, he does not like to wait.” You follow them now, and are led to the dining hall, where there’s a plethora of food, and instead of your seat on the opposite end as is done, he has it pulled next to him. One of the servants pulls out a seat now, but Sukuna yanks you on his lap.

You gasp, clinging to his neck for stability, muscled, thick and veiny, making you heat up as you think of all of him. He fingers the necklace curiously, tilting his head as one hand holds you down on him, another lifting a fork and stabbing a bite of food, guiding it to your mouth.

“Open.” You do as he says, Sukuna puts a morsel on your mouth. “Chew it up, you’ll need your strength.”

“Strength for?”

He grins now, shifting you on his lap, to where his cocks are pressing against your ass, you feel so tiny on him, his huge body overtaking you, arms all barring you against the dining room table. “Strength for me making you break under me.”

“I… um…” You look up at him, he’s shoving another bite into your mouth, you gasp when he slides a hand up your inner thigh.

“My feisty little bunny has nothing to say?” He taunts, but you truly can’t think, eyes fluttering, moaning when he slides another bite into your mouth, something sweet that bursts as you chew.

“Yummy.” You finally speak, and he sighs, fingers now running under the gems that decorate your chest now, exhaling, holding you just a little tighter, his embrace is addicting, everything about him draws you in, when it should scare you. But as you brush your hand on his face and he tenses, scowling.

“Will you… do that… thing, human?”

“What thing my King?” You ask, and he squishes your cheeks, pressing your lips up on either side, ruby eyes glinting under the chandeliers that hang. “Smile?”

“That. It’s an order.” You giggle then, you can’t help it, Sukuna exhales as he sees you, watches you smile, lighting up your face.

“Is that adequate, my King?” You tease, he is cupping your face tenderly, your heart starts racing, pounding in your chest as you turn toward him, straddling him carefully, leaning close. His hands tense, and you could swear they tremble just a bit, this huge monster of a man, weak for you. “I quite like you, when not being so nasty and cruel.”

“You like me?” He grabs your hips, pulling you against him, until his cocks are pressed on your heat. Your head falls back, a moan escaping, he starts nipping at your breasts harshly with his teeth, leaving bite marks, wet spots glistening. “You’re a foolish girl, perfect prey.”

“I think you like me too.” You grind against him now, fuck it feels good, your neglected clit begging for more. He grips you tightly then, shoving things aside to lay you on the dining table, you take up such a small part of it, laying there so pretty for him, your robes falling apart, revealing your soft skin.

“You’re an impetuous, annoying creature. Have you no sense of self preservation?” He slips his hands up your thighs as they tremble, sliding the silk up your legs, baring you to him, he audibly groans when he sees your cunt again. “Already wet, too?”

“You promised, you know.” You arch your hips up, pouting, and he laughs at you, undoing his robe, you gasp out when his tongue opens from his abdomen, stretching the skin, lapping your pussy up completely, so huge and hot and wet. “Ngh!”

He pulls his tongue back, laying over you, barring you with two strong arms, as the others hold your thighs apart. He leans down so close, and all you ache to do is kiss him more, he’s intimidating, gigantic, he has his stomach licking at you, but you keep thinking how his full lips would feel, smirking on your own. Your hands reach up and you pull at his hair.

“Excuse me, brat.” He swats your hands, and you pout again, earning all four eyes rolling. “Don’t give me that look. Ah, I like that expression, stupid fucked out face.” You’re helpless, when a hand grips your wrists, slamming your bound hands above your head, and his tongue is working between your folds. “Taste s’good on all my mouths.”

“S-Suk-ah!” He’s grinning now, sharp white canines glinting as his tongue slips inside your entrance, it’s so thick your walls are stretched, as he devours you on the dining room table, right next to the dinner that’s falling and clattering to the floor. “M’gonna… gonna…”

“That’s it, let me drink you, bunny.” He leans so close, but he won’t kiss you, he is drinking up all your soaking wet arousal, that starts gushing when he reaches a hand down, pinching your clit as his tongue fucks deeper, only for the tongue on his hand to now flick over your clit.

It’s all too much, your orgasm pours over you until you’re blinded, all while your husband, the king, is grinning, watching you avidly, as drool seeps from your mouth, while you’re shaking, struggling to close your legs, but he doesn’t let you. Your eyes roll back as your cunt throbs around his stomach tongue, and he’s lapping every bit of it from you.

“Please… please…” You whine now, he laughs as he watches.

“Pathetic, look at you. Pathetic, puny little bunny. Please what? Greedy thing, need to keep cumming?” He lets his tongue slide back in his abdomen, but now he’s sinking two fingers in you, pressing on that spot, you whine out, tears falling from pleasure.

“Please… k-kiss me.”

“Kiss you? You’re so odd, you know that?” You scowl, struggling to release your wrists, breasts slipping out of the robe, much to his pleasure and delight, he bends down and sucks on one, sharp teeth biting it, as his cocks press on your tummy.

“Kiss me, w-want it.”

“Demanding little…”

You free your wrists then, much to his surprise, yanking on his hair now, dragging his mouth to yours. He hesitates, but then passionately kisses you, brutal and rough, bruising your lips with his bites, with the force. You wrap your thighs around his thick hips now, rolling up for more and more.

He pulls back for a breath, fingers back in, pumping you so good, you’re cumming again, getting weak from pleasure, soaking his hand, soaking the table, you hear the sound of it, the squishing, your moans echoing in the chamber. You’re sure everyone in the damn castle can hear, but you really don’t care, you’re crying out so much your voice breaks.

“M’ready.” You whine now, reaching down, stroking him, he groans as you do, as he’s straining so hard.

“You’d lose your innocence on a table?” You’re blinking sleepily now, as the third orgasm hits, and you almost lose consciousness, it’s too much, his tongues all over, his hands everywhere, fingers in your cunt, fingers around your throat. Hands on hips, hands on your thighs, tongues lapping you every inch they find. “Slutty, sleepy brat. You will not sleep on me.”

“M’not… sleeping… c-can take it. Want it.” You’re a mess now, as he looks down at you, you’re so fucked out your eyes are fluttering to stay open, you’re covered in marks from his hands, from his mouth. Your pretty face has streaks of tears and drool that’s pooling out the side of it.

He should fuck you now, you’re pliant and ready, but you’re also exhausted and weak, still a human despite whatever energy you have. You’re lazily kissing him, why does he enjoy those kisses this much!? It's not something he even did, but with you… he can’t stand how good your lips feel. He felt horrible all day for hurting your feelings earlier.

Him, wanting a human to smile.

You have wetness glistening on your puffy cunt, glittering with your cum and his saliva, he can taste you everywhere, you’re all over, your scent, your face in his visions every time he blinks. It’s been two days but he’s finding himself obsessed, he wants more and more of you, so much so he can’t focus. You’re getting weaker in his arms, clearly the orgasms have taken their toll.

“You will rest for tomorrow, then your slutty cunt can have my cocks, is that understood? I will not deal with this weakness.” He says, and you giggle, the sound far too good to his ears, you’re grinning even, which is so pretty… and insolent. “You laugh at me? Want a demonstration of punishment for such a thing?”

“S-sorry. I feel s’good.” You’re clearly cockdrunk, and he hasn’t even gotten to slide a cock in you yet. He can’t stop the annoying affection from starting.

“To bed.” He hoists you up now, carrying you, and you snuggle to him, he’s so warm and he feels so good. He’s carrying you up the stairs, and you want more of him, more of this fucking amazing feeling, but you can barely function, eyes heavy, fading in and out. Soon you feel it, the softness of your bed. “Annoying brat.”

“C’mere.” You pull on him, of course he doesn’t budge, he’s pure muscle, but he lets you pull him close, you cup his face, yawning.

“You insolent-”

“Sorry!” You kiss him again, fuck you enjoy it. “I don’t want to displease you… I know we should consummate… I wanna be with you in…”

“Just go to sleep. You don’t displease me, just annoy me.” He says, surprisingly soft, and you look at him curiously, taking in his face as it’s above yours.

“Will you stay in bed with me tonight?” You ask, pleadingly, he sighs, jaw locking now.

“You’re so needy and endlessly aggravating. I have more to do, I cannot just sleep because you’re cock drunk.”

“Cock drunk! Ugh. Fine then.” You sigh, turning over, and when you feel a blanket cover you, you can’t stop the smile on your face. “Will you lay with me for a bit?”

“No, brat.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Go to bed. Now.” You giggle again, and hear his annoyed sigh as he walks out for the night, leaving you to snuggle, still smelling him, feeling him everywhere.

You just want more of him.

taglist Sukuna- @mistygrovesarchive @mima0127 @janrcrosssing @thejujvtsupost @clp-84 @makingtimemine @silvarys @after-laughter-come-tears @vantedaes @liivzen @just-lilita @jdevilmadness @lixern @spaceeyhem @thisisew @bozos-r-us @zwr1tx @slootbear @pamemoonlight @xxyaoi-nationxx @jschlattsgff @alessdramawouldbenice @sukunasfavgroupie @1emma1 @nanamjai @1-800-blues-clues @watashiwasohidesu @vynwan-cbq @mouseyboo @imbacklovie @cyberket @chuuminn @diannana @hanham10 @arilxup88 @urgirlraven @sillymortalblob @yv-ania

part three>>>

#sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #ryomen x you #jjk ryomen #true form sukuna

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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago

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simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.

he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.

he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.

he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.

you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.

he looks one clown short of a circus.

he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)

possessive, obsessive, paranoid.

he'll kill you if you try to leave him.

simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.

his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.

simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.

unsung heroes.

and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.

simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.

there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.

you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.

you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.

you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.

you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.

your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.

"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-

how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.

it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.

the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.

his little hero.

you took him home, so now he takes you to his.

(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader

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navybrat817 · 4 months ago

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Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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