#Double Third Festival | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitten4sannie · 9 days

Text

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve.

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place.

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.”

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.”

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?”

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.”

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.”

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over.

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side.

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks.

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum.

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear.

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip.

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez x reader #san smut #san x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung smut #yunho smut #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #kpop smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut

1K notes · View notes

buildoblivionthenwewilltalk · 10 months

Text

ah yes the greatest events of the 21st century - the double impeachment of the 44th POTUS, climate change, a 2017 music festival, the third studio album by American rock band My Chemical Romance. Released in Europe on October 20, 2006, through Reprise Records, it was produced by the band with Rob Cavallo, known for having produced multiple albums for the Goo Goo Dolls and Green Day. It is a rock opera centering on -

#so true besties #fob #fall out boy #mcr #my chemical romance #it’s a good cover too!

1K notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 months

Text

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.

A327. That was the room John apparently was in.

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.

324. 325. 326.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”.

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?”

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

272 notes · View notes

veronicaphoenix · 3 months

Text

Things take an unexpected turn when reader spends one night with Oliver. Noah, with whom she’s always had a good friendship that crossed the boundaries of “just friends” more frequently than often, finds out, and his reaction is far from delighted. However, a heated argument makes him realize his selfish tendencies toward her, and maybe it’s time he gives her what she wants, what she craves, even if it means having to share her with another man.

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits. | Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes. | Upcoming two-part work (Update: it’s a 4 part work now). +18.

Words: 6.5k (so far)

Tags & TW: set in the UK, friends to lovers, jealous!noah, unresolved feelings, well-mannered boys who are into kinky shit, threesome, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v, anal sex, double penetration, slight bondage, praise kink.

Snippet:

I had known Oliver for quite a few years now.

Noah, on the other hand, was meeting him only for the third time. The first had been back in the States, where they were introduced to each other at some festival, and later when Oliver pitched the idea of Bad Omens supporting his band in their UK tour. There had been many phone and FaceTime calls in between, giving way to a more solid friendship fueled by mutual interests and a distinct passion for music. Now it seemed they had one more thing in common: the girl they fucked.

And here I was, planning on buying some sexy lingerie because they had come up with the idea of having a threesome, and I had said yes.

Fuck.

READ PART ONE HERE

266 notes · View notes

joelletwo · 2 months

Text

reading thru the The Final utsuro fight visuals with the vocabulary i gained while liveblogging gintama

[VD: the section of the fight that has gintoki and utsuro-in-takasugi's-body slide through reanimated flashbacks to past scenes of the series that cast them as past versions of themselves, shouyou, and takasugi]

bc the maths is insanes

the initial flashback is to their immediately previous silver soul fight - the casting of the conflict as unending, progressless, in utsuro's favor. have either of them appreciably changed since then? is anything different? what is initially an incomplete brief flash - with utsuro still inhabiting takasugi - solidifies when he regresses to his original body and begins to more effectively counter gintoki. utsuro remains on the right throughout.

direct cut from there pulled further back in time to gintoki's immediately previous fight with takasugi's body in shogun assassination - takasugi on the right, giving utsuro in his body the power of Unconscionable Violence (senseless, gleeful, and knowing you well enough to perpetrate it) (joelletwo tags on squeaky toy video, 2023, repeated endlessly every day since)

but it's mutual - gintoki also knows you well enough to turn the tables and get the upper hand back

(not that this meaningfully stops you for long).

direct cut from there slightly forward in time to gintoki's first fight with utsuro in the immediately following farewell shinsengumi, where the revelations overwhelm him and reduce him to being fueled by the pure instinctual anger of The Demonic, a state of losing yourself and your ability to fight effectively (reductionisms, 2023),

conditions where it's all you can do to hold out against an enemy that represents something so big in your psyche,

which he knows about, since he's been that for you before. back in time again to the first (onscreen) takasugi confrontation, right before taking advantage of your precarious mental state to punch you out of the plotline (kraniumet tags on yamameta post addition, 2022)

but utsuro keeps a vice grip on control of the story, surfacing back into the present to stop and reverse his fall mid-air so he can stay anchored in the battle with gintoki,

meaning he remains vulnerable to the weaknesses of the body he's in, which only ever exists anymore in one memory - you're unable to move, only to witness. a third figure is introduced, who is more you than you here, while gintoki remains himself.

the you more you than you accepts death while you watch it approach with helpless despair and terror.

the collapse of utsuro back into the body he inhabits in present invites a re-examining of the series of flashbacks thus far - where the perspective of who controls the focal memory seems to flip from utsuro to gintoki back to utsuro here, does it? the farewell shins->festival transition is 1:1 substitutional, working out so that utsuro-as-takasugi winds back up on the right.

but it isn't utsuro borrowing a strength of his like Violence here - it's, just like in the execution, succumbing to one of his weaknesses. flipping between the two scenes, takasugi's derailing fear of gintoki as a figure becomes gintoki's of utsuro. there's a double elision of takasugi (missing from farewell shins due to his fight with gintoki) so that utsuro becomes both gintokis - making him both the one who looms large, and the one who is destabilized by.

gintoki signifies something huge to utsuro, after all.

he takes up the role he had back then, the one you assigned him from the start, because half of his time always exists in that one moment now as well.

being the one who acts on the story and moves it forward, brings it to an end.

the regression through history continues to child against unbeatable teacher, again the question of if either of you has grown since you met. gintoki becomes the underdog challenger on the right.

the refusal to give up an unwinnable fight, no matter how many times it's tried, the even-back-then way that gintoki becomes a shouyou figure for others, fluidly shifts you forward in time.

the reverse shot, the perspective flip - the identity lines cross.

he drags you through time with him, until you're someone he knows how to beat.

(because, again, you know each other so well as to be losslessly interchangeable, for two opposing souls in the process of finding themselves - conquering themselves - to become indivisible.) (reductionisms translation, 2024) (yamameta ouroboros poem, 2023)

and even when you win - earn by ceaseless trial and effort the right to play his trick back on him and dethrone/defang him by pushing him literally out of frame - ...

he learns from you as well and pulls himself back in by your anchor.

#gintama #sopping wet gintoki posting #undescribed #borrowing the power of gay love to beat ur dad......................... i guess #the kind of thing i could ramble on abt for 5 million words trying to untangle everything i think about. the connections here..............#but i limit myself kjsdfg so i can come back and use this as a reference for my own confusion lol. this sequence. makes me ILL #videos

65 notes · View notes

writer-of-the-lamb · 4 months

Text

narilamb caught by shamura - oneshot

as the seemingly wisest, i wonder how they'd react to their brother marrying the thing that dethroned them.

----

Shamura groaned, dumping piles of berry seeds onto a dirt hole, stamping them in with their foot. Ignoring the disgusted gaze of a follower beside them, they watered the mess and brushed their hands off, scowling.

"This is foul." they muttered to the atmosphere, shuffling over to the cult kitchen.

It had only been 2 days since they were dethroned, but Shamura was already over it.

They missed silk cradle, they missed power, fame, knowlegde.

Most of all they missed not having to hear their own brothers rant about how lovely this life was.

Kallamar would pull them aside, beaming about how the lamb had made some infernal crystal decor for him to feel "at home". Repulsion was the nicest word to describe Shamura's thoughts on it.

Leshy was worse - he was dethroned first, being there the longest. He would laugh and laugh about how the lamb was so funny and so welcoming. Wasn't it nice he let him tend the cammelia farm because he was familiar with them?

No.

It was pathetic.

This damned bundle of wool had taken over everyone - even Heket, for god's sake, was snickering along with the lamb whenever he gave a certain mushroom to a dissenter.

Shamura felt like the only sane one in this whole cult. They called them a skeptic, a heretic, even. Shamura felt like they were sitting in some kind of playpen, where everyone blindly listened to some sheep and lived a mundane life.

2 days and they were practically ready to dissent themself.

Frowning, Shamura wondered where exactly the lamb was now; it wasn't like he was patrolling around like usual - if you could even call it patrolling - it was more like a prance.

Their eyes all wandered over to the temple. The vine covered red builing, standing alone in the corner of the cult, surrounded by tabernacles and little flower patches they were certain Leshy found delight in.

Shamura shuffled along to the temple, peeking in through the huge double doors.

A-ha.

The lamb sat atop the alter, kicking his feet and chattering to some figure beside him. Shamura tiled their head, allowing a few eyes to peer in further.

A-ha again.

Narinder, the worst of all siblings they'd had, was standing next to the lamb, taking in his word like he was actually intrested.

A clever plan, Shamura thought. They knew Narinder, and they knew he must have some kind of plan to take that crown again and get them all out of this unholy hellscape.

Shamura watched eagerly as the lamb tugged on his robes as if to adjust them. Narinder moved forward, mumbling something and reaching for the collar.

'Yes!' Shamura thought, 'Now choke the thing and take him out.'

Narinder smoothed the lamb's robes and....

and......

All of Shamura's 8 eyes widened in such a horror you'd think they'd pop out of their head.

Narinder, their Narinder, gave the filthy lamb a kiss.

He kissed him.

In fact, they were still kissing.

Torn between killing themselves and turning blind eyes, Shamura went for a third option and burst through the door.

Narinder pulled away, coughing. The lamb fell off of the alter to the floor with a thud and a small, "Ow!"

"Shamura." Narinder began, arms behind his back.

"Narinder." They replied, watching the lamb pathetically pick himself up and give them a stupid wave. They thought of something, anything, to say, but nothing came.

Shamura exhaled, slowly. "I think...I would like to die. Very badly."

Before Narinder could reply, the lamb gasped. "I do need a sacrifice. Festivals are coming up and I'm too invested in Amdusias' drama with Eligos to kill them..." he mumbled, turning to Narinder.

Shamura's multiple eyes twitched. "I would rather be suffocated in my own web than be sacrificed by a lamb, let alone you." The lamb gasped again, this time in outrage. "Excuse me." he sneered, "You watch it, spider."

Shamura grimaced. "Narinder. Tell it to stop addressing me like that."

Narinder looked between the two, groaning. "Lamb may address you how he pleases.....he's the leader, or whatever..."

"You call it Lamb?" Shamura writhed in disgust.

The lamb chuckled. "He calls me worse than lamb, I'll tell ya that, hone-"

Narinder clamped a hand over the lamb's mouth, sighing.

"Things are different to how they once were." he said simply, embarrassed.

"You are fraternising with your own vessel-" "He's not my 'vessel'."

"Ohh, what is he then?" Shamura seethed, "A plaything?"

Narinder cringed. "Ah, well...."

A pause.

The lamb looked expectantly to him.

"He is....The lamb is my...husband."

Shamura felt a prescence behind them. Multiple followers were cued up in a patient line.

"Oh, come on in gang! Sermon time!" The lamb chirped, ignoring Shamura, who was stunned into silence as followers walked around them.

Leshy poked their shoulder. "You feel stiff." he said, tilting his head.

"Do not touch me."

"Oh! Shamura." he mumbled, spinning around to face the wall. "...so where's Heket?...."

Shamura, with a lack of anything better to do, walked deeper into the temple, face dull and void in sheer incomprehension that their brother was married to that...thing.

"What's wrong?" Kallamar asked from beside them, clutching some kind of crystal trinket.

"I have been made aware Narinder is....associating with it."

"Oh, lamb? Yeah they've been married for ages. I think you're the last to know.."

Shamura's hand gingerly touched their bandaged forehead.

"How is my mind no longer with me, but I still manage to lose it."

#cotl #shamura #leshy #heket #kallamar #narinder #lamb #cult of the lamb #narilamb #i love them sm

74 notes · View notes

inklore · 1 year

Text

premise: going away for the holidays to a secluded cabin just the three of you is the best christmas gift you could have asked for this year. the festivities perfect and joyful, and in abundance thanks to the two men more than willing to give and spoil you in more than just pretty wrapped presents.

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader x jake ‘hangman’ seresin

word count: 3.3k+

warnings: established poly relationship, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, m and f receiving oral, come eating, creampie, fluffy christmas shenanigans, rooster and hangman be smoochin, banter, light!rough sex, biting and marking, spitting, a hint of degradation.

note: the title has a double meaning so if you know you know, but tis the season for being a whore. i didn’t want this to be too lengthy and writing threesomes makes my brain hurt so it’s a bit fast paced.

The cheesy Christmas movie that Rooster had chosen fills the small cabin living room with the perfect ambiance for your last night of being secluded; tucked away and sandwiched between the two men. Even with Jake’s grumbles around a handful of popcorn on how cheesy said cheesy movie is, it does little to dampen the feeling of warmth in your veins.

The three of you had decided to spend the holidays together this year. With Mav busy with Penny and Jake and his father constantly at odds, neither of the two men had anywhere else to be. And the thought of you being anywhere else but here, with them just didn’t make sense to you.

Your families hadn’t been clued in on your relationship. Your family having zero insist on the fact that you had not just one boyfriend but two. Jake’s knowing he had a girlfriend, but not a boyfriend as well. Mav knew about you and Rooster, and you were pretty sure he knew about Jake to—the three of you getting caught in a weird lip lock in his garage last New Year’s eve, leading to an awkward stare down and Mav putting his hands up declaring “I don’t want to know” and walking away.

So spending Christmas with just the three of you was barely a suggestion.

“Are you sure?” You had asked Jake, knowing full well how important a family gathering was to his mother—despite the butting of heads between him and his father.

“I’m already packed!”

“What?”

“I asked him last night and before I could even begin to give him the game plan he was pulling the luggage out.” Rooster had explained, rolling his eyes at the memory.

“But your family–”

“Is right here,” Hangman grinned, that one grin that either made you want to smack him or kiss him. Pulling the two of you into his chest in a bear hug.

“The man falls in love and suddenly he goes all Hallmark.”

The three of you had rented a cabin in Lake Tahoe. Two weeks spent with the two men beside you bickering and making you—and each other—come, and reminding you why you fell in love with them.

Jake insisting that a real tree is all that will do on the third day, when the three of you finally pulled yourselves out of the bedroom. Making you and Bradley bundle up and trek through the forest to find the perfect tree.

“They make lots for this type of thing. Still just as picture-perfect!”

“Yeah! And they have hot chocolate there!” You whine as you grab onto Rooster’s wrist to climb over a big rock. Praying your boots didn’t slip and send you pummeling face-first into the snow.

“That’s not the spirit.” Jake turns and gives you two a stern look, “we came out here for an authentic Christmas, didn’t we?”

“I don’t remember the word authentic being thrown around.”

“It’s not Christmas if it’s not authentic!” He throws his hands in the air, “I refuse to smell plastic. We are getting a real tree.” He grumbles, turning and continuing the trek through the woods, “if the two of you don’t stop complaining I’m going to tie you up with the Christmas lights when we get back.”

“Well when you put it like that,” you and Rooster send each other a cheeky smirk. Laughing when Hangman gives a deep sigh and continues ahead.

When the three of you—Jake—finally do come across the perfect tree it’s entertaining to watch him and Bradley chop it down. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend most of the time staring at their biceps that showed through the long sleeves of their sweaters. Or how absolutely rugged it was to watch them do such a task; a heat spreading across your skin, making you start to sweat under your jacket.

And once the tree had been brought back to the house and set up—after a bag of popcorn had been made for the garland, fruit kindly left by the owners of the cabin baked and dried as ornaments, and the two dollar lights you got from the small convenient store up the road: you understood why Jake had made such a fuss. How a fake tree couldn’t give you the same tingly feeling and joy of trying not to choke on the sap and pine smell. The process of putting your creations on the branches, and taking it all in really was perfect.

You still refused to go on any more woodland adventures though.

The rest of the weeks had been spent either spread out under the sheets, entangled limbs, Christmas movies playing in the background while you feasted on takeout, and dinners made by Rooster. A snowball fight that turned into the boys making out in the show and you snapping photos of the incriminating evidence, in which the two chased you down for. Thus leading to snow angels and Hangman perfecting the art of snowman building.

“Do you even get snow in Texas? How are you so good at this?”

“It’s all about your hands, Rooster my boy. Good hands form the perfect ratio of snow to ball. The perfect weight for each clump.”

“That…makes absolutely no sense.”

And yet he makes the best snowman you’ve ever seen in your life.

When it comes to baking cookies though: Jake does not perfect it.

Icing covers his hairline as he runs a frustrated hand across his forehead. The green icing stains his skin, the deadly scowl he’s giving the mess of a tree-shaped cookie making you laugh.

Unlike Bradley who seems to have mastered the art of icing.

“You're doing it too fast.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know all about slow and steady. But that rarely wins the race,” he gives Rooster a smirk, making the other throw a dollop of frosting at him. Which then turns into the three of you ruining your shirts with red and green icing.

“I like this much better,” Jake smirks as he licks a smear of frosting from your neckline, making you gasp softly.

One thing Jake does seem to be good at—so he claims—is making hot chocolate. An old family recipe he had told the two of you, as he climbed off of your chest and placed a kiss to your forehead. Declaring the three of you needed some old-fashioned refreshments to replenish. Cocoa being that refreshment.

His absence turning worrisome when he’s gone for over an hour. The blaring of Christmas music coming from the kitchen that wafted into the open door of the bedroom, the only clarification that he was okay. But that didn’t stop you and Bradley from climbing out of bed and going to the kitchen—did hot chocolate take hours to make?

Finding Jake adorning a ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron and swinging his hips to Last Christmas, as he poured half a bottle of peppermint vodka into a pan of hot chocolate.

“Old family recipe, huh?” Rooster looks over his shoulder at the concoction he’s stirring up.

“Your mother gave you liquor as a child?”

“Hey! I don’t rag on your family traditions.”

“Everything about you is starting to make sense now.”

But when you try it it’s better than you expected—or maybe there was too much liquor in the mix to really differentiate if it was good or not. Because after three gulps you felt like your head was spinning and the three of you were screaming along to Christmas songs at the tops of your lungs.

On Christmas Eve Rooster, usually as cool as a cucumber, radiates on-edge-excitement. So much so that he almost lets it spill what the two boys got you. Making Hangman groan in frustration—acting as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks begging for hints of what you got him, and snooping.

So you decide to throw them both a pitying bone and open presents early. Jake acting like a kid who got everything he asked from Santa, and Bradley rendered silent at the sentimental gift you and Jake put together in honor of his parents.

The silver necklace the two got you with the initials ‘R’ and ‘H’ hanging from it lays perfectly against your chest, as you bring another handful of popcorn to your mouth. Smiling at the chuckles that jostle your body as Rooster laughs at the cheesy movie; the perfect way to spend your last night together.

“Get everything you wanted for Christmas?” Jake asks, palm coming to rest on top of your thigh as his thumb rubs slow, gentle circles on your exposed skin. Having lost interest in the movie entirely. His cheek resting on the back cushion of the couch as he looks over at you.

You let out a soft content hum as you nod, turning your face to his with a smile on your lips. “What else could I want,” your stomach does a little swoop when you see his mouth spread into a smile. His fingers now join in the gentle massaging of your thigh—that moves into your inner thigh.

“An orgasm is a good gift.” He rebuttals, his sweet smile turning into something teasing. A playful roll of your eyes has you turning back to the tv. His way of turning everything filthy—which you’re not complaining about—is no shock to you at this stage in your relationship.

“The gift that keeps giving.” Bradley decides to interject.

“Exactly!”

“The two of you are insatiable.” You try not to laugh as both their attentions are now turned on you. The movie now forgotten by the person who wanted to watch it in the first place.

“Yeah,” Rooster confirms your statement. Nose pressed into your cheek as he trails light kisses down your jaw, to the top of your neck, “but that’s why you love us.”

“You’d be so sexually frustrated without us,” Jake teases. A gasp leaves your lungs when his trailing hand comes to the outside of your shorts, his index finger running along your clothed slit. Before he pulls your thighs apart to give himself better access to you.

You have no rebuttals. No arguments because his statement is completely correct. You couldn’t imagine a time before them when you’d experienced sexual enlightenment—or were given several orgasms in a row to the point where your legs lost their functions.

And with some maneuvering, clothes thrown throughout the living room, movie long forgotten, popcorn littering the floor: your naked body is pressed into the cushions of the couch as Jake lays between your legs, mouth attached to your clit, and Rooster running his teeth and tongue from the outside of your thigh to your chest, where he latches his mouth around one of your nipples.

“Doesn’t his mouth feel good, baby?” Rooster mumbles against your skin, leaving patches of wet marks of his saliva across your chest as he switches between your nipples. Love bites marring up the skin on the peaks your boobs, the hand at the base of your throat wraps around to cradle your neck in his palm. Pulling your head up from the cushion, “look at him.” It’s a soft demand, that comes out more of a want—a need to see you look down at Jake as he devours your pussy, at how pretty he looks with something in his mouth. Bradley watches the heat in your cheeks grow, the blown-out ecstasy of lust dilating your pupils; getting off on the attraction you have for the other.

Your fingers tangle themselves into Hangman’s hair. A fistful of blonde between your fingers, “fuck his tongue.” The brunette instructs. Where he loved to watch, loved to bask in the affection and need the three of you shared: the other loved to be used for what he was good at. And you loved providing both of those things for your boys while they pulled you apart, and put you back together. Dragging out your pleasure until all three of you couldn’t take much more of the torture.

With a soft grip on his hair, your eyes locked on his, you grind your hips against Jake’s face. The drag of his tongue along your wetness—the tip of his nose and tongue pushing on your clit just right—your head tries to tip back as you moan. Rooster’s hand on your neck not allowing you to go far. The breath from your lungs coming shallower, dying in your throat, as you get closer and closer to coming.

There are words you want to cry out. To say to both of them but it feels too good. Too good for you to keep your eyes open, too good to form any coherent thought other than Jake’s too fucking good at this—and Bradley is too much of a tease with his words, teeth too intense on your nipple.

And when you’re coming you can’t even declare so. Can’t scream or cry a single word because all air is leaving your lungs, your body trembling as your thighs close in on Hangman’s head. A sonorous moan pulled from the back of your throat.

They only let you rest for a minute—seconds—before you feel two sets of lips kissing along your body, fingertips following in their trail. Meeting at your midsection, colliding together in a rough-hungry kiss. One that makes the tremors shaking through your body sizzle out into that burning fire you just put out; they just put out.

Their kiss is all teeth and tongue.

Rooster’s hand at the base of Jake’s skull, tight, pressing. As if he needs him to stay there. To swallow down his tongue, to share the taste of you or he might go insane. Rooster’s thumb running along the blonde’s lip when they finally pull apart, their breaths heavy. “Let her taste,” the two share a smirk before Jake is on top of you. Mouth coming down on yours, tongue sharing the taste of your arousal—and Bradley—on yours.

That dimple in his cheek when he’s being cheeky is deep and prominent as he looks down at you, “think it’s your turn to use your pretty mouth on Rooster.” His voice grows deeper—almost a whisper, as he says his next words against your bottom lip. “So I can lick his come off your tongue.” The whimper that falls from your lips is caught by his tongue as he kisses you, both your attention going to the brunette when you pull away.

And you do end up on your knees in front of Rooster. His cock in your mouth, one hand on the back of your head as the other grips one of the cushions. His hips push up each time your mouth goes down the length of him, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Making your eyes water, your gag reflex ignored as you suck and drool all over his cock.

Hangman presses encouraging kisses along your body, to the brunette’s thighs, biting and sucking bruises onto the skin of his chest—before he joins you. The noise Bradley lets out when the two of you wrap your mouths on either side of his shaft is angelic. A noise you love hearing over and over again. A noise the two of you work hard to get him to repeat until he’s growling with frustration and pulls you off his cock, the two of you smirking up at him.

A panting grumble of not wanting to come yet spoke in a huff.

“Where do you want to come, Rooster?” Jake asks with a grin. His teeth are nipping at his inner thigh as he looks up at him.

They both know you’d let them paint you with their come like you were their very own canvas. Just as the two shared the knowledge that your body wasn’t the only one in the room they could come on, or in.

And when Rooster cups Jake’s cheek in his hand, the nail of his thumb moving along his jaw to his bottom lip—it’s a silent answer to the question. One that doesn’t need any evaluation.

One that has more maneuvering of bodies until you’re on your knees on the couch, Bradley’s cock back in your throat, and Jake’s stretching your pussy open as his fingers dig into your hips, as he fucks you from behind.

The snap of his hips is hard and fast, making your body bounce back onto him and push forward to take Rooster’s cock deeper into your throat. The sounds of skin on skin and muffled moans around gags and spit, and sinful grunts were the only noises filling the cabin.

“So fucking good,” Hangman slurs from behind you. The lusted-out gravel of his voice is melodic. “Always so good for us. So wet, warm, and ready to have your pussy fucked. Throat stretched.” His palm feels searing as it runs down your back and over the globes of your ass. A soft swat at your cheeks makes you mewl around Bradley’s cock. “The perfect little cum-dump.”

His degrading words make you clench around him. Your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“And she's all ours,” Bradley adds—professes. States the obvious. His fingers grip your jaw as he pulls you off of his cock, thumb pressing into your mouth to keep it open for him as he leans down to let his spit drizzle onto your tongue. The corner of his mouth twitching as you moan, a sheen of tears coating your eyes looking up at him. Before slipping his cock back between your lips.

You don’t know how long the three of you go at it. How long Rooster makes a home at the back of your throat with his cock, or Jake going deeper and deeper with each pound of his hips until you’re seeing stars: but by the time you’ve come again, Bradley pulling you off of his cock by your chin so he can watch you come. Groan at the way your nails dig into his thighs as you do.

His palm pumps his cock as he watches how you go limp and let Jake fuck you fast and hard, until he’s following suit and coming inside of you. The two move quickly from their positions on the couch—leaving your heated body cold and drenched in sweat—your limbs exhausted as you flip yourself over to watch the blonde move down to his knees, mouth hung open, as he catches the ropes of come Rooster pumps into his waiting mouth.

And as you watch them, the satisfied look of bliss and sedation on their faces—their cheeks rosy and flushed, their beauty making you feel even more fucked out and heady—you don’t think you could ever want anything, for Christmas or other—more than this.

Your blissful sigh has their attention turning back to you. Jake pushes your back up so he can squeeze behind you and lay you across his lap. You expect Rooster to bury himself along your side or on top of you like he usually does. But instead, he’s pulling your thighs apart and burying his head between your thighs, tongue diving into your entrance to lap and suck at Jake’s come. Cleaning you with his mouth until the oversensitivity you feel is too much and you’re crying out.

Only then does he stop and with a grin reaches out for Jake, pushing his tongue into his mouth—pushing his come onto his tongue—Bradley’s hand resting on the column of the blonde's throat.

“Share,” you whine from beneath them. The brunette chuckles against Hangman’s mouth, before the blonde is sharing the taste of all the three of you on your taste buds.

And finally, after your hearts have stopped pounding and the heat of the fireplace and each other's bodies warm you—do you bask in the afterglow of it all. In the euphoric feeling of this; love, devotion, desire. A calm lulling your bodies to almost sleep.

“Good gift,” you say teasingly. Your fingers lazily move through Rooster’s hair as Jake’s do the same motions in yours. The two men laugh softly against you.

“Told you so.”

#jake seresin smut #rooster smut #hangman smut #jake seresin imagine #top gun smut #rooster one shot #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin smut #rooster x y/n #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun fic #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin x you #merry slutmas

494 notes · View notes

justdontaskme · 1 year

Text

Just Kiss Already (Aitana Bonmati x Reader)

Little Christmas fic for anyone who needs a quick and short escape from holiday festivities. Wanted to try someone new. Thanks to @chaisreading for the idea for this one. Happy Holidays to everyone!

After such a long flight to Portugal, you were praying that the first stop would be the hotel where you hoped to slip in a small power nap. You would kill for the comfort of a bed right now.

The team was scattered around the plane, some still sitting and others aimlessly wandering the small space before it was time to deplane. For the time being, you were more than content, staying in your seat, head on Aitana's shoulder as she scrolled through her phone.

It wasn't unusual for you two to be so close. The midfielder was actually one of the first people you had clicked with when you first joined the team a couple of years ago. Your teammates would joke constantly about you two being an old married couple, and you played into it every time.

After stepping off the plane, you stayed close to the Spanish midfielder, feeding off the calmness she was always giving off when away from the pitch. You made sure you were seated next to her on the bus, and even led her to the nearest couch as soon as you walked into the hotel.

The team waited patiently in the lobby of the hotel while room assignments were being passed out. You had been banking on getting to room with Aitana this trip, but you couldn't be too disappointed when you were paired with Keira.

Your best friend came up behind you with a set of keys, happy to have been roomed with you.

"Are you a little peeved that you didn't get to room with Aitana?" she nudged your shoulder lightly, her eyes alight with mischief as she watched your eyes following Lucy and Aitana to the elevator.

"It would have been nice, but now I get to hang out with you so I guess it all worked out." And it had. You'd been meaning to spend more time with your friend since she'd joined Barca, but there had been little time to do so.

"Have you thought about telling her?"

You turned to Keira confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Have you thought about telling Aitana you like her?"

You merely shrugged your shoulders, snatching the hotel keys from Keira and leading the two of you to the elevator.

Keira was the only one, well if Keira knew then Lucy probably knew too, but they were the only ones you had openly admitted your crush on Aitana to. Your best friend had actually picked up on it not too long after joining the team. So after a night out a few weeks into her transfer, you had rehashed your whole life story surrounding your harboring of a crush on the Spanish midfielder ever since you had first joined the club.

The redhead waited until the two of you were riding up the elevator to broach the subject once more.

"I'm just saying, she's really cute and I think you two would be really good together."

"You sure do bring Aitana up a lot. Are you sure you're not the one with a crush on her?" You smirked, seeing the blush on Keira's face.

"I'm happily taken," Keira said, but the damage had been done.

"No worries, I'll happily take Lucy off your hands," you laughed, watching your friend's eyes bug out at the suggestion.

"You wish you had a chance with Luce," Keira said, her eyes narrowed as if challenging you.

"I mean I think I could have a chance. She did follow me all the way to Barcelona," you teased. Since Lucy's signing was announced, you always joked that she only said yes to Barcelona because you were there. You always enjoyed pressing Keira's buttons by reminding her how well you and her girlfriend got along.

Redirecting the conversation away from your bromance with Lucy back to you and Aitana, Keira started in again. "Think about it. It would be so much fun. If you and Aitana were together then we could go on double dates together."

"Just say you're tired of third wheeling with me and Luce. I totally understand," you laughed.

Keira shoved you into the room with a roll of your eyes. Even though you'd been living in different countries for many years, she loved that the two of you were still so close enough to talk like this with one another.

****

While the day had gone by as normal, the constant stares your friends were sharing with one another let you know they were up to something. You just didn't know what, so instead you focused on the conversation Aitana was having with Mariona on the walk around the city.

Chaos began at breakfast the next morning. As a person who loved their sleep, you were always one of the last ones to breakfast and most of the time someone always had to wake you and make sure you didn't fall back asleep. And they had planned to use that to their advantage.

With Keira and Lucy at the helm of the mission, your teammates had plotted to get the two of you to finally admit you like one another. And seeing as the Christmas season was upon them, they thought mistletoe would be the best plan of action.

Seeing as Aitana was one of the few who could wake you without having to face your grouchy morning wrath, the younger woman had been tasked with making sure you made it to breakfast on time.

Their plan was for your joint entrance to be the perfect time to share your first kiss. Unbeknownst to them, the two of you had come down just a little earlier than they had planned for, which gave it all away.

Approaching the dining room, you noticed a group of players hovering around the entrance, inconspicuously tying something over the frame. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing, so you decided to have a little fun with it.

"Ooo look, Frido and Ingrid are under a mistletoe," you called out as you approached them, nudging Aitana ahead of you. "That means they have to kiss!"

Everyone had been so distracted by the collective gasps of surprise from Mapi and her girlfriend that they didn't even notice the sly wink you sent over to Aitana.

Pina and Patri were next, and they had tried to catch the two of you at the team bonding session in Irene's room. They had sent the two of you downstairs to grab a few things while they got the mistletoe ready. Unfortunately for Pina and Patri, it backfired and the two girls ended up kissing one another.

It didn't stop there, but most of the other attempts were spoiled before they could even start.

On the last night before heading back to Barcelona, Keira had asked you to switch with Lucy and you were more than okay with that.

So here you were, high off a crushing win, sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter as Aitana got ready for bed.

"Are we going to keep pretending we don't know what they're trying to do," Aitana asked, putting her stuff down and stepping into the space between your legs.

"It's more fun this way, don't you think?" You asked, wrapping your legs around her waist so you could pull her closer.

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes, but she did have to agree. The lengths to which your teammates had gone to try to catch the two of you under a mistletoe was quite hilarious.

"Well, I'm just glad we don't have to pretend in here and I can kiss you whenever I want."

"I like the sound of that. Kiss away," you said, eagerly accepting the kiss she planted on your lips.

****

The next day, just before the game, your friends had concocted another plan to catch the two of you under the mistletoe. But with all of the previous failed attempts, they had planned a much more elaborate scheme.

After warmups, the team slowly began to make their way back to the locker room. They waited patiently for you to enter the room, one person in particular standing just under the entryway.

Before you could even get inside, you were stopped by Ana who had a few questions for you before the game.

"Hey, Y/N, look up," Mapi called from the other side of the room, her face giving away exactly what you were to find over your head.

You started stammering, looking for a way out, even sparing a glance to your girlfriend, who was already a little red in the face.

Just as Ana was leaning in, you felt a slight gust of wind as you felt the blonde being pushed to the side and Aitana grabbing your training top and pulling you forward until your lips landed on hers.

Never one to deny a kiss from your girlfriend, you let yourself relax into it, inching your body closer until it was pressed up against hers.

"Finally!" Keira cheered from the side. "We've been trying to get you two to kiss this whole time."

"Oh, we know," Aitana replied, her eyes still fully fixed on you. The jealous stare you had seen just before your lips met was now gone, but you loved the determined look on her face now even more.

"Is this when we tell them we've been dating for months now?" You smirked, leaning in for another quick peck before walking your girlfriend over to her locker.

"You've been what?!"

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine

533 notes · View notes

fredwkong · 10 months

Note

I just started a vacation a couple days ago to spend time with my family in New Hampshire.. and they're already driving me nuts. Is there anywhere that you can send me where I could spend time feeling like a proper Southern country Boy? Going hunting and camping shooting off fireworks like I don't give a fuck and just enjoying myself and the company of any of my friends that I decided to make along the way

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. We’re connecting to your down south getaway right now! Please get comfortable and prepare.

You’re awakened by someone jumping on top of you. As you jerk awake, your bro gleefully sits down on your face and blasts you with a wet, rancid protein fart. You lick his bare hole with your extra-long tongue in retaliation, making him howl.

You get out of your sleeping bag and look around. All the bros are stirring in the early morning air. Even after a crazy Fourth full of beer, fireworks, and hard fucking, it’s hard to sleep in on the hard country ground. Two of your bros have decided to warm up by double teaming a third, their thick cocks jackhammering into his mouth and hole as his neglected dick leaks onto his sleeping bag.

You run your fingers through your thick ruddy chest hair and snap the waistband of your American Flag speedo. It’s blasphemous towards the flag or whatever, but you figure it’s stood for worse than your big ginger cock. You were the only one to put on clothes after last night’s festivities, so you're like, repping national pride or whatever.

You’re brought out of what has become a gooning session, fondling your bulge in your flag briefs and sniffing your unwashed pits, by a grumble in your stomach. You need some protein. You spot one of the bros, the one with the lowest hanging bull balls, and head for him. With your thick bro muscles and carpet of musky red hair, you’re clearly the alpha bro, so you can take what you want from any of the others.

Enjoy your vacation!

Want to go on vacation? Drop me an ask!

#male transformation #tf vacation #reality change #mental change #broification #dumber tf #muscle tf #musk tf #fart tf #american tf #answered ask #male tf #all fwkong

118 notes · View notes

k-dokja · 2 years

Note

Now I want to see the Adeuce duo's reaction when they first saw Riddle's gf😞

this got weirdly long because i was expanding upon another idea 💦 anyway, enjoy!

riddle is apprehensive.

he has no reason to be, but the anxiety underneath his concern for the festival preparation latches on him anyway. yes, the other members of his dorm have seen you before, this should be no different. in fact, he has detailed what he could about the day of his overblot to you. not only that, the organization of the upcoming cultural festival is going smoothly.

there should be no element of surprise to worry him about introducing you to his juniors.

but he’s apprehensive, anyway. he does not like being on edge, it makes him irritable. more than normal, based on what trey said.

“that’s the third freshman you snapped at in the past thirty minutes,” trey points out as the two of them are left alone in the room, “mind enlightening me on what is troubling you?”

“i don’t know,” his admission of ignorance also points out that riddle acknowledges he is being irrational, but he has no control over it, “maybe the energy of the day is getting to me.”

“the energy of the day?” trey echoes with apparent incredulity. “i don’t take you for someone easily swayed by the masses.”

riddle huffs, “it’s not that,” then, sourly, he adds, “it’s the first time she’ll be with me since what happened.”

“since what happened…?” although surprised, trey regains some gravity over the situation. “haven’t the two of you seen each other over the break?”

“we did,” riddle says, “but the circumstance was… cumbersome, i had a lot to discuss with my mother. we didn’t get to meet much because of that, i did not want her to be troubled with my problems until they’re resolved.”

“riddle,” trey fights to put down a smile, “you’ve always shared everything with each other, do you remember how well your plan to keep your overblot a secret from her went?”

“i only intended to keep it a secret until the break so i can tell her face-to-face,” riddle retorts, “besides, if it was anything else, i would have had no opposition, but this is something i have to fight on my own.”

whether trey understands why riddle has to take this stance or not, he reins back from further comment on the matter. “what’s bothering you then? do you think she’ll be unhappy with the distance?”

“of course not, she’s always understanding,” riddle holds back from adding ‘too understanding’ with a frown. “but she worries, she worries even more after my overblot. you can’t imagine the amount of fretting she made after i told her about it.”

trey looks like he wants to argue that he does know but decides to hold back with a smile, “so you want to show that she has no reason to worry then?”

“yes,” riddle admits with relief when his pinprick at his side is put into words, “that and… i expect ace and deuce to not make a bad impression of themselves, i had promised both sides to arrange a meeting.”

“oh?”

riddles nods, arms crossed, “she wants to express her gratitude for what they've done, and you were there when they overheard me talking about her.”

this time around, trey no longer bothers to suppress his own smile, “that should be interesting, i hope they get along.”

“i see no reason as to why they wouldn’t,” riddle smiles for another reason entirely, “now, we ought to double-check with the attractions one more time before the festival begins.”

“yea,” trey nods, “let’s head out.”

time always flies when he has a lot on his hands. by the time riddle gets the chance to sit down and catch his breath, you’ve already arrived at the festival ground with the remaining masses. riddle smiles at the phone when he sees the positive message he received from you. he wouldn’t have a chance to walk with you until he checked a couple more places, but the news of you warms his heart.

[ i still need to finish work, but i will catch up with you later? ]

immediately, a reply comes, [ take your time! i arrived with a few friends so i will stick with them until then 😊 ]

[ all right, i will see you then. ] if it was anyone else, they might have seen his message for indifference. but you know him, you’d know that even if he hasn’t said much, riddle presses his phone to his heart afterwards. only for a second to recharge before he returns to the fray. there’d be work to do until he sees you again.

true to his words, soon as riddle checks out of his shift for the morning, he sends you a message to notify you of his freedom. your reply arrives after he finished delegating his duty to another committee member. the warmth he feels is pleasant in comparison to the heat of the day.

[ we can grab lunch if you are hungry 🥰 ]

[ with your friends? ] he asks, not hesitant, just curious.

the bubble informing him of your incoming text pops up and then sizzles with another reply. [ i already told them about my plan with you, they won’t mind 💖 ]

[ then i want to spend time together. ]

his reply is straightforward and succinct. he has no reservations about seeing your friend, but as he told trey before, the two of you haven’t gotten much chance to be with each other. there’d be other chances for him to meet them, not now, however.

now, he only wants to be with you.

[ let me say my goodbye then, text me your location too 😊👍 ]

he smiles unconsciously. [ no need, i’ll head over. stay where you are. ]

your next message comes with your current location, the auditorium where idia shroud of ignihyde would be holding his conference. riddle briefly wonders if it’s something which interests you or if you went along to support your friends. however, he refrains from asking about the immediate moment and saves it for when he can see you again.

on his way there, riddle contemplates whether he should’ve asked you to send a picture of your outfit so he can spot you easier. but that turns out to be necessary because he recognizes you the moment he sees you.

adorned in a white chiffon dress with pretty ribbons and delicate ruffles, your beauty rivals even the daintiest of roses in his dorm’s garden. the accent of red runs into your accessories, from the thin necklace you wear to the ring with a single ruby perching on a silver band. all of it is complemented by the bag hanging on your shoulder, a gift he purchased for your last birthday.

every time he sets his eyes on you after a prolonged period of absence, riddle feels the air getting knocked out of his lungs. it is juvenile how he continues to be affected by the sight of you even after years together, yet riddle finds that he doesn’t mind this slight weakness when it comes to you. he’d stay to admire you forever if time allows, but that also means he will be deprived of your company. it wouldn’t do. squaring his shoulders, riddle walks up to you with determined steps, eager to be in your presence again.

you perk up at his call for your name, and a smile readily blooms on your lips. “riddle!”

he closes the distance in two strides, and when you greet him with a hug, he doesn’t stiffen in awkwardness. the embrace feels like home with your arms around him, but he does not dare on dragging it on even if he wants otherwise. there are too many prying eyes around, eyes which have no business caring about his love life.

“shall we go then?” he detaches from you with reluctance before offering you his arm to hold on to.

you nod eagerly and accept his extended arm. “do you have any recommendations?”

riddle hums in affirmation and the skip in your step lighten his entire day.

after the two of you ordered from one of the booths with a more substantial offering, riddle sits down next to you at one of the outdoor tables. your hand has moved from holding onto his arm to intertwining with his hand in the process.

it’s strange. he always tells you about his every day while the two of you aren’t together, yet when you are this close, his mind cancels out. he feels foolish and in love, it is inconvenient how the two can coexist and trouble him.

‘i—‘

‘woah, isn’t that housewarden riddle?’

riddle bristles. the mention of his title has him tense all over. he blames it on his deprivation of your presence. the prolonged absence has made him irritable, even when it is no one’s fault but his own. yet, despite all senses and reasonings, he relaxes when he sees who it was that spotted him among the crowd.

‘ace. deuce. i thought the two of you would be in rehearsal for the upcoming competition.’

‘we were just allowed a break,’ ace answered breezily, ‘man, you and vil are like two peas in a pod, it’s like i never left our dorm.’

‘oh? is that a complaint about my methods i’m hearing?’

ace pales immediately, ‘ugh, absolutely not, i can only deal with one of you today.’

‘uhm, excuse me,’ it is deuce who interferes, on no one’s behalf but his own, ‘but… can i ask who is accompanying you?’

riddle blinks. ace has provided a momentary distraction from you that riddle doesn’t anticipate. he glances back at you for confirmation and then returns to his underclassman once he received it. ‘i remember the two saying that you wanted to meet her earlier, and here she is. ace, deuce, this is my girlfriend.’ he says your name with a hint of pride, before meeting your gaze once more. ‘and this is the underclassman we talked about, i wouldn’t have been able to recover from my overblot safely without them.’

your eyes widen in surprise, ‘oh…!’

riddle mourns the loss of your warmth when you untangle your hand from his. but he does not stop you when you get up to approach the duo, your arms opening, ‘thank you both so much for what you’ve done for riddle,’ you hug deuce first, closest to you.

the boy stiffens in surprise, but makes no move to push you away, ‘oh! uh, it’s nothing, really, i was just doing what’s right…’ his cheeks turn a crimson red and increase in intensity even after you’ve turned to ace.

despite knowing what would be coming, ace does nothing to avoid you. in fact, there’s even a cheeky grin on his face when he accepts your hug, ‘yeah, you can count on us for anything at all,’ but the grin does not stay on his face for long, not when riddle narrows his eyes at ace.

he means not to reprimand ace, only to draw the line of his territory. the younger boy is smart enough to not tread with dangerous water, indulging no more than he should in your hug.

it amuses riddle to see the troublemaker duo interacting with you. even if they’re not saying anything, the clear contrast between you and riddle has befuddled them.

‘i should be the one saying that,’ you say, ‘let me know if there’s anything i can help you with, i’ll do my best to assist.’

soon as you have expressed your gratitude, riddle decides it’s nigh that he joins the three of you. his approach captures your notice, just long enough for ace to lean over to deuce.

‘damn, dude,’ ace whispers, ‘i can’t believe she’s real.’

‘you thought she wasn’t?’

‘have you seen the housewarden? i didn’t even know he can talk to girls.’

‘i can talk to girls perfectly fine, thank you for your concern,’ riddle demonstrates that by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. ‘i do not know what impression you have of me, but being able to communicate with the ladies is mandatory in etiquette lessons. which i’m sure you would’ve known if you had learned it.’

‘ugh,’ ace groans, ‘seems like having her around makes you even more hostile to others than normal.’

‘nonsense,’ riddle retorts, ‘i’m always like this with you.’

a tug on his lapel, it’s from you, ‘riddle,’ you smile, ‘let’s be nice to your underclassmen.’

‘i’d say i’m being perfectly nice to them,’ he mirrors your smile, ‘but i suppose my hunger is making me feel a bit grumpy, shall we return to our lunch?’

‘oh, of course, i’m so sorry for getting carried away,’ then, you turn to the other two to ask, ‘would the two of you like to join us? seeing as you’re taking a break as well?’

immediately, riddle makes a smile with pressed lips at ace and deuce. it would’ve been innocuous from a far distance, but this close, it’s filled with nothing but murderous intention. one smile alone speaks volumes: ‘don’t even think about it’, ‘accept and it’s off with your head’, ‘i’m going to double your gardening duty if you ruin this for me’.

in the end, it’s deuce who caves first. ‘uh, we’ll have to pass, but thank you,’ he says.

‘yeah, thanks for the offer, but we wouldn’t want to intrude on you lovebirds,’ ace is a bit more audacious in his refusal, but at least, he refuses.

‘oh, that’s a pity,’ you sigh, ‘we’ll see you both around then?’

‘yup, we’ll perform for sdc later, you should come to support us!’ ace replies readily. it almost makes riddle wonder if he has been holding that back the whole time.

‘it would be great to have another rooting for our team,’ deuce adds, ‘hope we’ll see the both of you there.’

‘of course,’ riddle answers, ‘i’m your housewarden and a student of night raven college, it’s only prudent that i come to support your performance.’

‘we’ll both be rooting for you!’ you chirp happily.

even after the boys left, the cheer continues to remain on your face. ‘you seem happy,’ riddle points out as he heads back to the table with you.

‘of course, i get to be here with you and…’ you tap the side of your chin, musing, ‘it’s nice to see you making friends, even if they seem peculiar.’

‘well, they do keep our dorm lively,’ riddle says diplomatically, ‘i still struggle with reminding them of the queen’s rules. for example, the other day when i was—‘

‘here’s your order.’

a student interrupts him by placing down the previous food the two of you have bought. you answer the boy with an amicable thank you before he left. when you look back at riddle with an anticipating gaze, riddle suddenly finds that he no longer has any desire to rant about the misbehaviours of his underclassman.

he reaches for your hand and presses gentle kisses on your knuckles, ‘i’m glad you’re here,’ he says, ‘i know there’s still a lot we need to talk about but…’

you lean forward to kiss his nose, and the hand he holds reaches up to cup his face, ‘we don’t have to do that now. let’s just be with each other, you can tell me when you’re ready.’

‘thank you,’ he kisses your palm, filled with unspoken affection. you share the same sentiment, he can see it in the warmth of your eyes.

everything hasn’t been easy, and maybe it never will be. but at least, riddle knows he has you. and you have him, always.

#riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #fics

451 notes · View notes